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EG.I)
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
(Empctopetita Brttanmca:
OR, A
DICTIONARY
OF
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND MISCELLANEOUS
LITERATURE;
ENLARGED AND IMPROVED.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
SJllustratrti luttf) marlp stjc €ngrabmgg>
VOL. xx.
INDOCTI DISCANT; AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY;
AND HURST, ROBINSON, AND COMPANY, 90, CHEAPSIDE,
LONDON.
1823.
^rvRy.
/ B
S' 15 S L
\F
\1966A
Suicide.
I
Suicide
imong the
Jaws.
4
^mong the
Sreeks.
fhe JBra¬
il ns and
•lentoos.
Encyclopedia Britannica.
S U I
SUICIDE, the crime of self-murder, or the person
who commits it.
We have often wished to see a history of crimes drawn
up by a man of ability and research. In this history we
Would propose that the author should describe the crimes
peculiar to different nations in the different stages of so¬
ciety, and the changes which they undergo in the pro¬
gress of civilization. After having arranged the histo¬
rical facts, he might, by comparing them with the re¬
ligion and the knowledge of the people, deduce some im¬
portant general conclusions, which would lead to a dis¬
covery of the cause of crimes, and of the remedy most
proper to be applied. Some crimes are peculiar to cer¬
tain stages of society, some to certain nations, &c.
Suicide is one of those crimes which we are led to be¬
lieve not common among savage nations. The first in¬
stances recorded of it in the Jewish history are those of
Saul and Ahitophel $ for rve do not think the death of
Samson a proper example. We have not reason to sup¬
pose that it became common among the Jews till their
wars with the Homans, when multitudes slaughtered
themselves that they might not fall alive into the hands
of their enemies. But at this period the Jews rvere a
most desperate and abandoned race of men, had corrupt¬
ed the religion of their fathers, and rejected that pure
system which their promised Messiah came to Jerusalem
to announce.
When it became remarkable among the Greeks, we
have not been able to discover ; but it was forbidden by
Pythagoras, as we learn from Athenseus, by Socrates
and Aristotle, and by the Theban and Athenian laws.
In the earliest ages of the Roman republic it was seldom
committed •, but when luxury and the Epicurean and
Stoical philosophy had corrupted the simplicity and vir¬
tue of the Roman character; then they began to seek
shelter in suicide from their misfortunes or the effects of
their own vices.
The religious principles of the bramins of India led
themto admire suicide on particular occasionsas honour¬
able. Accustomed to abstinence, mortification, and
the contempt of death, they considered it as a mark of
weakness of mind to submit to the infirmities of old age.
We are informed that the modern Gentoos, who still in
most things conform to the customs of their ancestors,
when old and infirm, are frequently brought to the
hanks of rivers, particularly to those of the Ganges, that
they may die in its sacred streams, which they believe
Vol. XX. Part I. t
S U I
can wash away the guilt of their sins. But the maxims Suicide.
of the bramins, which have encouraged this practice, we ' v~~ J
are assured by Mr Holwell, are a corruption of the Sullivan’s
doctrines of the Shastah, which positively forbid suicide
under the severest punishment. The practice which Hoiwelt'g
religion or affection has established among the Gentoos, Interesting
for women at the death of their husbands to burn them-^w^s>
selves alive on the funeral pile, we do not think ought&’c' u
to be considered as suicide, as we are not anxious to ex¬
tend the meaning of the word ; for were we to extend
it thus far, it would be as proper to apply it to those
who choose rather to die in battle than make their es¬
cape at the expence of their honour. Thus we should
condemn as suicides the brave Spartans who died at
Thermopylae in defence of their country; wTe should also
be obliged to apply the same disgraceful epithet to all
those well-meaning but weak-minded Christians in this
island, who in the last century chose rather to die as mar¬
tyrs than comply with commands which were not mo¬
rally wrong. According to the Gentoo laws, “ it is
proper for a woman after her husband’s death to burn
herself in the fire with his corpse. Every woman who
thus burns shall remain in paradise with her husband
three crore and fifty lacks of years. If she cannot, she
must in that case preserve an inviolable chastity. If she
remain chaste, she goes to paradise} and if she do not
preserve her chastity, she goes to hell.”
A custom similar to this prevailed among many na-Among the
tions on the continent ot America. When a chief died, Americans,
a certain number of his wives, of his favourites, and of liober^son'$
his slaves, were put to death, and interred together with
him, that he might appear with the same dignity in hi§
future station, and be waited upon by the same atten¬
dants. This persuasion is so deeply rooted, that many
of their retainers offer themselves as victims $ and the
same custom prevails in many of the negro nations in
Africa. g
If we can belive the historians of Japan, voluntarvThe Japa-
dpath is common in that empire. The devotees of the nes#> ami
idol Amida drown themselves in his presence, attended
by their relations and friends, and several of the priests, Raynai't
who all consider the devoted person as a saint who is Hint, of the
gone to everlasting happiness. Such being the supposed and
honours appropriated to a voluntary death, it is not sur- Wtst In-.
prisingthat the Japanese anxiously cherish a contempt ofTo1, i'
life. Accordingly it is a part of the education of their
children “ to repeat poems in which the virtues of their
A ancestors
Suicide.
6
Scythians,
7
and Scan¬
dinavians.
S
It prevail¬
ed much in
the decline
of the Ho¬
man em¬
pire.
9
Too com¬
mon in mo¬
dern times,
but not
more so in
England
than in o-
ther coun¬
tries.
S U I [2
ancestors are celebrated, an utter contempt of life is
inculcated, and suicide is set up as the most heroic of
actions.”
A notion seems also to have prevailed among the an¬
cient Scythian tribes, that it was pusillanimous and ig¬
noble for a man whose strength was wasted with disease
or infirmity, so as to be useless to the community, to
continue to live. It was reckoned an heroic action vo¬
luntarily to seek that death which he had not the good
fortune to meet in the field of battle. Perversion of
moral feeling does not spring up, we hope, spontane¬
ously in any nation, but is produced by some peculiari¬
ties of situation. A wandering people like the Scythi¬
ans, who roamed about from place to place, might of¬
ten find it impossible to attend the sick,or to supply from
iheir precarious store the wJants of the aged and infirm.
The aged and infirm themselves, no longer able to sup¬
port the character of warriors, would find themselves
unhappy. In this way the practice of putting to death
such persons as were useless to the community might
originate, and afterwards be inculcated as honourable;
but he who put an end to bis infirmities by his own
band, obtained a character still more illustrious.
The tribes of Scandinavia, which worshipped Odin
the “ father of slaughter,” were taught, that dying in
the field of battle was the most glorious event that could
befal them. This was a maxim suited to a warlike na¬
tion. In order to establish it more firmly in the mind,
all were excluded from Odin’s feast of heroes who died
a natural death. In Asgardia stood the hall of Odin ;
where, seated on a throne, he received the souls of his
departed heroes. This place was called Valhalla, sig¬
nifying “ the hall of those who died by violence.” Na¬
tural death being thus deemed inglorious, and punished
with exclusion from Valhalla the paradise of Odin, he
who could not enjoy death in the field of battle was led
to seek it by his own hands when sickness or old age
began to assail him. In such a nation suicide must have
been very common.
As suicide prevailed much in the decline of the Ro¬
man empire, when luxury, licentiousness, profligacy,
and false philosophy, pervaded the world, so it conti¬
nued to prevail even after Christianity was established.
The Romans, when they became converts to Christiani¬
ty, did not renounce their ancient prejudices and false
opinions, hut blended them with the new religion which
they embraced. The Gothic nations also, who subvert¬
ed the Roman empire, while they received the Chris¬
tian religion, adhered to many of their former opinions
and manners. Among other criminal practices which
wexe retained by the Romans and their conquerors,
that of suicide was one ; hut the principles from which
it proceeded were explained, so as to appear more a-
greeable to the new system which they had espoused.
It was committed, either to secure from the danger ot
apostasy, to procure the honour of martyrdom, or to
preserve the crown of virginity.
When we descend to modern times, we lament to
find so many instances of suicide among the most polish¬
ed nations, who have the best opportunities of knowing
the atrocity of that unnatural crime. The English have
long been reproached by foreigners for the frequent
commission of it; and the “ gloomy month of Novem¬
ber” has been stigmatized as the season when it is most
common. But this disgraceful imputation, we think,
3
]
Suicide.
S U I
may he justly attributed, not to the greater frequency
of the crime in England than in other places, hut to the ' /——«
custom of publishing in the newspapers every instance
of suicide which is known. Mr Moore, who lately
published a full inquiry into this subject, was at great
pains to obtain accurate information concerning the per¬
petration of this crime in different countries. Mercier, Murder's
who wrote in 1782, says, that the annual number of Tableau de
suicides in Paris was then about 1 $o. He does not tell
us how he came by the information ; but we have the jhe mim-
authority of the Abbe Fontana for asserting, that more her of sui- |
persons put an end to their lives in Paris than in Lon-c,desin Pa
don. The Abbe had this information from the lieute-^1^"'
nant of the police. Mr Moore was informed byonenev^^.c
of the principal magistrates of Geneva, that in that ci-according
ty, which contains about 25,000 inhabitants, the ave-to the best
rage number of suicides is about eight. The average accounu'
number of suicides, from what cause soever, tor the last
28 years, has been 32 each year for London, South¬
wark, and Westminster. In Edinburgh, which con¬
tains 80,000 inhabitants, we are convinced the average
number of suicides does not exceed four. Mr Moore
found, from the accounts with which he was favoured
by the several coroners of the county of Kent, that for
the last 18 years the number lias been upwards of 32
each year. Kent is supposed to contain 200,000 inha¬
bitants, and London 800,000. It is easy therefore to
see, that in the metropolis many instances of suicide
must occur which are never the subject of legal inquiry,
and consequently never made known to the world.
Whereas in the country towns and villages of Kent it is
scarcely possible to conceal such an action as self-murder
from the knowledge of the whole neighbourhood. The
calculation therefore respecting Kent we may receive as
true, while we must increase the average number in
London very considerably. Mr Moore computes the
average number of suicides in England every year at a
thousand \ but the principles on which he founds this
opinion are so imperfect and vague, that we do not
think it can be depended on as coming near the truth. It
It might lead to some interesting conclusions to com- jn what
pare together, not only the number of suicides in differ-rank and
ent countries, but also the rank and principles, the sexslt.u^,0“
and age, of those unhappy persons by whom it has been com
committed. Mercier says, that at Paris it was the lower niom
ranks who were most commonly guilty of it; that it was
mostly committed in garrets or hired lodgings ; and that
it proceeded from poverty and oppression. A great ma¬
ny, he says, wrote letters to the magistrates before their
death. Mr Moore’s correspondent from Geneva inform- j\{00re's
ed him, that from the year 1 777 to 1787 more than 100 Full Tn-
suicides were committed in Geneva ; that two-thirds of quiry inti
these unfortunate persons were men ; that few of the cle-^fpf^ff
rical order have been known to commit it", and that it0^ 2 c *
is not so much the end of an immoral, irreligious, dissi¬
pated life, as the effect of melancholy and poverty. By
the information obtained from the coroners of Kent, it
appears, that of the 32, three-fourths have destroyed
themselves by hanging ; that the proportion of males to
females has been about two-thirds of the former; that
no one season of the year is more distinguished for this
crime than another ; and that suicide is upon the in¬
crease. Our accounts respecting the city of London are
very imperfect; but we think ourselves intitled to con¬
clude, that suicide is more common among the great and
wealthy
Suicide.
Physical
causes to
which it
llias been,
iscribed in
Britain.
*3
And moral
causes.
x4.
!>Jot owing
ilways to
nsanity.
S U I [
wealthy than among the lower ranks, and that it is usu¬
ally the effect of gaming and dissipation.
Those who have inquired into the causes of suicide in
Britain have enumerated many physical as well as moral
causes. They have ascribed it to the variableness of
our climate, to the great use of animal food, to strong
spirituous liquors, to tea, and to the sulphui’eous exhala¬
tions of the pit coal used as fuel, which are said to pro¬
duce a depression of spirits and nervous allections. Of
our climate, we have no cause to complain, nor have we
any reason to impute any of our vices to its influence.
There are many climates much more unfavourable where
suicide is scarcely known. That an excessive quantity
of gross animal food, or of strong liquors, or of tea, will
powerfully affect the human constitution, we will not
deny : but before we consider these as causes, it must
first be determined, whether those who are guilty of self-
murder be much addicted to them •, and if they are, whe¬
ther there be not other causes much more violent in their
nature which have operated on their minds j for we
ought not rashly to attribute vicious effects to any of
those things which seem to have been created on purpose
for the comfort or convenience of man. We are rather
surprised to find that coal is mentioned even as a dis¬
tant cause of suicide ; for it is one of the blessings of
our island 5 and a good coal fire we have always found
rather conducive to good spirits than injurious to them.
Among the moral causes which are supposed to co¬
operate in producing suicide in Britain, the freedom of
our constitution and laws is reckoned one. That ration¬
al liberty should have, any tendency to encourage crimes
of any kind, a Christian philosopher can never allow }
for such an opinion is totally discountenanced by en¬
lightened views of nature. Mercier has ascribed the
frequency of suicide in Paris to the oppression of the
late government. Now it appears somewhat extraordi¬
nary, that suicide in one country should be occasioned
by liberty, and in another by the want of it. One of these
opinions must be false, and it is surely not difficult to
distinguish which.
Humanity would in most cases dispose us to conclude,
that suicide is the elfect of insanity, were there not so
many instances of cool deliberate self-murder. That
suicide is an unnatural crime, which none but a madman
3 ] s u 1
would commit, compassion indeed may suppose ; but the Suicide,
murder of a wife, a father, or a child, are also unnatu- —-v——'
ral •, yet compassion does not teach us in all cases to a-
scribe such a crime to madness. Passion may often arise
to such a height of outrage as to be scarcely distinguish¬
able from madness in its symptoms and its effects 5 yet
we always make a distinction betsveen that madness
which arises from disease and that which is owing to a
violent perturbation of mind. If a person be capable of
managing his wordly affairs, of making a will, and of
disposing of his property, immediately before his death,
or after he formed the resolution of dying by his own
hands, such a man is not to be considered as insane. 15
But though a regard for truth prevents us from ascrib- but oftea
ing suicide in all cases to insanity, we must ascribe ita!s?to
either to insanity or to vicious passion. These two di- gj^01*8 p:iS”
visions, we imagine, will comprehend every species of it,
whether arising from melancholy, Uedium vita; or ennui,
disappointment in schemes of ambition or love, pride,
gaming, or a desire to avoid the shame of a public exe¬
cution *, passions which are often increased by false views
of God, of man, and of a future state, arising from deism
and infidelity. If these be the causes of suicide in mo¬
dern time, what a disgraceful contrast do they form to
those principles which actuated many of the ancient phi¬
losophers, the Gentoos, the Japanese, and the worship¬
pers of Odin ? When they committed suicide, they com¬
mitted it from principle, from a belief of its lawfulness,
and the hope of being rewarded for what they judged
an honourable sacrifice. But in modern times, we are
sorry to say, when it is not the effect of madness, it is
the effect of vice : and when it is the effect of vice, it
proves that the vicious passions are then indulged to the
highest degree; for there is no crime which a man can
commit that is so strong a symptom of the violence of
particular passions. It is from not attending to tills
circumstance, that it has been found so difficult to re¬
fute the arguments in favour of suicide. If the crimi¬
nality of suicide be confined merely to the violent'action,
many apologies may be made for it; but if it be con¬
sidered solely as the effect of vice, as the strongest sym-
tom of ungoverned passion, he who undertakes its de¬
fence must undertake the defence of what all men will
loudly condemn (a).
It
(a) Several of the heathens entertained a very just sense of the atrocity of suicide. Quintus Curtius introdu¬
ces Darius with the following speech, when he had lost his empire : “ I wait (says the unfortunate monarch) the
issue of my fate : you wonder, perhaps, that I do not terminate my own life j but I. choose rather to die by the
crime of another than by my own.
( We cannot refuse ourselves the pleasure of presenting to our readers the following beautiful passage upon this
subject from Fitzosborne’s letters * : “ I am persuaded (says this elegant writer) this disgust of life is frequent- <
ly indulged out of a principle of mere vanity. It is esteemed as a mark of uncommon refinement, and as placino-j^
a man above the ordinary level of his species, to seem superior to the vulgar feelings of happiness. True good
sense, however, most certainly consists not in despising, but in managing our stock of life to the best advantage,
as a cheerful acquiescence in the measures of Providence is one of the strongest symptoms of a well-constitufed
mind. Self-weariness is a circumstance that ever attends folly j and to condemn our being is the greatest, and
indeed the peculiar infirmity of human nature. It is a noble sentiment which Tully puts into the mouth of Cato
in his Treatise upon old Age ; Non lubet mihi (says that venerable Roman) dephrare vitam, quod multi et it
docti, saspe fecerunt; neque mevixisse poenitet: quoniam ita vixi, ut non frustra menatum existimem.
“ It is in the power, indeed, of but a very small portion of mankind to act the same glorious part that afforded
such high satisfaction to this distinguished patriot j but the number is yet far more inconsiderable of those who can¬
not, in any station, secure themselves a sufficient fund of complacency to render life justly valuable. Who is it that
is placed out of the reach of the highest of all gratifications, those of the generous affections, and that cannot provide
A 2 for
Suieide.
16
Unneces¬
sary to en¬
ter into the
arguments
of casuists
npou this
subject.
*7
Its great -
«ri rain ali ty
and impru-
itaee.
S U I [
It is unnecessary then to enter particularly into the
arguments of those casuists who have undertaken the de¬
spicable office of advocates for the crime of suicide.
Their talents might surely have been employed more
usefully to the world, and more honourably to them¬
selves, than in pleading for a crime, which, if it were
committed by every man to whom their principles would
make it lawful, would totally destroy some of the noblest
virj^es, fortitude, patience, and resignation; nay, would
destroy society itself, and teach us to despise the opinion
that this world is a state of preparation for another. “ I
came into life without my own consent, and may I not
quit it at pleasure ?” (say the advocates for suicide). If,
because we came into life without our own consent, we
might quit it at pleasure, why may we not spend our life
also as we please P Why may we not rob and murder,
and commit every kind of crime, if mere inclination is
to be the rule of action ! Thus upon the principles of
suicide the highwayman and murderer may reason, and
every man may find a sufficient apology for any crime
which he is tempted to commit. Or this absurdity may
ke otherwise answered : As we came into life without
our own consent, we must have come with the consent
of some other being ; and logic says, that with the con¬
sent of that Being only can we lawfully quit it.
It is sufficient shortly to say, that suicide is contrary
to the strongest principle of the human constitution, self-
preservation ; that it is rebellion against God ; that it. is
cruelty to the feelings and reputation, and often takes
away the subsistence of a wife, a child, or a father ;
that it proves a want of fortitude to brave misfortunes;
that it delivers only from imagined to plunge into real
evils. We may add, that almost every instance of sui¬
cide of which we have heard was rash, imprudent, and
premature, interrupted a useful life, or prevented a
more honourable death. Had Cato’s pride permitted
him to yield himself to the generosity of Caesar, his
character and his influence might have contributed to
retard the slavery of his country, which his death tend¬
ed to hasten. Had Brutus and Cassius not executed
the fatal resolution which they had formed, of dying by
their own hands in case of misfortune, the battle of Phi¬
lippi might have had a very different issue. Had Han¬
nibal surrendered himself to the Homans, instead of
swallowing poison, he would have gained more glory in
braving their tortures than he won in the battle of Can-
nse ; for to die innocently and heroically is the greatest
exertion of human fortitude.
As suicide was deemed a crime by the most illustri-
4 ] S U I
ous and virtuous of the Greek and Roman philosophers, Suicid*.
it was considered as a crime by the laws, and treated —v—-
with ignominy. By the law of Thebes suicides werep{0WlSH
to have no honours paid to their memory*. The Athe-
nian law ordained the hand which committed the deed the Greek
to be cut off, and burnt apart from the rest of the body. Ceans, &e
The body was not buried with the usual solemnities, * Peiitt
but was ignominiously thrown into some pit. In Cea
and Massilia (the ancient Marseilles), it was considered Aiiteai,
as a crime against the state ; and it was therefore neces- p. 523.
sary for those who wished to destroy themselves to obtain
permission from the magistrates, f Plutarch acquaints! Plutartf
us, that an unaccountable passion for suicide seized the the Fir
Milesian virgins; from indulging which they could nottuesof**
be prevented by the tears and entreaties of parents and
friends : but what persuasion and entreaty could not ef¬
fect was accomplished by very different means. A de¬
cree was issued, “ that the body of every young woman
who hanged herself should be dragged naked through
the streets by the same rope with which she had com¬
mitted the deed.” This wise edict put a complete stop
to the extraordinary frenzy, and suicide was no longer'
committed by the virgins of Miletus.
In the earl y part of the Roman history there seems to By the H
have been seldom occasion for framing any laws against mans«
suicide. The only instance recorded occurs in the reign
of Tarquinius Priscus. The soldiers who were appoint¬
ed to make drains and common sewers, thinking them¬
selves disgraced by such servile offices, put themselves to
death in great numbers. The king ordered the bodies
of all the self-murderers to be exposed on crosses, and
this put an effectual stop to the practice. It is doubtful
whether there was anv standing law against suicide dur¬
ing the existence of the republic ; but during the reign
of the emperors it was thought proper to lay it under
certain regulations, though not absolutely to condemn
it as a crime. In Justinian’s Digests there is a law, by Lib. xlvii
which it was enacted, “ that if persons accused, or who Tit. xxi.
had been found guilty, of any crime, should make away Par* 3»
with themselves, their effects should be confiscated.”
But this punishment only took place when confiscation
of goods happened to be the penalty appointed by the
law for the crime of which the self-murderer was accu¬
sed or found guilty, and was not inflicted for suicide
committed in any other circumstances. ao
When the Christian church had extended its juris-And by
diction in the Roman empire, it was decreed in the sixth Clirhtian
century, that no commemoration should be made in the
eucharist forsuchas destroyed themselves: neither should
their
for his own happiness, by contributing something to the welfare of others ? As this disease of the mind generally
breaks out with the most violence in those who are supposed to be endowed with a greater delicacy of taste and
reason than is the usual allotment of their fellow creatures, one may ask them, whether there is any satiety in the
pursuits of useful knowledge? or, if one can ever be weary of benefiting mankind ? Will not the fine arts supply
a lasting feast to the mind ; or, can there be wanting a pleasureable enjoyment, so long as there remains even
one advantageous truth to be discovered or confirmed ? To complain that life has no joys, while there is a single
creature whom we can relieve by our bounty, assist by our counsels, or enliven by our presence, is to lament the
loss of that which we possess, and is just as rational as to die for thirst with the cup in our hands. But the mis¬
fortune is, when a man is settled into a habit of receiving all his pleasures from the mere selfish indulgences, he
wears out of his mind the relish of every nobler enjoyment, at the same time that his powers of the sensual kind
are growing more languid by each repetition. It is no wonder, therefore, he should fill up the measure of his
gratifications long before he lias completed the circle of his duration ; and either wretchedly sit down the remain¬
der of his days in discontent, or rashly throw them up in despair.”
* TV Legi-
j tut et Con-
' \iuetudini-
hu Anglia,
Lib iii.
rraot ii.
ir.
h
11
Diflicult to
ierise a pu¬
nishment
;hat would
)e an effec-
•*al pre-
rsntire.
S U I l
their bodies be carried out to burial with psalms, nor
have the usual service said over them. This ecclesias¬
tical law continued till the reformation, when it was
admitted into the statute code of England by the au¬
thority of parliament. As an additional punishment,
however, confiscation of land and goods seems to have
been adopted from the Danes, as we learn from Brac-
ton *. At present the punishment consists in confisca¬
ting all the personal property of a felo cle se for the use
of the crown, and in excluding his body from interment
in consecrated ground. The warrant of the coroner
requires that the body should be buried in some public
highway, and a stake driven through it to increase the
ignominy.
To inquire into the prevalence and causes of crimes,
in order to discover the most judicious methods of pre¬
venting them, is the duty of the Patriot and the Chris¬
tian. Suicide, we find, is a common and an increasing
evil : but it is a difficult matter to find an effectual re¬
medy •, for-what motives can be held out sufficient to
influence that man’s mind who is deaf to the voice of
nature speaking within him, and to the voice of nature’s
God declaring that he is stationed at a post which it is
his duty to maintain P His reputation and property are
indeed within the reach of the laws, his body may be
treated with ignominy, and his property confiscated ;
hut this punishment will not be a preventive, even if it
could be always inflicted 5 and that it is seldom inflicted,
though the laws have decreed it, is well known. The
humanity of the present atre disposes us to sympathise
with the relations of the deceased, instead of demanding
that the sentence of the law should be executed. It is a
generally received opinion, and a just one, that punish¬
ments decreed by human laws should be directed only
against such crimes as are injurious to society ; but when
it is hence inferred, that suicide ought not to be subject
to the cognizance of human laws, every rule of logic is
violated. ri here is no man, however mean in station
and in talents, whose life may not, on some occasions,
be useful to the community at large •, and to conclude,
that a person who fancies himself useless may therefore
lawfully put a period to his life, is as false reasoning as
it would be to conclude, that by killing a poor man,
who lives on the public, we should perform an action
not only innocent but meritorious, as we should thereby
free society from one of its burdens.
SUIDA8, a Greek writer, according to some, flour¬
ished in the nth century, under the reign of the em¬
peror Alexius Comnenus j according to others, before
the 10th century. He wrote in Greek an Historical
and Geographical Dictionary or Lexicon ; a work
which, though not always strictly accurate, is never¬
theless of great importance, as it contains many things
taken from the ancients that are nowhere else to be
found. 1 he best edition of Suidas is that of Kuister,
in Greek and Latin, with notes, printed in 3 vols. fol.
which has been much improved by Toup.
Lapis SUILLUS. See Swine-SroNE, Mineralo¬
gy Index.
SUIT, is used in different senses ; as, 1. Suit of court,
or suit-service, which is an attendance the tenant owes
to his lord’s court. 2. Suit-covenant, where a person
has covenanted to do service in the court of the lord.
3. Suit-custom, which is where one and his ancestors
have owed suit time out of mind. 4. It is used for a
5 1
S U I
petition to the king or any person of dignity, where a Suit,
lord distrains his tenant for suit, and none is due. In y—■
this case, the party may have an attachment against him
to appear in the king’s court.
Suit, in Law, the same with action. The Romans
introduced pretty early set forms for actions and suits
into their law, after the example of the Greeks 5 and
made it a rule, that each injury should be redressed by
its proper remedy only. “ Actiones, (says the Pandects)
composite sunt quibus inter se homines disceptarent, quas
actiones ne populus prout vellet institueret, certas solem-
nesque esse voluerunt.’1'1 The forms of these actions were
originally preserved in the books of the pontifical col¬
lege as choice and inestimable secrets, till one Cneius
Flavius, the secretary of Appius Claudius, stole a copy
and published them to the people. The concealment
was ridiculous : but the establishment of some standard
was undoubtedly necessary to fix the true state of a que- Blackst.
stion of right j lest, in a long and arbitrary process, it Comnuni,
might be shifted continually, and be at length no long¬
er discernible. Or, as Cicero expresses it, “ sunt jura,
sunt formulcp., de omnibus rebus constitutce, ne quis aut
in genere vjurice, out in ratione actionis, errare possit.
Expressce enim stmt ex uniuseujusque damno, dolore, in-
commodo, calamitate, injuria, publiece a pretore formu¬
la;, ad quas privata Us accommodatur.'n And in the
same manner Bracton, speaking of the original writs
upon which all our actions are founded, declares them
to be fixed and immutable, unless by authority of parlia¬
ment. And all the modern legislators of Europe have
found it expedient, from the same reasons, to fall into
the same or a similar method. In England, the several
suits, or remedial instruments of justice, are, from the
subject of them, distinguished into three kinds 5 actions
personal, real, and mixed.
Personal actions are such whereby a man claims a
debt, or personal duty or damages, in lieu thereof j and
likewise whereby a man claims a satisfaction in damages
for some injury done to his person or property. The
former are said to be founded upon contracts, the latter
upon torts or wrongs : and they are the same which the
civil law calls, “ actiones in personam, quce adversut
eum intenduntur qui ex contractu vel delieto obligatus
est aliquid dare vel concedere.'n Of the former nature
are all actions upon debt or promises j of the latter are
all actions of trespasses, nuisances, assaults, defamatory
words, and the like.
Real actions (or, as they are called in the Mirror,
feodal actions'), which concern real property only, are
such whereby the plaintiff, here called the demandant,
claims title to have any lands or tenements, rents, com¬
mons, or other hereditaments, in fee-simple, fee-tail, or
for term of life. By these actions formerly all disputes
concerning real estates were decided $ but they are now
pretty generally laid aside in practice, upon account of
the great nicety required in their management, and the
inconvenient length of their process j a much more ex¬
peditious method of trying titles being since introduced-
by other actions personal and mixed.
Mixed actions are suits partaking of the mixture of
the other two, wherein some real property is demanded,
and also personal damages for a wrong sustained. As
for instance, an action of waste*, which is brought by
him who hath the inheritance, in remainder or reversion,
against the tenant for lile, who hath committed waste
therein,.
SUL [6
Suit therein, to recover not only the land wasted, which
11 would make it merely a real action ; but also treble
Su^zer' damages, in pursuance of the statute of Gloucester,
v which is a personal recompense j and so both, being
joined together, denominate it a mixed action.
The orderly parts of a suit are these: I. The origi¬
nal tonV. 2. The process. 3. The pleadings. 4. The
issue or demurrer. 5. The trial. 6. The judgment
and its incidents. 7. The proceedings in nature of ap¬
peals. 8. The execution. See these articles.
SULLY. See Bethune.
SULPHATE, in Chemistry, denotes a compound of
sulphuric acid with some base.
SULPHUR, a well known inflammable substance.
See Chemistry and Mineralogy Index.
Sulphur Wort. See Peucedanum, Botany In¬
dex.
SULPHURIC acid, the name now adopted for the
vitriolic acid. See Chemistry Index.
SULPICIA, an ancient Roman poetess, who lived
under the reign of Domiiian, and has been so much ad¬
mired as to be termed the Roman Sappho. We have
nothing, however, left of her writings but a satire, or
rather the fragment of one, against Domitian, who pu¬
blished a decree for the banishment of philosophers from
Rome \ which satire is to be found in Scaliger’s Appen¬
dix Virgihana. She is mentioned by Martial and Sido-
nius Apollinaris j and is said to have addressed a poem
on conjugal love to her husband Calenus, a Roman
knight.
SULPICIUS Severus, an ecclesiastical writer who
flourished about the beginning of the 5th century, and
was contemporary with Rufinus and St Jerome. He
was the disciple of St Martin of Tours, whose life he
has written ; and the friend of Paulinas bishop of Nola,
with whom he held an intimate correspondence. The
principal of his works is his Historia Sacra, from the
creation of the world to the consulate of Stilicho and
Aurelian, about the year 400 ; in which his style is
elegant beyond the age he lived in.
SULTAN, or Soldan, a title of appellation given
to the emperor of the Turks.
Vatner will have the word Turkish, and to signify
Icing oj kings ; adding, that it was first given to the Tur¬
kish princes Angrolipex and Masgud, about the year
1055 : others will have it originally Persian, alleging,
in proof hereof, an ancient medal of Cosroe ; others de¬
rive it from soldanus, cjuasi solus dominus, others from
the Hebrew schalat or sheleth, “ to rule, reign.”
It had its rise under Mahmoud, son of Sebecteghin,
the first emperor of the dynasty of the Gaznevides, to¬
wards the close of the fourth century of the era of the
Hegira : when that prince going to Segestan to reduce
Kalaf governor of that province, who affected the sove¬
reignty, Kalaf was no sooner advertised of his coming
than he went out to meet him, delivered the keys of his
fortress, and owned him his sultan, that is, his lord or
commander. The title pleased Mahmoud so well, that
he assumed it ever afterwards; and from him it passed
to his descendants, and to other Mahometan princes. It
is chiefly confined to the Turkish and Persian monarchs.
SULZER, M. a celebrated philosopher, wras born
at Winterthur, in the canton of Zurich, October 16.
1720. He was the youngest of 25 children. His early
education did not promise much, though it was by no
] SUL
means neglected. He had little inclination for what is Sulzer.
called in the schools the study of humanity, and made *
but a small progress in the learned languages, wThich
were to prepare him for the study of theology, for which
profession his parents designed him. At the age of 16,
when he went to the academical school of Zurich, he
had not the smallest notion of the sciences, or of elegant
literature, and consequently no taste for study. The first
incident that developed a hidden germ of philosophical
genius, was his meeting with Wolfe’s Metaphysics:
this was the birth of his taste for science : but he wanted
a guide. The clergyman with whom he lodged was an
ignorant man ; and the academical prelections were, as
yet, above the reach of his comprehension. On the other
hand, a sedentary life was not the thing he liked, nor
to which he had been accustomed ; and, moreover, a
sociable turn of mind led him often into company, where
he lost much time in frivolous amusements, yet without
corrupting his morals. Who, that observed him at this
period, says Mr Formey in his Eulogium, would have
thought that Sulzer would one day be numbered among
the most knowing and wise men of bis time ? The learn¬
ed Gesner was the instrument of Providence that ren¬
dered Sulzer’s inclination to study triumphant over his
passion for amusement and company. Animated by the
counsels and example of this worthy and learned man,
he applied himself to philosophy and mathematics with
great ardour, and resumed the pursuit of Grecian litera¬
ture and the oriental languages. The contemplation of
nature became his noble and favourite passion. An ec¬
clesiastical settlement in a rural scene, that exhibited
happy objects and occasions for this delightful study,
began to render his days happy and useful; and he pu¬
blished, in 1741, Moral Contemplations of the Works
of Nature; and the year following an Account of a
Journey he had made through the Alps; which showed
at the same time, his knowledge of natural history, and
the taste and sensibility with which he surveyed the beau¬
ties of nature and the grandeur and goodness of its Au¬
thor. He afterwards became private tutor to a young
gentleman at Magdeburg. This procured him the ac¬
quaintance of Messrs Maupertuis, Euler, and Sack,
which opened to his merit the path of preferment, and
advanced him successively to the place of mathematical
professor in the King’s College at Berlin, in 1747, and
to that of member of the Roval Academy in 1750.
In this last quality he distinguished himself in a very
eminent manner, enriched the class of speculative philo¬
sophy with a great number of excellent memoirs, and
was justly considered as one of the first-rate metaphy¬
sicians in Germany. But bis genius was not confined to
this branch of science. His universal Theory of the
Fine Arts is a valuable production. A profound know¬
ledge of the arts and sciences, and a perfect acquaint¬
ance with true taste, are eminently displayed in this
work, and will secure to its author a permanent and di¬
stinguished rank in the republic of letters. The first vo¬
lume of this excellent work was published in 1771, and
the second in 1774* We shall not here give a catalogue
ot the writings of M. Sulzer; but we cannot help men¬
tioning his remarks on the Philosophical Essays of the
late Mr Hume as a work of real merit, which does ju¬
stice to the acuteness, while it often detects the sophistry,
of the British Bayle. The moral character of M. Sul¬
zer was amiable and virtuous ; sociability and benefi¬
cence
SUM [ 7 ] SUM
:Sn!zer cence were its charactcristical lines ; anti his virtues
|| were animated by that sacred philosophy that forms the
umatra. Christian, ennobles man, and is the only source of that
“"~v heart-felt serenity and sedate fortitude which support
humanity, when every other object of confidence fails.
His dying moments were calm, humble, and sublime •,
and when he expired, the placid and composed air of
his countenance made his mourning friends doubt, for
some time, whether it was death or sleep that had su¬
spended his conversation. He had no enemy ; and his
friends were numerous, affectionate, and worthy of the
tender returns he made them.
The king of Prussia distinguished him by repeated
marks of munificence and favour. But his royal protec¬
tor had never seen him before the end of the year 1777,
though he had been member of the academy from the
year 1750. The audience, indeed, though late vouch¬
safed, was honourable to M. Sulzer, with whom the
monarch conversed for a long time with great conde¬
scension. . ,
SUM, signifies the quantity that arises from the ad¬
dition of two or more magnitudes, numbers, or quanti¬
ties together.
SUMACH. See Rhus, Botany Index.
SUMATRA, an island of Asia, the most western of
the Sunda islands, and constituting on that side the boun¬
dary of the Eastern Archipelago. Its general direction
is nearly north-west and south-east. The equatordivides
it into almost equal parts, the one extremity being in 5.
53. N. and the other in 5. 56. S. Lat. Acheen Head, at
the north extremity of the island, is in longitude 95. 34.
east. It lies exposed on the south-west side to the In¬
dian ocean ; the north point stretches into the bay of
Bengal; to the north-east it is divided from the penin¬
sula of Malacca by the straits of that name ; to the east
by the straits of Banca, from the island of that name ;
to the south-east by the commencement of what are cal¬
led the Chinese seas; and on the south by the straits of
Sunda, which separate it from the island of Java. It is
about 900 miles in length, but from 100 to 150 only in
Motors breadth. No account had been given of this island by
tcer. any Englishman till the year 1778, when Mr Charles
Miller (son of the late botanical gardener) published an
account of the manners of a particular district, in the
68th volume of the Philosophical Transactions. These
were the Battas, a people who live in the interior parts,
called the Cassia Country. They differ from all the other
inhabitants in language, manners, and customs. They
eat the prisoners whom they take in war, and hang up
their skulls as trophies in their houses. He observes,
however, that human flesh is eaten by them in terrorem,
and not as common food, though they prefer it to all
others, and speak with peculiar raptures of the soles of
the feet and palms of the hands. They expressed much
surprise that the white people did not kill, much less eat,
their prisoners. From this country the greatest part of
the cassia that is sent to Europe is procured. It abounds
also with the camphire trees, which constitute the com¬
mon timber in use ; and in these trees the camphire is
found native, in a concrete form. It is remarkable that,
in this state, it is sold to the Chinese at the price of 250I.
or 30oh percent.; but these dexterous artists contrive to
furnish the Europeans with it at about a quarter of that
price. In 1783, MrMarsden, who had been secretary to
ihepresident and council of Fort Marlborough, published a
History of Sumatra, with very copious particulars of the Sumatra,
island. He represented it as surpassed by few in the beau- v™ 1
tiful indulgences of nature. A chain of high mountains
runs through its whole extent; the ranges in many parts .
being double and treble ; their altitude, though great,
is not sufficient to occasion their being covered with snow
during any part of the year. Between these ridges are
extensive plains, considerably elevated above the surface
of the maritime lands. In these the air is cool ; and
from this advantage they are esteemed the most eligible
portion of the country, are the best inhabited, and the
most cleared from woods, which elsewhere, in general,
throughout Sumatra, cover both hills and valleys with
an eternal shade. Here too are found many large and
beautiful lakes, that facilitate much the communication
between the different parts. The heat of the air is far
from being so intense as might be expected from a coun¬
try occupying the middle of the torrid zone ; and it is
more temperate than many regions within the tropics;
the thermometer at the most sultry hour, about two in
the afternoon, generally fluctuating between 82 and 85
degrees. Mr Marsden divides the inhabitants into Ma¬
lays, Achenese, Battas, Lampoons, and Rejangs ; and
he takes the latter as his standard of description, with
respect to the persons, manners, and customs, of the in¬
habitants. They are rather below the middle stature ;
their bulk in proportion ; their limbs for the most part
slight, but well shaped, and particularly small at the
wrists and ancles; and, upon the whole they are grace¬
fully formed. Their hair is strong, and of a shining
black. The men are beardless, great pains being taken
to render them so when boys, by rubbing their chins
with a kind of quicklime. Their complexion is pro¬
perly yellow, wanting the red tinge that constitutes a
copper or tawney colour. They are in general lighter
than the Mestees, or half-breed, of the rest of India ;
those of the superior class, who are not exposed to the
rays of the sun, and particularly their women of rank,
approaching to a degree of fairness. If beauty consisted
in this one quality, some of them would surpass our bru¬
nettes in Europe. The major part of the females are
ugly, many of them even to disgust; yet among them
are some whose appearance is strikingly beautiful, what¬
ever composition of person, features, and complexion,
that sentiment may be the result of. Some of the inha¬
bitants of the hilly parts are observed to have the swell¬
ed neck or goitre; but they attempt no remedy for it,
as these wens are consistent with the highest health. The
rites of marriage among the Sumatrans consist simply in
joining the hands of the parties, and pronouncing them-
man and wife without much ceremony, excepting the
entertainment which is given upon the occasion by the
father of the girl. The customs of the Sumatrans per¬
mit their having as many wives as they can purchase, or
afford to maintain ; but it is extremely rare that an in¬
stance occurs of their having more than one, and that
only among a few of the chiefs. This continence they
owe, in some measure, to their poverty. The dictates
of frugality are more powerful with them than the irre¬
gular calls of appetite, and make them decline an indul¬
gence from which their law does not restrain them.
Mothers carry their children, not on the arm as our-
nurses do, but straddling on the hip, and usually sup¬
ported by a cloth which ties in a knot on the opposite
shoulder. The*children are nursed but little ; are not
confined
SUM
r s ]
S nnaira confined by any swathing ox- bandages ; and being suf-
1 fered to roll about the floor, soon learn to walk and
shift for themselves. When cradles are used, they swing
suspended from the ceilings of the rooms.
The Sumatrans are so fond of cock-fighting, that a
father on his death-bed has been known to desire his son
to take the first opportunity of matching a cock for a
sum equal to his whole property, under a blind convic¬
tion of its being invulnei'able. When a cock is killed
or x*uns, the other must have sufficient spirit and vigour
left to peck at him tlu-ee times on his being held up to
him for that purpose, or it becomes a drawn battle ; and
sometimes an experienced cocker will place the head of
his vanquished bird in such an uncouth situation as to
terrify the other, and render him unable to give this
proof of victory.
The wild beasts of Sumatra are tigers, elephants, rhi¬
noceroses, bears, and monkeys. The tigers proveto the
inhabitants both in their journeys and even their domes¬
tic occupations most destructive enemies. The number
of people annually slain by these i-apacious tyrants of the
woods is almost incredible. Whole villages have been
depopulated by them; yet from a superstitious preju¬
dice, it is with difficulty they are prevailed upon, by a
large reward which the India Company offers, to use
methods of destroying 'them, till they have sustained
some particular injury in thir own family or kindred.
The size and strength of the species which prevails on
this island is prodigious. They are said to break with a
stroke of their fore paw the leg of a horse or a buffalo ;
and the largest prey they kill is without difficulty drag¬
ged by them into the woods. This they usually per¬
form on the second night, being supposed on the first to
gratify themselves with sucking the blood only. Time
is by this delay afforded to prepare for their destruction,
either by shooting them, or placing a vessel of water
strongly impregnated with arsenic near the carcase,
which is fastened to a tree to prevent its being carried
off. The tiger having satiated himself with the flesh, is
prompted to assuage his thirst with the tempting liquor
at hand, and perishes in the indulgence. Their chief
subsistence is most probably the unfortunate monkeys
with which the woods abound. They are described as
alluring them to their fate by a fascinating power, simi¬
lar to what has been supposed of the snake ; and, says
Mr Marsden, “ I am not incredulous enough to treat
the idea with contempt, having myself observed, that
■when an alligator or a crocodile, in a river, comes under
an overhanging branch of a tree, the monkeys, in a state
of alarm and distraction, crowd to the extremity, and,
chattering and trembling, approach nearer and nearer to
the amphibious monster that waits to devour them as
they drop, which their fright and number render almost
unavoidable.” These alligators likewise occasion the
loss of many inhabitants, frequently destroying the peo¬
ple as they bathe in the river, according to their i-egu-
lar custom, and which the perpetual evidence of the risk
attending it cannot deter them from. A superstitious
idea of their sanctity also preserves them from molesta¬
tion, although, with a hook of sufficient strength, they
may be taken without much difficulty. The other ani¬
mals of Sumatra are buffaloes, a small kind of horses,
goats, hogs, deer, bullocks, and hog-deer. This last is
an animal somewhat larger than a rabbit, the head re¬
sembling that of a hog, and its shanks and feet like those
SUM
of the deer. The hezoai’-stone found on this animal has Sumatra
been valued at Io‘times its weight in gold ; it is of a -'•v'*-—!
dark brown colour, smooth on the outside ; and the
coat being taken ofi’, it appears.still darker, with strings
running underneath the coat: it will swim on the top of
the water. If it be infused in any liquid, it makes it
extremely bitter: the virtues usually attributed to this
stone are cleansing the stomach, creating an appetite,
and sweetening the blood.
Of birds they have a greater variety than of beasts.
The coo-ow, or Sumatran pheasant, is a bird of uncom¬
mon beauty. They have storks of prodigious size, par¬
rots, dung-hill fowls, ducks, the largest cocks in the
world, wood-pigeons, doves, and a great variety of small
birds, different from ours, and distinguished by the beau¬
ty of their colours. Of the reptiles, they have lizards,
flying lizards, and cameleons. The island swarms with
insects, and their varietiesax-e no less extraordinary than
their numbers. Rice is the only grain that grows in the
country ; they have sugax-canes, beans, pease, radishes,
yams, potatoes, pumkins, and sevex-al kinds of pot-herbs
unknown to Europe ; and here are to be found most of
the fruits to be met with in other parts of the East In¬
dies, in the greatest perfection. Indigo, Brasil-wood,
two species of the bread-fruit tx-ee, pepper, benjamin,
coffee and cotton, are likewise the produce ol this island,
as well as cassia and camphire mentioned above. Here
also is the cabbage-tree and silk-cotton tree ; and the
forests contain a great variety of valuable species of
wood, as ebony, pine, sandal, eagle or aloes, teek, man-
chineel, and iron-wood, and also tlie.banyan tree. Gold,
tin, iron, coppei', and lead, ai'e found in the country ;
and the former is supposed to be as plentiful here as in
Peru or Mexico. The finest gold and gold-dust are
found in the country of Limong, immediately contigu¬
ous to the presidency of Fort Marlborough, to which the
merchants repair annually for the purchase of opium,
and such other articles as they may be in want of, and
give for them gold of so pure a nature as to contain
little or no alloy. The native indolence of the
disposition prevents them fi-om collecting more than iSsearche*
sufficient to supply the few and simple wants of a racevol. i.
of men as yet unenlightened by civilization and science,
and ignorant of the lull extent of the advantages of the
country inhabited by them. The loads leading to this
golden country are almost impervious ; affording only a
scanty path to a single traveller, where whole nights
must be passed in the open air, exposed to the malignant
influence of a hostile climate, in a country infested by
the most ferocious wild beasts. These ax-e circumstances
that have hitherto checked curiosity ; but perseverance
and studied precaution will surmount the obstacles they
furnish, and such discoveries might be made as would
amply compensate for the difficulties leading to them.
The gold merchants who come from the neighbouxing
and less rich countries, give us such accounts of the fa¬
cility of procuring gold as border nearly on the marvel¬
lous, and would be altogether incredible, if great quan¬
tities of that metal produced by them did not in some
degree evince the certainty of their accounts.
This great abundance of gold in Sumatra induces Mr
Maxsden to suppose that island to be the Ophir of Solo¬
mon ; a conjecture which, in his opinion, derives no
small force from the word Ophir being really a Malay
substantive, of a compound sense, signifying a mountain
containing
SUM [
containing gold. The natives, he confesses, have no.
oral tradition on the subject j and -we have elsewhere
made it probable that Ophir was situated in a different
quarter of the world (see Ophir). Besides the metals
and different species of wood which we have mentioned,
Sumatra produces sulphur, arsenic, saltpetre, and bees¬
wax, with edible birds-nests, which are there commodi¬
ties of great importance (see Birds-Nests').
The English and Dutch have factoriies on this island j
the principal one of the former being Fort Marlborough,
on the south-west coast. The original natives of Suma¬
tra are Pagans •, but it is to be observed, that when the
Sumatrans, or any of the natives of the eastern islands,
learn to read the Arabic character, and submit to cir¬
cumcision, they are said to become Malays •, the term
Malay being understood to mean Mussulman. See
Acheen.
SUMMARY, in matters of literature. See A-
BRID CEMENT.
SUMMER, the name of one of the seasons of the
year, being one of the quarters when the year is divided
into four quarters, or one half when the year is divided
only into two, summer and winter. In the former case,
summer is the quarter during which, in northern cli¬
mates, the sun is passing through the three signs Cancer,
Leo, Virgo, or from the time of the greatest declination,
till the sun come to the equinoctial again, or have no
declination ; which is from about the 2ist of June till
about the 22d of September'. In the latter case, sum¬
mer contains the six warmer months, while the sun is on
one side of the equinoctial; and winter the other six
months, when the sun is on the other side of it. It is
said that a frosty winter produces a dry summer, and a
mild winter a wet summer.
SuMMER-Islands. See Bermudas.
Summer Red-Bird. See Muscicapa, Ornitho¬
logy Index.
SUMMIT, the top or vertex of any body or figure,
as of a triangle, cone, pyramid, &c.
SUMMONS, in Law, a citing or calling a person
to any court, to answer a complaint or to give his evi¬
dence.
Summons, in JFir. To summon a place is to send
a drum or trumpet to command the governor to surren¬
der, and to declare that if the place be taken by storm,
all must submit to the mercy of the conqueror. See
Capitulation and Chamade.
SUMMUM BONUM, in Ethics, the chief good.
SUMP, in Metallurgy, a round pit of stone, lined
with clay within, for receiving the metal on its first fu¬
sion from the ore.
Sump, in the British salt-works, where sea-water is
boiled into salt, is the name of a sort of pond, which is
made at some distance from the saltern on the sea-shore,
between lull sea and low-water mark. From this pond
a pipe is laid, through which, when it is full sea, the
water runs into a well adjoining to the saltern ; and
from this well it is pumped into troughs, through which
it is carried to the cisterns, in order to be ready to sup¬
ply the pans. See Salt.
Sump, in Mining, denotes a pit sunk down in the
bottom of the mine, to cut or prove the lode still deeper
than before; and in order to slope and dig it away if
necessary, and also to drive on the lode in depth. The
sump principally serves as a bason or reservoir, to collect
Vol. XX. Part I. +
9 ] SUN
the water of a mine together, that it may be cleaned out
by an engine or machine.
SUMPTER HORSE, is a horse that carries provisions
and necessaries for a journey.
SUMPTUARY laws (Leges Sumptuarice), are
laws made to restrain excess in apparel, costly furniture,
eating, &c.
Most ages and nations have had their sumptuary
laws ; and some retain them still, as the Venetians, &c.
But it is observed that no laws are Averse executed than
sumptuary laws. Political Avriters have been much di¬
vided in opinion with respect to the utility of these laws
to a state. Montesquieu observes that luxury is neces¬
sary in monarchies, as in France, but ruinous to demo¬
cracies, as in Holland. With regard to England, Avhose
government is compounded of both species, it may still
be a dubious question, says Judge Blackstone, Iioav far
private luxury is a public evil; and as such cognizable
by public laAVS.
The sumptuary larvs of the ancient Locrian legislator
Zaleucus are famous : by these it was ordained that no
Avoman should go attended with more than one maid in
the street except she Avere drunk: that she should not
go out of the city in the night, unless she Avent to com¬
mit fornication : that she should not Avear any gold or
embroidered apparel, unless she proposed to be a com¬
mon strumpet ; and that men should not wear rings or
tissues except Avhen they Avent a Avhoring, &c.
Among the Romans, the sumptuary laws Avere very
numerous : By the F^,ex Orchia, the number of guests at
leasts was limited, though Avithout any limitation of the
charges : by the Fannian laAV, made 22 yeais after-'
Avards, it Avas enacted, that more than 10 asses should
not be spent at any ordinary feast: for the solemn feasts,
as the Saturnalia, &c. an hundred asses were allowed ;
ten of which, Gellius informs us, Avas the price of a
sheep, and a hundred of an ox. By the Didian laAV,
Avhich Avas preferred 18 years after, it Avas decreed, that
the former sumptuary laws should be in force, not only ,
in Rome, but throughout all Italy ; and that for every
transgression, not only the master of the feast, but all
the guests too, should be liable to the penalty.
The English have had their share of sumptuary laws,
chiefly made in the reigns of Edward III. Edward IV.
and Henry VIII. against shoes with long points, short
doublets, and long coats ; though all repealed by sta¬
tute i Jac. I. c. 25. As to excess in diet, there re¬
mains still one laAV unrepealed. Under King Henry I V.
Camden tells us, pride had got so much into the foot,
that it was proclaimed, that no man should wear shoes
above six inches broad at the toes. And their outer
garments Avere so short, that it was enacted, 25 Ed¬
ward IV. that no person, under the condition of a lord,
should from that time, Avear any mantle or gown, un¬
less of such length, that standing upright, it might co¬
ver the lower part of the trunk of his body.
SUN, Sol, ©, in Astronomy, the great luminary
which enlightens the world, and by its presence consti¬
tutes day. See Astronomy Index.
Mock-SuN. See Parhelion.
Sun-Fish, a species of shark. See Squalus, Ichthy¬
ology Index.
SuN-F/ower. See Helianthus, 7 7- ,
SUN-Dew. See Drosera, j Botany
SUNDA-ISLANDS, a general name for a cluster of
B island#
Sump
/
SUP [I
SunJa- islands in the Indian ocean, between 930 and i20°of
islands east longitude, and between 8° north and 8° south lati-
H hide. The particular names of the islands are Borneo,
Supeicio- §umatra^ Java, Bally, Ba?ica, &c.
> ga ' . SUNDAY, or the Lord’s-day, a solemn festival
observed by Christians pn the first day of every week,
in memory of our Saviour’s resurrection. See Sab¬
bath.
In the breviary and other offices we meet with Sun¬
days of the first and second class. Those of the first
class are, Palm, Easter, Advent, and Whitsunday, those
of Quasimodo and Quadragesima. Those of the second
class are the common Sundays. Anciently each Sun¬
day in the year had its particular name, which was taken
from the introit of the day; which custom has only
been continued to some few in lent; as Reminiscere,
Oculi, Lcetare, Judica.
Some are of opinion that the Lord’s day, mentioned
in the Apocalypse, is our Sunday ; which they believe
was so early instituted by the apostles. Be this as it
will, it is certain a regard was had to this day even in
the earliest ages of the church ; as appears from the
first apology of Justin Martyr, where he describes the
exercise of the day not much unlike to ours.
But it was Constautine the Great who first made a
law for the proper observation of Sunday ; and who, ac¬
cording to Eusebius, appointed it should be regularly
celebrated throughout the Roman empire. Before him,
and even in his time, they observed the Jewish Sabbath
as well as Sunday; both to satisfy the law of Moses and
to imitate the apostles, who used to meet together on
the first day.
By Constantine’s laws, made in 321, it was decreed,
that for the future the Sunday should be kept a day of
rest in all cities and towns ; but he allowed the country
people to follow their work. In 538, the council of
Orleans prohibited country labour; but because there
were still many Jews in Gaul, and the people fell into
many superstitious uses in the celebration of the new
Sabbath, like those of the Jews among that of the old,
the council declares, that to hold it unlawful to travel
with horses, cattle, and carriages, to prepare food, or to
do any thing necessary to the cleanliness and decency of
houses or persons, savours more of Judaism than of Chri¬
stianity. See Sabba m-Breaking.
Sub day-Schools. See Sunday-ScuooLS.
SUOVETAURILIA, an ancient Roman sacrifice,
so called because it consisted of a pig (sus), a sheep or
rather ram (avis'), and a bull (taurus). They were all
males, to denote the masculine courage of the Roman
people. It was likewise called solitaurilia, because the
animals offered up were always solida, whole or uncut.
SUPERCARGO, a person employed by merchants
to go a voyage, and oversee their cargo or lading, and
dispose of it to the best advantage.
SUPERCILIUM, in Anatomy, the eye-brow. See
Anatomy, N° 1*42.
SUPEREROGATION, in Theology, what a man
does beyond his duty, or more than he is commanded to
do. The Romanists stand up strenuously for works of
supererogation, and maintain that the observance of
evangelical councils is such. By means hereof, a stock
of merit is laid up, which the church has the disposal of,
and which she distributes in indulgences to such as need.
This absurd doctrine was first invented towards the
3:
> ] SUP
close of the 12th century, and modified and embellished Superen
by St Thomas in the 13th : according to which, it was gatior
pretended that there actually existed an immense trea- I',
sure of merit, composed of the pious deeds and virtuous , ^llPeuc:
actions which the saints had performed beyond what was
necessary for their own salvation, and which were there¬
fore applicable to the benefit of others ; that the guar¬
dian and dispenser of this precious treasure was the
Roman pontiff; and that of consequence he was em¬
powered to assign to such as he thought proper a por¬
tion of this inexhaustible source of merit, suitable to their
respective guilt, and sufficient to deliver them from the
punishment due to their crimes.
The reformed churches do not allow of any work of
supererogation; but hold with the apostles, that when
we have done our best, we are but unprofitable servants.
SUPERFETATION, in Physiology, a second or
after-conception, happening when the mother, already
pregnant, conceives of a latter coition; so that she bears
at once two foetuses of unequal age and bulk, and is de¬
livered of them at different times. We meet with in¬
stances of superfetations in Hippocrates, Aristotle, Du
Laurens, &c.: but they are said to be much more fre¬
quent in hares and swine.
SUPERFICIES, or Surface, in Geometry, the out¬
side or exterior face of any body. This is considered as
having the two dimensions of length and breadth only,
but no thickness ; and therefore it makes no part of the
substance or solid content or matter of the body.
The terms, or hounds, or extremities, of a superficies,
are lines; and superficies may be considered as generat¬
ed by the motions of lines. Superficies are either recti¬
linear, curvilinear, plane, concave, or convex. A recti¬
linear superficies is that which is bounded by right lines.
Curvilinear superficies is hounded by curve fines. Plane
superficies is that which has no inequality in it, nor ri¬
sings, nor sinkings, but lies evenly and straight through¬
out, so that a right line may wholly coincide with it in
all parts and directions. Convex superficies is that which
is curved and rises outwards. Concave superficies is
curved and sinks inward. See Geometry.
SUPERFINE, in the manufactories, a term used to
express the superlative fineness of a stuff: thus a cloth,
a camblet, &c. are *>aid to be superfine when made of
the finest wool, &c. or when they are the finest that can
be made.
SUPERFLUOUS interval, in Music, is one that
exceeds a true diatonic interval by a semitone minor.
See Interval.
SUPERINTENDANT, denotes an ecclesiastical
superior in several reformed churches where episcopacy
is not admitted ; particularly among the Lutherans in
Germany, and the Calvinists in some other places.
The superintendant is similar to a bishop ; only his
power is somewhat more restrained than that of our dio¬
cesan bishops. He is the chief pastor, and has the di¬
rection of all the inferior pastors within his district or
diocese. In Germany they had formerly superintend-
ants general, who were superior to the ordinary super-
intendauts. These, in reality, were archbishops; but
the dignity is sunk into disuse; and at present none but
the superintendant of Wirtemberg assumes the quality
of superintendant general.
SUPERIOR, a person raised above another in rank,
office, or talents.
Superior,
SUP [
>?uperfor SUPERIOR, in Scots Law. See LaW, N0 clxiv. 3.
|| clxv. 2. and clxvi.
'"upersti- SUPERLATIVE, in Gi'amniar, one of the three
1 tlon‘ degrees of comparison, being that inflection of adjective
nouns that serves to augment and heighten their signi¬
fication, and shows the quality of the thing denoted to
be in the highest degree. See Grammar.
SUPERNUMERARY, something over and above
a fixed number. In several of the offices are supernu¬
merary clerks, to be ready on extraordinary occasions.
SUPERPARTICULAR proportion, or Ratio, is
that in which the greater term exceeds the less by
unit or 1. As the ratio of 1 to 2, or 2 to 3, or 3 to 4,
&c.
SUPERPARTIENT proportion, or Rafrb, is when
the greater term contains the less term once, and leaves
some number greater than 1 remaining. As the ratio
of 3 to 5, which is equal to that of I to i-j- ;
of 7 to 10, which is equal to that of 1 to 14, &c.
SUPERSEDEAS, in Law, a writ issued in divers
cases, importing in general a eommand to stay or forbear
some ordinary proceedings in law, which in appearance
ought to be done or pursued, were it not for the cause
whereon this writ is granted.
Thus a man regularly is to have a surety of peace
against him of whom he will swear he is afraid 5 and
the justice required hereunto cannot deny it him : yet,
if the party be formerly bound to the peace, either in
chancery or elsewhere, this writ lies to stay the justice
from doing that which otherwise he ought not to deny.
SUPERSTITION, a word that has been used so in-
flefinitely, that it is difficult to determine its precise
meaning. From its resemblance in sound to the Latin
word superstes, “ a survivor,” it is evidently derived
from it, and different attempts have been made to trace
their connection in signification. Balbus, in the dia¬
logue De NaturaDeorum of Cicefo, says, that they who
prayed and sacrificed whole days that their children
might survive them, were called superstitious. Lactan-
tius censures this etymology, and says they were not
called superstitious who wished that their children might
imrvive them (for this we all wish), but because they
who survived their parents worshipped their images.
Others again say, that superstition is derived from su¬
perstes, because it consisted in considering the dead as if
they were alive. But these etymologies are solely con¬
jectural ; and we consider conjectures as absurd in phi¬
lology as we do in science 5 they may mislead, but are sel.
dom of any benefit. The usual meaning affixed to the
word superstition, both in the Latin and English lan¬
guages, is sc different from superstes, that its change of
meaning must be owing to some accident which it is in
vain to inquire after. If we had not known that the
word paganus, “ a pagan,” was derived from pagus, “a
village,” because the heathens in a certain period of the
Christian history lived in villages, the whims and fancies
of etymologists would not have thrown much light on
the subject.
Without labouring, from the aid of etymology, to de¬
fine superstition, which is a word of a very extensive sig¬
nification, we will consider to what objects it is applied j
and then, by observing what is common to them all, we
shall he enabled to fix with some degr ee of precision the
meaning of the term. We apply it to the idolatry of (lie
: i ] SUP
heathens ; we apply it also to theJews,who made the will Soperstfi
of God of no effect by their traditions, and substituted tion.
ceremonies in place of the religion of their fathers. We
say also that Christians are guilty of superstition ; the
Roman Catholics, who believe in transubstantiation and
in the efficacy of prayers to saints; and those Protestants
who esteem baptism arid the Lord’s supper, and the
punctual performance of other ceremonies, without re¬
gard to morality, as sufficient to ensure salvation. Those
persons are also reckoned superstitious who believe, with¬
out any evidence, that prophecies are still uttered by
the divine inspiration, and that miracles are still per¬
formed. The word is also extended to those who be¬
lieve in witchcraft, magic, and apparitions, or that the
divine will is declared by omens or augury ; that the
fortune of individuals can be affected by things indif¬
ferent, by things deemed lucky or unlucky, or that dis¬
eases can be cured by words, charms, and incantations.
Th rough all the particulars which we have enumera¬
ted, there runs one general idea, the belief of wliat is
false and contrary to reason. From this, however, we
must not suppose that whatever is false and contrary to
reason may be denominated superstition. We think
that it is false and irrational to suppose that there ever
lived on earth a race of men who walked on one leg,
and had their eyes in their breast; or that there were
giants 90 feet high : yet we do not call the philoso¬
pher who believes these chimeras superstitious, but cre¬
dulous. Superstition has always a reference to God, to
religion, or to beings superior to man. We do not how¬
ever distinguish all false and irrational opinions in reli¬
gion by the name of superstition. We do not, for in¬
stance, apply this name to the opinions which sriifie of
the ancients entertained, that God is the soul of the
world, and that men are only portions of him separated
for a time, or that the soul after death lives successively
in different bodies. If we examine the subject with
more attention, we shall discover that the foundation of
superstition is ignorance of the moral attributes of God j
for we never say a man is superstitious for entertaining
erroneous opinions of the natural attributes of God.
Some of the Socinians have denied the prescience of
God ; and a French philosopher has not only rejected
the belief that He is a spirit, but has presumed to say
that he is composed of a species of crystals. The first
of these opinions discovers very impedect ideas of God,
and the second is the height of impiety and absurdity 5
yet the Socinians have not been accused of superstition,
nor can this French philosopher be suspected of it. We
do not call every false opinion concerning the unity or
moral attributes of God by the name of superstition^ as,
for instance, the opinion which some sOeptics have sup¬
ported, that God is not good y for,< as was mentioned
before, superstition always Involves the idea of creduli¬
ty. It does not consist in falsely denying that God pos¬
sesses any particular moral attributes, but in believing
more than what is true concerning them; in forming
mean, unworthy ideas of them ; in supposing that lie-is
guided by blind passion like mankind, and enjoins upou
his creatures commandments which are irrational ami
absurd.
As superstition arises from ignorance and credulity ia
the understanding, so it has also a seat in the passions.
Fear has been commonly considered as a passion of the
human mind from which it chiefly derives its origin ;
B 2 and
SUP [ i:
Siipersti- an(l there is no doubt that more superstition has arisen
tion. from fear united with ignorance and credulity than from
'——y-—1 any other passion. Yet it would certainly be impro¬
per to exclude all other passions. We cannot account
for the superstition of the Egyptians, without supposing
that much of it arose from gratitude. They worshipped
the Nile, because it distributed fertility and abundance
over the land of Egypt *, and they worshipped some ani¬
mals, merely because they prevented the increase of
other animals which were noxious. Thus they adored
the ibis, because it destroyed the eggs of the crocodile.
Having thus endeavoured to analyze the ideas com¬
prehended under the word superstition, we may sum
them up in a few words. It respects God and beings
superior to man, and extends to our religious opinions,
worship, and practices; and may be defined absurd opi¬
nions and actions arising from mean and defective ideas
of the moral attributes of God. Let us apply this defi¬
nition to the different species of superstition already
mentioned.
But before entering upon this application, it may be
proper to observe, that superstition involves the idea of
a blameable inattention to reason, or a credulity arising
from an indolence of understanding. We generally
make a distinction between the imperfect opinions which
a savage, from the necessary effects of his situation, forms
of the attributes of God, and those which civilized na¬
tions entertain. We say the savage is ignorant, and we
ascribe his ignorance to his situation ; but we call the
Roman Catholic superstitions, and we blame him for not
having those just ideas of God which be might have ob¬
tained by opening his Bible, or by the exercise of his
understanding in the favourable situation in which lie is
placed'. Superstition then does not originate so much
from the natural weakness of the human understandings
as from a misapplication or a neglect of it (a).
We cannot therefore with any propriety apply the
name superstition to polytheism in general ; for what all
the ancient philosophers, after much study and reflec¬
tion, concluded to be true, could never proceed from
credulity and inattention, but from their situation. We
speak very properly, however, when we call idolatry by
the name of superstition; because there is no man so de¬
void of understanding as not to be capable of discover¬
ing, that a piece of metal, or wood, or stone, can nei¬
ther hear nor answer petitions. Superstition was a name
which the ancient philosophers gave to those who en¬
tertained mean opinions of the gods, or did foolish things
Yheophras-1° obtain their favour. According to Theophrastus,
im’t Cha- the superstitious man is one who, having washed his
ractert, hands, and sprinkled himself all round, leaves the temple
XY" with a laurel leaf in his mouth, with which he walks
about the whole day. Or, if a weasel should cross the
road, he will not advance a step till he has thrown three
stones over the road. If he find a serpent in his house,
he rears a place of devotion on the spot. He purifies
his house often, will not sit upon a grave, or touch a
dead person. He is anxious about the interpretation of
his dreams, will not offer a sacrifice unless his wife go
along with him, or, if she is engaged, he takes the nurse
(a) We do not pretend to say that this is the sense
used improperly.
] SUP
and the little children. He purifies himselftvith onions; Suptmi.
and when he sees a mad or an epileptic person, he spits . t |
in their bosom. Such was the character of superstition
in the days of Theophrastus. All these whimsical ce¬
remonies were done to prevent mischief, and to avert
the wrath of the gods ; and therefore perfectly corres¬
pond with the definition given above.
It is only necessary toconsider a little the superstitious
opinions and practices among Jews and Christians, to be
sensible that they have all arisen from mean and absurd
ideas of the moral attributes of God : for they have ge¬
nerally entertained noble opinions of his natural attri¬
butes. The Jews considered God as a partial Being,
who had a predilection for their nation in preference to
all others, and preferred external homage and ceremony
to moral purity. If the Roman Catholics think con¬
sistently, they must esteem God as a Being who can be
prevailed upon by the importunity of one dead man to
assist another, or as a Being whose patience would be
fatigued with hearing prayers constantly. Hence their
practice of praying to saints. They in effect believe,
however they may deceive themselves, that God is un¬
just, or they could not believe transubstantiation; for it
supposes that God can give commands directly contrary
to those principles of belief with which he has endued
the human mind. They consider a strict adherence to
a variety of ceremonies, to forms, to pomp, and show,
as essential to the worship of God : this is treating God
as a vainglorious Being. They thought it their duty
to extirpate heretics : this was supposing God a cruel
and revengeful Being. Even among Protestants, we
are sorry to say, a great deal of superstition remains:
we have not yet learned to consider God as a spirit, who
is to be worshipped in spirit and in truth, as a pure moral
benevolent Being; and hence arise all the superstitious
practices which prevail among us.
Besides those superstitiousopinions and.practiceswhicb
entirely respect our duty to God, there are others which
may be termed vulgar superstitions. These also arise
from imperfect ami mean ideas of the moral attributes
of God. To believe vulgar prophecies, which are al¬
ways the effusions of madness or knavery, is to suppose
that God, who has drawn a veil over futurity, and only
delivers prophecies to accomplish some great moral pur¬
pose, sometimes gives them for no purpose at all, or to
gratify idle curiosity, or to disclose such a knowledge of
what is to happen as is inconsistent with the free agency
of man and the moral administration of the world. Nor
is it less superstitious to believe in vulgar miracles. To
believe in them, is to believe that God suspends the laws
of nature for the most trivial purposes, or to countenance
fraud and worldly ambition : it is to receive the most
extraordinary facts upon the most unsatisfactory evi¬
dence. I he belief of witchcraft, of apparitions, and the
second sight, may be resolved into the same principle.
Jo suppose that God would communicate the power of
doing mischief, and of controuling his laws, to any be¬
ing merely for gratifying their own passions, is unworthy
ot God. J he belief of apparitions is equally inconsist¬
ent with the goodness of God (see Spectre). The
same
in which superstition is always used, because it is oftesa
2
SUP [ 13 1 SUP
?/?s,
«J. iif,
!>upersti- same objection rises against the second-sight as against
tlon' the belief of vulgar prophecies, and may also be extend-
ed to omens, to astrology, to things lucky and unlucky,
to fortune-telling, &c. As to the different devices and
charms for preventing and curing disorders, they re¬
semble in every respect false miracles.
A judicious history of superstition would be a curious
and entertaining work, and would exhibit the human
character in a remarkable point of view. Superstition
is most prevalent among men of weak and uncultivated
minds; it is more frequent in the female sex than among
men; and abounds more in the rude than in tiie refined
stages of society. The general features of it have been
the same in all ages; but it assumes certain peculiarities
according to the diversity of character of different na¬
tions. It gained admission into the science of medicine
at an early period. He who was endowed with supe¬
rior genius and knowledge was reckoned a magician.
Dr Bartolo was seized by the inquisition at Rome in the
last century, because he unexpectedly cured a noble-
lanctester man of the gout. Diseases were imputed to fascination,
ramae- aiu[ hundreds of poor wretches were dragged to the
stake for being accessary to them. Mercatus, physician
to Philip II. of Spain, a writer of uncommon accuracy
and information, appears strongly inclined to deny the
existence of fascinatory diseases: but he is constrained
to acknowledge them for two reasons; 1st, Because the
inquisition had decided in favour of their reality; zdlv,
Because he had seen a very beautiful woman break a
steel-mirror to pieces, and blast some trees by a single
glance of her eyes.
As the opinions concerning the cause of diseases were
superstitious, those concerning the method of curing
them were not less so. In the Odyssey we read of a
cure performed by a song. Josephus relates, that he
saw a certain Jew, named Elewzar, draw the devil out
of an old woman’s nostrils by the application of Solo¬
mon’s seal to her nose in presence of the emperor Ves¬
pasian. Many different kinds of applications were used
for expelling the devil. Flagellation sometimes suc¬
ceeded admirably ; purgatives and antispasmodics were
other modes of discharging him. Dr Mynsight cured
several bewitched persons with a plaster of assafcetida.
How the assafcetida was so efficacious, was much dis¬
puted. Some thought the devil might consider so vile
an application as an insult, and run off in a passion ; but
others very sagely observed, that as devils are supposed
to have eyes and ears, it is probable they may have noses
too.
. Nm- was it only in medicine these superstitious opi¬
nions were entertained ; they prevailed also in natural
philosophy. The pernicious effects in mines, which we
now know are occasioned by noxious air, were confi¬
dently imputed to the demons of the mine. Even Van
Helmont, Bodinus, Strozza, and Luther, attributed
thunder and meteors to the devil. Chemists were em¬
ployed for centuries in search of the philosopher’s stone,
with which they were to do miracles. It was a com¬
mon question among philosophers in the 17th century,
whether the imagination could move external objects;
a question generally decided in the affirmative.
< 1 hough superstition be generally the mark of a weak
mind, such is the infirmity of human nature, that we
find many instances of it among men of the most sublime
genius and most enlightened minds. Socrates believed
that be was guided by a demon. Lord Bacon believed Supersti-
in witchcraft; and relates that he was cured of warts by lion
rubbing them with a piece of lard with the skin on, anil 11
then nailing it with the fat towards the sun on the post, S,lPin*- ,
of a chamber window facing the sun. Henry IV. one *”
of the most illustrious of monarches, was very uneasy be¬
fore his assassination on account of some prophecies*. *
Sully declares, that one of the considerations that kept
him faithful to his master in the most unpromising state
of his affairs, was a prediction of La Brosse, that Henry
would make his fortune f. The astrologer Morin di-f^V
rected Cardinal Richelieu’s motions in some of his jourr
nevs j. The enlightened Cudwprth defended prophe-^ .
cies in general, and called those who opposed the beliefart’Mor*w'
of witchcraft by the name of atheists ; and the predic¬
tions of Rice Evans have been supported in the present
century by the celebrated names of War burton and Jor-
tiv. Dr Hoffman, the father of the Modern Theory
and Practice of Medicine, in a dissertation published in
the large edition of his works in 1747, says, that the
devil can raise storms, produce insects,, and act upon the
animal spirits and imagination; and, in fine, that he is
an excellent optician and natural philosopher on account
of his long experience. Dr Johnson, the leviathan of li¬
terature, is supposed to have believed in the second sight.
W ith respect to the effects of superstition on the hu¬
man mind, they are indeed deplorable. It chains down
the understanding, and sinks it into the most abject and
sordid state, and keeps it under the dominion of fear,
and sometimes of cruelty. W here once it takes posses¬
sion, it has a tendency to become extreme, and gener¬
ally becomes so intolerable, that men of reflection and
learning conspire its destruction. The Christian reli¬
gion gave a violent shock to the heathen superstition ;
the reformation in a great measure demolished the su-
pei-.iition of tne church of Rome ; and the superstition
which remained among Protestants after their separation
from that church has been gradually yielding to the in¬
fluence of enlightened reason, or to the bold and daring
attacks of infidelity and deism. W^e behold the pros¬
pect of its ruins with pleasure, and thank the deists for
their zeal; hut it is from the firm hope that the religion
of Jesus will arise m all its beauty and simple majesty,
and be admired and respected as it deserves : for mean
and contemptible as superstition certainly is, we would
rather see men do what they reckon their duty from su¬
perstitious principles, than see anarchy and vice prevail,
even though attended with all the knowledge and li¬
berality of sentiment which deism and infidelity can in- -
spire.
■SUPERVISOR, a surveyor or overseer.
SUPINATION, in Anatomy, the action of a supina¬
tor muscle, or the motion whereby it turns the hand so
as that the palm is lifted up towards heaven.
SUPINE, in Latin grammar, part of the conjugation
of a verb, being a verbal substantive of the singular num¬
ber and the fourth declension.
I litre are two kinds of supines: one, called the first
supine, ending in um of the ac cusative case, which is al¬
ways of an active signification, and follows a verb of
motion ; as abut deambulatum. ~ The other called the
last supine, and ending in u of the ablative* case, is of a
passive signification, and is governed by substantives or -
adjectives; -as, facile dictu, &c.
They have their name, says Probus, and after him
Vossius,
Supine,
Supper.
Definition.
Controver
sies about
the out¬
ward and
SUP [ i
Vo3sins, quod ad instar supinorum ct otiosormn homi-
num omnia habent confusa : or, according to Priscian,
quod nascantur a participiis passivis, qua- supina op-
pcllata sunt, quia in infimo loco sitat totam conjugationis
molem suscipwnt.
SUPPER, the evening repast.—Suppers that are hea¬
vy should he avoided, because the stomach is more op¬
pressed with the same quantity of food in a horizontal
posture than in an erect one, and because digestion goes
on more slowly when we sleep than when we are awake.
They should be eaten long enough before bed-time, that
they may be nearly digested before going to sleep; and
then a draught of pure water will dilute that which re¬
mains in the stomach.
Supper of the Lord, otherwise called the Eucharist,
is a sacrament ordained by Christ in his church, of which
the outward part is bread and wine, and the inward part
or thing signified the body and blood of Christ, which
the majority of Christians believe to be in some sense or
other taken and received by the faithful communicants.
See Sacrament.
There is no ordinance of the gospel which has been
the subject of more violent controversies between dif¬
ferent churches, and even between different divines of
visible sign, the same church, than this sacrament ; and though all
confess that one purpose of its institution was to be a
bond of love and union among Christians, it has, by the
perverseness of mankind, been too often converted into
an occasion of hatred. The outward and visible sign,
and the inward and spiritual grace, have equally afford¬
ed matter of disputation to angry controvertists. Many
members of the church of Rome condemn the Greek
church and the Protestants for using leavened bread in
the Lord’s Supper, contrary to the example set them by
our Saviour ; whilst the Greek church in general, and
some Protestant societies in particular, unite with the
church of Rome in censuring all churches which mix
not the wine with water, as deviating improperly from
primitive practice. See Eucharist.
That it was unleavened bread which our Lord bles¬
sed and brake and gave to his disciples as his body, can¬
not be questioned; for at the time of the passover, when
this ordinance was instituted, there was no leavened
bread to be found in Jerusalem *. For the mixed cup,
the evidence is not so decisive. It is indeed true, as we
have observed under the article Eucharist, that the
primitive Christians used wine diluted with water; and
if we may believe Maimonidesf, it was the general
f Jn Mislu custom 0f t|ie Jews, as well at the passover as at their
ordinary meals, to add a little water to their wine on
account of its great strength ; but that this was always
done, or that it was done by our Saviour in particular,
there is no clear evidence. Origen indeed affirms J,
$ Horn. 12. that our Lord administered in wine unmixed; and he
was not a man to hazard such an affirmation, had there
been in his days any certain tradition, or so much as a
general opinion, to the contrary. On this account we
have often heard with wonder the necessity of the mix¬
ed cup insisted on by those who without hesitation make
use of leavened bread ; for if it be essential to the sa¬
crament that the very same elements be employed by
* Exod.
xii. 15, 19
7?t Hicre-
ntiam.
4 ] SUP
us that were employed by our Saviour, the necessity of ~ _
unleavened bread is certainly equal to that of wine di- u—
luted by water.
But the mixed cup is said to be emblematical of the
blood and water which flowed from the side ot our Lord
when pierced by the spear of the Roman soldier, while
the absence of leaven is emblematical of no particular
circumstance in His passion. J his argument lor the
mixture is as old as the era of St Cyprian, and has since
been frequently urged with triumph by those who surely
perceived not its Weakness. The flowing of the blood
and water from our Saviour’s side was the consequence
either of the spear’s having pierced the pericardium, or
more probably of an ascites or hydrothorax, occasioned
by his cruel and lingering death (see Medicine, N°
342, 343)* But whatever was the cause of it, how can
the mixing of wine with water in the sacrament he em¬
blematical of the flowing of blood and water separately?
such a mixture surely bears a more striking resemblance
to the reunion of the serum and crassamentum, afterthey
had been separated by whatever cause. See Blood.
We urge not these objections to the mixed cup from
any dislike that we have to the practice. It is unques¬
tionably harmless and primitive; and we wish that
greater regard were paid to primitive practices than the 3
generality of Christians seem to think they can claim : Fm'°loa£>
but let the advocates for antiquity be consistent; let
them either restore, together with the mixed cup, the
use of unleavened bread, or acknowledge that neither
the one nor the other is essential to the sacrament. This
last acknowledgement must indeed be made, if they
would not involve themselves in difficulties from which
they cannot be extricated. If either the mixed cup or
unleavened bread be absolutely necessary to the validity
of the sacrament, why not wine made from the grapes
of Judcea ? why not that particular kind of wine which
was used by our Saviour ? and where is that wine to be
found ? ^
But the controversies respecting the outward part or About the
sign of the Lord’s Supper are of little importance when thing sig-
compared with those which have been agitated respect-
ing the inward part or thing signified ; and of these we
hasten to give as comprehensive a view as the limits pre¬
scribed to such article* will admit.
Our Blessed Lord, in the same night that he was be¬
trayed, “ took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and
gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is mv
body. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave
it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it ; for this is my
blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for
the remission of sins.” Such was the institution of the
Lord’s Supper as it is recorded in the gospel by St Mat¬
thew; and we have the same account of it, in almost
the very same words, by three other inspired writers, St
Paul, St Mark, and St Luke. That it was the bread
which Christ blessed and brake that is here called his
body, and the wine over which he gave thanks that he
styles his blood of the new testament, will admit of no
reasonable doubt (a) ; but in what sense they became
so, has been the subject of many controversies. ^
The church of Rome, which holds, that after conse- Doctrine «
cration, t^le churcl
7 of Koaie.
(a) Some over-zealous Protestants have indeed affirmed, that it was not the consecrated bread and wine, hut
those
SUP [I
cration, Jesus Cluist, God and man, is really, truly,
and substantially, contained under the outward appear¬
ances of the" bread and wine, informs us, that about the
middle of the mass, when the priest, taking into his
hand, iirst the bread and then the wine, pronounces over
each separately the sacred words of consecration, the
substance of these elements is immediately changed by
the almighty power of God into the body and blood of
Christ', but that all the outward appearances of the
bread and wine, and all their sensible qualities remain.
This more than miraculous change is called transub-
stantiATION j and is founded on the philosophy of
Aristotle, which resolves all bodies into matter and fonn
(see Metaphysics, N° 142—150.); for it is only the
matter or imperceptible substance which supports the
forms or sensible qualities of bread and wine, that is
changed into the substance or matter of the body and
blood of Christ, so that this divine matter, coming into
the place of the former earthy matter, supports the same
identical forms which it supported. Hence we are told,
“ that Jesus Christ, now present instead of the bread
and wine, exhibits himself to us under those very same
outward forms or appearances which the bread and wine
had before the change.”
Could this doctrine he true, it would be abundantly
mysterious •, but to add to the mystery, we are farther
informed, that under each kind is contained Jesus Christ
whole and entire, his body and blood, his soul and di¬
vinity; so that when a man eats what has the appearance
of a wafer, he really and truly eats the body and blood,
the soul and divinity, of Jesus Christ; and when he af¬
terwards drinks what has the appearance of wine, he
drinks the very same body and blood, soul and divinity,
which not a minute perhaps before he had wholly and
entirely eaten ! The ingenious author from whose work
we have taken this account of the Romish doctrine con¬
cerning the real presence, may perhaps reject our infe¬
rence that the orthodox members of his church must
believe the soul and divinity of Christ to be eaten and
drunk in the Lord’s supper ; but he cannot deny that,
according to his statement of the Catholic faith, the soul
and divinity are both received whole and entire into the
stomach of each communicant. He says indeed, that
communion consists in receiving Jesus Christ whole and
entire, his sacred body, his precious blood, his blessed
soul, and his adorable divinity, into our souls but that
which was formerly bread and wine unquestionably goes
into the stomachs oi the communicants ; and since, ac¬
cording to him, it is now the body and blood of Christ,
; ] SUP
the soul and divinity must go thither with it, for these
four cannot be separated. This our author himself
grants. “ The Scripture (says he) positively declares,
that Christ rising again from the dead, d'ut/i no more ;
death shall no more have dominion over him (Rom. vi.
9.). Consequently his body, his blood, and his soul,
shall never more be separated from one another ; and
as the union of his divine and human natures can never
more be broken, so neither can these, his two natures,
united in his divine person, be ever separated. From
this it necessarily follows, that wherever the body of
Christ is, there also his blood, his soul, and his divinity,
must of necessity be in like manner.”
Now, whether wTe suppose, with our author, that the
soul and divinity of Christ directly carry his body and
blood with them into the human soul, or, trusting, in
some degree to the evidence of sense, believe that the
body and blood carry his soul and divinity with them
directly into the stomach of each communicant is it
credible, is it possible, that the high and lofty One, who
inhabiteth eternity, and whom the oracles of truth as¬
sure us that even the heaven of heavens cannot contain,
should be substantially received whole and entire into a
finite spirit like the human soul, or into a body so limi¬
ted as the human stomach ? Our author says it is; de¬
claring that, “ by the blessed presence of Jesus Christ,
whole and entire tvithin as, are communicated to our
souls all the heavenly graces which are the effects of the
holy communion : such as the sanctification of the soul
by an increase of justifying grace; the rendering of it
more pure, more holy, more beautiful, more agreeable,
in the eyes of God ; the cleansing of the soul from all
those venial sins and imperfections of which we repent,
and preserving us from falling into mortal sins ; the
uniting of us in a most intimate manner with Jesus
Christ, who comes to us in this holy sacrament on pur¬
pose to dwell in our souls and abide with us; and the
giving us a pledge and earnest of a glorious immortality,
to the enjoyment of which it brings us at last, if we per¬
severe to the end in the grace of God.”
The consequence of the doctrine of transubstantiation
is the sacrifice of the mass, by which, it is said, God’s
acceptance of Chi-ist’s sacrifice on the cross is obtained
for the actual benefit of those persons in particular for
whom the mass is offered. In the work so often quoted,
we are told, that “ Jesus Christ our redeemer, who is
both our high-priest and our victim, who, in order to
perfect the work of our redemption, and reconcile man
with his offended Creator, offered himself once in a
Supper.
 , »
those elements, together with the whole action of taking them into his hands, blessing them, breaking the bread
and distributing the bread and wine to the disciples, that Christ calls his body and blood. This novel and singu¬
lar opinion rests upon no better foundation than a very childish criticism. Our Saviour, after blessing and breaking
the bread, gave it to the disciples, saying, in the original, A«£t]s <p«ey£7e TOYTO i<Pn to rup*. Now, say our
critics, in the neuter gender, can never agree with the antecedent in the masculine, but must refer to
all the circumstances of the action taken together, and considered as one complex neuter noun. But this noun
whether complex or simple, certainly denotes what could be eaten ; and to suppose that our blessed Lord desired
bis apostles to eat actions, is as repugnant to human reason as any doctrine of the church of Rome. The truth is
that the word rcv\o, which is more properly a definite article than a demonstrative pronoun (see Grammar, Chap!
IL), refers directly to the thing, whatever it was, which our Saviour held in his hand and gave to the disciples *
and the clause when completed, is votil* ev trU to crupa pov ; this being, this substance, is my body. There was no
necessity for characterising that substance by any analogy to sex, in order that it might be distinguished from
every other substance ; for the apostles could not but see it in the hand of their Master.
S, UP. [ IS ] SUP
Swpper. bloody manner upon the cross, in order to communicate
1 a'—" ■' and apply to the souls of individuals those graces, which,
by his death, he merited for mankind in general, con¬
tinues to offer himself daily upon the altar in an un¬
bloody manner, by the ministry of his priests, in the
mass. The sacrifice of the cross and that of the mass
are both one and the same sacrifice, because in both the
victim is the same and the high priest the same, viz.
Jesus Christ. The only difference is in the manner of
offering. On the cross he offered himself in a bloody
manner, and actually died ; whereas on the altar he is
offered up to God in an unbloody manner, not actually
dead, but under the appearance of death so that the
communicants not only eat the man Jesus Christ, but
even eat him alive (b) !
It is known to all our readers that this doctrine *of
transubstantiation was one cause of the breach between
the church of Rome and those various societies which
call themselves reformed •churches. The real and sub¬
stantial change of the bread and wine into the. body and
blood of our Lord is rejected by every reformer as a
change contradictory and impossible, and fraught with
the most impious consequences j and volumes have been
Implies written to expose the weakness of those arguments
numberless which have so often been vainly urged in its support.
eoutracHc- It has been shown to imply numberless absurdities, such
as, that the same thing can be in a million of different
places, whole and entire, at the same instant of time j
that it is above. 1800 years old, and yet may be not
more than one minute; that forms or sensible qualities
are real things independent of their subject and the sen¬
tient beings who perceive them 5 that the infinite and
eternal God, who created and sustains the universe, is
la tfas.
himself wholly and substantially comprehended by the Stipper,
human soul ; and that the half, or fourth, or tenth part
of the body of Christ, is equal to the whole of that body.
That these are necessary consequences of transubstan¬
tiation lias been so completely proved in various works (c)
to which every reader may have access, that it is need¬
less for us to repeat arguments so hackneyed 5 but there
are two objections to that doctrine, which, as we do
not remember to have met with them elsewlrbre, and as
they appear to us absolutely conclusive, it may be worth
while to state in this place.
The advocates for the real presence in the Lord’s Sup¬
per contend, that every word relating to that ordinance
is to be taken in the strictest and most literal sense, and
they affect to triumph over the Protestants,because their
notions of the sacrament cannot be supported without
having recourse to figure and metaphor. This however
is a very vain triumph; for we hesitate not to affirm,that
supposing transubstantiation possible, and even capable
of proof, there is not -in the whole New Testament a
single word or a single phrase which, if interpreted lite¬
rally, gives the slightest countenance to that wonderful
doctrine. The reader will remember, that transubstan¬
tiation, as we have stated it from a dignitary of the Ro¬
mish church, and as it is in fact stated by the council of
Trent (d), consists in a change of the matter, imper¬
ceptible substance, ox substratum of the bread and wine,
into the matter, imperceptible substance, or substratum
of Christ’s body and blood; for all parties agree that
the sensible qualities of the bread and wine remain, and,
according to the Romanist, are af ter consecration either
supported by the matter of Christ’s
hung upon nothing. But the phrasi
f&ov, ture.
body and blood, or. 7
„ 7 is contrary
i rovlo ith to crotyx t g r;
(b) This whole account of the Romish doctrine respecting the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper is taken from a
work in two small volumes, called The Sincere Christian instructed in the Faith of Christ, from the Written
Word. Its author is a man of learning, and great personal worth : and as he fills a high station in the church of
Rome, we cannot doubt but that be has given a fair view of the doctrine of that church respecting this and every
other article of which he treats. We are sorry however that his zeal should have impelled him, in a popular
work, to write in the manner that he has done of the salvation of those who are not members of his church, or
who cannot embrace all his opinions ; for if his doctrine on this subject be implicitly received by those “ over
whom he has the rule, and for whose souls he is appointed to watch,” they must necessarily look upon the majori¬
ty of their fellow-citizens as reprobates doomed to eternal perdition. Let this be our apology for treating some
of those opinions, which he thinks so absolutely necessary to salvation, with less ceremony than perhaps we should
have done, bad be less positively pronounced our damnation for not having it in our power to embrace them. He
is not indeed much less severe on the most virtuous heathens, though they never saw the New Testament, or heard
the doctrines of his church preached. But peril a p^ this severity may be occasioned by the following question of
Cicero: “ Cum fruges, Cererem; vinum, Liberum dicimns, genere nos quidem sermonis utimur usitato : sed
ECQUEM TAM amentem esse putas, qui illud, quo vescatur, deum credat esse?”—De Nalura Deorum, lib. iii.
cap. 16.
(c) Among other works on this subject, we may confidently recommend to the reader a small tract published
by Dr Abernethy Drummond, about thirty years ago, in the form of Si Dialogue between Philalethes and Bene-
volus. In that treatise, together with a defence of it, which were both printed for Balfour and Drummond,
Edinburgh, the absurd consequences which we have mentioned are, by arguments unanswerable, proved to flow
from the doctrine of transubstantiation ; and the artful sophistry, by which a very acute genius endeavoured to
keep these consequences out of sight, is detected and exposed on acknowledged principles of the soundest meta-
taphysics.
(d) The canon of that council which establishes transubstantiation is thus translated by the author of Sin¬
cere Christian Instructed: “ If any man shall say, that in the blessed sacrament of the Eucharist the substance
of the bread and wine remains along with the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, and shall deny that won¬
derful and singular conversion of the whole substance of the bread into the body, and of the whole substance of
the wine into the blood, the appearances of the bread and wine only remaining, which conversion the Catholic
Church calls transubstantiation, let him be anathema.”
SUP [ 17 ] SUP
Supper. K0t>, if taken in the literal sense, cannot possibly denote
the consequence of such a change as this ; for every per¬
son at all acquainted with the Greek language, especi¬
ally the language of the Peripatetic school, knows that
VicrufM ficv signifies, not the matter ox substratum of my
body divested of its sensible qualities ; but the body of
me in its natural state, consisting oimatter and qualities^
or matter and form united. Unless therefore the sensible
.qualities, as well as the matter of the bread and wine,
give place to the sensible qualities as well as the matter
of our Saviour’s body and blood, and unless he appear
glorified on the altar as he appeared on the mount at his
transfiguration, the words ra a-upot pov must be interpret¬
ed figuratively. Had the apostles understood their Mas¬
ter’s words in the sense in which they are understood by
the church of Rome, they would have rendered them
into Greek, not tov]o arji to trapt*. juov, “ this is my bodyf
but radio srh vi vM tov (*ov, “ this is the matter
* Chap, vi °f my body.” In like manner, when St John relates *
verse 54. that Josus said, “ Whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh
my blood, hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at
the last day,” had he understood his adorable Master to
speak of his flesh and blood in the Eucharist in the sense
in which they are taught to be there by the church of
Rome, he would have represented him as saying, not
S
and inca¬
pable of
proof.
O r^a/yAiv ^ttao mv y.xi tcwm') pov to cuy.cc, but 'O tqw-
yuv tjjv yov T/ig trotgKog, cocci vrtvuv tw vXyiv yov tov cuycc-
ra?, “ whoso eateth the matter of my flesh, and drink¬
eth the matter of my blood, hath eternal life, and I will
raise him up at the last day.”
But further, supposing this singular conversion possi¬
ble in itself, it cannot be rendered credible, however
stated in any language that ever was or ever will be spo¬
ken by man. At first sight it may appear paradoxical
to affirm, that a possible fact cannot be so related as to
obtain credit; but that transubstantiation, if possible, is
such a fact, will be apparent on the slightest considera¬
tion.
The relation which subsists between things and words
is arbitrary •, so that what is termed body in English, is
re-e/fcx in Greek, and corpus in Latin •, and the same
-thing might with equal propriety (had the authors of
these languages so pleased) have been expressed in the
first by soul, in the second by yovg, and in the third by
anima. (See Language, N° 3, &c.). The conse¬
quences of this are, that there is no universal language
spoken ; that the natives of one country understand not
the speech of those of another •, and that different men
speaking the same language are perpetually liable to
mistake each other’s meaning. Between the substrata
of bodies and their sensible qualities there is a relation
founded in nature, so that the sensible qualities which
indicate the substance to which they belong, to be gold,
for instance, in one country, indicate the same thing in
every other country, and have done so from the begin¬
ning of time. The sensible appearances of bodies there¬
fore are an universal language, the language of the Au¬
thor of Nature, by which he declares to his creature
man, that though the i»Aij TrgeSIv, or primary matter of
all bodies, may be the same kind of substance; yet the
iiX>i argao-e^ti? of one body, or the internal combination of
its primary parts, differs from that of another ; that
gold, for instance, has a different substratum or basis
.from iron, lead, or silver j that the internal organiza¬
tion or structure of the body of an ox is different from
Vol. XX. Part I.
that of a horse ; and that the internal substance or sub- Supper.
stratum which exhibits the appearances of bread and -v——'
wine is difl’erent from that which supports the sensible
qualities of flesh and blood (see Metaphysics, Part I.
Chap. I. and Part II. Chap. I. and II.). Supposing
therefore the doctrine of transubstantiation to be pos¬
sible and even true, it would still be impossible, by any
statement in human language, or by any argument
urged in its support, to render that doctrine an object of
rational belief j for if it be said that the words rotfla i<r}c
to o-uucc yov were spoken by a divine person, who could
neither be deceived himself nor intend to deceive us, it
may be replied, that the sensible appearances of bread
and wine, which are confessed to remain, are liketvise
the language of a divine person, even of the Creator and
Governor of heaven and earth ; that this language ad¬
dressed to the sight, the taste, the touch, and the smell,
is equally intelligible to all nations j that since the crea¬
tion of the world its meaning has never been mistaken
by the scholar or the clown, the sage or the savage, ex¬
cept in this single instance of our Lord’s flesh and blood
exhibiting the sensible appearances of bread and wine j
and that it is therefore infinitely more probable that the
members of the church of Rome should mistake the
meaning of the words tov\o a/U to ruycc yov, which,
though spoken by Christ, are part of the language of
men, and liable to all its ambiguities, than that all man¬
kind should mistake the language of God himself, which
is liable to no ambiguities, and which was never in any
other instance misunderstood by a single individual.
Should transubstantiation therefore be really true, its
truth can never be proved or rendered probable, but by
an immediate operation of the spirit of God on the mind
of man j and he who is conscious of no such operation
on his own mind, may rest assured that the Father of
mercies, who knows whereof he is made, will never
bring upon him, for his incredulity in this instance, any
of the anathemas denounced by the church of Rome
upon those who place implicit confidence in the univer¬
sal language of Him who created them, in opposition to
her figurative and contradictory interpretations of the
written word. Of the transubstantiation of the elements
a visible miracle would afford no proof. Had the water
been changed into wine at the marriage in Cana of Ga¬
lilee,for tire express purpose of bearing testimony to this
singular conversion, what must have been the conse¬
quence on the minds of those who witnessed that mira¬
cle ? Nothing, we think, but scepticism or distrust of
their own faculties j for they would have had the very
same evidence that no substantial change was wrought
on the demerits, as that the water was actually turned
into wine.
Though the reformed churches unanimously reject the
doctrine of transubstantiation, and of course the sacrifice
of the mass, its inseparable consequence, they are far
from being agreed among themselves respecting the na^
ture of the Lord’s Supper ; and the notions of this ordi- p
nance entertained by some of them appear to us as unte-doctrine
liable as any part of the doctrine of the church of Rome. 0.f lhe L,.u"
The Lutherans believe, that the body and blood of111'
Christ are really and substantially present with the * Luther.
bread and wine ; that the body is really and truly eaten, CogtY. MS.
and the blood really and truly drunk, by the communi-4oc* Grr-
cants 5 and that whatever motion or action the bread tl.
lias, the body has the same*. According to them, dcSacm'’ ‘
t P therefore, Cima.
SUP [ I
Supper, therefore, the same sensible appearances are exhibited
t   by two substances united in some inexplicable manner,
which is neither a personal union, nor incorporation,
nor the inclosure of the body within the bread j nor
does it last longer than while the sacrament is celebrat¬
ing. This union is generally called CONSUBSTANTIA-
Tioisr; but they reject the term, contenting themselves
with asserting the real presence, without presuming to
define the mode by which the body and blood of Christ
are united to the sacramental elements.
It would be superfluous to waste time in replying to
this doctrine. Every reader sees that it implies the pos¬
sibility of the same thing’s being whole and entire in a
million of places at one and the same instant of time,
which has been so often urged as an unanswerable ob¬
jection to the Romish doctrine 5 and it is fraught with
this additional absurdity peculiar to itself, that two bo¬
dily substances may at once occupy the same place,
which is directly contrary to our notions of solidity. It
may be observed too, that whatever be the real sense of
our Saviour’s words, he says expressly, “ This is my
body”—this thing which I give you, and which you
see and feel; whereas, had he meant what Luther and
his followers teach, he would surely have said, “ With
this bread receive my body, with this cup receive my
; blood.”
Of the ear- The notions of some of the early Calvinists respect-
ly Calvi- ing the Lord’s Supper are very mysterious, and expres-
aists, sed in language of which we are not sure that we un¬
derstand the meaning. In the year 1561 an attempt
was made in France to bring the Catholics and Prote¬
stants to an uniformity of doctrine on this great topic
of controversy ; and deputies were appointed by both
parties to meet at Poissy, and debate the question in a
friendly manner. The principal managers on the side
of the Catholics were the cardinals of Lorraine and
Tour non; those on the side of the Protestants were
J$e%a and Peter Martyr. After several meetings, dis¬
putes, apd violent separations, the Protestant deputies
declared their faith in the following words: “ We con¬
fess, that Jesus Christ, in the Supper, does truly give
and exhibit to us the substance of bis body and blood
by the efficacy of his Holy Spirit} and that we do re¬
ceive and eat spiritually, and by faith, that very body
which was offered and immolated for us, so as to be
bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh, to the end that
we may be enlivened thereby, and receive what is con¬
ducive to our salvation. And because faith, supported
by the word of God, makes those things present, which
it apprehends, and by that faith we do in deed and rea¬
lity receive the true natural body and blood of Christ,
by the power of the Holy Spirit ; by this means, we
confess and acknowledge the presence of bis body and
blood in the Supper.” One of the Catholic delegates
expressing his dislike of this last clause, the Protestant
ministers gave the following explanation of their senti¬
ments : “ No distance of place can binder us from com¬
municating of the body and blood of Christ, for the
Lord’s Supper is a heavenly thing •, and though on
earth we receive with our mouths bread and wine, which
are the true signs of his body and blood, yet by faith,
and the efficacy of the Holy Ghost, our minds, which
are fed with this food, are rapt up into heaven, and en¬
joy the presence of the body and blood j and that by
this means it may be said that the body is truly joined
to the bread, and the blood to the wine j but after the
8 ]
SUP
manner of a sacrament, and not at all according to place Supper,
or natural position -y—^
If the reader can discover the precise meaning of *
these passages, his sagacity exceeds ours. That the^^J’^
Protestant deputies believed, or professed to believe,
that the natural body and blood of Christ are by the Unbloody
faithful received in the Lord’s Supper, is indeed evi-StfcW/k<r,
dent •, but their notions respecting the manner of this™1’ **
reception are very unintelligible, if not contradictory. ^
In the former quotation, they confess that Christ’s body unjntej]j4
and blood are really present in the sacrament; thatgible.
they are made present by faith (we suppose the faith of
the communicants) ; and that the very body which was
offered and immolated for us is eaten spiritually and by
faith. In the latter quotation, they seem to say that
Christ’s body and blood are in heaven, at a great di¬
stance from the true signs of them ; that on earth the
communicants receive only these signs, which are bread
and wine ; but that, by faith and the efficacy of the
Holy Spirit, their minds, during actual communion, are
rapt up into heaven, where they enjoy the presence of
the body and blood; and that by this means the body
and blood are truly joined to the bread and wine
through the medium of the mind of the communicant,
which is at once present both to the sign and to the
thing signified. To this mysterious doctrine it is need¬
less to urge objections. Every man who is accustomed
to think, and to use words w ith some determinate mean¬
ing, will at once perceive that the authors of this de¬
claration must have had very confused notions of the
subject, and have pleased themselves with sound instead
of sense, satisfied that they could not be wrong if thev
did not symbolize with the Lutherans or the Council of
Trent. I2
The churches of England and Scotland, in their esta-Of the
blished doctrines respecting the Lord’s Supper, appear c*iurc!1es c
to be Calvinistical ; but the compilers of the Thirty-Bntain*
nine Articles and of the Confession of Faith must have
been much more rational divines than Beza and Peter
Martyr. They agree in condemning the doctrine of
transubstantiation as contrary to common sense, and not
founded in the word of God ; they teach, that to such
as rightly, worthily, and with faith, receive the sacra¬
ment, the bread which we break is a partaking of the
body of Christ, and the cup of blessing a partaking of
the blood of Christ; and they add, that the body and
blood of Christ are eaten and drunk, not corporally or
carnally, but only after a heavenly and spiritual man¬
ner, by which the communicants are made partakers of
all the benefits of his death f. In one important cir-f Articles
cumstance these two churches seem to differ. The Con-of the
fession of Faith, as we understand it J, affirms, that \nchureh °j
the Lord’s Supper there is no sacrifice made at all, The Enfland<
thirty-fiist article of the church ol England likewise con- and Confei
demm the 1 opish sacrifice of the mass as a blasphemous*i<>n of
fable and dangerous deceit; but in the order for the ad- Faith>
ministration of the LonPs Supper or Holy Communion,^ 3()\
the ce.ebrator “ beseeches God most mercifully to ac- \ , mp’
cept the alms and oblations of the congregation,” ami °
again ‘‘ to accept their sacrifice of praise and thanksgiv-
ing:” from which petitions many have inferred that, in
the Lord’s Supper, that church offers a commemorative
and euchanstical sacrifice. This inference seems not to
be wholly without foundation. In the order for the ad-
ministration of the Lord’s Supper, according to the form
of the Book of Common Prayer set forth by act of par¬
liament
SUP [
Sup!>er. lament ^ie second and third years of King Edward
i—J the Sixth, the elements were solemnly ofFered to God
as a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving ; and though
the prayer containing that oblation was, at the review
of the liturgy some years afterwards, removed from the
prayer of consecration, to which it was originally join¬
ed, and placed where it now stands in the post commu¬
nion service ; yet the very act of parliament which au¬
thorized that alteration, calls King Edward’s “ a very
godly order, agreeable to the word of God and the pri¬
mitive church, and very comfortable to all good people
desiring to live in Christian conversation.”
Some Eng- The English church, however, has not positively de-
Sish divines termined any thing respecting this great question ; and
hold the whilst she condemns the doctrine of the real presence j
Lord’s Sup- wjfjj a]| jts dangerous consequences, she allows her mem-
sTeucharii- ^ers *° en^ertain very different notions of this holy or-
tical sacri- dinance, and to publish these notions to the world,
dee. Accordingly, many of her most eminent divines (e)
have maintained that, in the celebration of the Lord’s
Supper, the elements of bread and wine are offered to
God as a sacrifice commemorative of Christ’s one sacri¬
fice for the sins of the whole world j that these elements,
though they undergo no substantial change, yet receive
such a divine virtue by the descent of the Holy Ghost,
as to convey to the worthy communicant all the bene¬
fits of Christ’s passion j that they are therefore called his
body and blood, because being, after their oblation,
eaten and drunk in remembrance of Him, they supply
the place of his body and blood in the feast upon his sa¬
crifice $ and that it is customary with our Saviour to
give to any thing the name of another of which it com¬
pletely supplies the place, as when he calls himself the
(St John door* of the sheep, because there is no entrance into
c. 7. the church or kingdom of God but by faith in him.
They observe, that the Eucharist’s being commemora¬
tive, no more hinders it from being a proper sacrifice,
than the typical and figurative sacrifices of the old law
hindered them from being proper sacrifices : for as to be
a type doth not destroy the nature and notion of a le¬
gal sacrifice, so to be representative and commemora¬
tive, doth not destroy the nature of an evangelical sa¬
crifice. To prove that, in the celebration of the Lord’s
Supper, there is a real sacrifice offered to God as well
as a sacrament received by the communicants, they ap-
I H«6. xili. peal to St Paul, who says expressly f, that “ Christians
I0- have an altar, whereof they have no right to eat who
serve the tabernacle,” and who by contrasting the cup
of the Lord with the cup of devils, and the table of the
II Cor. x. Lord with the table of devils J, teaches plainly, that
6> ^c< those cups and those tables had the same specific nature.
That the table of devils spoken of by the apostle was
the Pagan altars, and the cup of devils the wine poured
out in libations to the Pagan divinities, will admit of
no dispute 5 and therefore, say the advocates for the en-
charistical sacrifice, the table of the Lord must be the
Christian altar, and the cup of the Lord the wine offer¬
ed to God as the representative of the blood of Christ;
otherwise there would not be that absurdity which the
apostle supposes, in the same person drinking the cup of
the Lord and the cup of devils, and partaking of the
9 ] S U ?
Lord’s table and the table of devils. They observe Supper,
farther, that in all the ancient liturgies extant there is v—v--—^
a solemn form of oblation of the sacramental elements,
and that all the Christian writers from the second cen¬
tury downwards treat of the Lord’s Supper as a sacrifice
as well as sacrificial feast, having indeed no value in it¬
self, but acceptable to God as representing Christ’s one
sacrifice for the sins of the world. Our limits will not
permit us to give even an abstract of their arguments j
but the reader who shall attentively peruse JohnsorL>sun-
bloody Sacrifice and Altar unveiled and supported, will
discover that their notions are better founded than pro¬
bably he supposes, and that they are totally irreconcile-
able with the doctrine of transubstantiation and the Po¬
pish sacrifice of the mass.
Other English divines of great learning, with the ce- Otheis, a
lebrated Hoadley bishop of Winchester at the head of me,’e n,e"
them, contend strenuously that the Lord’s Supper, somo“a*;
far from being a sacrifice of any kind, is nothing more
than bread and wine reverently eaten and drunk, in re¬
membrance that Christ’s body was broken and his blood
shed in proof of his Father’s and his own love to man¬
kind j that nothing is essential to the sacrament but this
remembrance, and a serious desire to honour and obey
our Saviour as our head ; that the sacrament might be
celebrated without uttering one prayer or thanksgiving,
merely by a society of Christians, whethersmall or great,
jointly eatingbread and drinking wine with a serious re¬
membrance of Christ’s death 5 that St Paul enjoins a
man to examine himself before he eat of that bread and
drink of that cup, not to discover what have been the
sins of his past life in order to repent of them, but only
that he may be sure of his remembering Christ’s body
broken and his blood shed ; that, however, it is his du¬
ty in that as in every other instance of religious worship
to resolve to obey from the heart every precept of the
gospel, whether moral or positive j and that to partake
worthily of the Lord’s Supper is acceptable to God, be¬
cause it is paying obedience to one of these precepts j
but that no particular benefits or privileges are annexed
to it more than to any other instance of duty. Bishop
Hoadley acknowledges, that when St Paul says *, * 1 Cor. x.
“ The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the com-l6’
munion of the blood of Christ P The bread which we
break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ ?”
he has been supposed by many learned men to affirm,
that all the benefits of Christ’s passion are in the Lord’s
Supper conveyed to the worthy communicant j but this
(says he) is an idea which the apostle could not have in
his thoughts as at all proper for his argument. The
Greek word xeivav/ct and the English communion signify
only a partaking of something in common with others
of the same society j and the apostle’s meaning (he says)
can be nothing more, than that in the Lord’s Supper
we do not eat bread and drink wine as at an ordinary
meal, but as memorials of the body and blood of Christ,
in honour to him as the head of that body of which we
are all members. That the word xovimut is not meant
to denote any inward or spiritual part of the Lord’s Sup¬
per, he thinks evident, because the same word is used
with regard to the cup and the table of idols, where no
spiritual
(e) The archbishops Laud and Wake ; the bishops Poynet, Andrews, Bull, and Patrick ; the doctors Hickes,
Grabe, and Brett) Messrs Bingham, Johnson, Mede, Wheatly, Scandaret, Bowyer, &c.
C 2
SUP
[
Supper, spiritual part could be thought of, and in an argument
which supposes an idol to be nothingf.
Plain To this view of the nature and end of the Lord’s
the Nature Supper, it must appear no small objection, that “ he
and End o/who eateth and drinketh unworthily is said to he guilty
the Lord's of the body and blood of the Lord, and to eat and drink
Supper. a judgment to himself, not discerning the Lord's body."
No doubt it would be sinful to eat and drink a mere
memorial of Christ’s death without serious dispositions;
but we cannot conceive how a little wandering of the
thoughts, which is all the unworthiness which the au¬
thor thinks there can be on such an occasion, should be
a sin of so deep a dye as to be properly compared with
the guilt of those who murdered the Lord of life. Other
divines, therefore, feeling the force of this and similar
objections, steer a middle course between the mere me¬
morialist and the advocate for a real sacrifice in the holy
15 Eucharist, and insist that this rite, though no sacrifice
and otliers, Js ye{ a feast upon the one sacrifice offered by
t!!ao!,U:P011 Christ and slain upon the cross. The most eminent pa-
our’s sacxi- trons of this opinion have been Dr Cudworth, Bishop
fice. Warburton, and the present bishop of Chester; and they
support it by such arguments as the following: “ In
those ages of the world when victims made so great a
part of the religion both of Jews and Gentiles, the sa¬
crifice was always followed by a religious feasting on the
thing offered ; which was called ihe feast upon or after
the sacrifce, and was supposed to convey to the parta¬
kers of it the benefits of the sacrifice. Now Jesus (say
they), about to offer himself a sacrifice on the cross for
our redemption, did, in conformity to general practice,
institute the last supper, under the idea of a feast after
the sacrifice: and thecircumstances attending its institu¬
tion were such, they think, that the apostles could not
possibly mistake his meaning. It was just before his
passion, and while he was eating the paschal supper,
which was a Jewish feast upon the sacrifice, that our bles¬
sed liord instituted this rite; and as it was his general
custom to allude, in his actions and expressions, to what
passed before his eyes, or presented itself to his observa¬
tion, who can doubt, when, in the very form of cele¬
bration, we see all the marks of a sacrificial supper, but
that the divine institutor intended it should bear the same
relation to his sacrifice on the cross which the paschal
supper then celebrating bore to the oblation of the/xcrs-
chal lamb? If this was not his purpose, and if nothing
more was intended than a general memorial of a dead
benefactor, why was this instant of time preferred for
the institution to all others throughout the course of his
ministry, any one of which would have been equally
commodious ? Indeed any other time would have been
more commodious for the institution of a mere memo¬
rial ; for the paschal lamb and unleavened bread were
certainly a sacrifice ; and the words used by our Savi¬
our, when he gave the bread and wine to the apostles,
were such as must necessarily have led them to consider
that bread and wine as bearing the same relation to his
sacrifice that the paschal supper bore to the paschal sacri¬
fice. At that Jewish feast, it was the custom of every
father of a family to break the unleavened bread, and to
give to every guest a portion, saying, “ This is the
bread of affliction, which our fathers did eat in the land
of Egypta custom which, we may be sure, that
Christ, as father of his family, would religiously ob¬
serve, The apostles knew well that they were not eat-
20 ] SUP
ing the identical bread which their fathers did eat in
Egypt, but the feast upon the sacrifice then offered in '■
commemoration of their redemption from Egyptian bon¬
dage ; and therefore when they saw their Master after
supper break the bread again and give it to each of
them, with these remarkable words, “ This is my body
which is given for you, do this in remembrance of me,”
they must have concluded, that his meaning was to in¬
stitute a rite which should to the end of the world bear
the same relation to his sacrifice that the paschal supper
bore to the sacrifice of the passover.
This inference, from the circumstances attending the
institution, Bishop Warburton thinks confirmed by St
Paul’s mode of arguing with the Corinthians, on their
impiety and absurdity in partaking both of the Lord’s
table and the table of devils ; for “ what (says he) had
the eaters of the sacrifices to do with the partakers of
the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper, if the Lord’s
Supper was not a feast of the same kind with their feasts?
If the three feasts, Jewish, Pagan, and Christian, had
not one common nature, how could the apostle have in¬
ferred that this intercommunity was inconsistent ? Ye
cannot (says he) drink the cup of the Lord and the cup
of devils; ye CANNOT be partakers of the Lord's table
and the table of devils. For though there might be im¬
piety in the promiscuous use of Pagan and Christian rites
of any kind, yet the inconsistency arises from their hav¬
ing a common nature, and consequently, as they had
opposite originals, from their destroying one another’s
effects in the very celebration. Sacrifices, and feasts
upon sacrifices, were universally considered as federal
rites ; and therefore the Lord’s table and the table of
devils being both federal rites, the same man could no
more be partaker of both, than he could at once engage
to serve both God and the devil. This is the apostle’s
argument to the wise men, to whom he appeals; and we
see that it turns altogether upon this postulatum, that
the Christian and Pagan feasts had the same specific na¬
ture, or were both feasts upon sacrifices. If this be ad¬
mitted, it is easy to see why St Paul deemed those who
ate and drank unworthily guilty of the body and blood
of the Lord ; for if the Lord’s Supper be a feast upon
his sacrifice, it must have been considered as the means
of conveying to the communicants all the benefits of
his death and passion; and the profanation of such a rite,
by rendering his death ineffectual, might be fitly com¬
pared and justly equalled to the enormous guilt of those
by whom his blood was shed.” In reply to Bishop
Hoadley’s remarks upon the word x.otvunx, his brother
bishop observes, that “ had the apostle meant what the
learned writer makes him to mean, he would doubtless
have said x-oivunct vp.*)v us to <rup.x, ‘ your c.ommunion in
the body—your eating it jointly.’ St Paul (continues
he) knew how to express himself properly, as appears
from a passage in his epistle to the Philippians, where,
professedly speaking of the joint participation of a bles-
sing, he uses these words, kohuux i>p.u* us to evayyi^iop,
‘ y°ur communion in the gospel.’ To the other remark,
that no spiritual part could be thought of in the table of
idols, because an idol is said by the apostle to be nothing.
Bishop Warburton replies, “ that by St Paul the Gen¬
tiles are said to have sacrificed to devils, and those who
ate of such sacrifices to have had communion with de¬
vils : now the devil (continues his Lordship) was in St
Paul s opinion something" But the inference which
the
Supper
SUP [
Supper the apostle draws from the acknowledged truth, that
11 the cup of blessing which we bless is the communion of
Supposition. tiie bl0od of Christ, and the bread which we break the
' l—v communion of the body of Christ, puts his meaning, our
* i Cor. x. author thinks, beyond all doubt. He says *, that the
partaking of one bread makes the receivers of many to
hecome one body. A just inference, if this rite be of
the nature of a feast upon the saci'ijice •, for then the
communion of the body and blood of Christ unites the
receivers into one body by an equal distribution of one
common benefit. But if it be only a general comme¬
moration of a deceased benefactor, it leaves the re¬
ceivers as it found them, not one body, but many se-
16 parnte professors of one common faith.
The oich- Thus have we given such a view as our limits would
i‘aUce !jot permit us to give, of the principal opinions that have
understood. ^een respecting the nature and end of the Lord’s
Supper. It is an ordinance which seems not to be ge¬
nerally understood •, though, being intended to show
forth the Lord’s death till he come, it is surely of suf¬
ficient importance to engage the attention of every se¬
rious Christian. The most considerable Protestant di¬
vines who have expressly written upon it are, Johnson
in his Unbloody Sacrifice ; Cud worth in his Discourse
concerning the true Nature of the Lord's Supper;
Hoadley in his Plain Account ; and Warburton in his
liational Account. The notions of Cudworth and War-
burton are the same, and perhaps they difl'er not so
much from those of Johnson as many readers seem to
imagine. At any rate, the arguments by which War-
burton supports his doctrine must have some force,
since it is said that Hoadley himself acknowledged they
would be unanswerable, if it could be proved that the
death of Christ was a real sacrifice.
SUPPLEMENT, in literature, an appendage to
supply what is wanting in a book. Books of various
kinds require such an appendage ", but none so much as
a dictionary of arts and sciences, which, from the pro¬
gressive course of physical science, cannot be comple¬
ted without it.
SUPPORTED, in Heraldry, a term applied to the
uppermost quarters of a shield when divided into seve¬
ral quarters, these seeming as it were supported or sus¬
tained by those below. The chief is said to be sup¬
ported when it is of two colours, and the upper colour
takes up two-thirds of it. In this case it is supported
by the colour underneath.
SUPPORTERS, in Heraldry, figures in an achieve¬
ment placed by the side of the shield, and seeming to
support or hold up the same. Supporters are chiefly
figures of beasts: figures of human creatures for the
like purpose are called tenants.
SUPPOSITION, in Music, is when one of the parts
dwells on a note, while another part makes two or more
lesser notes equivalent to it, by conjoint degrees.
Supposition is defined by a late author the using of
two successive notes, of the same value as to time j the
one whereof, being a discord, supposes the other a con¬
cord.
The harmony, Mr Malcolm observes, is always to be
full on the accented parts of the bar or measure ; but,
on the unaccented, discords may transiently pass, with¬
out any offence to the ear. This transient use of dis1-
cords followed by concords, make what we, after the
French, call supposition.
II ] S U R
Concords by supposition are those where the conti- Supposition
nued bass adds or supposes a new sound below the fun- II
damental bass j whence such concords always succeed the , Sui'' ,
extent of the octave. Of these concords there are three
sorts, all which are concords of the seventh : the first,
when the added sound is a third below the fundamental
sound; such is the concord of the ninth : and if the
concord of the ninth is formed by the mediant, added
below the sensible concord in the minor mode, then the
concord is called ihe superfluous fifth. The second kind
is, when the supposed sound is a fifth below the funda¬
mental sound, as in the concord of the fourth or ele¬
venth j and if the concord is sensible, and the tonic be
supposed, this concord is called the superfluous seventh.
The third kind is that where the supposed sound is be¬
low a concord of the diminished seventh j if it is a fifth
below, i. e. if the supposed sound be the mediant, the
concord is called the concoi'd of the fourth and super-
fiuousfifth : if it is a seventh below, i. e. if the suppo¬
sed sound be the tonic, the concord is called the lesser
sixth and superfluous seventh.
SUPPOSITORY, a kind of medicated cone or hall,
which is introduced into the anus for opening the belly.
It is usually composed of common honey, mixed up
with soap or oil, and formed into pieces of the length
and thickness of the little finger, only pyramidal. To
the composition is sometimes also added powder of
scammony, euphorbium, colocynthis, salt, aloes, Sic.
according to the case of the patient.
The suppository was invented for the convenience of
such as have an aversion to clysters 5 or to be used
when the disease does not allow their use.
SUPPRESSION, in Medicine, is generally used to
signify a retention of urine or of the menses.
SUPPURATION, the second way wherein an in¬
flammation terminates ; being a conversion of the in¬
spissated blood and the first adjacent parts, as the ves¬
sels and fat, into pus or matter; which disorder, when
k has not yet found an opening, is generally called an
abscess.
SUPRACOSTALES, in Anatomy. See Table of
the Muscles in Anatomy.
SUPRALAPSARIANS-, in Theology, persons who
hold that God, without any regard to the good or evil
works of men, has resolved, by an eternal decree, supra
lapsum, antecedently to any knowledge of the fall of
Adam, and independently of it, to save some and to
damn others ; or, in other words, that God intended to
glorify his justice in the condemnation of some, as well
as his mercy in the salvation of others ; and for that
purpose decreed that Adam should necessarily fall,
and by that fall bring himself and all his offspring into
a state of everlasting condemnation.
These are also called antelapsaries, and are opposed
to sublapsaries and infralapsaries.
According to the supralapsarians, the object of pre¬
destination is, homo creabilis et labilis ; and, according
to the sublapsarians and infralapsarians, homo creatus
et lapsus.
SUPRASPINATUS, in Anatomy. See Table of
the Muscles in Anatomy.
SUPREMACY, the superiority or sovereignty of
the king. See Sovereignty,
SUR, or Shur, in Ancient Geography, a desert of
Arabia Petrtea, extending between Palestine and the
Arabian
SUB, [2
Sur) Arabian gulf; into which the Israelites, after marching
Surat, through the Red sea, first came (Exod. xv. 22.). A-
—v T ■' gain (Numb, xxxiii. 8.), it is said, that from the sea
they went three days journey into the Wilderness of
Etham; whence some conclude that Etham and Shut
are the same wilderness ; or only differ as a part from
the whole, Shur being the general name, and Etham
that part of it lying nearest to the place of encampment
of the same name. We know so little of the geography
of these places, that there is more room for disputation
than for decision. As to the route which the Israelites
followed in their passage through the Red sea, Mr Bry¬
ant, we think, has given the most satisfactory account
in his late work on the Plagues of Egypt.—Shur is now
called Corondel.
SURAT, a city of Indostan, belonging to Britain, on
the western coast of the peninsula, a little to the north¬
ward of Bombay, and about l6 miles up the river Tap-
pee. It is but of modern date, and is a most remark¬
able instance of the power of trade to bring wealth and
population to any spot where it can be brought to settle.
Towards the middle of the 17th century, this place was
only the resort of a few merchants, who, under the shel¬
ter of an old insignificant castle, laid the first founda¬
tions of a city now almost as large as London, with many
fine buildings of Indian architecture, partly Gentoo and
partlyMorisque, and supposed to contain nearly 600,000
souls. The buildings of the greatest note are so con¬
trived, that the gateway is defensible against any sud¬
den irruption of a few armed men. The private apart¬
ments lie backwards for the conveniency of the women,
of whom the Moors are remarkably jealous. They
are fond of having one room, in the midst of which a
fountain keeps playing, and which, by its noise, lulls
them to sleep, and refreshes the room by its coolness;
but thus a damp is produced, which would be very
dangerous to Europeans. They have also generally a
saloon with fountains playing in it, which, with the
variegated flower-beds, in which they are very curious,
makes a beautiful prospect. During the intense heats
of summer they have country retirements a little way
out of town, where they reside, or go in parties to
amuse themselves. The streets are irregularly laid
out; but have one property which renders it agree¬
able to walk in them, viz. that a competent widtlr be¬
ing left at bottom, the upper stories of the houses pro¬
ject over one another in such a manner, that people
may with ease converse from them ; by which means
the street is agreeably shaded, at the same time that a
proper ventilation is not impeded, but rather promoted.
The shops, notwithstanding the vast trade carried on in
this great and populous city, have a very mean appear¬
ance, owing to the dealers keeping their goods in ware¬
houses, and selling by samples.
No place is better supplied with provisiens than the
city of Sin’at while its communication with the country
remains open. Besides the unbounded importation, by
which every article is brought here in great abundance,
the natural productions of the soil are excellent, though
less cheap than in other parts of India, as at Bengal es¬
pecially ; yet in that place, though the cattle and poul¬
try are bought originally at a very low rate, they turn
out very dear by the time they are fed for the table.
Here, however, all kinds of eatables may be had at a
Reasonable price, ready for immediate use, and as good
x
2 ] SUB
as can be found anywhere. The wheat of Surat is fa¬
mous all over India for its singular substance, whiteness,
and taste ; and its salads and roots are likewise of an
excellent quality. There are also many kinds of wild¬
fowl and other game to be had at an easy rate ; but
for wines and spirituous liquors they depend mostly on
importation.
Surat was surrounded with a wall in a short time after
it had assumed the form of a town. The fortification,
however, %vas meant only to prevent the incursions of
the Mahrattas, who had twice pillaged it ; so that the
place was by no means capable of standing any regular
siege. Even the castle appears hut a poor defence, be¬
ing mounted with cannon here and there, without any
order, or without any thing like an attempt towards
military architecture.
In this city, before the East India Company became
invested with the possession of Bombay, was the presi¬
dency of their affairs on the western coast. For this
purpose they had a factory established there with great
privileges by the Mogul government; and even after
the presidency was established at Bombay, they conti¬
nued a factory here at one of the best houses in the city;
which yet not being spacious enough to contain their
effects, they hired another at some distance from it, and
nearer the water-side, which was called the new factory.
In the mean time, the city flourished, and became the
centre of all the Indian trade, being much more fre¬
quented for the sake of foreign merchandise than for
either the natural productions or manufactures of the
country, though they also made a considerable part of
its commerce. In short, there was scarce any article of
merchandise but what was to be found at all times in
Surat, almost as readily as in London itself. While
the Mogul government was in its vigour, there was
such a show of justice kept up, as induced merchants of
all religions and denominations to take up their residence
in the city. The Gentoos especially resorted thither,
in order to avoid the oppressions of their own govern¬
ment. Great care indeed was taken that no very fla¬
grant acts of oppression should be committed ; so that,
in what sometimes happened, appearances were at least
kept up; and the oppressions of government were chiefly
owing to the animosities and rivalshipof the merchants
themselves. As an instance of the great extent to which
commerce was pushed in Surat, we shall here quote
from Mr Grose, what is said by Captain Hamilton of a
merchant named Abdulgafour, viz. “ That he drove a
trade equal to the East India Company : for he bail
known him fit out in a year above 20 sail of ships, be¬
tween 300 and 800 tons, none of which had less of his
own stock than 20,oool. and some of them 25,0001.”
On the decease of this merchant, the government seized
on a million of his money ; and his grandson was not
only deprived of all that he possessed, but barbarously
murdered through the envy and treachery of his brother
merchants, and the rapacity of the governor. The im¬
ports of this city in the year 1811 amounted to 4,881,410
rupees, and the exports to 3,964,523.
Die city of Surat was taken and ruined by the Por¬
tuguese in 1520 ; and it was not till after this misfor¬
tune that it became such a celebrated emporium. All
the Indian merchants who had been accustomed to trade
thither contributed to re-establish it; but it was not til!
near a century after that it became the general staple of
Indian
Surat.
X
SUE [ 23 ] SUE
S'i'-u In<^'an an(^ European merchandise j when the Dutch
Eure hi rare, appearing in the Indian ocean, had deprived the Portu-
4——y—gitese of all their conquests on that coast, and almost
entirely ruined their trade. The English established a
factory here in 1609, the Dutch in 1616, and the
French in 1665. In process of time, the Indian seas
being greatly infested by pirates, a naval officer was
appointed by the Mogul to keep them in awe. This
officer was named Siddee (a) Mussoot, who had been
chief of an Ethiopian colony settled at Rajapore. Here
he had collected some vessels of considerable force, and
carried on some trade, till he was dispossessed by the
Mahrattas *, upon which he repaired to Bombay, and
afterwards to Surat, where he was appointed admiral on
that station to the Mogul, with a yearly revenue of
about 36,000!. sterling. Though he had no power,
independent of the marine, he seized on the castle, en¬
croached on the town, and appropriated to himself a
third part of its revenues, under pretence of arrears due
in his appointed revenue. Another third was paicb to
the Mahrattas, to prevent their depredations upon trade
in the open country ; but they, not satisfied with this
stipulation, watched an opportunity to plunder the town,
which was kept in subjection by Siddee Mussoot, till
his death which happened in 1756.
Siddee Mussoot was succeeded by his son, who soon
rendered himselfvery disagreeable to the inhabitants. In
1758, the English factory was greatly oppressed by him,
and the black merchants treated still worse; on which
an expedition was sent, under Admiral Pococke and
Captain Maitland, to take the castle by force. This
was accordingly accomplished. Captain Maitland took
possession of the castle with its revenue in the name of
the East India company. The Nabob, however, was
continued in office till 1800, when his authority was
set aside, and the town put under the immediate
government of the British. In 1803 the Mahrattas
were compelled to abandon their vexatious claims, and
the vicinity of the city has been cleared of those armed
bands of thieves who formerly infested it.
SURCHARGE of the Forest, is when a com¬
moner puts more beasts in the forest than he has a right
to. See Forest.
SunaiARGE of Common, is a disturbance of common
cf pasture, by putting more cattle therein than the pas¬
ture and herbage will sustain, or the party hath aright
to do. This injury can only happen where the com¬
mon is appendant or appurtenant, and of course limitable
by law; or where, when in gross, it is expressly limited
and certain ; for where a man hath common in gross,
sans nombre, or without stint, he cannot be a surcharge.
In this case indeed there must be left sufficient for the
lord’s own beasts.
The usual remedies for surcharging the common are
by the lord’s distraining the surplus number, or by his
bringing an action of trespass, or by a special action on
the case, in which any commoner may be plaintiff. The
ancient and most effectual method of proceeding is by
writ of admeasurement of pasture.
Writ of Second Surcharge, de secunda superoncra-
tione, is given by the statute of Westm. 2. 13 Edw. I. Surcharge
cap. 8. when, after the admeasurement of pasture hath II
ascertained the right, the same defendant surcharges the , |
common again ; and thereby the sheriff is directed to
inquire by a jury whether the defendant has in fact again
surcharged the common ; and if he has, he shall then
forfeit to the king the supernumerary cattle put in, and
also shall pay damages to the plaintiff.
SURCINGLE, a girdle wherewith the clergy of
the church of England usually tie their cassocks. See
Gikdee.
SURCOAT, a coat of arms, to be worn over body
armour.
The surcoat is properly a loose thin taffety coat, with
arms embroidered or painted on it. Such as is worn by
heralds# anciently also used by military men over their
armour to distinguish themselves by.
SURD, in Arithmetic and Algebra, denotes any num¬
ber or quantity that is incommensurable to unity: other¬
wise called an irrational number or quantity. See Al¬
gebra, Part I. Chap. IV.
SURETY, in Law, generally signifies the same with
Bail.
SURF, is a term used by seamen to express a peculiar
swell and breaking of the sea upon the shore. It some¬
times forms but a single range along the shore, and at
others three or four behind one another extending per¬
haps half a mile out to sea. The surf begins to assume
its form at some distance from the place where it breaks,
gradually accumulating as it moves forward till it gain,
not uncommonly, in places within the limits of the
trade-winds, a height of 15 or 20 feet, when it over¬
hangs at top, and falls like a cascade with great force
and a prodigious noise. Countries where surfs prevail
require boats of a particular construction very different
from the greater part of those which are built in Eu¬
rope. In some places surfs are great at high, and in
others at low water; but we believe they are uniform¬
ly most violent during the spring-tides.
It is not easy to assign the cause of surfs. That they
are affected by the winds can hardly be questioned; but
that they do not proceed from the immediate operation
of the wind in the places where they happen, is evident
from this circumstance, that the surf is often highest and
most violent where there is least wind, and vice versa.
On the coast of Sumatra the highest are experienced
during the south-east monsoon, which is never attended
with such gales as the north-west. As they are most
general in the tropical latitudes, Mr Marsden, who
seems to have paid much attention to the subject, attri¬
butes them to the trade-winds which prevail at a distance
from shore between the parallels of 30 degrees north
and south, whose uniform and invariable action causes a
long and constant swell, that exists even in the calmest
weather, about the line, towards which its direction
tends from either side. This swell, when a squall hap¬
pens or the wind freshens up, will for the time have
othersubsidiary waves on the extentof its surface, break¬
ing often in a direction contrary to it, and which will
again subside as a calm returns, without having pro¬
duced
(a) When the Abvssinian slaves are promoted to
Siddees.
any office under the Mogul government, they are called
Surf
Surfeit.
SUB, [24
Sliced on it any perceptible effect. Sumatra, though
not continually exposed to the south-east trade-wind, is
not so distant but that its influence may be presumed to
extend to it; and accordingly at Poolo Pesang, near the
southern extremity of the island, a constant southerly sea
is observed, even after a strong north-west wind. This
incessant and powerful swell rolling in from an ocean,
open even to the pole, seems an agent adequate to the
prodigious effects produced on the coast; whilst its very
size contributes to its being overlooked. It reconciles
almost all the difficulties which the phenomena seem to
present, and in particular it accounts for the decrease of
the surf during the north-west monsoon, the local wind
then counteracting the operation of the general one :
and it is corroborated by an observation, that the surfs
on the Sumatran coast ever begin to break at their
southern extreme, the motion of the swell not being per¬
pendicular to the direction of the shore. This explana¬
tion of the phenomena is certainly plausible j but, as the
author candidly acknowledges, objections may be urged
to it. The trade-winds and the swell occasioned by
them are remarkably steady and uniform j but the surfs
are much the reverse. How then comes an uniform
cause to produce unsteady effects ?
In the opinion of our author it produces no unsteady
effects. The irregularity of the surfs, he says, is per¬
ceived only within the remoter limits of the trade-winds.
But the equatorial parts of the earth performing their
diurnal revolution with greater velocity than the rest, a
larger circle being described in the same time, the wa¬
ters thereabout, from the stronger centrifugal force, may
be supposed more buoyant; to feel less restraint from
the sluggish principle of matter ; to have less gravity;
and therefore to be more obedient to external impulses
of every kind, whether from the winds or any other
cause.
SURFACE. See Superficies.
SURFEIT, in Medicine, a sickness with a sensation
of a load at the stomach, usually proceeding from some
error in diet, either with regard to the quantity or qua¬
lity of the food taken. Sometimes, however, a surfeit
is only a plethora from indolence and full diet: in which
case perspiration is defective; and eruptions appear on
the skin.
] SUB
Fasting for some time, and an attention to temperance Surfeit
afterwards, with some brisk purgatives, will generally 11
remove the effects of a surfeit, when it is unaccompanied , Surgeon.
with other more permanent affections.
Surfeit, in Farriery. See Farriery Index.
SURGE, in the sea-language, the same with a wave.
See Wave.
SURGEON, or Chirurgeon, one that professes
the art of Surgery.
In England there are two distinct companies of sur¬
geons now occupying the science or faculty of surgery ;
the one company called barbers, the other surgeons,
which latter are not incorporated.—The two are united
to sue, and be sued, by the names of masters or gover¬
nors and commonalty of the mystery of barbers and
surgeons of London. 32 Hen. \T1I. c. 42.
No person using any barbery or shaving in London,
shall occupy any surgery, letting of blood, or other mat¬
ter ; drawing of teeth only excepted. And no person
using the mystery or craft of surgery shall occupy or ex¬
ercise the feat or craft of barbery or shaving, neither by
by himself, nor any other for his use. 32 Hen. VIII.
c. 42.
By the same statute, surgeons are obliged to have
signs at their doors.
The French cbirurgeons being refused to be admitted
into the universities (notwithstanding that their art
makes a branch of medicine), on pretence of its border¬
ing a little on butchery or cruelty, associated themselves
into a brotherhood, under the protection of S. Cosmos
and S. Damian : on which account, according to the
laws of their institution, they are obliged to dress and
look to wounds gratis the first Monday of each month.
They distinguish between a chirurgeon of the long
robe and a barber-chirurgeon. The first has studied
physic, and is allowed to wear a gown. The skill of
the other, besides what relates to the management of
the beard, is supposed to be confined to the more simple
and easy operations in chirurgery ; as bleeding, tooth¬
drawing, &c.
They were formerly distinguished by badges : those
of the long gown bore a case of instruments ; the barber3
a bason.
SURGERY.
P‘T',HE term Surgery has usually been employed to
signify that department of medicine which treats
of those diseases of the human body to be cured or
alleviated by the hand, by instruments, or by external
applications.
INTRODUCTION.
Medicine and Surgery, formerly regarded as one
and the same science, were exercised by the same per¬
sons during the most remote ages ; and their separation
is to be considered as a modern institution.
If we consider their origin and end, the knowledge
which the practitioner of each requires, and the con¬
nection which subsists between the diseases which are
supposed peculiarly to belong to each department, it is
probable that the first practitioners confounded them
with each other; and it is easy to conceive how the
same ideas should have passed from one generation to
another.
At last, however, the knowledge of the healing art
being greatly enlarged, it became separated into dif¬
ferent classes, and formed into distinct departments in
practice. Accordingly there were not only some who
confined themselves to Surgery, but there were Litho-
tomists, Phlebotomists, Oculists, Aurists, Dentists, &c.
It is not proposed here to enter into any detail in
attempting to show how this separation was made, and
still less to mention the puerile disputes regarding
the pre-eminence of Medicine to Surgery. There
are
S U K G E R Y.
-Tntroduc- are ^eW we Relieve in our days vvlio do not feel that
tbu. such a pre-eminence does not exist; that medicine and
‘‘—"■v"""-' Surgery are one and the same science 5 that they are
coeval with the human race j and to thoseIvho are able
to appreciate them, they must appear of equal utility
and importance. The healing art is one, its principles
are the. same throughout, and the exercise of its diffe¬
rent branches supposes the same fundamental know¬
ledge 5 but it offers in the detail such a vast field, that
few men are able to embrace the whole, and to culti¬
vate all the parts with equal success. It becomes,
therefore, an advantage to society that such parts as
can easily be separated in practice be exercised by
dift'erent individuals ; and that a man after having
acquired a general knowledge of the structure, func¬
tions, and diseases of the animal economy, practise in
such departments as his talents and acquirements point
out.
Some have opposed Surgery to medicine by qualify¬
ing the first with the name of art, and in giving to the
second that of science. To pretend that Surgery is no¬
thing but the art of treating diseases by external means
or by manual operations, is to rank it among the me¬
chanical professions j and to consider the man as a
good surgeon who can merely dress an ulcer, apply a
bandage, reduce a fracture, amputate a limb, or only
perform such like operations, on the living body. We
have already mentioned that the healing art is the same
in all its branches *, the internal organs of the body in a
state of health are governed by the same general laws j
many of them are analogous in structure to the exter¬
nal parts ; and the nature of a local disease can never
be understood if we are not acquainted with all the de¬
viations from the natural state, of which the whole ani¬
mal system is susceptible. If a physician he called to
tx-eat a pleurisy, he cannot expect to do so with success
unless he have a sufficiently clear idea of the nature of
inflammation, or at least of the principal symptoms
; which characterise it; of its consequences, and of the
$ proper mode of applying the means to remove it. But
all this knowledge is not less necessary to the Surgeon
who has to treat an wound, the management-of which
depends chiefly on the precautions necessary to prevent
and remove inflammation in the affected parts, without
at the same time weakening too much the vital powers.
The knowledge of the physician does not therefore me¬
rit more the name of science, than that of the Surgeon,
who ought to be well acquainted with the structure and
functions of the animal economy, with morbid changes,
and with the progress and termination of diseases.
The student of Surgery has therefore to acquire, not
only all that knowledge necessary for the wTell educated
physician, but he has likewise to learn the manner of
performing surgical operations. This, though no doubt
an essential requisite to the Surgeon, is by no means so
important as a competent knowledge of those diseases
and states of disease which require such means •, and
the young Surgeon should endeavour not to cherish
that love of operating which is observed in some, and
which arises from the eclat which a dexterous operator
generally receives.
1 o become an intelligent and expert operator, sevei’al
qualifications are necessary } some of which fall to the
lot of few individuals. There are many, who, though
they have acquired an extensive knowledge of diseases,
Sol. XX. Part I.
have not that calmness of mind, that collectedness of Inlroiluc-
thought, which is necessary for a good operator 5 and tion.
there are some who are even deficient in the mechanical
dexterity, which, though not requisite in all, is yet ne¬
cessary in several of the operations of Surgery. These
talents, however, are never given in such perfection as
not to require cultivation. An early habit of being
present, and of assisting at operations, prepares the stu¬
dent to act for himself j and a long and unremitting ha¬
bit of using the knife, and of performing operations on
the dead body, gives a facility in all the mechanical
parts, which even expex-ience on the living body does
not procure.
History of Surgery.
That Surgery was not only coeval with the other
branches of medicine, but antecedent to any of them,
will not admit of doubt. The wars and contentions
which have taken place among mankind ever since their
creation, imply that there would be occasion for Sur¬
geons at a very early period ; and probably external
injuries would for some time be the only diseases for
which a cure would be attempted, or perhaps thought
practicable. In the sacred xvritings is made much men¬
tion of balsams, particularly the balm of Gilead, as ex¬
cellent in the cure of wounds } though at the same time
there were some wounds which this balsam could not heal.
Concerning the Surgery practised among the Egyp¬
tians, Jews, and Asiatic nations, there is little known.
The art descended from the Gx-eeks to us, though they
confessedly received it from the Eastern nations. The
first Greek surgeons on recox-d are TEsculapius and his
sons Podalirius and Machaon. /Esculapius flourished
about 50 years before the Trojan war } and his two
sons distinguished themselves in that war both bv their
valour and by their skill in curing wounds. This in¬
deed is the whole of the medical skill attributed to
them by Homer j for in the plague which broke out in
the Grecian camp, he does not mention that they were
at all consulted. Nay, what is still more strange, though
he sometimes mentions his heroes having their bones
broke, he never takes notice of their being reduced or
cured by any other than supernatural means ; as in the
case of j^Eneas, whose thigh-bone was broken by a stone
cast at him by Diomed. The methods which these two
famous Surgeons used in curing the wounds of their fel¬
low soldiers, seems to have been the extracting or cut¬
ting out the darts which inflicted them, and applying
emollient fomentations or styptics to them when neces-
saiy. To these they attributed much more virtue than
they could possibly possess ; as appears from the follow¬
ing lines, where Homer describes Eurypylus wounded
and under the hands of Patroclus, who would certainly
practise according to the directions of the Surgeons.
Patroclus cut the forky steel away *,
1 hen in his hand a bitter root he bruis’d,
The wound he wash’d, the styptic juice infus’d.
The closing flesh that instant ceas’d to glow ;
The wound to torture, and the blood to flow.
Till the days of Hippocrates we know very little of
what was the practice of the Greek Surgeons. From
him, however, we learn, that blood letting, cupping,
and scarification, were known to them j also the use of
t J) • wari\i
26 S U R G E K Y.
History, warm and emollient fomentations, issues made with hot
-—V'—— irons, pessaries, injections, fumigations, &c. Hippo¬
crates also gives directions for the management of
fractures, luxations, ulcers, fistulas. He directs the ex¬
tension, reduction, bandages, and splints, proper to be
used in fractures and luxations of different bones, with
several machines to increase extension when necessary.
He directs the laxity and tightness of the bandages j
the intervals for unloosing and binding them on
again •, the position and repose of the fractured member,
and the proper regimen ; and he mentions the time
when a callus is usually formed. He treats also of frac¬
tures of the skull, and the method of applying the tre¬
pan. In his treatment of ulcers, he speaks of reducing
fungous flesh by means of escharotics, as alum, nitre,
verdigrise, quicklime, &c.
Surgery appears not to have existed in Rome, not¬
withstanding the warlike genius of the people, for more
than 500 years. Archagathus, a Greek, was the first
professor of the art in that city ; and so frequently em¬
ployed the knife, hot irons, and other cruel methods of
cure, that he was branded with the opprobrious title of
carnifeXy and expelled the city, where no physician or
surgeon of eminence again made his appearance for 180
years. At this time Asclepiades undertook the profes¬
sion of medicine $ but seems to have attended little to
surgery. Neither have we any thing of importance on
that subject till the time of Celsus, who flourished du¬
ring the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius.—In his
work on surgery, all the improvements from Hippocrates
to his own days are collected ; the most minute and
trifling diseases not being omitted. An eminent surgeon,
of the moderns, emphatically exhorts every person in
that profession “ to keep Celsus in his hands by day
and by night.” Celsus describes the signs of a fractured
skull, the method of examining for the fracture, of lay¬
ing the skull bare- by an incision in the form of the let¬
ter X, and afterwards of cutting away the angles, anil
of applying the trepan, mentioning also the signs of
danger and of recovery. He observed, that sometimes,
though very rarely, a fatal concussion of the brain might
happen from the blood-vessels within the skull being
burst, the bone remaining entire. After the operation of
the trepan, sponges and cloths wetted with vinegar, and
several other applications, were made to the head j and,
throughout, severe abstinence was enjoined. In violent
fractures of the ribs, he ordered venesection ; low diet;
to guard against all agitation of the mind, loud speak¬
ing, motion, and every thing that might excite cough¬
ing or sneezing. Cloths wetted with wine, roses and
oil, and other applications, were laid over the fracture.
The cure of fractures, in the upper and lower extremi¬
ties, he said were nearly alike ; that fractures difl’er in
degree of violence and danger, in being simple or com¬
pound, that is, with or without a wound of the flesh, and
in being near to the joint. He directs the extension of
the member by assistants ; the reduction, by the sur¬
geon’s hands, of the fractured hones into their natural
situation j and to bind the fractured part with bandages
of different lengths, previously dipped in wine and oil :
on tiie third day fresh bandages ought to be applied, and
the fractured member fomented with warm vapour,
especially during the inflammation. Splints, if neces¬
sary, are to be applied, to retain the bones in a fixed po¬
sition. The fractured arm is to be suspended in a broad
3.
sling hung round the neck t the fractured leg is to be Hi*tcry.
inclosed in a kind of case, reaching above the ham, and  v
accommodated likewise with a support to the foot, and
with straps at the side, to keep the leg steady: in the
fractured thigh-bone, the case is to extend from the top
of the hip to the foot. He describes the method of treat¬
ing compound fractures, and of removing small frag¬
ments of splinters of bones ; and the manner of extract¬
ing darts. In luxations of the shoulder, he mentions
several methods of giving force to the extension, and of
replacing the dislocated bone. One method similar to
that of Hippocrates was, to suspend the patient by the
arm j the fore part of the shoulder, at the same time,
resting upon the top of a door, or any other such firm
fulcrum. Another method was to lay the patient su¬
pine, some assistants retaining the body in a fixed posi¬
tion, and others extending the arm in the contrary di¬
rection ; the surgeon, in the mean time, attempting, by
his hands, forcibly to reduce the bone into its former place.
If much inflammation tvas expected to ensue after a
wound, that was suffex-ed to bleed for some time, and blood
was drawn from the arm. To wounds accompanied with
considerable haemorrhagy, he applied a sponge wet in
vinegar, and constant pressure : If necessary, on account
of the violence of the heemorrhagy, ligatures were made
round the vessels, and sometimes the bleeding orifice
was seared up with the point of a hot iron. On the
third day fresh dressings were applied. In considerable
contusions, with a small wound of the flesh, if neither
blood-vessels nor nerves prevented, the wound was en¬
larged. Abstinence and low diet, upon all such acci¬
dents, were pi-escribed ; cloths wet with vinegar, and
several other applications, were to he applied to the in¬
flamed part. He observes, that fresh wounds may be
healed without compound applications. In external
gangrene, he cut into the sound flesh ; and when the
disease, in spite of every effort, spread, he advised am¬
putation of the member. Alter cutting to the bone,
the flesh was then separated from it, and drawn back, in
order to save as much flesh as possible to cover the ex¬
tremity of the bone. Celsus, though extremely diffuse
in the description of sui’gical diseases, and of various re¬
medies and external applications, treats slightly of the
method of amputating j from which, comparing his
treatise with the modern systems, we might infer that
the operation was then seldomer practised than at pre¬
sent. He describes the symptoms of that dangerous
inflammation the carbuncle, and directs, to burn or cor¬
rode the gangrened part. To promote the suppuration
of abscesses, be orders poultices of barley-meal, or of
marshmallows, or the seeds of linseed and fenugreek.
He also mentions the compositions of several repellent
cataplasms. In the Erisipelas, he applies ceruse, mix¬
ed with the juice of solanum or nightshade. Sal am¬
moniac was sometimes mixed with his plasters.
He is very minute in describing diseases of the eyes,
ears, and teeth, and in prescribing a multitude of re¬
medies and applications. In inflammation of the eyes,
he enjoined abstinence and low diet, rest, and a dark
room: if the inflammation was violent, with great pain,
be ordered venesection, and a purgative; a small poul¬
tice of fine flower, saffron, and the white of an egg, to
be laid to the forehead to suppress the flow of pituita j
the soft inside of warm wheat bread dipped in wine, to
be laid to the eye } poppy and roses were also added to
his
SURGERY. 27
History. collyrlums, and various ingredients too tedious to
—-Y----' enumerate. In chronic watery defluxions of the eyes,
he applied astringents, cupped the temples, and burnt
the veins over the temple and forehead. He couched
cataracts by depressing the crystalline lens to the bot¬
tom of the orbit. Teeth, loosened by any accident, he
directs, after the example of Hippocrates, to be fasten¬
ed with a gold thread to those adjoining on each side.
Previous to drawing a tooth, he ordered the gum to be
cut round its neck •, and if the tooth was hollow, it was
to be filled with lead before extraction, to prevent its
breaking by the forceps. He describes not only the in¬
flammation, but likewise the elongation, of the uvula :
he also describes the polypus, and some other diseases
affecting the nose.
He describes several species of hernise or rupture,
and the manual assistance required in those complaints.
After the return of the intestines into the abdomen, a
firm compress was applied to that part of the groin
through which they protruded, and secured by a band¬
age round the loins. In some cases, after- the return
of intestinal ruptures, he diminished the quantity of
loose skin, and formed a cicatrix, so as to contract over
the part, to render it more rigid and capable of resist¬
ing. He describes various diseases of the genital parts j
the hydrocele or dropsy of the scrotum, a difficulty of
making urine, and the manner of drawing off the water
by a catheter ; the symptoms of stone in the bladder,
and the method of -sounding or feeling for the stone.
Lithotomy was at that time performed by introducing
two fingers into the anus $ the stone was then pressed
forward to the perinaeum, and a cut made into the blad¬
der j and by the finger or scoop the stone was extract¬
ed. He describes the manner of performing this ope¬
ration on both sexes, of treating the patient, and the
signs of recovery and of danger.
Celsus directed various corrosive applications and in¬
jections to fistulas and, in the last extremity, opened
them to the bottom with a knife, cutting upon a groov¬
ed instrument or conductor. In old callous ulcers, he
made a new wound, by either cutting away the hard
edges, or corroding ihem with verdigrise, quicklime,
alum, nitre, or with some vegetable eschai’otics. He
mentions the symptoms of a caries in the bone; directs
the bone to be laid bare, and to be pierced with several
holes, or to be burnt or rasped, in order to promote an
exfoliation of the corrupted part ; afterwards to apply
nitre and other ingredients. One of his applications
to cancer was auripigmentum or arsenic. He directs
the manner of tapping the abdomen in ascites, and of
drawing blood by the lancet and cupping-glasses. His
cupping-glasses were made either of brass or horn,
and were unprovided with a pump. He cured varicose
veins by ustion or by incision. He gives directions for
extracting the dead foetus from the womb, in whatever
position it should present ; and, after delivery, to apply
to the private parts soft cloths wet in an infusion of vi¬
negar and roses.
In Celaus’s works there is a great variety of plasters,
ointments, escharotics, collyriums, of suppurating and
discutient cataplasms, and external applications of every
kind, both simple and compound : Perhaps, amongst
the multitude there are a few useful remedies now laid
aside and neglected.
The last writer of consequence who flourished at Rome nutory.
was Galen, physician to the emperor Marcus Aurelius. *■" "v  
His works are for the most part purely medical ; al¬
though he wrote also on Surgery, and made Commen¬
taries on the Surgery of Hippocrates. He opened the
jugular veins and performed arteriotomy at the temples;
and he used leeches, scarification, and cupping-glasses,
to draw blood. He also described with accuracy the
different species of herniae or ruptures.
In the year 500 flourished Aetius, in whose works are
met with many observations omitted by Celsus and Ga¬
len, particularly on the surgical operations, the diseases
of women, the causes of difficult labours, and modes of
delivery. He also takes notice of the dracunculus, or
Guinea worm, Aetius, however, was greatly excelled by
Paulus Egineta, who flourished in 640 ; and whose trea¬
tise on Surgery is superior to that of all the other an¬
cient writers. He directs how to extract darts ; to per¬
form the operation sometimes required in dangerous
cases of rupture or hernia. He treats also of aneurism.
Galen, Paulus, and all the ancients, speak only of one
species of aneurism, and have defined it to be “ a tumor
arising from arterial blood extravasatcd from a rup¬
tured artery.” The aneurism from a dilatation of the
artery is a discovery of the moderns. In violent in¬
flammations of the throat, where immediate danger of
suffocation was threatened, Paulus performed the ope¬
ration of bronchotomy. In obstinate defluxions upon
the eyes, he opened the jugular veins. He describes
the manner of opening the arteries behind the ears in
chronic pains of the head. He wrote also upon mid¬
wifery. Fabricius ab Aquapendente, a celebrated sur¬
geon of the 16th century, has followed Celsus and Pau¬
lus as text books.
From the time of Paulus Egineta to the year 900,
no writer of any consequence, either on medicine or
Surgery, appeared. At this time the Arabian physicians
lihazes and Avicenna revived in the east the medical
art, which, as w’ell as others, was then almost extin¬
guished in the west. Avicenna’s Canon Medicince, or
General System of Medicine and Surgery, was for many
ages celebrated through all the schools of physic. It
was principally compiled from the writings of Galen
and Rhaz.es. The latter had correctly described the
spina ventosa, accompanied with an enlargement of the
bone, caries, and acute pain. In difficult labours, he
recommends the fillet to assist in the extraction of the
foetus ; and for the same purpose, Avicenna recommends
the forceps. He describes the composition of several
cosmetics to polish the skin, and make the hair grow
or fall off.
Notwithstanding this, how'ever, it was not till the
time of Albucasis that Surgery came into repute among
the Arabians. Rhazes complains of their gross igno¬
rance, and that the manual operations were performed
by the physicians servants. Albucasis enumerates a
tremendous list of operations, sufficient to fill us with
horror. The hot iron and cauteries were favourite re¬
medies of the Arabians ; and, in inveterate pains, they
reposed, like the Egyptians and eastern Asiatics, great
confidence in burning the part. He describes accurate¬
ly the manner of tapping in ascites ; mentions several
kinds of instruments for drawing blood ; and has left a
more ample and correct delineation of surgical instru-
D 2 meats
28
SURGERY.
History, ments than any of the ancients. He gives various oh-
—V—stetrical directions for extracting the foetus in cases of
difficult labour. He mentions the bronehocele, or pro¬
minent tumor on the neck, which, he tells us, was most
frequent among the female sex. We are also informed
by this writer, that the delicacy of the Arabian women
did not permit male surgeons to perform lithotomy on
them 5 but when necessary, it was executed by one of
their own sex.
From the nth century to the middle of the 14th,
the history of Surgery affords nothing remarkable ex¬
cept the importation of that nauseous disease the leprosy
into Europe.
Towards the end of the 15th century the venereal
disease is said to have been imported from America by
the first discoverers of that continent.
At the beginning of the 16th century, Surgery was
held in contempt in this island, and was practised indis¬
criminately by barbere, farriers, and sow-gelders. Bar¬
bers and surgeons continued, for 200 years after, to
be incorporated in one company both in London and
Paris. In Holland and some parts of Germany, even
at this day, barbel’s exercise the razor and lancet alter¬
nately.
It is within the last three centuries that we have any
considerable improvement in Surgery •, nor do we know
of any eminent British surgical writers, until within the
last 130 years. “ In Germany (says Heister) all the
different surgical operations, at the beginning even of
the 18th century, were left to empirics ; while regular
practitioners were contented to cure a wound, open a
vein or an abscess, return a fractured or luxated bone;
but they seldom or never ventured to perform any of the
difficult operations.”
Sixteenth The first surgical work of the 16th century worthy
century. of notice is that of J. Carpus. F. ab Aquapendente, an
Italian, published a System of Surgery, containing a de¬
scription of the various diseases, accidents, and opera¬
tions. Boerhaave pays this author the following com¬
pliment : Ille superavit omnes, et nemo Mi hanc dispu •
tat glomam ; omnibus potivs opt am hocce carere possu-
mus. About the same period, A. Parey, a Frenchman,
made several important additions to Surgery, particu¬
larly in his collection of cases of wounds, fractures, and
other accidents which occur during war. The ancients,
ignorant of powder and fire-arms, were defective in
this part of military surgery. Parey pretends to have
first invented the method of tying with a needle and
silk-thread the extremities of large arteries, after the
amputation of a member. The ligature of the blood¬
vessels is, however, merely a revival of the ancient
practice, which had fallen into disuse : Throughout the
dark ages, the hot iron, cauteries, and strong astrin¬
gents, were substituted in its place. B. Maggius and
L. Botellus wrote on the cure of gunshot wounds. J. A.
Cruce wrote a system of Surgery.
In the 17th century, Surgery was enriched with se¬
veral systems, and with detached or miscellaneous ob¬
servations. The principal authors are, M. A. Severi¬
nus, V. Vidius, It. Wiseman, Le Clerc, J. Scultetus,
J. Mangetus, C. Magatus, Spigetlius, F. Hildanus,
T. Bartholin, P. de Marchett.
Eighteenth During the last century, Surgery, like alt the other
century. sciences, made more rapid progress toward perfection,
than during all the preceding periods. This partly
arose from the assistance of governments in the different
countries. They being convinced that anatomy is one
of the most necessary sciences, and the groundwork of
the whole healing art, but particularly of Surgery j in-
many great cities academies were instituted for the cul¬
tivation of practical anatomy; and schools were also
established for the instruction of the theoretical ami
practical parts of Surgery.
These improvements in Surgery were chiefly made
in England, France, and Germany ; and in all these
countries a number of very eminent men have since ap¬
peared.
The English surgeons, besides possessing an accurate
knowledge of anatomy, and great abilities in the opera¬
tive part of their profession, were the first who endea¬
voured to bring the art to its present simplicity. They
directed also their attention, in a particular manner, to
the medical treatment and diet of patients ; the neglect
of which had caused the unfortunate issue of many ope¬
rations which had been dexterously performed.
Among the surgeons of later times, we may first men¬
tion the name of Sharp. He was a scholar of Chessel-
den, and one of the best surgeons of his day. He wrote
a Compendium of Surgical Operations, 1746; and also
a Critical Inquiry into the State of Surgery ; both of
which works are still in high estimation.
In the year 1719, Dr Monro, after visiting the
schools of London, Paris, and Leyden, rvhere he was a
pupil of the great Boerhaave, came to Edinburgh; ami
this may be considered as the date of the foundation of
the Edinburgh medical school. He began by giving
lectures on Anatomy and Surgery, the first which were
delivered in Edinburgh ; and in the year 1721 he was
appointed professor of Anatomy and Surgery to the uni¬
versity. This eminent anatomist and surgeon, besides fil¬
ling his chair with the greatest reputation, contributed to
the advancement of our knowledge in many important
parts of Anatomy and Surgery. His works, published
by his son, besides his Treatise on Osteology, which is
certainly the best description of the bones that has ever
been given, will be found to contain many interesting
and valuable observations on various surgical diseases.
Joseph JParner, surgeon of Guy’s Hospital, in Lon¬
don, published his Cases and Remarks in Surgery’, in
the year 17545 a work which contains many very im¬
portant practical remarks. He afterwards published a
very good work, containing a description of the human
Eye and its adjacent parts, in which he particularly
rejects the fastening of the eye during the operation of
cataract. He also published An Account of the Tes¬
ticles, their Common Coverings and Coats, &c.
Perceval Pott, surgeon of St Bartholomew’s Hospi¬
tal, may be justly considered as one of the principal Eng¬
lish surgeons of his time. He was not only a successful
practitioner, but an industrious and excellent though
diffuse writer. The merits of Pott are indeed consi¬
derable. He threw much light on the doctrine of
wounds of the head, by his accurate arrangement of the
different kinds of injuries to which the head is subject.
He also gave a good account of hydrocele and the other
diseases of the testicle. On the operation of the fistula
in ano, he made material improvements. He has given
many useful hints on fractures and dislocations ^ and
he was a great champion in favour of the operation for
cataract by couching. He was the first person who
described
SURGERY.
TIistorv. described the chimney-STveeps cancer •, and on hernise,
-y~—^ polypus, and curvatures of the spine, he has made many-
judicious pathological and practical observations.
Charles White, surgeon in Manchester, published an
excellent practical work in the year 1770, in which he
recommends amputation of the foot, a little above the
ankle joint, instead of under the knee, as had usually
been practised. Pie also shows the effect of sawing off
the ends of bones j and discusses several other interest¬
ing points in surgery. In the same year, Mr Else of
St Thomas’s Hospital, published his treatise on the hy¬
drocele, in which he recommends the use of caustic in
the cure of that disease.
In the year 1770, Mr Mease, of Dublin, wrote an ex¬
cellent treatise on the wounds of the head. Mr Brom~
field, of St George’s Hospital, and Mr Hill, surgeon at
Dumfries, also distinguished themselves ; Mr Bromfitld
for his Chirurgical Observations, and Mr Hill for his
Observations on Cancers.
In the year 1778, Mr Benjamin Bell published the
first volume of his System of Surgery. The reputation
of this work was soon such, that it was translated into
the French and German languages ; and it has since
gone through several editions in these, and many in
English.
This work presented the most complete System of Sur¬
gery which had ever appeared ; and in every part of it
there is displayed a talent for practical observation and
dearness of thought which must render it ever a useful
and valuable present to Surgery. Like all such exten¬
sive works, it is not without faults, and the language in
which it is written is in some places prolix and diffuse j
but notwithstanding all its errors, it certaiidy must be
considered as the most useful body of Surgery that ever
had appeared in this country.
Besides these, mention must be made of two other
eminent surgeons, William and John Hunter;, the former
rendered immortal by his splendid work on the gravid
uterus 5 and the latter by his treatise on the venereal dis¬
ease, and also his treatise on the blood, inflammation,
and gun-shot wounds.
Many very eminent men arose, both in France and
Germany, during the last century. 'J'he transactions of
their academies leave a lasting monument of their zeal
and industry.
In France we have the names of Petit, Arnaud, Ga-
rangeot, Morand, Le Dran, Le Cat, Louis, David Lev-
ret, Le Blanc, De la Faye, David Chopart, Dessault,
Janin, Jourdain, Pouteau, Andre Lombard Wen-sel.
In Germany, Surgery has been enriched bv the wrorks
of Vogel, Platner, Albert Haller, Bilguer, Weitz, Sei-
bold, Bramhilla, Theden, Smucker, Stork, Plenk, Isen-
fiamm, Rougemont, Conradi, and Richter.
Arrange- Most authors who have written systems of Surgery
surgical ^ave described diseases according to the parts of the
diseases. body where they were situated } beginning with the
head, and describing the organs in succession, accord¬
ing to their situation.
Besides this mode of arrangement being unphilosopbi-
cal, it has many serious disadvantages. Diseases which
have no analogy to each other, are treated of in the same
place j and similar diseases are treated of separately,
instead of being classed together, and considered in one
2-9
general point of view, thus causing a repetition of History,
what may be considered as the generic characters of the -v-1
disease. The utility of nosological systems in practi¬
cal medicine and in pathology, is indispensable. Dis¬
eases which have common characters are thus brought
together, and arranged under classes, orders, genera,
and species. Nosology is, therefore, to be considered
as an important step in order to facilitate the means of
acquiring knowledge of the diseases of the human body,
and to give clear and comprehensive views of them ;
for it is equally important, to be able to distinguish dis¬
eases, as to point out how they should be treated.
All nosological writers have not, however, construct¬
ed their systems on similar principles j and their efforts
have been often frustrated by the false theories and hy¬
potheses with which they have set out.
The world is indebted to the ingenious and celebrat- BichatV
ed Bichat, for the first truly philosophical view of the'iew* of
structure of the human body. The simple division of it! e st'ut,"
into its component parts, which tliat great anatomist ami
philosopher pointed out, must be considered as the ground¬
work of all future anatomical and pathological inquiries.
Bichat demonstrated, that most of the organs of our
body are made up of a variety of elementary parts or
textures ; each of which, in whatever organ it is found,
uniformly has the same physical properties, and pre¬
sent the same morbid phenomena. These he considers
as the elementary parts j which, by the diversity of their
combinations, produce all the modifications of struc¬
ture and functions exhibited in the different organs of
animals. This method of considering organized bodies,
accords with every phenomenon with which we are ac¬
quainted,.and seems to arise from the essential nature of
their constitution. We may trace this view of the struc¬
ture of the body in the observations of many of the older
anatomists; and particularly it maybe considered as
the basis of some of the most ingenious philosophical
theories of the late ingenious Mr John Hunter.
In order to fix the characters of the elementary tex¬
tures, Bichat employed various modes of inquiry. He
performed numerous experiments on living animals; per¬
severed in tedious and minute dissections ; employed che¬
mical reagents to supply the place of the knife ; and exa¬
mined with minuteness all the varieties of morbid struc¬
ture. Having by these means accomplished his object
in tracing the character of each separate texture, he
next proceeded to investigate their combinations as they
are found in the different organs.
The effects of this mode of analyzing the structure Their ap-
of the human body when diseased, must be at once ob-,)'Kjat|lon t0
vious. We learn from it, that diseases at their com- ,a
mencement are generally confined to one texture of an
organ ; the other textures of which the organ is com¬
posed remaining sound.
There is no organ of the body from which this im¬
portant truth may not be deduced. It may be readily
illustrated from considering the diseases of the mucous,
serous, and muscular textures, which compose the
stomach and alimentary canal; the cellular texture of
the lungs; the mucous membrane of the bronchi, the
serous one of the pleura, and many others.
But diseases are not only confined to one individual
texture of any organ, as in the cases just mentioned ; the
symptoms and morbid changes are likewise uniformly
the same in textures of a similar structure, in whatever
parts
3^
History, parts of the body these textures may happen to be found.
 v—Thus the serous membranes which invest the lungs, the
brain, the heart, the abdominal viscera, have one com¬
mon character when affected with any specific disease :
so also have the mucous membranes, whether in the
mouth, the nose, the vagina, the urethra, or covering
the eye-ball j and the same may be observed of every
individual texture which enters into the composition
of our bodies.
Besides the symptoms and morbid changes which are
common to all textures whose structure is similar in the
natural state, there are ethers which are determined
from the particular functions of the organ in which the
diseased texture exists. For example, when any of the
serous membranes are inflamed, the nature of the pain,
the degree of fever, and the duration of the symptoms,
are the same, in whichsoever it may have taken place.
But to these symptoms are added, cough, difficulty of
breathing, when it happens to be connected with the
organs of respiration, as in the case of pleuritis j cos¬
tiveness, strangury, delirium, loss of vision, when the
intestines, the bladder, the brain, or the eye, are in¬
volved in the disease.
Th is view of the subject naturally suggests a corre-
v spondent division of the symptoms. The first class are
general, and characterise a whole genus of textures j
the second are in a manner accessory, and depend on
the relative situation or the particular functions of the
organ into the composition of which the affected texture
enters.
But here we must set bounds to this theory;—the hi¬
story and progress of diseases shew, that we ought not to
confine our observations within such narrow limits. The
principles which have been stated, indeed, account ad¬
mirably well for the propagation of some affections,
arid for some of the sympathies which subsist between
different parts of the body ; but there are other disor¬
ders which advance in a very different manner. In some
diseases which are termed chronic, for example, the
whole structure of an organ becomes gradually altered,
although the primary affection be confined to one of
its component textures. This is often to be observed in
cancer, scrofula, and lues venerea. When cancer at¬
tacks the mamma, it is at its commencement generally
confined to a small portion of that gland ; but if allow¬
ed to proceed, it ultimately involves the whole gland,
and the adjacent cellular and cutaneous textures, in one
mass of disease.
These general observations will be sufficient to give
an outline of the principles of a pathological system,
founded on the basis of anatomical knowledge ; and in
giving an account of those diseases which more properly
belong to a system of surgery, w’e have ventured to ap- '
ply these principles. We shall, in the first place, there¬
fore, consider the diseases of the Cellular Membrane; the
diseases of the Skin; of the Mucous, Serous, and Sinovial
membranes ; of Bone and Cartilage ; of the Vascular and
Nervous systems; and of the Glands. In the second
place, we shall treat of diseases which occur only in par¬
ticular organs, whether from the peculiarity of their
structure or functions : such are the diseases of the eyes,
ears, nose, teeth, mouth, and fauces, and the organs of
urine and generation. In the third place, we shall take
notice of malconformations, distortions, and protru-
Chap. ]]
sions ; and in the last place, of wounds, fractures, dislo- History,
cations, and such operations as are occasionally neces- —v—•
sary to be performed on different parts of the body, as
amputation, sutures, See,
Chap. I.
Of the Diseases of the Cellular Membrane.
Sect. I. General Remarks on the Pathology of the
Cellular Membrane.
The cellular membrane is distinguished from other
textures, by the power which it has of throwing out
granulations, by its being capable of elongation, of re¬
production, and of growth when it has been divided*. * Bichat I
Suppuration also takes place in the cellular membrane,'d”a*0,nH
with a rapidity of which there are few examples in tive. ?"
other textures. The fluid which is the result of this
suppuration, is well known. Its colour, its consistence,
and all its external qualities, have become the criterion
by which we form our ideas of pus ; in consequence of
which, all discharges which do not resemble it, have
been commonly considered as pus of a bad kind, or as
sanies. This opinion, however, is false ; and has been
formed in consequence of a too superficial view of the
different circumstances attending different kinds of dis¬
charged fluids. Certainly the pus which is discharged
from a bone, from a muscle, from the skin in erysipelas,
from the mucous membranes in catarrh, is of a good
kind whenever the inflammation runs through regu¬
larly its different periods, and notwithstanding it is
quite different in all these cases from the pus produced by
suppuration of the cellular membrane. But as the lat¬
ter is most frequently observed, from it we have formed
an idea of laudable pus, and of sanies. The cutaneous
pus, the mucous pus, the osseous pus, &c. have all their
proper sanies ; which differ from ofie another as much
as the natural structure and functions of the organs from
which they are produced.
There are few parts of the body which have a greater
number of exhalents than the cellular membrane ; and
this exposes it to various alterations of structure, such
as being preternaturally distended by the different sub¬
stances which it exhales ; and these, sometimes present¬
ing a solid appearance, sometimes producing a lardy sub¬
stance, sometimes a gelatinous matter, and sometimes a
much firmer and harder mass. The numerous absor¬
bent vessels which are also distributed on the cellular
membrane, is another cause of various diseases ; every
small cell being a reservoir common to the exhalents
which terminate in it, and to the absorbents which arise
from it.
There are some diseases, too, which produce a change
in the elasticity and powrers of distension, which the
cellular membrane naturally possesses. In health it has
enoimous powers of distension, as may be observed in
emphysema and anasarca ; and whenever these diseases
are removed, it regains its natural bulk and form. In
inflammations,^ this property is in part destroyed, and it
happens also in many of the different indurations to
which it is liable. Its elasticity is also less remarkable
in people advanced in life, than in children. When an
old man turns quickly thin, the skin becomes flaccid, and
forms
SURGERY.
Chap. I. S U R G
)f the Pa- forms into folds ; bat when a young man is emaciated,
nhology of the skin is applied exactly to the subjacent organ, and
Ae Cellular preservcs its tension.
Membrane. rj'|)e ce]|uiar membrane, when diseased, becomes
T sometimes extremely sensible, and the seat of acute pain,
though it seems to possess no sensibility in its natural
state. When either blood, milk, or lymph, are effused
in it, its sensibility is not altered, and these fluids are
absorbed. On the contrary, the sensibility is so much
altered by the contact of urine, of bile, of saliva, and of
the other fluids destined to be thrown out of the body,
that often the inflammation which succeeds the effusion
prevents their absorption.
As the cellular membrane enters into the composition
of every organ, h is often difficult to distinguish in dis¬
eases what belongs to it from that which is the attribute
of the other textures with which it is found. These con¬
nections, however, become manifest under several cir¬
cumstances : In acute and chronic diseases it is very
susceptible of being influenced by the disease of the
organs. We do not speak here of the alterations pro¬
duced from juxtaposition and continuity, but of those
diseases which arise in parts of the cellular membrane
which have no known connection with the affected organ.
In acute diseases which affect a particular organ, as
the lungs, stomach, or intestines, often the cellular
membrane becomes sympathetically affected and the seat
of inflammation and abscesses. The greater number of
critical abscesses arise from this connection which exists
between the organ affected and the cellular membrane.
In acute diseases too it is commonly the function of ex¬
halation or absorption of the cellular membrane that is
affected, and hence the sudden oedema which often ac¬
companies them. In chronic diseases their influence is
no less remarkable. It is well known, that in chronic
diseases of the heart, of the lungs, of the liver, of the sto¬
mach, kidneys, uterus, &c. they have for their symptom
during their last stages an anasarca, more or less general,
which arises from debility producedin thecellular system.
We observe, that in all acute diseases, the skin re¬
ceives with great facility the sympathetic influence of
the diseased organ, and that it is alternately moist and
dry frequently during the same day. It is by no means
improbable that the cellular membrane undergoes al¬
terations analogous to those of the skin ; and if vve could
observe what passes in it, we might discover the cells
more or less moist, more or less dry, according as it
happened to be influenced : It is also to this we ought
to attribute the different state of the cellular membrane,
in patients who have died of acute diseases ; these pre¬
senting numberless varieties in the serous effusions.
The cellular system is not only influenced by its sym¬
pathy with other organs •, but it also exercises a sym¬
pathy over them. In a phlegmon or inflammation of
the cellular membrane, if the tumour be considerable,
often various alterations take place in the functions of
the brain, of the heart, of the liver, or of the stomach.
The sympathetic vomiting, &c. are those phenomena in
great phlegmons which are often present without being
considered as belonging to the disease.
Art avails itself of the influence of the cellular sys¬
tem in the diseases of other organs, in the use oi setons.
Often in the diseases of the eye and of joints a seton
produces an effect which cannot be obtained by a blis¬
ter j and this probably arises from the connection which
E R Y. 31
exists between the cellular membrane and the eye or Of the Ra-
joint, being more active than that which exists between tliolo^y of
these organs and the skin*.
It ought to be also remarked, in considering the pa- i
thology of the cellular system, that there is a manifest* ygi,.
dilference in the properties of the cellular texture, which Anatomic
is composed of layers and filaments j and in that ex-I^m'rtP-
terior to the different mucous surfaces, and to the blood-
vessels and excretories, which consists of filaments alone.
From this difference results the rare occurrence of in¬
flammations and of different kinds of tumors in the lat¬
ter. It often forms a barrier where the morbid affec¬
tion of the former stops, and thus protects the organ
which it envelopes.
The unfrequency of hemorrhagy when extensive sup¬
purations have laid bare large arteries is a proof of what
lias been said. We have seen cases where the cellu¬
lar membrane contiguous to the brachial and femoral
arteries has been completely ulcerated, whilst the coats
of the arteries remained sound. We have observed the
same phenomenon in the urethra and in the intestines.
In cases of suppuration of the prostate gland and cavern¬
ous bodies of the urethra, the canal has remained un¬
touched in the midst of a large abscess ; and in a case
of femoral hernia, where the hernial sac, and the cellu¬
lar membrane covering it, all mortified, the protruded
gut remained quite sound.
The cellular membrane has also a powerful influence
in the production of a variety of tumors and excres¬
cences, forming as it were their base or parenchyma of
nutrition. Encysted tumors are met with alone in the
cellular texture of diflerent parts of the body, and va¬
rious kinds of solid tumors and excrescences are formed
by the growth of that texture on the part where the
tumor is to be developed : Afterwards different sub¬
stances are deposited amongst it, the difference in the
nature of which constitutes the difference in the specific
characters of these tumors. There is nothing more re¬
markable in the pathology of the cellular membrane, -
than the circuitous routes which needles take through
it after being swallowed by the mouth.
These remarks will be sufficient to give a general
view of the pathology of the cellular membrane, and
will enable us to form a more comprehensive and con¬
nected view of those diseases, which may be more proper¬
ly considered as coming within the province of Surgery.
The diseases of the cellular membrane which are
treated of in this chapter are, 1. Inflammation of the
cellular membrane, or phlegmon. 2. Panaris or wbitloe.
3. Sinuses. 4. Carbuncle. 5. Encysted tumors. 6. Stea-
tom. 7. Sarcoma. 8. CEdema. And, 9. Emphysema.
Sect. II. Of Phlegmon.
In most accounts which surgical authors have given
of inflammation, they have taken the description of its
general phenomena fi'om inflammation of the cellular
membrane.
Inflammation of the cellular membi*ane, or Phlegmon,
is characterized by a tumor more or less elevated andSympt0!m^
circumscribed, visible or not visible, according to the
part where it is situated. It is always accompanied
with an increased sensibility of the part, with a lancina¬
ting or beating pain, a degree of heat greater than
natural, a bright redness, which becomes more livid as
the disease advances, an elevated point j and it gradual-
SURGERY.
Chap. ]
Of
Phlegmon
Constitu¬
tional
symptoms.
Its termina¬
tions.
ly turns softer from the centre to one part of the cir¬
cumference.
These are the symptoms which are generally to be
observed more or less remarkable in every species of
phlegmon. When they are slight, and when the af¬
fected part is not extensive, or very important from the
nature of its functions, this disease generally has not
much influence on the general system. But when they
ai’e more considerable, and the inflammation extends
far, the pulse becomes commonly full, frequent, and
bard j at the same time, the patient complains of uni¬
versal heat, thirst, and other febrile symptoms.
When by the efforts of nature, or by the application
of proper remedies, the pain, the heat, and the tension
go away, the other symptoms, which depend in a great
degree or altogether on the first which have been men¬
tioned, disappear also, and the patient ^quickly recovers
his health. This termination, which is commonly the
most desirable, is called ixvolution.
But if, notwithstanding the remedies used, the differ¬
ent symptoms augment instead of diminishing, the tumor
gradually increases in size and turns soft. A small
eminence is observed towards the centre of the tumor
or at some particular point, and its surface becomes
polished. Soon afterwards the pain diminishes, cold
shiverings come on, and the febrile symptoms abate $
and on compressing the tumor, the fluctuation of a fluid
can be perceived in it, this constituting the second ter¬
mination of a phlegmon, or abscess.
Treatment Treatment of Phlegmon.—The principal object to
be kept in view in the treatment of inflammatory tu¬
mors, is to obtain their resolution $ this being the most
prompt and most certain mode of cure. There are,
however, some cases which are an exception to this
general rule $ such as some inflammatory tumors which
precede fevers, and other internal diseases: for it is
-commonly supposed that in these cases, suppuration is
a mode by which nature throws oil’ certain fluids or
humours, pernicious to remain in the system. There
are other tumors which seem to arise from internal
causes, where it is perhaps better neitherlo attempt to
accelerate their suppuration nor resolution, but to trust
them entirely to nature. Such are inflammatory tu¬
mors in scrofulous subjects. There are few cases of
this kind where suppuration ought to be promoted, for
their treatment is always embarrassing whether they
are opened naturally or by art. It is well known too,
that such tumors often remain a long time without any
danger*, from whence we may conclude, that it is most
prudent not to touch them, but attend only to the con¬
stitutional treatment.
In the venereal disease, we have a specific for its
cure j and when buboes are opened, or other inflamma¬
tory venereal swellings, they generally become very dif¬
ficult and embarrassing to treat. It is therefore always
most prudent to attempt their resolution.
The principal means employed to procure the reso¬
lution of an inflammatory tumor, are local and general
blood-letting, and the application of heat and moisture.
Leeches is perhaps the best mode of bleeding the in¬
flamed part j but should the inflammation take place
in the extremities, or contiguous to any of the large
veins, one of these may be opened. There is no appli¬
cation which tends so much to remove the tension and
pain of an inflamed part as the use of poultices or fo¬
mentations. Applications of a sedative nature are re-
commended by many, such as the different prepara- Phlegmon
tions of lead, the sulphate of zinc and vinegar j but as -y-
far as we have been able to observe, the use of medi¬
cines of this class has by no means such powerful ef¬
fects as emollients, though it has generally been sup¬
posed that emollients hasten suppuration. In applying
poultices, they should generally be renewed three or
four times in twenty-four hours, and the part bathed
with hot water each time the poultice is changed. W hen
fomentations are to be used, many employ hot water
alone, whilst others prefer a decoction of chamomile
flowers, or of poppy heads. A piece of flannel of con¬
siderable size, immersed in either of these, of the boil¬
ing heat, is to be forcibly wrung out within a cloth,
ami applied as warm as the patient can suffer it, to the
inflamed part. A second piece of flannel is to be pre¬
pared in the same manner, and whenever that first ap¬
plied begins to cool, the second piece is to he employ¬
ed 5 and this practice continued for ten or fifteen mi¬
nutes, and repeated as often as it is found to relieve.
The best mode of applying the sedative remedies in ex¬
ternal inflammation, is in the form of watery solution.
Half an ounce of the acetate of lead dissolved in four
ounces of vinegar, with the addition of two pounds of
distilled water, is a convenient form. In making use
of this solution, it is of consequence to have the parts
affected kept constantly moist, and cataplasms prepar¬
ed with it generally answer that intention exceedingly
well. But when the inflamed part is so tender and
painful, as not easily to bear the weight of a poultice,
pieces of soft linen, moistened with the solution should
be employed. Both should he applied cold, or at least
of no greater warmth than is merely necessary for pre¬
venting pain or uneasiness. They should be kept con¬
stantly applied to the part, and renewed before turning
dry and stiff.
When the part affected with inflammation is not very
tender, or lies deep, applications of vinegar are often
had recourse to with considerable advantage j and t!.e
most effectual form of using it, is in that of cataplasm,
made with the strongest vinegar and crumb of bread.
In such cases, the alternate use of this remedy, with
the saturnine solution, has produced more beneficial ef¬
fects than commonly observed from a continued course
of either singly.
In all cases of inflammation, the whole body, hut
more especially the diseased part, should he preserved
as free as possible from every kind of motion, and the
patient should be confined to a low cooling diet, and
also a total abstinence from spirituous and fermented
liquors.
In slight cases of inflammation, a due perseverance
in the mode of treatment which has now been mention¬
ed will in general he sufficient^ but when there is
likewise a full, hard, and quick pulse,with other symp¬
toms of fever accompanying the disease, general blood¬
letting becomes necessary j and the quantity of blood
taken away is always to he determined by the ex¬
tent and violence of the disease, and by the age and
strength of the patient. Evacuations, however, should
never be carried to a greater extent than is neces¬
sary for moderating the febrile symptoms j for should
suppuration take place after the system is too much re¬
duced, its progress becomes more slow and uncertain 4
nor
Chap. I.
S U R
Of
Phlegmon,
Use of
<*pium.
Suppura¬
tion.
nor Is the patient able to support the discharge that en¬
sues. Gentle laxatives, with a cooling diet, are also
1 attended with very good effects.
Besides these different evacuations, it is of great con¬
sequence to procure the patient ease and quietness.
The most effectual remedy for this purpose is opium,
and, when the pain and irritation are considerable, as
in extensive inflammations very frequently happens, it
should never be omitted. In all such cases, the opium
should be given in full doses, otherwise, instead of prov¬
ing serviceable, it rriay not procure rest; a circumstance
which is perhaps the chief reason for opiates having
been by some very unjustly condemned in every case
of inflammation.
By a proper attention to these different circumstances,
a resolution of the tumor will generally begin to take
place in the course of three or four days, and sometimes
in a shorter time; at least before the end of that period,
it may for the most part be known how the disorder is
to terminate. If the heat, pain, redness, and other at¬
tendant circumstances abate, and especially if the tu¬
mor begins to decrease in size, it is probable that, by
a continuance of the same plan, a complete resolution
will be finally effected.
But, on the contrary, if all the symptoms rather in¬
crease, and especially if the tumor turns larger, and
somewhat soft, with an increase of throbbing pain, we
may with tolerable certainty conclude that suppuration
will take place. We should therefore immediately de¬
sist from such applications as were judged proper while
a cure was thought practicable by resolution, and en¬
deavour to assist nature as much as possible in the for¬
mation of pus, or what is called the maturation of the
tumor. To effect this, nothing is mor-e useful than fo¬
mentations and cataplasms ; and if these have not been
employed during the former stage, the cold saturnine
applications should now be given up, and recourse had
to the emollient remedies.
Dry cupping, as it is termed, viz. using the cupping
glasses without the scarificator, applied as near as pos¬
sible to the part affected, is frequently had recourse to
in promoting the suppuration of tumors. It is only,
however, in those in which there seems to be a defi¬
ciency of inflammation, that it can ever be either neces¬
sary or useful; but in all tumors of an indolent nature,
and where there is still some probability of a suppura¬
tion, no remedy is more effectual. By these different ap¬
plications, continued for a longer or shorter time, accord¬
ing to the size of the tumor, its situation and other cir¬
cumstances, a complete suppuration may generally be at
last expected.
Whilst an abscess is forming, it extends according as
the quantity of purulent matter is augmented, and the
extension takes place towards that side where there is
least resistance. On this account it is that where an
abscess is deep, or covered by an aponeurosis, it ex¬
tends in the interstices of the neighbouring parts, and
dissects, as it were, the tendons, the muscles, and the
bones, whilst in common cases it makes its way to¬
wards the skin. When matter is collected very near
the surface of the body, and is only covered by the
common integuments, it speedily makes its way ex¬
ternally ; but when it is deep, and surrounded by
parts which make great resistance, purulent matter
insinuates itself until it arrives at some place where
Vol. XX. Part I. f
G £ R Y. 33
there is nothing to oppose its exit; and it is obser- or
ved making its escape after having made, in some Phlegmon,
cases, a very great circuit. It is generally towards the
inferior parts of the body that purulent matter makes
its route. On this account large abscesses open them¬
selves most frequently at their inferior part, and irom
thence the advantage which is found by waiting till
they open of themselves, or that they indicate the place
most convenient for the opening to be made. Thus,
we see abscesses formed under the temporal muscles ^
discharge themselves in the mouth, and those of the
loins making their appearance near the femoral ring,
or on the anterior part of the thigh. Deep abscesses,
in certain parts of the body, proceed rather towards the
interior than towards the surface, because there purulent
matter finds less obstruction in its passage. Those, for
example, which form on the surface of the lungs, find
great resistance from the ribs and other parts forming
the thorax, whilst they easily make their way through
the spongy substance of the lungs, and open into the
ramifications of the bronchise. For the same reason,
abscesses formed in the cavity of the abdomen some¬
times discharge their contents into the stomach or in¬
testines ; but as the parietes of the belly yield more
easily than those of the chest, we also see abscesses of
the different organs contained in the belly, discharge
their contents through its parietes.
When matter is fully formed in a tumor, a remission
of all the symptoms takes place. The throbbing pain,
which before was frequent, now goes off, and the patient
complains of a more dull, heavy, and constant uneasi¬
ness. The tumor points at some particular part, gene¬
rally near its middle, where, if the matter be not deep
seated, a whitish yellow appearance is observed, instead
of the deep red that formerly appeared ; and a fluctua¬
tion of the fluid underneath is, upon pressure, very evi¬
dently perceived. Sometimes, indeed, when the ab¬
scess is thick, and covered with muscle and other parts,
though from concurring circumstances there can be lit¬
tle doubt of there being a very considerable collection
of matter, yet the fluctuation cannot be readily distin¬
guished. It does not, however, often happen that mat¬
ter is so very deeply lodged as not to be discovered by
careful examination. This, indeed, is a circumstance
of the greatest consequence in practice, and deserves
more attention than is commonly paid to it. In no part
of the surgeon’s employment is experience in similar
cases of greater use than in the present; and however
simple it may appear, yet nothing more readily distin¬
guishes a man of extensive observation and nice discri¬
mination than his being able easily to detect deep-seat¬
ed collections of matter; whilst nothing, on the con¬
trary, so materially affects the character of the sur¬
geon as having, in such cases, given an inaccurate
prognosis.
In addition to the several local symptoms of the pre¬
sence of pus already enumerated, may be mentioned the
frequent shiverings to which patients are liable on its
first formation. These, however, seldom occur so as to
be remarkable, unless the collection is considerable; but
it is a symptom almost constantly observed in large ab¬
scesses ; and when it takes place, along with other
symptoms of suppuration, it always contributes to
point out the true nature of the disease.
Of opening Abscesses.—When abscesses come to matu-
E rity,
1
34 S U R
Of rity, the integuments gradually become thinner over
Abscesses the more prominent part of the tumor; and ulcerate in
' v one or more points through which pus is evacuated.
In many cases it is advisable to wait for the spontane¬
ous rupture of an abscess ; but, on the other hand, it is
often more prudent, and indeed absolutely necessary, to
give vent to the matter by an artificial opening. It is
a general rule not to have recourse to such means be¬
fore suppuration is completely formed ; for if an ab¬
scess be opened before this period, and a considerable
hardness remain around it, the treatment afterwards
becomes very embarrassing and difficult. It is, how¬
ever, necessary in some cases to depart from this ge¬
neral rule, and to open an abscess much sooner; above
all, those which are critical, and those which are the
consequence of lingering fevers, or where it is a great
object to prevent an unseemly cicatrix.
In many cases there is neither safety nor convenience
to be expected from the spontaneous opening of the in¬
teguments. In abscesses situated on any of the joints,
or either of the cavities of the breast or abdomen, and
more especially when they seem to lie deep, they should
always be opened as soon as the least fluctuation of mat¬
ter can be discovered; for when the resistance is on either
side equal, it just as readily points inwardly towards the
cavity, as outwardly towards the'skin; and the conse¬
quence of a large abscess bursting into either of the large
cavities, is most frequently fatal.
Abscesses are sometimes formed about the face, which
point externally, and these should be opened in the in¬
side of the mouth, in order to prevent deformity. When¬
ever the fluctuation is sensible, this should be immedi¬
ately done. They cicatrise rapidly, and require no
dressings.
Abscesses formed under an aponeurosis, and in gene¬
ral under those parts which are not capable of being
extended without much difficulty, ought to be opened
early. Such are abscesses situated under the temporal
muscles, fascia lata of the thigh, in the extremity of the
fingers, under the arch of the palate, round the maxil¬
lary bones, behind the ear, above the mastoid processes,
&c. All these ought to be opened very speedily, and
in particular those last mentioned, on account of the
danger of a carious bone.
It is also particularly necessary to open without de¬
lay abscesses in the neighbourhood of the anus, or near
the urethra ; in large abscesses of the extremities, and
in particular those which are the consequence of violent
inflammation, occupying the whole member. If in such
cases the matter be allowed to remain too long, the
greater part of the cellular membrane is detached from
the subjacent aponeurosis, the muscles are separated,
and there often follow large gangrenous sloughs, which
in separating lay open extensive surfaces, and often
form large bags of pus, which become as many separate
abscesses. Often the disorder is such that the whole of
the integuments of the member sphacelate and fall off.
It is also necessary not to delay the opening of absces¬
ses formed among the large muscles, the interstices of
which are filled up with cellular texture ; such are those
about the thigh, the back of the leg, and axilla. In
these situations the matter is very apt to spread, and
the abscess to form ramifications in various directions,
which, if not treated with much care, are very tedious
to heal.
G E R Y. Chap. I,
With the exception of those cases which have been of
mentioned, it ought to he observed as a general rule not AbsceiKi.
to open an abscess until suppuration be complete ; for if‘■’■’—V—
it be true, that pus is always sufficiently prepared to be
evacuated, it is so also, that the more we favour its for¬
mation before giving it vent, the more we are sure of
diminishing and of reducing the hardnesses in the neigh¬
bourhood, and facilitating the cicatrization of the ulcer.
Of the different Methods of opening Abscesses.
There are three different modes of opening abscesses ;
viz. by caustic, by an incision, or by a seton.
1. By Caustic.—The use of caustic is recommended
in most cases where suppuration has been slow, and has
not occupied the whole tumor ; in those where the inte¬
guments have suffered much, and where it was necessary
to wait long before opening it, on account of some af¬
fection of the bottom of the abscess ; and in general in
all cases of suppuration of glands.
But though there are circumstances which may render
it necessary to employ the caustic rather than the inci¬
sion, yet the latter generally deserves the preference.
The pain which it occasions is momentary, whilst that
from caustic continues many hours ; and when the in¬
flamed part has acquired a morbid degree of sensibility,
the pain is very violent. The surgeon also can never
limit precisely the extent of the action of the caustic ;
and whatever attention be paid to it, it often extends
too far, and penetrates too deep.
To open an abscess with caustic, an adhesive plaster
spread on leather is to be applied over the tumor, with
a slit or hole in it of a size somewhat less than what is
intended to be made in the skin by the caustic. The
slit is to be filled with the caustic reduced into powder,
mixed with a small quantity of soap, and wetted, so as
to make it operate more quickly. Another adhesive
plaster is then to be laid over it, and the whole secured
with a firm compress and bandage. The time necessary
to allow the caustic to make a sufficient opening will de¬
pend on the thickness of the skin and strength of the
caustic, but generally it requires two, three, or more
hours. When the eschar is made, and the matter has
not escaped, we ought to assist its exit with the end of a
probe, or the point of a bistoury; and the separation of
the eschar is to be promoted by emollient applications.
2. By the Incision.—Abscesses which are not very ex¬
tensive, may generally be opened by making a longitudi¬
nal incision with the lancet, see Plate DXIII. fig. I. p)ate
lor this purpose, when the situation of the abscess per- DXIIL
mits it, the surgeon is to apply one hand on the base of %* I* I
the tumor, and press the pus towards the skin, by doing
which there is no risk of wounding any artery, or im¬
portant part at the bottom of the tumor, and the lancet
penetrates into the cavity of the abscess with more cer¬
tainty and ease, and with less pain. With the other hand
an incision of the integuments is to be made in such a di¬
rection, that it may terminate at the most depending part
of the tumor; and be made of such length as may appear
necessary, in order that the matter may be allowed freely
to escape. It is in general supposed sufficient, in cases of
small abscesses, that the incision extend two-thirds of the
lengthof the tumor. Some authors have advised, thatw’hen
the integuments are much distended, an incision should
be made through the whole length of the tumor, even
where
Chap. I. SURGERY. 35
■Of where it is of a large size ; but this practice ought to be
Abscesses, rarely adopted. The irritation and consequent inflam-
 v"—"' mation, produced from such an operation, must always
be very considerable j and as it scarcely ever happens
that the integuments are so much extended as entirely
to lose their contractile power, there is always reason
to hope that they will recover their natural dimensions.
In all very large abscesses, it is the safest practice to
make at first a small incision sufficient to allow the con¬
tents to be completely discharged ; for whenever this is
done, the extent of the cavity diminishes j and should
it be found afterwards necessary to make a more exten¬
sive opening, this can now be done with much advan¬
tage. When an abscess has been opened by either of
these methods, it is reduced to the state of a simple
wound or ulcer, and ought to be treated accordingly.
The mode by incision ought to be preferred to that of
caustic, when the matter is collected deep ; when it is
in the neighbourhood of important nerves or blood-ves¬
sels ; when it is necessary to make the opening large j
when the skin which is to be opened has a natural ap¬
pearance *, and, above all, when it is desirable the ul¬
cer be healed rapidly, and leave little deformity.
Although surgeons generally agree in preferring the
incision to the caustic, it has nevertheless its inconve¬
niences. Whenever the incision is made, the matter
contained in the tumor is suddenly evacuated j hence it
happens, when the collection is considerable, that the
patient faints, or has someother disagreeable symptoms j
but the principal disadvantage of this method is, that it
gives free access to the air over a large extent of ul-r
cerated surface ; a circumstance which is sometimes
followed by very pernicious effects. A total change
takes place in the nature of the matter •, a laudable
pus is transformed into an ichorous indigested fluid j
the pulse becomes quick \ colliquative sweats and other-
symptoms of fever come on, and commonly the patient
dies in a short time. Surgeons have too often occa¬
sion to observe the dangerous effects which are probably
altogether produced by the admission of air j for we see
a great number of patients have for a long time after a
termination of inflammatory diseases considerable ab¬
scesses, where the pus is perfectly formed, without
shewing at the same time any symptom of hectic fever.
But when these abscesses exceed a certain size, and if
a large incision be made into them, there always follow
symptoms of fever, generally in forty-eight hours from
the time that the abscess had been opened. These ac¬
cidents, which we have frequently observed in private
practice, are still more frequent in public hospitals,
where the air is impregnated with putrid exhalations.
3. By the Seton.—From the observations which have
been already made, it appears necessary that as much
precaution as possible should be taken to prevent the
contact of air with the internal surface of the abscess.
The seton, therefore, has the advantage, not only of be¬
ing attended with little pain, and emptying the abscess
in a gradual maner, but it completely prevents the access
of the air. When patients are otherwise in good health,
there is another advantage in employing the seton j for
frequently a cure is obtained at a period much shorter
than that which is usually necessary when the incision
has been adopted. On the other hand, if we have reason
to wish to keep up for a long time a certain degree of
irritation and suppuration in the affected part, the stton
ought to he preferred to every other means. There have Of
been various instruments contrived for introducing the Abitcei>!,c,‘
seton, and it may easily be done by a lancet and common
probe, or by the instruments represented inPlateDXIII.
fig. 15. and 16. One of these being threaded with glovers
soft silk or with cotton, should be introduced into the up¬
per part of the tumor ; but if the blunt one be employed,
it will be necessary to have the assistance of the lancet.
The instrument is then to be brought out at the under4
part of the tumor, and the matter allowed to run gra¬
dually along the threads. The seton should be changed
forty-eight hours after it has been introduced, and a*
much of it should be pulled out at the under part as is
sufficient to allow the removal of that which was shut up
in the abscess. The abscess is to be dressed in this man¬
ner every day as long as circumstances seem to require.
By means of the seton, we obtain a regular and slow
discharge of the matter contained in the abscess; the
sides of the abscess are allowed to contract in a gradual
manner j the presence and friction of the seton on the
surfaces excites a slight inflammation, which contributes
to unite them, and to complete an adhesion, much more
readily than by any other method. In proportion as the
discharge diminishes, the thickness of the seton ought to
be lessened ; and this is easily done by taking out some
of the cotton threads every two or three days. It
ought to he entirely taken out when no more matter
is discharged than w'hat would be produced by the irri¬
tation of the seton alone j and by compressing gently the
parts for some days after it has been withdrawn, with a
compress and bandage, we can in general depend upon
a complete cure.
When speaking of the mode of inti-oducing a seton,'
we recommended that this should be done from above
downwards, because, if the first opening be made at
the base of the tumor, a great quantity of matter im¬
mediately escapes. Thus the boundaries of the ab¬
scess at the upper part become effaced, and the passage
of the director through the abscess is much more dif¬
ficult than when the abscess is opened according to the
manner pointed out. In that way the under part of
the tumor is left completely distended till tfie last mo¬
ment, and only a very small quantity of matter escapes
by the superior orifice. Another advantage of this
mode is, that the part of the seton left for the future
dressings, is easily kept clean and dry.
The method of opening abscesses by a seton has
been found particularly useful in suppurations of the
joints, and those glandular parts where the admission
of air is followed by very pernicious effects. Thus,
when it is thought necessary to open a scrofulous tu¬
mor, we may generally be able to obtain a more prompt
and easy cure from the use of a seton, than by making
a larger incision. Venereal buboes, too, when come to
maturity, have been said to get well much sooner by
this than any other method, when the integuments have
not become too thin by great distension long continued.
On the other hand, this mode is not without its incon-
veniencies, for in adopting it we cannot be well assured
of the state of the bottom of the abscess, which it is of¬
ten important to know.
Whatever advantages these different methods of open¬
ing abscesses may possess over one another, yet there is
not one of them which deserves the preference in all cases,
although the caustic, as already mentioned, be the means
E a tc
36 S U R G
OfSiaases. to which we ought most I'arely to have recourse. How-
1 v _ ever troublesome it may be, the action of air on the
interior surface of the abscess is not always equally per¬
nicious j and when by properly applied dressings, care
is taken not to allow purulent matter to form in any
particular cavity, and to prevent the access of cold air
on the surface of the wound, and above all when the
surrounding air, as that in hospitals, is contaminated
with putrid exhalations, daily experience shows, that the
method by incision is accompanied with most success.
On the other hand, we have seen the seton extremely
useful in gradually discharging large abscesses, with¬
out exciting much inflammation.
These general principles are to be observed in the
treatment of abscesses, in whatever part of the body
they are found. There are, however, some modifica¬
tions, some particular details of practice, which ought
to be kept in view, when the disease is seated in parti¬
cular organs, as the eyes, the mammae, the cavity of
the chest, the groin, the scrotum, &c. Mention will
be made of these in giving an account of the diseases
of particular organs.
Sect. II. Of Sinuses (Fistulae).
When an abscess, instead of healing, continues to
discharge purulent matter, and when this takes place
through a small orifice, it obtains the name of afistula.
The orifice has smooth and callous edges, and the fistula
commonly communicates with one or more cavities of
different dimensions, situated in the cellular membrane,
between the common integuments and the muscles, or
between the interstices of the muscles themselves.
These different cavities, which are generally known
by the name of sinuses, serve as reservoirs, both for the
matter which is formed in the cavity of the ulcer, and
for that furnished by their own sides. It is thus that
when by compression, the matter contained in the
sinuses is pressed out through the ulcers, these dis¬
charge a much greater quantity than what might have
been expected, by alone considering the extent of their
surface.
This description of a fistulous ulcer indicates the most
simple form of the disease; but when it has lasted for a
long time, its whole internal surface frequently becomes
hard and callous, acquiring the properties and structure
of a mucous surface.
The most frequent cause of the formation of sinuses
is, when an abscess bursts, and the purulent matter, in¬
stead of being all discharged, remains shut up in some
part of the cavity. Remaining there, it naturally falls
to the lower part, and gradually insinuates itself among
the layers of the cellular membrane, which, from its
softness, gives little resistance. It advances by degrees
among the interstices of the more solid organs, which
are connected by that substance ; and at last it makes
its appearance on the surface of the body, or penetrates
into one of the cavities.
Both recent and old fistulous ulcers are generally
curable, provided that the ulcer be situated in such a
manner, that the necessary remedies can be applied,
and the constitution be otherwise free Irom disorder.
But when the disease has been of very long duration, and,
above all, when the sinuses open into any articulating
cavity, or are placed in such a manner, that one cannot
3
E R Y. Chap. I.
perform any operation, the treatment then becomes ex-of Sinuses,
tremely difficult, and the event very doubtful. There —y—j
is no disease which resists more frequently all the ef¬
forts of art than certain species of fistula, and particu¬
larly some of those about the anus and perinseum.
Of the treatment of Fistula;.—There are several dif¬
ferent modes which have been proposed for the treat¬
ment of this disease, all of which may be useful in par¬
ticular cases.
Injections,supposed to have acicatrizingquality,have By injeu-
been proposed by some 5 and these are no doubt useful tk>n*
in particular cases, in diminishing the quantity of the
discharge, and preventing the sinus from increasing.
When the disease is far advanced, and the edges be¬
come perfectly callous, injections of an escharotic qua¬
lity have been employed ; but these remedies have sel¬
dom, if ever, produced any good effects j and their too
frequent use has even rendered sinuses hard and cal¬
lous, which otherwise were of a more benign nature.
In some cases, particularly when the disease is recent, By corn-
great advantage may be derived from the proper appli- pression.
cation of a compress and bandage. In applying these,
the compress should be placed in such a manner, and
made of such a form, as to make a firm pressure from
the bottom of the sinus towards its orifice ; and care
should be taken that no pressure be made towards the
orifice itself, in order that any matter which is formed
may not be allowed to collect, but discharged from it.
Indeed in whatever mode we treat sinuses, the object
to be held in view, is to allow any matter which is
formed to be immediately discharged.
Some have advised, that, in all Fistulse of long stand¬
ing, their cavities should be laid open from one end to
the other, and all the parts should be dissected out which
have become hard, and thus to convert the whole into
an ulcer, to be treated in the ordinary manner. There
is no doubt, but that by such an operation, it will often
be possible to obtain a cure 5 but independent of the By CXciskffii
great pain, and of the large and disagreeable cicatrix
which must always follow, the practice is not without
danger. It cannot answer, for instance, in those fistulas
which extend far up the rectum. No practitioner sure¬
ly would advise the adoption of such a method in the
case of fistulas which penetrate very deep, and extend,
as often happens, underneath the blood-vessels, the ten¬
dons, and the nerves j and even although this practice
was without danger, it ought to be adopted in no case,
as we are enabled, by an operation more simple, and
much less painful, always to obtain a cure with as much
certainty as by a total destruction of the parts.
In the treatment of fistulas, it is necessary to procure By inciden
an agglutination of the edges of the sinuses, so as to ob¬
literate the cavity. The means most efficacious to fulfil
this indication are, to make first an opening, so as to al¬
low the exit ol the matter j and then to excite a certain
degree ot inflammation on the internal surface of the ca¬
vity, so as to produce an adhesion between its sides.
Both ot these indications may, in some cases, be ful¬
filled in the most convenient manner, by introducing in¬
to the orifice ot the ulcer a seton which will follow the
whole course of the sinus as far as its opposite extremi¬
ty. 1 he seton should be of a size proportioned to that
of the sinus 5 and it may be diminished by degrees as
the cure advances, by taking away some of the threads
day after day. At last, when the cavity of the sinus is
nearly
Chap. I.
Of Sinuses, nearly filled up, and consequently the discharge much
v—-y—' moderated, the seton ought to be withdrawn. After¬
wards a bandage is to be firmly applied over the part,
which should be allowed to continue a convenient time,
in order to obtain a complete cure. In all cases, there¬
fore, we ought to discover the direction of the sinus,
which can commonly be done by introducing a probe,
or by observing the place in which the matter collects,
when it has been allowed time to accumulate, and by
marking the place from whence it comes, the pressure
is to be made on the affected part. A seton ought
then to be introduced into each sinus.
Another means of procuring the obliteration of sinu¬
ses is, by a longitudinal incision along the whole cavity.
In cases where the fistula extends to parts which it is
not dangerous to cut, and where the seton has inconve¬
niences which render it inadmissible, we should not he¬
sitate to have recourse to this means. Indeed, the lon¬
gitudinal incision of the sinus is to be considered in all
cases, as the only means which can be adopted with cer¬
tainty in the cure of the disease ; and though in many
eases it may be proper to attempt the cure by the mild¬
er means which have been mentioned, yet they often
fail, and the mode by incision ought always to be held
in view.
We may observe here, that this part of Surgery owes
much to the celebrated Mr Pott, he having rendered
much more simple and successful the treatment of fistu¬
las, particularly those situated about the perineeum and
anus. When a fistula is to be laid open, the first thing
to be done, is to determine the extent of the incision..
The exact extent of the sinus should then be accurate¬
ly ascertained with a probe, and it is necessary to lay it
open to the extreme point, in order completely to se¬
cure the filling up of the cavity. The operation may
be performed by introducing a director (fig. 9. and 12.),
along the whole course of the sinus, and cutting on it
Plate a common scalpel (fig. 1.) $ or the sharp-pointed
DXIII. bistoury (fig. 4.) may be introduced along the groove
of the director, the point of the instrument pushed
through at the bottom of the sinus, and then, by with¬
drawing the director, the incision may be speedily com¬
pleted with the bistoury.
; New mode A still better method is one we have often adopted in
; d'opening cases of sinus with the greatest advantage. It consists
sinuses. sjmp]y in putting a small bit of wax, about the size of
a pin head, upon the end of a sharp-pointed bistoury,
introducing the point of the instrument thus defended
along the sinus ; and when it arrives at the bottom of
it, the point may be pushed through the skin, displac¬
ing the wax with very little pressure. When the point
has been brought through the skin, the incision may
afterwards be completed with one quick motion of the
knife. In laying open sinuses in this manner, it is par¬
ticularly necessary to form an exact idea of the direc¬
tion of the sinus, and of the extent of the incision to he
made, before attempting to introduce the bistoury. For
as a very slight degree of pressure is sufficient to dis¬
place the wax on its point, any untoward motion upon
the side of the abscess would thus expose the point of
the instrument, and render the operation more tedious
and difficult, and always more painful.
The principal advantages of this mode of laying open
sinuses are, that the operation can be much more speedi¬
ly performed, ami that it costs much less pain to the pa-
57
tient. The introduction of the director through a small Of the
fistulous opening, and the tedious process of cutting Whitloe.
through the integuments with a scalpel, cannot fail of ■" ^ T 1 '
creating much distress, whereas a thin bistoury can be
introduced without giving almost any uneasiness j and
after the operator has conducted its point to the bottom
of the sinus, it may he pushed through the integuments,
and the sinus cut open with a coup de main.
All sinuses should be laid open in this manner, which
can previously be detected by a careful examination with
the probe \ and if the edges of the fistulous sore are
found to have acquired a great degree of callosity, it
is also sometimes adviseable to cut them entirely away.
The sinuses are now to be dressed by placing between
the edges portions of caddis dipped in oil, or simple
ointment ; and great care should be taken that no por¬
tion of newly divided parts be allowed to come into
contact, as there will be great risk of an adhesion tak¬
ing place between them, thus frustrating the very ob¬
jects of the operation. After the pledgets have been
introduced between the edges of the wound, it is com¬
monly directed that the whole wound be covered up
with a piece of linen spread with ointment. In place
of the ointment, we have generally found a poultice
answer better. The poultice, by its moisture, prevents
any agglutination of the lips of the wound; and it has
the power of diminishing the inflammation more than
any other application. The wound is afterwards to be
treated on the principle of the common ulcer *. * Se« Ul¬
cers.
Sect. III. Of the Whitloe (Paronychia).
The whitloe is a painful inflammatory swelling, oc¬
cupying the extremities of the fingers, most frequent¬
ly at the root of the nails. Several varieties of the
disease have been described by authors ; and these
consist in the structure in which the disease is supposed
to have been seated. From what we have been ablu
to observe, it appears to be situated chiefly in the cellu¬
lar membrane immediately underneath the skin, and in
the structure connected with the nails ; though at the
same time the pathology of this disease is not yet well
understood.
The first symptom of the whitloe is an uneasy burning
sensation over the point of the finger, or root of the nail.
The part becomes tender and painful to the touch ; and
a slight degree of swelling takes place, resembling oede¬
ma, attended bv little discoloration. A transparent
effusion takes place below the epidermis, and forms a
vesication round the root of the nail. A purulent dis¬
charge takes place round the edge of the nail, and the
nail always separates. The peculiarity in this disease
is,, that it generally affects several fingers, one after the
other, and sometimes all the fingers of both hands.
In the more severe forms of the disease, the inflam¬
mation extends to the cellular membrane underneath the
skin, and even to the tendinous aponeurosis and perio¬
steum of the fingers, producing caries. In such cases the
whole hand generally swells, and the swelling even ex¬
tends up the arm and affects the axillary glands.
Whilloes sometimes succeed a blow or injury of the
finger; but they most usually make their appearance
without any known cause.
Treatment.—In the treatment of whitloe, two sets of
remedies have been employed. Some use fomentations,
poulticeSj
SURGERY.
3'S S U R G
Of the poultices, and leeclies 5 whilst others apply ardent spi-
Cavbunele. rits, vinegar, cold water, and astringents.
1 ^ Local bleeding and emollients do not seem to give
the same relief in this as in idiopathic inflammation.
When, however, the inflammatory symptoms and pain
are violent, it is always necessary to take away some
blood} and this may be best done at the bend of the
arm. The affected part should be afterwards immersed
in strong brandy, spirits of wine, or strong vinegar.
We have also seen the inflammation much abated by
immersing the hand, on its first commencement, in a
large vessel of cold water.
It is only, however, in the first stages of this affec¬
tion that remedies of this kind can prove useful : for,
when effusion has actually taken place, and suppuration
begun, that state of the disease is produced which these
remedies were intended to prevent. Emollient reme¬
dies should now be employed ; and whenever the pre¬
sence of a fluid can be ascertained, it should be dis¬
charged with a lancet. A free incision into the part
affected gives more decided relief than any application
or remedy whatever, probably from bleeding profusely,
and from relaxing the inflamed membrane or sheath of
the tendons.
The wound is afterwards to be treated as a common
abscess ; but we may remark, that here, more than in
any other part of the body, it is of the greatest import¬
ance to lay open freely every sinus which the probe can
detect. Sinuses, situated here, never heal; and, when
allowed to spread, are always attended with mischief.
They destroy ligaments and tendons, or at least pro¬
duce a thickening of the pafts around the joints, so as
afterwards to interrupt their free motion.
. Sect. IV. Of the Carbuncle.
The carbuncle (anthrax') may be considered as a spe¬
cies of phlegmon, attended with a remarkable degree of
malignity, and is one of the symptoms of the plague,
where that disease rages, or of typhus fever in this coun¬
try. It consists in a deep-seated and very hard swelling,
attended with an intensely painful sense of burning in
the part, and considerable discoloration of the skin.
The carbuncle is often sudden in its appearance.
The skin is of a dusky red colour at its centre, but
much paler and vax-iegated at its circumference. Ve-
sications appear on its surface, and when these are
ruptured they discharge a dark-coloured sanies. The
disease sometimes commences with symptoms of general
inflammation j but most commonly it is attended with
rigors, sickness, great restlessness and depression of
strength, fainting, delirium, &c. A miliary eruption,
or even petechiae, are also sometimes found dispersed in
different parts of the body.
When suppuration takes place, several openings ge¬
nerally form in the skin ; a thin ichorous fluid is dis¬
charged, and a dark yellow slough is observed at the
bottom of the sore.
Carbuncles most frequently take place about the
back, neck, and shoulders, and are generallv solitary.
They are usually two or three inches in diameter,
though sometimes they acquire an enormous size.
The cellular membrane and skin seem to be the
principal textures affected in this disease} a great part
of the former is always destroyed by the formation and
E R Y. Chap, I.
separation of very large sloughs, and the latter by ex-Of Encyst-
tensive ulceration. cd Tumor*,
In the treatment of this disease great attention is ne- '""“'V'*—'
cessary, not only to the local applications, but also to
general remedies.
Emollient poultices, and warm anodyne fomentations,
ought to be employed during the first stages of the dis¬
ease } and when ulceration of the skin has taken place,
the application of an ointment, composed of a consider¬
able quantity of the powder of opium, we have found to
relieve very much the pain which the ulcerative process
generally creates. The use of rags, wet with diluted
nitrous acid, or a solution of lunar caustic, has been
found of great use in promoting the separation of the
slough, and the granulation of the cavities which re¬
main.
When the constitutional symptoms are inflammatory
at their commencement, it may be necessary to employ
general blood-letting; but the fever being commonly
of a typhoid form, wine, bark, and opium, ought to be
freely administered. It will be also proper to prescribe
a generous diet, and to pay great attention to keep the
bowels regular.
Sect. V. Of Encysted Tumors.
The word tumor has been the origin of much confu-General
sion in the arrangements of diseases adopted by the mostob*er*a-
celebrated nosologistsj they have employed it as a terml‘ons 0B
to characterise a class, and also to express merely atuniorf’
symptom of diseases. A vast variety of diseases have
thus been included under the class of Tumors, diseases
which are totally dissimilar, and have no analogy what¬
ever. Anasarca, bubo, encysted tumors, scrofulous and
scirrhous tumors, warts, &c. have all been included un¬
der this class, these being as different from one another
as any disease with which we are acquainted, having
only one common symptom, that of swelling.
Mr Abernethy has lately made a very laudable at¬
tempt to arrange tumors from their structure ; but,
like those who preceded him, he has classed diseases
together, among which no analogy can be discovered.
He divides tumors into sarcomatous, encysted, and os¬
seous. Under the sarcoma he includes the steatom
(adipose sarcoma), medullary sarcoma, and also others,
all of which have no resemblance to each other in their
history or symptoms.
The word tumor ought therefore to be expunged from
nosology, and no longer employed to characterise »
class of diseases. Its use should be synonymous with
that of swelling, and confined to express merely an
enlargement of any organ of the body, or a new
growth j whilst all those diseases, which have been,
formerly classed among tumors, should be arranged ei¬
ther according to their specific nature, or to the texture
of the body in which they arise. Thus tumors, connect¬
ed with lues venerea or scrofula, should be included un¬
der these general names. Tlhe steatom, being a growth
of fat, and being always formed in the cellular mem¬
brane, ought to be treated of among the diseases of that
texture. Encyrsted tumors, being also formed in the
cellular membrane, ought to be arranged among its dis¬
eases j and warts, corns, and other tumors which are dis¬
eases of the skin, will with propriety be classed among
t em , and the same may be said of all other diseases
which
Chap. I. S U R
Of Encyst-which have usually received the general appellation of
fii Tumors. Tumor. We shall, therefore, in this section, tretit of
those tumors only which are formed in the cellular
membrane.
Under the class of encysted tumors {tiwieurs enkys-
ties, loups, cyst ides,) are comprehended all those tumors
of preternatural formation, the contents of which are
surrounded by a bag or cyst.
Of encyst- Encysted tumors are generally formed in the cellular
*4 tumors, membrane, immediately underneath the common inte¬
guments. They are moveable, circumscribed, common¬
ly indolent, without heat or any change of colour in the
skin $ and they are very slow in their formation and
progress. They contain a matter more or less thick in
consistence ; and, according to the nature and consist¬
ence of this matter*, they are distinguished by different
names. They have been denominated atheroma, from
the contents being of a soft cheesy consistence j me-
liceris, when they contain a matter of the consistence
of honey ; and steatoma, when formed of fat. The
steatom, however, ought not to be classed among the
encysted tumors, as the thin cellular covering in which
it is contained has no analogy in its structure to the
cyst of the other tumors.
It ought to be observed, that the consistence of the
matter contained within the cyst varies in every species
of encysted tumor. In the atheroma and meliceris
it has sometimes the firmness of new cheese, and at
other times is softer than the most liquid honey. These
varieties depend on the length of time which the fluids
have remained in the cysts, and in the proportion of
coagulable lymph and serum, which have been sepa¬
rated and absorbed, and also on their having been in¬
flamed or not, and on the extent to which this inflam¬
mation may have proceeded. Sometimes an encysted
tumor is composed of different cysts, each of which con¬
tains a substance of a different nature. These dif¬
ferent circumstances render in general the diagnosis in
the varieties of encysted tumors very difficult j and
happily this distinction is not necessary in practice,
and perhaps ought also to be omitted in our nosological
arrangements. The sac of an encysted tumor is gene¬
rally pretty firm, and composed of concentric lamellae.
We have observed some of the cysts which were nearly
as firm as cartilage, having small chalky concretions
formed in many parts between the layers. When the
contents of the tumor are washed out, the internal sur¬
face of the sac generally appears smooth and polished ;
but in others, some of the matter adheres firmly to the
surface of the sac. In some cases the tumor very much
resembles the hydatids found in the liver and other or¬
gans j for, besides the firm sac, there is sometimes form¬
ed within it, and apparently having no adhesion with
it, a thin and very easily torn whitish bag, which con¬
tains the fluid.
Encysted tumors are very small at their commence¬
ment, and grow by almost insensible degrees. They
vary a good deal in their form and size. Those which
are formed in the hip, are generally round and smooth j
commonly of the size of a nut, and acquire rarely the
bulk of a large egg. Those which are seated in other
parts of the body are more irregularly formed, and
sometimes become of a prodigious size, some having
been found which weighed 10, 15, and even 20 lbs.
G E R Y. 39
They are never painful, at least at their commencement, Oi' F.ncyu-
and the skin covering them, preserves, for a long time,c‘l Tumor*,
its natural colour ; but when they become very large, '—-■'•v-"—'
the veins of the skin become varicose j and the skin on
their upper part becomes polished, and acquires a red¬
dish colour, similar to that of a part inflamed. Tumors
of this kind seldom give pain or uneasiness, except
when they receive a blow. Inflammation and pain then
readily come on, and the cyst ruptures if not previously
opened by an instrument.
Such is the usual progress of encysted tumors ; and
although they do not come to a rapid termination, yet
this sometimes happens more readily under certain cir¬
cumstances, and even before they have acquired a large
size. In the hip, for example, we perceive the integu¬
ments become tender and very thin, and open before
the tumor has acquired any considerable size. But on
other parts of the body, and particularly the back,
shoulders, and thighs, the integuments preserve their
natural appearance, even when the tumor has acquired
a large bulk. This appears to arise from the skin being
more loose in these parts.
The situation of encysted tumors also contributes
much to determine the degree of adhesion which they
have contracted with the neighbouring parts. In some
situations they are so detached, especially while they
continue small, that they readily alter their situation by
very slight degrees of pressure ; but in others, particu¬
larly when covered by any muscular fibre, they are
more firmly fixed from their commencement. The at¬
tachment of encysted tumors is also influenced by their
remaining more or less free from inflammation j for they
never become inflamed, even in the slightest manner,
without some degree of adhesion being produced be¬
tween the cysts and contiguous parts.
It has generally been supposed that the membrane Mode or
which forms the cyst of this species of tumor is not a lbeir for-
new formation, but produced by a collection of fluidraat,on
in one of the cells of the cellular membrane, which by
its increase dilates the cell, and brings it in close con¬
tact with the adjacent cells, so as finally to obliterate
them, and increase the thickness of its own coats.
The ingenious Bichat* has shown that this opinion so * Vide
generally adopted is without foundation, and that the Anatomic
formation of encysted tumors more probably depends
on laws, analogous to those which regulate the growth
of the different parts of our bodies. He has also shown
that there is a great analogy between these cysts and
the serous membranes. The cysts, like serous mem¬
branes, form a species of sac without an opening they
contain the fluid which they exhale, and they have a
smooth and polished surface contiguous to the fluid,
whilst the other surface is unequal, and connected with
the adjacent cellular membrane. The cysts have a si¬
milar structure to serous membranes j maceration, &c.
proving them both to be composed of a cellular texture.
In the natural state neither of them have any sensibili¬
ty, but when inflamed they both become extremely sen¬
sible. The cysts also are evidently secretory organs,
exhaling the fluid with which they are filled, and their
power of absorption is also very manifest from the spon¬
taneous cures of some encysted dropsies.
These considerations led Bich&t to conclude that
there exists a perfect resemblance between the cysts of
encysted
1
40 S U R G
Of Encyst-encysted tumors and serous membranes. An impor-
ed Tumors, tant question here presents itself, to know how these
' V'-—J cysts are formed, how a membrane which did not exist
in the natural state can be produced, and can grow
under certain circumstances ? The mechanical expla¬
nation of these phenomena which has already been men¬
tioned, though at first sight it may appear simple and
satisfactory, yet is by no means conformable to the
usual proceedings of nature. How does it happen that
as the cysts anti serous membranes are analogous, these
membranes are formed in a different manner, the serous
membranes never being formed from a compression of
the cellular membrane P How is it, if the cells are ap¬
plied and compacted with one another so as to form a
sac, that the neighbouring cellular membrane does not
disappear, or even diminish, whilst the sac acquires a
large bulk? These reflections would lead us to believe
with Bichat, that the common manner of explaining
the formation of cysts is essentially different from the
manner which nature generally follows in all her opera¬
tions.
Bichat ingeniously remarks that all tumors which
Vegetate externally, or appear internally, are formed
and grow in the same manner as the cysts, there being
n® difference between these two morbid productions but
the form in which each of them appears. Most tu¬
mors throw out upon their external surface the fluid
which they separate. The cyst, on the contrary, ex¬
hales that fluid from its internal surface, and preserves
it in its cavity. “ Suppose a fungous tumor in suppura¬
tion (says Bichat), transformed in a moment into a
cavity, and the suppuration to be transported from the
external surface to the sides of the cavity, that cavity
will then become a cyst.—Reciprocally, suppose a su¬
perficial cyst, the cavity of which is obliterated, and of
which the fluid is exhaled from its external surface, you
will then have a tumor in suppuration.
“ If therefore the form alone establishes the difference
between tumors and cysts, how does it happen that the
formation of the latter is not analogous to that of the
first ? or has ever any one attempted to attribute the
fbrmation of external or internal tumors to compression ?
We ought therefore to conceive the production of cysts
in the following manner : they begin to be formed in
the cellular membrane by laws analogous to those which
regulate the general growth of our bodies, and which
appear to be deviations of these fundamental laws
of which we are ignorant. When the cyst is once
formed, exhalation begins to take place, and though
at first in a small degree, it at last augments in pro¬
portion to its progress. The increase of the exhalent
organ then always precedes the accumulation of the
exhaled fluid, in such a manner that the quantity of the
suppuration of a tumor is always directly in proportion
* Anaiomie ^ its bulk *•”
Venerate. This mode of explaining the formation of cysts appears
much more conformable to the laws of nature than that
which has been formerly mentioned and generally receiv¬
ed. But it still remains to determine the precise mechanism
of the origin and growth of cysts, and consequently of all
other tumors. We ought to stop where the first causes
commence 5 and as we do not know the mechanism of the
natural growth of our organs, how ought we to guess at
that of morbid productions which depend upon the same
E II Y. Chap. I.
laws. It is a great deal in the economy of our organs Of Encyst,
to poin out analogies, and to show the uniformity of a ed Tumors,
phenomenon not understood with one in regard to
which all the world agree. Much would be done for
the benefit of science, if in all its branches we could de¬
monstrate that principle on which depends such a great
number of effects, that nature, avaricious in her means,
is prodigal in her results j that a few causes preside over
a multitude of effects, and that the greater number of
those regarding which we are uncertain, depend on the
same principles as many others which appear to us evi¬
dent.
Of the treatment of Encysted Tumors.—Encysted
tumors, though not dangerous, are often inconvenient
from their size, situation, and the deformity which they
produce, so that whenever their removal becomes neces¬
sary, this can only be done by a surgical operation.
If the tumor be of the meliccris kind, which for By these-
the most part will be the case when a distinct fluctua-ton*
tion is perceived in it, it ought to be treated as a
common abscess. If the tumor be small, the matter
may be discharged by puncturing the most dependent
part with a common lancet, and treating it in the or¬
dinary way till the sides of the cavity come in contact
by adhesion, or by the process of granulation. But
when the tumor is more considerable, the free admission
of air into the interior of its cavity is always dangerous j
and we ought to be attentive to prevent its effects by
making the opening in such manner, that the wound
be exposed as little as possible. When treating of ab¬
scesses, we have recommended the passing of a seton or
cord through them, as the best method of opening them
when they are of a large size. This method is also
very convenient in those encysted tumors, which con¬
tain matter of a liquid consistence. It will only be ne¬
cessary here to observe, that the seton should traverse
the whole tumor, from the superior part of it to the
most dependent point, and that the inferior opening
should be sufficiently large for allowing the matter to be
freely discharged. This method often answers extreme¬
ly well ; and cures have by it been performed which
could not have been obtained in so short a time in fol¬
lowing the ordinary method of treatment by incision.
But this method cannot be employed, except in those
cases in which the contents of the tumor are so liquid as
to be easily discharged by a small opening. When it is
of too firm a consistence to admit of the seton, the con¬
tents must be emptied, either by making an extensive
opening into the cyst, or by dissecting out the cyst and
its contents.
When an encysted tumor adheres so firmly to the
contiguous parts, as to render its removal tedious and
difficult, it is often better not to undertake the opera¬
tion. In such a case it will be sufficient to lay open the
tumor its whole length, and to cut away any portions of
the cyst which can easily be detached. The contents of
the tumor will in this manner be completely removed,
and the cure will be effected, either bv keeping the
wound open till the cavity of the cyst is filled with gra¬
nulations } or it may be attempted by drawing the di¬
vided edges of the skin together, and applying mode¬
rate pressure, so as to produce adhesion with the sides
of the cavity. It sometimes happens, however, that
from the adhesion being complete, the remaining poi'-
tion
Chap. I. S U R G
_ „ . tion of the cyst forms as it were the nucleus of a new
OF -FiTlCVSt- ^
ed Tumors, tumor. _ _
v—-y-—> Operation.— ^Vhen it is uetermined upon to remove the
cyst completely, the first step of the operation is to make
a fi ee incision, with a common scalpel, through the in-
* See Plate teguments covering the tumor*. If the tumor is not very
DXiH. large, a longitudinal incision will answer the purpose $
^ f* but should the tumor be of such a size, that the whole in¬
teguments covering it are too large to lie neatly upon the
wound, it is much better to remove an oval portion of
skint. The size of this portion must be left entirely to
the judgment of the operator, who should always take
DXI1I.
fig. i<>.
j See the
tumor re-
Opiate WIcare that a sufficient quantity is left, completely to
cover the wound. After the skin is divided, the cel¬
lular membrane should be dissected back, so as distinctly
to expose the surface of the sac ; and as the sac will be
generally found loosely attached to the adjacent parts,
it may be easily separated by a very simple dissec¬
tion. In removing encysted tumors, it is particularly
necessary to cut fairly down upon the sac; for if this be
not done, instead of the tumor being readily turned out
of the sheath of loose cellular membrane which surrounds
it, it can only be removed by a very tedious process of
dissection. Some surgeons have recommended that the
contents of the tumor should be removed, before at¬
tempting to dissect out the sac; but if the incision of the
integuments be made sufficiently large, this may gene¬
rally be avoided. We have often observed the operation
of extirpating encysted tumors, and indeed tumors of
every description, rendered extremely tedious by a want
of proper attention to this step of the operation. We
■would therefore particularly recommend, that, in the
extirpation of all tumors, the incision of the integu¬
ments extend both above and below the tumor a consi¬
derable way, proportioned in all cases to its bulk and
easy access.
In some cases it is adviseable to open the cyst, and
remove its contents, before an attempt be made to dis¬
sect it out. This practice will only be necessary in cases
where, either from the shape or situation of the tumor,
it is impracticable to pass the knife round it, and where,
from the situation of important parts at its base, the
dissection is rendered very nice and delicate. In a
case of encysted tumor closely attached to the capsule
of the knee joint, great advantage was derived from
Operating in this manner. Whilst the tumor remained
distended, it was impossible to separate it, without
great risk of cutting, either into it, or into the cavity
of the knee joint. When, however, its contents were
removed, the membranes could be readily dissected
from one another, without the smallest risk of injury.
After an encysted tumor is extirpated, if any artery
bleed very profusely, it ought to be secured by a ligature;
but this should always be avoided as much as possible,
as ligatures are apt to interfere with the adhesion of the
lips of the wound. At the same time it is always ne¬
cessary that the bleeding be completely stopped before
the wound is dressed ; for should any hemorrhagy take
place after the dressings have been applied, it is very
apt to displace the edges of the wound, and prevent
them from adhering.
Vol. XX. Part I. f
E R Y. 4*
The edges of the wound are to be placed accurately Of Encyst-
together, and kept in contact with adhesive plaster, a^ Tumors-
compress and proper bandage being applied over it. ' ‘ v
In some cases the twisted suture is advantageous. The
wound is to be treated in the usual manner, removing
the dressings whenever they become soiled, and the ap¬
plication of the adhesive plaster continued till a com¬
plete cicatrization has taken place.
Sect. VI. Of the Sieatom or Fatty Tumor (b).
Tumors of this species consist of a mere accumulation
of cellular membrane and fat in a particular part of the
body. They occur frequently, and are formed most
commonly on the front or back part of the trunk of the
body, and sometimes on the extremities. They gene¬
rally growr in a slow and progressive manner, and the
blood-vessels are neither large nor numerous. They
have always a thin capsule of common cellular sub¬
stance; and this capsule seems merely to be the effect
of that condensation of the surrounding cellular mem¬
brane which the pressure of the tumor occasions. “ As
the growth of adipose tumors is regularly and slowly
progressive, and as nothing like inflammation in gene¬
ral accompanies their increase, their capsules afford a
striking instance of an investment acquired, simply by a
slight condensation of the surrounding cellular structure,
unaffected by inflammation*.” When the capsule, * fiber*
which is extremely thin, and which adheres but slight-netAy’s
ly to the tumor, is removed, the tumor within consists ■SWgicaf
of a mere piece of fat, more or less compacted accord-
ing to its situation in the body, and the length of time P’
which it has remained.
Of the treatment of the Steatom.—When a steatom
is small, when it causes little deformity, and does not
seem to injure the. functions of any organ, it is most
prudent to allow it to remain. Sometimes they acquire
a very large bulk, and from their situation are extreme¬
ly inconvenient and unseemly; and they then become
an object of medical treatment. No external applica¬
tion has ever been known useful in discussing tumors of
this kind ; and the only means to be employed for re¬
moving them is by an operation. There is indeed no
species of tumor that can be dissected out with so much
celerity, or with such apparent dexterity. In some
cases, however, if inflammation has been induced, the
capsules even of these tumors are thickened, and adhere
so as not to be separated without difficulty.
In dissecting out a tumor of this kind, the same gene¬
ral rules may be followed as have been mentioned when
treating of encysted tumors. The external incision
should be made very free, and it is also of great im¬
portance to cut completely down to the capsule of the
tumor, before attempting to dissect it out.
Sect. VII. Of the Sarcoma or Fleshy Tumor.
Our knowledge of the pathology of tumors of the
cellular membrane is yet too limited to be able to ar¬
range them in any systematic form ; and it would be
foreign to our purpose to attempt the investigation
F of
(b) Steatoma, adipose sarcoma of Mr Abernethy.
42
Sarcoma¬
tous Tu¬
mors.
v
S U R G
of the subject. We have adopted the term sarcoma as
very general $ and include under it all those swellings
or wens of a fleshy feel, which occur in the cellular
membrane throughout the body.
The basis of these tumors, as we before mentioned, is
the cellular membrane $ and the difference in the qua¬
lities of the substances deposited in the cells gives the
peculiar appearance to the tumor.
The vessels which pervade such tumors are either
larger or smaller, and more or less numerous. They
are also distributed in their usual arborescent manner,
without any apparent peculiarity of arrangement.
When tumors of this kind have attained a consider¬
able size, the superficial veins become very large.
They have little sensibility, enduring a rough examina¬
tion.
This kind of tumor generally grows till the skin is so
distended as to ulcerate, and expose the new formed
substance, which sometimes sloughs away. In this
manner does the disease occasionally terminate ; but
such is the constitutional irritation attending this pro¬
cess, and the disgusting foetor and frightful appearance
of the part, that the surgeon generally recommends its
removal. In some instances sarcomatous tumors are
composed of a number of irregular-shaped masses, which
from their resemblance to the pancreas have been call¬
ed by Mr Abernethy pancreatic sarcoma, and consider¬
ed as a distinct species. “ This new-formed substance
is made up of irregularly-shaped masses, which in co¬
lour, texture, and size, resemble the larger masses com¬
posing the pancreas. They appear also to be connect¬
ed to each other like the portion of that gland, by a
fibrous substance of a looser texture.” Other sarcoma¬
tous tumors are composed of a number of cysts, con¬
taining sometimes a transparent and sometimes a dark
fluid 5 and have been called by Mr Abernethy, the
cystic sarcomas.
The Mammary and Tubercalated Sarcomas are other
two species enumerated by Mr Abernethy. In the
first the structure of the tumor has been supposed to re¬
semble the natural structure of the mamma, and in the
second the tumor “ consists of an aggregation of small,
firm, roundish tumors of different sizes and colours,
connected together by a kind of cellular texture. The
size of the tubercle is from that of a pea to that of a
horse-bean, or sometimes larger j the colour of a brown¬
ish red, and some are of a yellow tint (c).”
These different terms employed to characterize the
various kinds of swellings which form in the cellular
membrane, are by no means adequate; and tumors
will be daily met with which it is impossible to as¬
sign to one or other of these species. This subject
therefore still remains open for the investigation of fu¬
ture inquirers. And it is probable, that when the sub¬
ject is better understood, the surgeon will not on all
occasions be obliged to have recourse to the knife 5 but
that he will be able to distinguish those which may
he allowed to remain as harmless, from those whose
nature is more malignant, and require an early extir¬
pation.
E R Y. Chap. I.
Treatment.—When sarcomatous tumors are painful Sarcom*.
and tender to the touch, advantage may be had by local tom Tu-
blood-letting, either by leeches or cupping. Fomenting , h*0178,
the parts with a decoction of chamomile flowers or poppy f J
heads, and applying a solution of muriate of ammonia
or of vinegar with acetate of lead, are useful in dimi¬
nishing their bulk. Frictions with unctuous substan¬
ces, as mercurial ointment and camphor; camphora¬
ted spirits, aqua ammonia and oil j tincture of cantha-
rides, have all been used for the discussion of indolent
swellings : Soap and mercurial plasters have also been
much commended j but of all these remedies perhaps
there is none more useful than friction with the dry
hand. The mode by which this practice is to be con¬
ducted is particularly mentioned under Swellings of th*
Joints. While these applications are made to the tu¬
mor, we ought also to give purgative medicines every
second or third day, and enjoin an abstemious diet, with
rest. An alterative course of medicine is also supposed
to be useful. Small doses of calomel or corrosive sub¬
limate are given for this purpose. The extract of hyos-
cyamus and calomel, or calomel and the extract of
cicuta, has been much extolled by some.
By caustic.—Some surgeons (and it is a favourite
practice with all itinerants) have attempted to remove'
tumors with caustic j and though this mode is much
more painful and more clumsy than the knife, yet there
are some cases, where, either from the situation of the
tumor, or from the patient being timorous, this practice
may be resorted to.
When a tumor is to be removed by caustics, the
common caustic potass will answer the purpose extreme¬
ly well. This is to be placed over a sufficient bulk of
the skin, and allowed to remain longer or shorter ac¬
cording to the depth of the tumor, and the portion of
it intended to be removed. After the dead portion has’
separated by the assistance of poultices, 8tc. the caustic
may be again renewed until the whole mass is thus de--
stroyed. Equal parts of red precipitate and burnt
alum form a very active caustic $ but it creates great
pain. By mixing opium witlv the caustics, the pain is-
alleviated.
% incision. —When a sarcomatous tumor is to he re¬
moved by incision, the surgeon should always keep in
remembrance, that whilst the tumor is growing, the con¬
tiguous cellular membrane is generally condensed, ami
is thus formed into a kind of capsule. A knowledge of
this circumstance not only renders the extirpation of the
tumor much easiex\ but tumors may be cut out from a
depth, and from connexions, apparently dangerous. The
integuments are to be freely divided, and the incision*
carried down to the capsule of the tumor, before at¬
tempting to dissect it from the contiguous parts. If this
be not done, the dissection becomes more tedious and
difficult, and more blood is lost than was necessary, from
vessels being divided which might have been saved j and
if the tumor happen to be deeply seated, its extirpation
becomes thus impracticable. The general directions
given for the extirpation and after treatment of encysted
tumors may also be applied to the sarcomatous tumors.
Sect.
(c) Another species of sarcoma has been termed the osteosarcoma, from bony matter being formed in the
tumor.
Chap. I.
S U H G E R Y.
43
Oedema.
Sect. VIII. Of Oedema.
Oedema consists in the effusion of a watery fluid in
the cellular membrane of any part of the body.
The swelling in oedema is not circumscribed. The
skin of the swollen part retains its natural colour, and
-sometimes becomes paler than natural, having a glossy
hue. The part has a cold feeling j and pressure made
by the point of the finger forms an impression or dim-
■ple, which remains for some time after the finger is re-
?moved, disappearing slowly. There is no acute pain,
bat there is an uneasiness or sense of weight and tight¬
ness in the part. If a limb be oedematous, the magni¬
tude of the swelling is always increased or diminished,
according as it is placed in a depending or horizontal
posture. Oedema always arises from the want of pro-
per balance in the functions of the exhalent and absorb¬
ent systems, and it appears both in a constitutional and
local form. Contusions, sprains, the long use of re¬
laxing poultices and washes, are often local causes of
oedema. More or less oedema is conjoined with erysi¬
pelatous inflammation. A part which has been acutely
inflamed often remains ccdematous for some time after¬
wards. It is also often owing to some impediment
to the return of blood to the heart. Pressure of the
•gravid uterus on the iliac veins often renders the lower
extremities oedematous. Aneurisms and other tumors,
by compressing the veins of the extremity, often pro¬
duce this affection. It also accompanies ascites, hy-
drothorax, &c. &c.
Treatment.—As an oedematous swelling is generally
the effect of some other disease, the cure must depend
upon the original disease being removed.
If the limb be the part aftected, it should be kept in
a horizontal position. Frictions made with flannel, and
a moderately tight roller, applied from the toes up¬
wards, have a powerful effect in diminishing the swel¬
ling. The operation of these means is to be assisted
•by purgatives and diaphoretics. See Medicine.
If the tumor become so tense as to create much pain
and inflammation of the skin, these may be moderated
by the discharge of the fluid by means of a small punc¬
ture, rather than by allowing the integuments to burst.
A puncture is, however, not void of danger, for wounds
iu dropsical constitutions, generally excite a great de¬
gree of inflammation, and are apt to become gangren¬
ous. The puncture should be made upon the most
prominent parts of the swelling with the point of a
lancet; and as the fluid which oozes out is apt to create
great irritation of the tender skin over which it flows,
it is a proper and very useful precaution to keep the
®kin always covered with some unctuous adhesive sub-
fitance. For this purpose the unguentum resinosum is
<7ery well calculated.
Sect. IX. Of Emphysema.
Emphysema is an effusion of air into the cellular
membrane of any part of the body.
The swelling is without pain, and colourless j and it
i* easily distinguished from cedema by the noise and
particular feeling it has when pressed upon. It makes
* crackling noise, and resembles the feeling created by
jewing a dry thia bladder half filled with air. The
swelling is not heavy. At its commencement, it only Oedema,
affects one part ; but it soon spreads over the body, and w..—v-..i ■*
distends the whole skin. In one case it was limited to
one-half of the body.
Emphysema generally arises from a wound of the
lungs j often from a spicula of a broken rib *. It has * See
also been known to arise from an ulceration in the W*unds of
lungs; but this seldom happens, as the inflammation
attending the formation of matter condenses the con¬
tiguous vesicles, and produces adhesions between the
lungs and cavity of the thorax.
Emphysema has also been sometimes observed in
some putrid diseases. Dr Huxham has recorded a case
of this kind in a sailor who was attacked with putrid
fever and sore throat f. f Medical
A partial emphysema has also been observed in cases Observa-
Hunter has mentioned
Inquiries
vol. i.
of gangrene. Dr William
case of that kind.
The treatment of emphysema must always depend
on the nature of the original disease. It may be here,
however, remarked, that effused air is readily absorbed,
and creates no inflammation or any change in the cellu*
lar structure where it had been effused.
Chap. II.
Of the Diseases of the Skin.
General Remarks on the Pathology of the Skin.
There are a considerable number of diseases which
originate in the different parts composing the skin ; and
there are others which seem to be the effect of that sym¬
pathy which the skin has with most organs of the body.
Of the diseases which attack the skin, there are five
classes. In the first, the papillae are affected; in the
second, the cellular membrane contained in the areolae
of the skin ; in the third, the rete mucosum or capillary
net-work, from which the exhalents arise ; in the fourth,
the cutis vera or chorion ; and in the fifth, the epider¬
mis or scarf skin.
1. Under the diseases of the first class, or those of the
papillae, may be considered all those in which an altera¬
tion in the sensibility of the skin takes place. When¬
ever inflammation affects the skin, this alteration of sen¬
sibility is perceptible; and in some of the nervous dis¬
eases of women it is very remarkable ; for on touching
the skin a little roughly, convulsions are produced. The
effect of titillation is well known ; and perhaps an ap¬
plication of this knowledge might be extremely useful
in the treatment of some diseases.
2. We have examples of the second class of diseases
of the skin, where the areolae of the cellular membrane
of the cutis vera become inflamed, in boils and perhaps
also in smallpox, and in some of those tumors commonly
called pimples of the skin.
3. The rete mucosum, from its vascularity, is pro¬
bably the seat of erysipelas, measles, scarlatina, and that
multiplicity of eruptions to which the skin is subject.
4. In elephantiasis, cancer, warts, &c. and in general
in all chronic cutaneous diseases, the cutis vera is af¬
fected ; it appears, however, to be seldom primarily
affected in acute diseases.
5. The epidermis is passive in all the diseases of the
skip, and is only affected by its continuity. Its sensibi-
E 3 lity
44
SUB,
* Bichat
Anatomio
Gene rale,
tom. iv.
P- 73°-
Diseases of lity is never increased, nor is it susceptible of being in-
tbe Skin, flamed, and consequently it never forms adhesions. Its
v""" v internal surface, too, raised by a blister or any other
means, and applied to the parts below, never reunites.
The excrescences which form on it, such as corns, &c.
are dry and inert, and without circulation ; if they ai’e
painful, it arises alone from their pressure on the nerves
of the subjacent parts.
From all these different affections of the skin, a num¬
ber of sympathetic affections arise which it is worth
while here to remark, though only a few of the diseases
of this organ come properly within the limits of a sy¬
stem of surgery.
i. Every time that the papillae are much excited in
irritable people, as by titillation, various organs are sym¬
pathetically affected. Sometimes it is the heart j hence
follows fainting. Sometimes the stomach, and in two
cases mentioned by Bich&t, the person vomited. In one
case it excited violent coughing. Sometimes it is the
brain, as is observed in people, where tickling brings on
laughter, and even violent convulsions.
“ Medical men,” says Bichat *, “ are often astonish¬
ed at the extraordinary effects which quacks produce on
the body from the knowledge they have acquired of the
sympathies of the skin produced by titillation. But
how should we be more astonished at this, than hy vo¬
miting produced by diseases of the womb, by diseases
of the liver being brought on from an injury of the brain,
or by headaches arising from a disordered state of the
gastric viscera ?” The influence of titillation of the
skin may be of much use in the treatment of some dis¬
eases. In hemiplegia, &c. would not the excitement
of the soles of the feet, which have so much sensibility,
as every one knows, answer much better repeated ten
or twelve times a day, than the application of a blis¬
ter, the irritation of which continues only during a short
f See a case time ? -f-
where this From this sympathy which the skin has with distant
organs, we may perhaps be able to explain the influence
which friction has been lately found to have in some dis¬
eases. This remedy has been employed to a very great
extent in diseases of the joints, and the best effects ex-
S^^rienced from it E
Journal*' 2" Whenever the exhalents of the skin, or the ex-
vol. iii. ’ terior capillary system from whence they arise, are af-
} Treat- fected in any manner, a number of other parts partici-
ment o/^pate, and thence arises a second order of sympathies of
the skin.
There are few organs which have more sympathy
with the skin than the stomach. The bath, which acts
upon the skin, dui’ing digestion affects sympathetically
the stomach, and disturbs its functions. When that or¬
gan is spasmodically affected, it often is restored to a
state of health, by the influence it receives from the
bath. Bichat mentions a case of a woman who was
troubled with constant vomiting, in consequence of sup¬
pressed menses j and who was immediately relieved by
the warm bath after other remedies had failed.
The action of cold on the skin produces a variety of
sympathetic effects ; above all when that action takes
place during perspiration. It is also well known what
a number of phenomena result from a sudden disappear¬
ance of some eruptions of the skin.
3. When the cellular membrane contained in the
areolae of the skin, becomes inflamed, as in boils, pu-
practice
was suc¬
cessfully
employed,
in the
White
Swelling
of the
Joints.
G E R Y. Chap. II,
stules, &c. a number of sympathies ensue, which may Diseases oi
be referred to the cellular system in general. the Skin.
4. The diseases of the cutis vera and epidermis be- —v—
ing all of a chronic nature, their sympathetic affections
have the same character, little more being known of
them.
Besides diseases of the skin, originating from a change
of structure in that organ, there are others which arise
from the sympathy it has with other organs. When¬
ever a cold body enters the stomach whilst there is a
perspiration on the skin, the perspiration instantly
stops. The entry of warm drinks into the stomach, and
an augmentation of the cutaneous exhalation, are two
phenomena which coincide at the same moment, in such
a manner, that one cannot attribute the second to the
absorption of the drink, to its passage to the venous
blood through the lungs, and then to the arteries. The
production of perspiration is, therefore, analogous to the
suppression of it in the former instance. Hence will
be found a great variety of phenomena in different dis¬
eases, arising from the sympathy existing between the
skin and the other organs, various degrees of dryness,
of moisture, and of perspiration. Sometimes these phe¬
nomena are chronic. In many organic diseases, dif¬
ferent kinds of tumors are formed on the skin, in the
same manner as we observe petechim, miliary erup¬
tions, &c. &c. produced in acute fevers ; the difference
being merely in the duration of the periods of the sym¬
pathetic affections.
The diseases of the skin form a very important class
in a system of nosology. There are, however, only a
few which ought properly to be considered in a system
of surgery.
The skin is the seat of all eruptions, as smallpox,
measles, and a vast number of other diseases. It is liable
to inflammation, suppuration, and gangrene. It is also
subject to diseases and injuries from its exposure to the
action of external bodies, and from serving as a defence
to the internal parts. It is also subject to cancer, warts,
and other excrescences, the treatment of which more
properly belong to the surgeon.
Sect. I. Of the Erysipelas, or Rose.
Erysipelas is sometimes a local disease $ at other
times it is merely a symptom of some other affection.
It differs from all other inflammations in its peculiar
shade of red colour, and it is also remarkable for the
disturbance which it generally creates throughout the
whole system. The part of the skin which is affected
becomes of a bright scarlet colour, with a tinge of yel¬
low ; and towards the termination of the complaint, the
yellow becomes more discernible. Besides the difference
in the shade of red, the swelling is neither so hard, so
elevated, nor so circumscribed as that of phlegmon. The
skin has a glossy smooth appearance, a burning heat,
and on its being touched with the finger, the scarlet co¬
lour disappears, leaving a white spot, which, however,
is almost immediately replaced when the finger is re¬
moved. T he pain attending the disease is sometimes
very great $ there is also more or less swelling of the
parts in the immediate vicinity j and this seems chiefly
to arise from a watery effusion in the cellular mem¬
brane.
Erysipelas is very apt to spread rapidly to a great
extent $
Chap. IT.
SUE
J'rvsipelas.
extent; and it frequently changes its situation, grow¬
ing gradually well on one side, and extending itself on
the other. Sometimes it disappears entirely at one
place, and attacks some other. As this disease gets
well, the cuticle peels off from the affected part.
Erysipelas may be combined with phlegmon (erysi¬
pelas phlegmonoides), in which case the inflammation is
of a deeper red colour ; the swelling is also greater and
deeper-, and the pain is more acute. There is also a
throbbing in the part, and the pulse is full and hard.
There is^lso a particular species of erysipelas, called
St Anthony's fire, in which small vesicles are formed
on different parts of the skin. These burst, and dis¬
charge a thin fluid which forms a scab, and beneath the
scab suppuration sometimes takes place.
The true erysipelatous inflammation seldom suppu¬
rates, but generally terminates by resolution ; very vio¬
lent cases sometimes cause gangrene.
When Erysipelas is accompanied with inflammation
of the cellular membrane, as there are no distinct li¬
mits of the disease, the matter which is formed in those
cases which advance to suppuration, often extends very
far in every direction, and sometimes produces very
considerable sloughing, not only of the cellular sub¬
stance, but'of the fasciae and tendons. Erysipelas is
generally accompanied with all the symptoms of general
fever, and these occur in a very considerable degree,
even where the external inflammation is extremely
slight. Languor, lassitude, weariness in the limbs,
headach, loss of appetite, oppression about the stomach,
precede the appearance of the local complaint. The
most violent form of erysipelas is most frequently seen
in the face, producing a great deal of general fever,
often accompanied with delirium ; and in a few cases
we have known it to proceed so far as to inflame and
suppurate the membranes of the brain. Erysipelas
seems to be intimately connected with the state of the
general constitution. Persons in the habit of drunken¬
ness and other species of intemperance, and who, when
in a state of intoxication meet with local injuries, of¬
ten have erysipelatous inflammation. In general, ery¬
sipelas has its principal source in a disordered state of
the chylopoetic viscera, more particularly the biliary
secretion. It seems also to be often connected with a
suppression of perspiration, for it never recedes until
that symptom is relieved.
Ofi the treatment of Erysipelas.—The mild erysipe¬
las is to be relieved by the exhibition of gentle diapho¬
retics. A few doses of nitre, in order to promote the
ordinary evacuations, and general attention to the anti¬
phlogistic regimen.
It is also of great importance to attend to the state
of the bowels, and to give purgative medicines, both
with a view of removing any feculent matter contained
in them, and as a general evacuant.
When the case is conjoined with phlegmon, and
when there are symptoms of inflammatory fever, vene¬
section becomes necessary ; and this is particularly the
case when the face is the seat of the disease.
When the patient has a very foul tongue, a bitter
taste in his mouth, and a propensity to vomit, purga¬
tives and emetics become necessai-y. Indeed, in al¬
most all severe cases, an emetic is indicated, and
ought even to be repeated, should the symptoms con¬
tinue.
G E R Y. 45
There has been a great variety of opinions with re- Erysipelas,
gard to the external treatment of erysipelas ; some re- w--y—
commending the part to be kept dry, of a moderate
warmth, and excluded from the air : others have used
warm or cold moist applications. The practice of Des-
sault is perhaps the most judicious. In those cases
of erysipelas produced from an internal cause, no to¬
pical application is to be employed, except, perhaps,
dusting the part with flour ; but when any species
of erysipelas succeeds a contusion, a wound or an ul¬
cer, the regimen and internal medicines are insuffici¬
ent, if proper topical remedies are not at the same
time employed to alleviate the local irritation. In these
cases Dessault employed poultices, the good effects of
which were confirmed by numerous observations. He
considered it, however, as an essential precaution, not
to extend this topical application further than the
bruised part, or the edge of the wound or ulcer. If
any application is made to the erysipelatous surface, it
ought to consist merely of a weak astringent solu¬
tion : that which was always employed at the Hotel
Dieu, consisted of a scruple of the extract of lead in a
pint of water.
Sfxt. II. Ofi the Furunculus or Boil.
The furunculus appears to be an inflammation cf the
cellular membrane of the areola of the chorion ; the
other inflammations of the skin and cutaneous eruptions
being seated on the corpus reticzdare. The furunculus
is a circumscribed, very prominent, and hard tumor, of
a deep red colour ; and they vary, from the size of a
pea to that of a pigeon’s egg. They are extremely
painful, and are seldom attended with much fever.
They are most frequent in young people. Boils gene¬
rally pass into a more or less perfect suppuration. A
small white spot is formed on the apex of the tumor,
which, when it has reached the skin, discharges but a
small quantity of pus in proportion to the bulk of the
swelling. Before the tumor begins to subside, a yel¬
low slough, formed by a portion of dead cellular mem¬
brane, comes away.
As swellings of this kind almost always suppurate,
and as induration constantly remains after an incom¬
plete resolution of them, we ought to promote sup¬
puration by using emollient applications. Emollient
poultices are best for this purpose. When a quan¬
tity of matter is collected, it is sometimes more ad¬
vantageous to open the boil with the point of a lan¬
cet, than to allow it to remain until the skin ulcer¬
ates. Aperients and the antiphlogistic regimen ought
not to be omitted.
Sect. III. Ofi the Chilblain.
The chilblain is a painful, and very often an extreme¬
ly itchy swelling of the skin of an extreme part of the
body, in consequence of exposure to extreme cold,
or sudden change from a very cold to a warm atmos¬
phere.
Chilblains are most frequently in young people of scro¬
fulous constitutions, and in this country the disease is
most prevalent during the winter months. It appears
most
2
a6 SURGERY. Chap. I]
Chilblain, most commonly on the toes, heels, and fingers, and
^ sometimes on the nose and parts where the circulation
is most languid.
The first symptoms of the disease are a paleness of the
part, which is quickly succeeded by more or less red-
.ness, a very troublesome itching, and sometimes pain.
The skin gradually acquires a purple hue ; the part
swells, and the cuticle separates from a serous effusion
below it. Beneath the cuticle an ulcer appears of a
very irritable character, and accompanied with great
pain. This ulcer spreads rapidly, has very acute edges,
and its surface is of a dark orrather dirty yellow colour.
Sometimes the ulceration penetrates as low as the ten-
dons, or even exposes the surface offthe bones, produ¬
cing sphacelation of an extremity.
In the treatment of Chilblains, before the skin has
ulcerated, the principal attention ought to be paid to
keeping the affected part of an equal temperature, and
rubbing it over with stimulating applications. Campho¬
rated spirit, spirit of turpentine, &c. have been gene¬
rally recommended for this purpose 5 but the tincture
of cantharides, properly diluted, is much more effica¬
cious. A drachm of this tincture to an ounce of the
soap liniment, will generally he found to answer ex¬
tremely well } and this is to be well rubbed on the part
once or twice a day.
When vesications begin to appear, and ulceration has
-taken place, emollient poultices should be employed ;
but after this process has gone on a certain time, and
the pain and irritation abated, much benefit will be ex¬
perienced by the application of the red precipitate
ointment to the ulcers. Under this treatment we have
repeatedly observed large ulcers of this kind heal with
unusual rapidity.
Best and a plain nourishing diet will be commonly
best suited to people with chilblains j and should symp¬
toms of debility and a sloughing of the sore ensue, it may
(be then necessary to give freely wine and hark.
Sect. IV. Of Cancer of the Skin.
The skin is frequently attacked with cancer. That
of the face is more particularly exposed to it; and this
.no doubt arises from its delicacy, from the great num¬
ber of vessels which penetrate it, and perhaps also from
its more frequent exposure than any other part of the
body to external irritations. Cancer, however, is not
confined to the skin of the face 5 it frequently appears
on the back of the hands, and on the feet. Wiseman
has seen it on the cranium, Gooch on the inside of the
thigh, Richter at the umbilicus ; and we have seen an
.example of it in the skin above the pubes.
When cancer affects the skin, it begins in the form
of a small, hard, and dark-coloured wart, which in¬
creases very slowly in size; the contiguous skin be¬
comes hardened, forming a stool or button around the
wart. The progress of this disease in the skin has ai¬
rways been observed to be more slow than cancer in any
other part; so that it often remains in the form of a
black scab for many years. The scab at last separates,
_jjnd then an ulcer of the skin is exposed, having all the
characters of the true cancerous sore. It has a pale co¬
lour, ragged hard edges, and unequal surface; and it gra¬
dually extends in an irregular manner along the skin;
hard tumor which forms its basis, at the same time
X
increasing in size. Instead of pns, the ulcer discharges Cancer c.
a thin ichor, which reddens and excoriates the adjacent the Skin
skin. The disease which, when in the form of a scab, * ^
gave little uneasiness, now becomes painful; and the
patient feels more or less frequently sharp lancinating
pains darting through the tumor, and extending to the
adjacent soft parts.
‘Wh en a cancerous affection of the skin is examined
after it is removed from the body, it has all the lead¬
ing characters described in our general observations
on cancer *. The great degree of hardness of the mor- * See cka
hid mass, is produced from the formation of the firm00
fibrous-looking matter observed in all schirrous tumors ;
and the direction of its fibres will be generally found
extending from tjie base of the tumor to the surface of
the skin.
Cancer of the skin follows the same progress as can¬
cerous affections of other textures. The contiguous
glands become enlarged and ulcerate ; and both the
ulcers which these form, and the primary one, spread
over whatever parts they meet, till they destroy the
patient.
Treatment.—The success which has been attributed
to various medicines, particularly to arsenic and strong
corrosive applications, in the cure of cancer, has been
.chiefly from the use of these medicines in cancerous
affections of the skin. From the disease being observed
in the skin before it has far advanced, from its slow pro¬
gress in that part, and the ready application of reme¬
dies, it affords better opportunities for experiment than
other parts of the body when affected with that dis¬
ease. Past experience, however, leaves us but littls
.room to hope for a cure of cancer in the skin by any
external application with which we are as yet acquaint¬
ed ; and we know of no remedy to be trusted to but tbs
.complete excision of the diseased parts.
The more early the tumor is removed, the greater is
the chance of a permanent cure of the disease. And
in whatever part of the body the skin is affected, it is
of the utmost importance to remove every part where
there is the least suspicion of contamination. In the
face, we have often observed the surgeon too anxious
to save skin, with a view of lessening the blemish of
an extensive scar; but in a disease so deplorable as
cancer, no object of this kind can in any degree com¬
pensate for being exposed to the smallest risk of its re¬
turn ; the more so, especially as we have often remark¬
ed that a second operation is seldom if ever attended
with permanent advantage. The surgeon, therefore,
ought to lay it down as a general rule, that he shall
include in the incision a considerable portion of the
sound skin surrounding the diseased parts.
The particular cases wherein an operation is advisable,
must be left entirely to the judgment of the surgeon.
The operation may be performed in all cases where the
diseased parts appear to be within the reach of the knife;
or it there are any glands affected, if these can be safe¬
ly removed, it may be even under these circumstances
undertaken, though no doubt the chance of a return of
the disease in such cases is great.
W henever the periosteum and parts surrounding any
of the bones is affected, there is little chance of any assist¬
ance trom art, except when the disease occurs in the ex¬
tremities of the body, as in the hands or feet; for in such
cases, amputation of the whole member may be performed.
WlK»
Chap. II. S U II G
Cancer of When cancerous sores appear about the eyelids, and
the Skin, spread along the sclerotic conjunctiva, it is the only
,|-1 safe practice to remove the whole contents of the or¬
bit. The different parts which compose the eyeball
and its appendages, seem to have such a close connec¬
tion with one another, that it is difficult, perhaps im¬
possible, to mark the boundaries of the diseased action
which is going on j and as the loss of any part of the
ojgan prevents the others from performing their func¬
tions, it becomes no material object to save any parti¬
cular part.
It is generally remarked, that the lips are particu¬
larly subject to cancer, at least in men ; and that the
under lip is more liable than the upper one. The dis¬
eased part may be removed in this part of the body with
great neatness upon the general principles of the opera¬
tion of harelip. This can only be done when the dis¬
eased portion is not very large, and can be included by
two incisions forming an angle, inclining towards the
chin. See Harelip. When, however, the disease
has spread over a considerable portion of the lip, so as
to prevent the sound parts from being united, after the
diseased parts have been removed, ail that ean be done
is to remove the parts affected, secure tire bleeding ves¬
sels, and dress the sore like any other recent wound.
By a little contrivance, much may sometimes be
done by making the incision in such a manner as to
allow the sound parts to be afterwards brought together
and united $ so that in all eases of extensive disease,
the surgeon should consider all the different modes by
which the diseased parts may be removed with most
advantage.
The operation is performed by some with a com¬
mon scalpel, by others with scissars. When the scal¬
pel is used, the lip is to be held firmly with forceps
by an assistant, and the second incision made along
their edge ; but when the disease extends beyond the
adhesion of the lip to the jaw, no forceps are neces-
sary.
The scissars are, however, the preferable instrument j
they divide the lip with much less pain, and with a ma¬
thematical precision. When they are used for this pur¬
pose, it is necessary that they be thick and strong ; as
in some people the lip is extremely thick, and apt to slip
through the blades, instead of being divided. Giving
the cutting edge of the blades a knife edge, will be
found an improvement on the common edge given to
Bcissars. It is evident, however, that the scissars can
only be employed in those cases where the forceps
Could be used to aid the knife. All wounds of the lip
heal best and most accurately with the twisted suture j
so that the edges should be brought together in the
same manner as recommended in the case of harelip,-
and the same mode of after-treatment is also to be pur--
sued.
Sect. V. OJ Warts.
There are two kinds of Warts which grow upon the
surface of the body. One species is connected with the
skin by a broad base ; is of a hard, firm texture, un¬
equal on the surface, and free from pain. Warts of
this description are frequent in young people, and are
generally found on the hands.
The other species of warts are attached to the skin
E II Y,
by a slender pedicle ; they have a very unequal surface,
appearing as if composed of an aggregate of small tu- v
mors. Warts of this kind seldom attain any very con¬
siderable size, though we have in a few instances seen
them as broad as a half-crown piece. They are seldom
troublesome $ but in some situations they become ex¬
tremely irritable, and produce, especially when injured,
very disagreeable sensations.
This species of wart is most frequently met with on
the prepuce and glans of the penis $ on the labia j
around the anus, and also frequently upon the hairy
scalp. In these situations they sometimes acquire a
very large size, numerous warts arising over the whole
surface, and forming a mass of a cauliflower appear¬
ance. They are most frequent in people advanced in
life, and are often* connected with the venereal dis¬
ease.
Besides these, therte are varieties of small wrarts
which occur in different parts of the body, which have
not been accurately described by authors. There is one
of those, where a number of small whitish tumors ap¬
pear in some parts of the face of children. These con¬
tain an opaque white fluid, which when discharged, and
allowed to remain upon the contiguous skin, contami¬
nates it, and produces warts of the same description.
Of the treatment oJ Warts.—A variety of local re¬
medies have been applied for the cure of warts j and
these generally possess a corrosive quality.
Lunar caustic is one of those which generally an¬
swers best; and it is most easily managed for destroy¬
ing the first species of warts which we have described.
A saturated solution applied to the warts three or four
times a day, of the muriate of ammonia, and tincture
of cantharides, has also been found beneficial in pro¬
moting their absorption.
In the second species, when the excrescences are
very large, they should always be removed along with
a portion of the adjacent skin, by the knife. In those
cases where the warts are very numerous, and where,
from their situation, it becomes impossible to remove
them with the knife, equal portions of cerugo ceris and
savine powder, or savine powder alone, will be found
sometimes to succeed in removing them. In some
cases, particularly where the warts are situated about
the glans of the penis, we have found a saturated solu¬
tion of the muriate of mercury in spirit of wine, com¬
pletely answer the purpose. In those cases connected
with syphilis, besides local applications, it is necessary
to use mercury. Sometimes, indeed, the warts drop
off whenever the mercury begins to affect the constitu--
tion.
47
Warts.
■ I... y— Jr
Sect. VI. Of Corns,
A corn is a peculiar hardness and increased thick¬
ness of the epidermis, which sometimes extends to thfr
subjacent skin. It frequently elevates itself above the
skin, and is not unlike one species of wart; It is bard,
dry, and insensible, except when pressed upon the con¬
tiguous parts ; and it resembles in colour and appear¬
ance the thickened cuticle on the hands of workmen.
Corns commonly are formed on the toes and sides of the
feet, and they are generally owing to the wearing of
tight shoes. Sometimes corns do not occasion the least
inconveniency ; but in’ other instances they produce so
much
R Y
48
SURGE
Chap. H,
Goins, much pain, that the patient walks with difficulty. Corns
—v """ ' are generally more painful in warm than in cold wea¬
ther. The pain seems to arise from an inflamed state
of the parts in the circumference of the corn, which
state is excited and kept up by the pressure of the in¬
duration, and not from any sensibility in the corn itself.
They are more painful in dry than in moist weather,
because they then become much moi'e hard and dry.
Treatment of Corns.—The pain and difficulty of walk¬
ing produced by corns, may be alleviated by immersing
them in warm water, and with a shai'p instrument cut¬
ting off their external layers j much relief will also be
found by covering the part with a piece of adhesive
plaster, and by being careful not to wear shoes which
are too tight. But what we have found a most complete
cure for corns, is the application of one or other of
those corrosive substances which were mentioned for the
treatment of warts. The lunar caustic, or the satura¬
ted solution of muriate of mercury in spirit of wine,
ought to be preferred. They may be applied once
every second or third day, until the absorption of the
corn be completed 5 and, before using them, it will be
proper to pare off some of the external hard layers of
the corn.
Some corn-operators extirpate the corn by a sharp
instrument 5 but this only proves a palliative treat¬
ment, for sooner or later a hard substance is again
formed.
Sect. VII. Of Nervi Materni.
Naevi materni are those marks which frequently ap¬
pear upon the bodies of children at birth, and which are
supposed to originate from impressions made on the mind
of the mother during pregnancy. They are of various
forms ; their colour is likewise various, though most
frequently resembling that of claret or port wine.
Many of these marks are perfectly flat, and never rise
above the level of the skin : these do not require the
assistance of surgery ; but in some cases they appear in
the form of small protuberances, which frequently in¬
crease to a great size in the course of a few months.
They appear to be soft and fleshy ; of a cellular texture,
the cells containing liquid blood. They may be re¬
moved with little danger when not involving any im¬
portant organ. They are supplied indeed more plenti¬
fully with blood than most other tumors are } and even
sometimes they appear to be entirely formed of a con¬
geries of small blood-vessels j but the arteries which sup¬
ply them may be, for the most part, easily secured by
ligature. An operation should never be long delayed ;
for as the size of the vessels corresponds with that of the
tumor, they sometimes are so large as to throw out a
good deal of blood before they can be secured. In per-
forming it, the tumor is to be cut out, the arteries taken
up, and the remaining skin brought as well together as
the nature of the part will allow, and kept so by adhe¬
sive plaster or suture.
If the whole tumor be removed, little hsemorrhagy
generally follows 5 but if the smallest portion of the dis¬
eased vessels remain, not only a troublesome bleeding
follows, but the tumor is quickly reproduced by an in-
ci’eased exuberance. Tumors of this kind have also
been removed by ulceration artificially excited by cor-
x’osive applications ; and a knowledge of this circum¬
stance might be in some cases of practical application.
Chap. III.
On the Diseases of Mucous Membranes.
Diseases |'
the Mucd
branes.
General Remarks on the Pathology of the Mucous
Membranes.
Though at first sight it may appear that the mucous
membranes ai'e very considerable in number, yet when
viewed more generally, they appear limited; and we
find that in all parts of the body they are subject to the
same morbid alterations of structure.
Bichat has described two general mucous surfaces,
of which all the others are portions. The one lines
the interior of the mouth, nose, and the anterior sur¬
face of the eye. It is prolonged into the exci-etoiy
ducts of the parotids, and submaxillary glands. It
passes into all the sinuses, forms the conjunctiva, enters
the lachrymal points, the lachrymal sac, the nasal canal,
and is continued into the nose. It lines the pharynx
and eustachian tube, the trachea and bronchise. It
goes down the oesophagus into the stomach, and passes
along the whole intestinal canal till it joins with the
skin at the extremity of the rectum. This he calls the
gastro-pulmonary mucous surface.
The other general mucous surface, ihe genito-urinam/,
begins in the male at the urethra ; passes along that
canal into the bladder, lines the bladder, vesiculse semi-
nales, and vasa deferentia, along with their numerous
branches. It also extends into the excretories of the
prostate gland, the ureters, and the pelvis of the kid¬
neys. In the female it begins at the vulva, penetrates
the ureter, and passes as in the male over the urinary
organs. It also enters the vagina, lines the womb
and fallopian tubes, and is then continued with the
peritoneum. This is the only example of a communi¬
cation established between the mucous and serous sur¬
faces.
This view of the extension of mucous membranes is
strongly exemplified by an examination of their dis¬
eases ; for it will appear that there is not only an ana¬
logy between the different portions of the first, by a
simultaneous affection of the whole parts over which it
extends, but there is also a line of demarkation be¬
tween the two mucous surfaces, from the one remaining
sound whilst the other is affected throughout. This
last circumstance is confirmed in the history of many
epidemic catarrhs j one of these membranes having
been observed affected throughout, whilst the other re¬
mained unchanged. The epidemic observed at Paris
in the year 1780 had this character. “ This epidemic
(says Pinel*J which was very general in Paris, and ^
with which I was myself attacked, was remarkable j
for it affected almost the whole mucous membranes,
that of the trachea and bronchise, the conjunctiva, the tom. ii.
pituitary membrane, the palate, the pharynx, and the P" *0^*
alimentary canal.” The epidemic catarrh of 1752, de¬
scribed in the Memoirs of the Medical Society of Edin-
burgh, is an example of the same kind $ for in all these,
the mucous membrane only lining the urinary and geni¬
tal organs remained unaffected.
We also observe that an irritation of any part of a
mucous membrane frequently creates a pain on a part
oi the membrane which was not irritated. Thus a cal¬
culus
ICliap. I11-
•[niamma- cu^lIS In urinary bladder produces the chief pain at
*ttiuu of Mu-the point of the penis, and worms in the intestines pro*
sous Mem- duces itching at the nose*
branes. Among these phenomena, which are purely sym-
pathetic, it is seldom that a partial irritation of one
©f the mucous surfaces pimduces pain in any part of the
other. The singular connection which subsists between
the membranes of the uterus and bronchire in mucous
haemorrhagies is, however, an example of this kind.
If the blood accidentally cease to flow from the one
during menstruation, the other frequently supplies the
functions of the first. In cases of stricture, or thick¬
ening and disorganization of the mucous membranes of
the urethra, the stomach, is sometimes affected : this
may also arise from the sympathy of the two mucous
membranes.
Mucous membranes, from being constantly exposed to
tbe action of the external air, or to the contact of ex¬
traneous substances, do not sufl’er, when displaced, like
other parts of the animal economy. In a prolapsus of
the uterus or rectum, their mucous surfaces serve all the
purposes of skin ; and surrounding bodies do not pro¬
duce more pain on them than on common skin. This
is very different from the effects produced on opening a
serous cavity or the capsule of a joint. The cellular,
muscular, nervous, glandular, and other systems, when
laid open, produce also very difl'erent phenomena.
The mucous membrane, like tbe skin, is organised in
such a manner as to endure with impunity the contact
of external bodies ; these merely producing an increased
secretion of thin mucus. A sound introduced and x-e-
tained in tbe bladder pi'oduces no alteration in the struc¬
ture of the mucous membrane of the urethra $ and for
the same reason, a style or tube can be kept in the la¬
chrymal duct without causing any irritation. The gi’a-
dual loss of sensibility of mucous surfaces is strongly
exemplified in the tricks of the Indian jugglers.
Most of the diseases of mucous membranes come with¬
in the province of the surgeon j the othex*s have been
already treated of under the article Medicine.
Sect. I. Inflammation of Mucous Membranes.
The contact of extraneous and irritating substances,
acrid vapours, or the sudden exposure to cold air of any
mucous surface, is often followed by inflammation.
A preternatural degree of redness is a constant symp¬
tom of inflammation in all parts of the body; but the
most remarkable character of inflammation in mucous
membranes, and that which distinguishes it from all
others, is the secretion of a purifornx fluid. The mu¬
cus, which in the natural state is neax-ly transparent,
and merely moistens the surface, becomes of a yellow
colour, and the quantity is so abundant as to form a
puriform discharge. It is from the susceptibility of the
mucous glands to be acted upon by any mutation
which is applied to the exti’emities of their ducts,
that the stone or any tumor of the bladder, polypi of
the nase or vagina, are always accompanied by a profuse
mucous discharge.
The inflammation is accompanied with more or less
thickening of the membrane ; and sometimes this re¬
mains after all the inflammatory symptoms cease. The
abatement of tbe inflammation is marked by an increase
, Vol XX. Part I. f
SURGERY. 49
in the thickness of the discharge and a diminution in Gonor-
its quantity. rhcea.
We have an example of inflammation affecting the
mucous membrane of the nose in coryza, the ear in
otitis, the urethra and vagina in gonorrhoea, the blad¬
der in a catarrhus vesicae, the eye in the puriform oph¬
thalmia, and the lachrymal sac or duct in fistula lacryma-
lis. In all these diseases the symptoms have a striking
analogy, and are varied only from a difference in the
functions of the particular organ, the mucous covering
of which has been affected.
During life, mucous membranes become gangrenous
much more seldom than the skin. This is proved from
the consequences of catarrh, compared with those of
erysipelas. There are, however, cases where this tex¬
ture dies, whilst those adjacent continue to live ; as in
the malignant angina.
Sect. II. Of Inflammation of the Mucous Membrane
of the Urethra.
The term gonorrhoea is employed to signify a dis-Gononhcea
charge of puriform matter from the urethra or prepuce
in men, and from the vagina in women ; whether pro- ment ^u-
ceeding from a syphilitic or any other irritating cause.
The gonnorhoea may be defined a discharge of a con¬
tagious, puriform fluid, which comes from the mucous
glands of the urethra, and membrane which lines that
canal ; or from the glans in men, and the interior of the
genital organs in women. The disease seems to be pro¬
duced by a virus sui generis.
This disease generally makes its appearance in three
or four days, sometimes in six, but rarely later, after im¬
pure coition, with the following symptoms. The patient
finds a particular itching and disagreeable sensation at
the point of the yard, and a slight itching also at the
part of the urethra placed immediately under the fre-
num. These last one or two days, and on the following
days the orifice of the urethra becomes sensible and
red ; it also swells, and a limpid matter of a clear yel¬
low colour flows from it, which tinges the linen. Whilst
the flow of this matter continues, the titillation becomes
stronger and more painful, particularly in making
water; for this leaves a burning impression and sharp
pain in the affected part. In some individuals the first
symptom presenting itself is the discharge of a thick
mucus. In these cases the patient feels from the com¬
mencement a burning and painful sensation in making
water. These symptoms generally increase in three
or four days. Sometimes, however, that does not sen¬
sibly happen till after eight or twelve days. The glans
acquires a deep red livid colour; the discharge in¬
creases, and the matter becomes of a yellow, or green¬
ish yellow colour, resembling pus diluted. The swell¬
ing of the glans, and also of tbe whole penis, becomes
considerable ; the patient has frequently a desire to
make water, and he finds, particularly when he has re¬
mained for some time in bed lying on his back, frequent
and involuntary erections, so painful that they disturb
his sleep, and oblige him to rise out of bed.
Such is usually the progress of the disease when the in¬
flammation is simple, slight, and superficial; but in many
cases the inflammation extends farther and penetrates
more deeply, affecting the reticular substance of the
G
cavernous
50 SURGERY. Chap. Ill,
Conor- cavernous body of the urethra. Then the pain be-
*hoea. comes excessive, particularly dimng erections, and the
frenum of the glans is drawn downwards as by a cord,
in such a manner that the body of the penis is forced
upwards by the violence of the erection. It is this
symptom which is called cordee. It sometimes hap¬
pens, that the vessels of the urethra are thus torn, and
occasion considerable hsemorrhagy. At other times,
the discharged matter is mixed with streaks of blood *,
the prepuce is also so much inflamed and swelled that
it cannot be pulled back over the glans, or if it has
been pulled back, it cannot be again brought forwards.
In some cases the strangulation which accompanies
this last accident, produces a mortification of the glans,
and even occasions the death of the patient j this, how¬
ever, seldom happens.
In some persons one or more of the inguinal glands
swell, become painful, attended with symptomatic fe¬
ver. Often the glands of the penis swell also, a cord
or knots can be felt on the back of the penis, and the
skin is also swelled and painful. Besides these symp¬
toms, the patient often feels, either from his own fault,
or on account of bad treatment, a particular uneasy
aching sensation, with tension and swelling of the sper¬
matic cor’d and testicles, accompanied with a diminu¬
tion, or even a complete suppression of the discharge
by the urethra. In other cases the disease makes
greater progress 5 the irritation and inflammation
stretching along the canal of the urethra. All the
symptoms then become more violent, the pain which is
felt in the perinaeum, or behind it, in making water, is
so violent, that the patient is afraid to make the at¬
tempt, at the same time that he is frequently solicited
by the fatiguing titillation at the neck of the bladder
and anus. There is a perpetual desire to let off the
water, whilst he can make no more than a few drops
at a time with a burning pain. The whole canal of
the urethra is swelled', and in a state of tension j the
patient has frequent erections, and lancinating pains
along the canal, through the perinseum and anus. He
cannot lie down for a long time, nor can he rest seated,
in this state the swelling of the glands of the urethra,
and the spasmodic contraction of its internal mem¬
brane, obstruct the free passage of the urine, and al¬
low it to flow in a very thin bifurcated stream, or drop
by drop •, and if at the same time the discharge dimi¬
nish considerably, or totally stop, a complete suppres¬
sion of urine sometimes succeeds, occasioned by the in¬
flammation and stricture of the neck of the bladder, or
by the inflammation and swelling of the prostate gland
and adjacent parts.
It sometimes happens that the inflammation of the
urethra becomes so violent, that its internal surface, and
the orifices of the glands which line it, secrete nothing;
the same as we observe sometimes happens in inflamma¬
tion of the mucous membrane of the nose and of the
lungs. It is this state of the disease which some authors
ha^e described under the name of gonorrhoea sicca.
After the symptoms have continued with more or less
violence, or when they have increased during one, two,
. or three weeks, or even during six or seven, according
to the treatment employed, they begin gradually to di¬
minish. The difficulty and the frequent desire to make
water cease; the erections are no longer painful 5 the
matter acquires more consistence, and forms into threads Gonor-
between the fingers, and at last the discharge entirely rlvoea.
disappears. In other cases, and these the most frequent, "
the inflammatory symptoms disappear by degrees ; but
the discharge remains during weeks, months, or even
years. It is this form of the disease which is called
gleet, or simply blennorrhcca.
Sometimes the inflammatory symptoms disappear by
degrees, and leave in the urethra an ulcer, from which
there is a malignant and purulent discharge, and which
occasions an affection of the system. This is what has
been called gonorrhoea coniplicata or ulcerosa; but it
occurs rarely.
In other cases a contraction remains in the canal of
the urethra; sometimes a paraphymosis continues, and
sometimes there is a tumor of the testicles, a harden¬
ing of these parts or of some of the glands of the ure¬
thra, an inflammation of the prostate gland, with a more
or less complete suppression of urine ; at other times,
though very rarely, the discharge, when suppressed,
produces suddenly a perfect deafness, or most violent
ophthalmia *. * Traitii
The exciting cause of syphilitic gonorrhoea is always Maladie*
the application of the specific virus to some part of the Vetteriem
mucous membrane lining the urethra. The contagious^?1" Swe‘
n • • ^ o diaur
fluid, applied to any part of the bodv of a sound per¬
son, acts with more or less difficulty, according to the
difference in the structure, the greater or less debility
of the part, and also according to the particular con¬
stitution of the individual ; for we see some peopleexpos-
ed to every danger of infection never have the disease.
Perhaps also the violence of the action of the virus de¬
pends on the greater or less degree of acrimony of the
virus itself.
The seat of gonorrhoea is always at a small distance
from the orifice of the urethra ; under the frenum, at
that part ot the canal where we observe a dilatation, call¬
ed /osso navicularis. All gonorrhoeas which are situated
more anteriorly on the curvature of the penis, in the
veru montanvm, the neck of the bladder, or in the
bladder itsell, arise from bad treatment, or from some
cause which has stopped or suppressed the primary dis¬
charge.
Sometimes by the natural progress of the disease, and
more frequently from faults committed by the patient,
or by the effects of improper remedies, the inflammation
and irritation are apt to change their place. They often
occupy the orifice of a mucous gland which opens at
the first turn of the penis. At other times they affect
the two glands of Cowper. Sometimes they occupy the
protuberances which cover the orifices of the seminal
vesicles ; and they also sometimes affect the prostate
gland, or the neck of the bladder.
In some rare cases the contagious virus does not pe¬
netrate into the urethra, but applied to the extremity
of the penis, it fixes itself upon the corona of the glans,
and irritating the excretory ducts of the sebaceous
glands, produces a discharge which has been called the
gonorhcca of the glands.
\\ hen the urethra of a person who has laboured under
gonorrhoea is laid open, no ulcer is almost ever found upon
the surface of the internal membrane ; and in those who
have suffered much in consequence of the disease, there
is merely a thickening and contraction of one or more
parts
Chap. HI. SURGERY. 51
Conor- parts of the urethra. Sometimes, though very rarely,
rboea. excrescences are formed within it. The ducts of the
' v "■l mucous glands are obliterated, and the prostate gland
and bladder changed in their structure.
It has been a matter of great dispute among those
who have written on the venereal disease, whether the
gonorrhoeal and venereal virus are the same. In this
controversy a number of very futile arguments have
Specific na-been brought forward. It is a striking fact, however,
Hire of the which the practical man must have always in view,
that the venereal disease is never cured without mercu¬
ry; whilst a gonorrhoea, however virulent, never re¬
quires that remedy. This difference in the treatment
of the diseases some authors have attempted to ex¬
plain, from the difference in the structure of the parts
affected. It is remarkable, however, that the matter
from the gonorrhoea never affects the skin, producing
chancre ; but that when its virus is applied to the va¬
gina, or to the urethra of another person, gonorrhoea is
the consequence. When it affects the prepuce too, it
produces, in place of chancre, a morbid discharge from
the sebaceous glands of that organ. It is also a striking
fact, in the history of gonorrhoea, that however long it
may remain, it nex'er produces any constitutional affec¬
tion. All these circumstances in the history of the dis¬
ease, in its progress and symptoms, and in its cure, be¬
ing so dissimilar to those of the venereal disease, are
surely sufficient grounds to consider gonorrhoea and sy¬
philis as two distinct morbid affections, and different
from one another as much as any two diseases of the
animal economy.
Treatment.—All the forms of syphilis, when left to
themselves, undermine and destroy the constitution ;
but gonorrhoea ceases without the resources of art,
particularly if during its course the patient live a sober
and regular life. The irritability of the urethra, the
constitution of the patient, faults in diet, in exercise and
choice of remedies, and perhaps also the nature of the
virus itsell, being more or less acrid, and of which the
action will be more or less violent, often renders go¬
norrhoea a very severe disease. Experience confirms,
that the sooner proper remedies are applied, and the
sooner the patient is cured, the less he suffers ; and the
more certainly he avoids the disagreeable accidents
which are so otten the consequence of that disease.
From this consideration, it is evidently of importance,
either to prevent the disease entirely, or destroy it in
its beginning. Two means have been proposed to
accomplish these ends; one is, to remove the virus
before it can act on the parts exposed to it ; the other
destroys and alters its nature, and prevents these ef¬
fects from the moment that it gives the first signs of its
action.
Different practitioners have tried and recommended
various prophylactic remedies. Some have applied mer¬
curial ointment upon the surface of the glans and pre¬
puce, immediately after coition, and others different
lotions and injections, as caustic alkali, lime water, al¬
cohol diluted with water : these preparations being in¬
jected seven or eight times a-day, for several days after
the commencement of the discharge.
. By the use of injections the irritation is diminished,
and the progress of inflammation stopped ; and when
the discharge becomes thicker during their use, they
ought to be continued eight or ten days after it has dis¬
appeared ; for if we were to give up too soon the use of Gonor-
these injections, the inflammation and discharge would rheea.
increase. In this case it is necessary to make the injec-
tion stronger, and to use it more frequently. The ad¬
vantages to be derived from this practice do not seem,
however, to be altogether confirmed ; and it is to be
wished that enlightened and prudent practitioners would
make some decisive experiments to determine whether
injections are useful or hurtful in the commencement of
gonorrhoea.
When inflammation has taken place, and when the
discharge and other symptoms of gonorrhoea are com¬
pletely formed, a different mode of treatment ought to
be pursued. Repose, abstinence from all kinds of irri¬
tating food, wine, &c. will contribute much to allay the
irritation.
In order to defend the irritable parts against the acrid
matter, and to moderate the symptoms of inflammation,
authors have recommended the use of mucilaginous,
oily, and sedative applications. That which renders the
urethra in man so violently affected by gonorrhoea, and
so difl’erent from catarrh, is not from the difference of
structure in the organ, which has been supposed to he
more irritable than the mucous membrane of the nose
and other parts of the body. It is the salts of the urine
passing along the urethra, which keeps up the irritation
produced by the virus. It has been proposed, in order
to remedy this source of irritation, to give gum arabic
or the infusion of linseed internally ; but these, when
taken in the necessary quantities, generally injure the
stomach. An infusion of hemp has been found by Swe-
diaur to answer all the purposes, and not to be subject
to the inconveniences of the others. This remedy may
be rendered more agreeable to take, by adding a little
sugar to it; and in some cases a weak decoction of sar¬
saparilla may be advantageously added. All these
drinks should be taken cold, or at least nearly milk-
warm, and in small doses frequently repeated.
The antiphlogistic regimen must also be pursued iu
the treatment of gonorrheea. The patient ought to
avoid all exercise, or high-seasoned food. Lint, wet
with a saturnine solution, should he kept constantly ap¬
plied to the penis ; and the patient should keep his
bowels open with saline purgatives. When the symp¬
toms of inflammation are considerable, and the pulse
hard and frequent, bleeding becomes necessary, either
general or topical: the constant application of fomenta¬
tions and emollient poultices is also useful. Swediaur
has advised, that camphor and the nitrate of potash
should be given internally, and this should be continued
according to its effects. Camphor alone, taken in the
form of emulsion with sugar or fresh egg, is an efficaci¬
ous remedy in allaying the pain and ardorurinee. The
use ol camphor has also been recommended externally,
with a view to allay the cordee.
These remedies ought to be continued as long as the
pain and symptoms ot inflammation in the urethra con¬
tinue. After these are abated, the patient may he allowed
a better diet, in order to px-event the urethra from being
affected with a chronic gonorrhoea or gleet. Injections
made of the extract of opium with acetate of lead, applied
frequently from the commencement of the disease, con¬
tribute much to shorten its duration, and allay the ac¬
companying pain. Sometimes, however, even the most
mild injections do harm, from a particular irritable
G 2 state
52 S U R <
Conor- state of the urethra. Great advantage has also been
rlioea. obtained by some, in very aggravated cases of the dis-
*' v——' ease, by frictions of mercurial ointment on the peri*
naeum, and along the course of the urethra, by opiate
plasters, or by mercurial fumigations applied to the
genital organs, and even by the injection of mercurial
ointment into the urethra.
On the other hand, -when the symptoms of erysipela¬
tous inflammation prevail; when the patient is feeble,
and of an irritable temperament j when he feels better
after dinner ; when the discharge is clear and profuse,
accompanied with sharp pain, often lancinating through¬
out the whole urethra } and if the pulse is feeble and
frequent, it is more adviseabie to give him a less rigid
diet j to allow him the moderate use of wine, and in
some cases to give him opium and bark internally. We
are sometimes surprised at the sudden changes which
these remedies in such cases produce. The use of opium
also contributes much to prevent cordee 5 and in all
cases this ought to be avoided as much as possible, by
fixing the penis downwards, and bv making the patient
lie on his side upon a mattress, which answers better
than lying upon the back, and in a feather bed.
If in consequence of the violence of the inflammation
the discharge stops, and the posterior parts of the urethra
begin to be alfected, we should have recourse to bleed¬
ing and the warm bath, or apply vapours to the part,
by placing the patient upon a vessel containing boiling
water, and this should be repeated three or four times
a-day ; the patient should keep in bed, and an emollient
cataplasm be applied upon the penis. All kinds of in¬
jections in such cases are hurtful. The same treat¬
ment is also applicable when the discharge is stopped
by the use of acrid and astringent injections, or by in¬
jections improperly used, or by the improper use of tur¬
pentine and balsams.
When the prostate glands and the neck of the blad¬
der are affected, and the patient of a plethoric habit, it
becomes necessary tq bleed profusely, either at the arm,
or by applying a number of leeches to the perinaeum.
In all these cases, a sedative cylster repeated every
seven or eight hours, and a general or local w’arm bath
used twice a-day, are the best remedies. Sometimes
a blister applied to the perinteum is also useful.
The swelling of the lymphatic glands of the groin
which sometimes takes place, is purely sympathetic,
and disappears along with the inflammatory symptoms
of the urethra.
In all cases of gonorrhoea the patient should wear a
* Plate suspensory bandage whilst the disease continues *. It
DX1V. Js a]so useful to persons who are obliged to take exercise,
I2‘ to wear a convenient bandage round the penis, which
may be united to the suspensory in such a manner, that
the penis may be enclosed in a kind of case, and thus
defended from external injuries, from cold, and from
friction j this bandage being kept constantly clean, by
often changing the caddis, which is placed in its cavity.
For this purpose, a hole should be left in the hag, co¬
vered by the caddis, which the patient can take away
each time he makes water. Another general precau¬
tion which it is useful to make, is never to keep the
penis bound up high, but to keep it low, in order that
the matter may flow out freely, and may not pass back¬
wards along the urethra.
2 E R Y. Chap. II:
The gonorrhoea of the glans and prepuce is gene- Goncr_
rally easily cured, by injecting frequently warm milk rhoea.
between the glans and prepuce, ami by keeping the 1 r—
penis in an emollient poultice. In those cases where
the prepuce is so swelled that it cannot be pulled
back, we ought to have recourse to sedative injec¬
tions.
It is a useful general rule, which ought to be observed
in all cases of gonorrhoea, to touch the parts affected as
little and as seldom as possible ; and every time they
are touched, to wash the hands immediately afterwards,
and with the greatest care, fearing that, by carrying
them unintentionally upon the eyes, or nose, these or¬
gans might be inoculated with the disease.
Gonorrhoea in women is seldom followed by so vio- In womei
lent symptoms, or by so severe and dangerous conse¬
quences as in men. In some cases the symptoms are
so slight, that they conceive the discharge, particularly
at its commencement, to be nothing but the whites, to
which disease a great many are subject, especially in
the large towns of Europe.
The gonorrhoea in women has been supposed by many
authors to have its seat in the cavities of the urethra.
Th is, however, will not be found the case. The dis¬
ease is seated, either upon the clitoris, or on the ori¬
fice of the urethra j upon the nymphse, or in the ca¬
vity of the vagina 5 or even upon the inferior commis¬
sure.
With regard to treatment, the same indications are Treatniek
to be fulfilled in gonorrhoea in women as in men, with
this difference, that one can see the change of struc¬
ture in these parts, and thus, from the seat of the dis¬
ease, employ proper injections and lotions from the be¬
ginning.
Precautions in using Injections.—The syringe used
in men for this purpose ought to have a short point of
a conical form and of a thickness proportioned, that
not more than its extremity may pass into the orifice of
the urethra*. The body of the syringe should be per- * Plat*
lectly cylindrical, and the piston play very accurate- I>X1V.
ly ; for if the piston does not fit the body of the sy- I2‘
ringe, the injection, instead of passing into the urethra,
regurgitates between the piston and the syringe. From
the unsteadiness of the motion of the piston, the point
of the syringe is also apt to move suddenly on the
urethra, and' injure its thin and delicate membrane.
To psevent any injury of this kind, we have employed
with.great advantage, particularly if the mouth of the
syringe is made of metal, a small strip of caddis wrap¬
ped in a spiral manner round the mouth of the syringe,
so as merely to expose its point. If the disease be
seated near the point of the urethra, the patient should
be attentive to compress with one hand the urethra
above the arch of the pubis, where the scrotum com¬
mences, whilst with the other he holds and guides the
syringe. I he liquid should be thrown in gently, so
as slightly to distend the urethra, and be kept for a
minute or two ; the same operation being repeated two
or three times in succession.
I he liquid employed should always be used warm,
which may easily be done by filling a cup with the ne¬
cessary quantity, and placing the cup in a bason of
boiling water.
It often happens, particularly in young people, that
after
iChap. HI* S U R (
GJfet. after having used injections some time with advan-
i—y—J tage, they become less attentive, and neglect them for
* a day. This omission is always followed with bad
consequences, the discharge returning with double
force j and the patient is obliged to continue the in¬
jections during some weeks more than would have
been necessary, if the use of the remedy had not been
interrupted.
In order, therefore, to prevent the danger of a re¬
lapse, it is always prudent that patients inject three,
four, or even six times a-day, if the circumstances de¬
mand it, and to continue the same two or three times
a-day regularly for at least ten or fifteen days after the
discharge has entirely ceased.
For women the canula ought to be larger and longer.
A canula of ivory, an inch in diameter, and two or
three inches in length, fixed to a bottle of elastic gum,
* Plate is the most convenient form of a syringe *.
DXIV.
Of Gleet.
It very often happens, that even after the specific
inflammation of the urethra is removed, from which go*
norhoea is supposed to originate, a discharge continues.
This discharge is not generally attended with pain, nor
can it be communicated from one person to another.
The matter which escapes is generally of a tenacious
consistence, and of a yellow colour, appearing to be
composed of globules, mixed with a mucous fluid. When
a cure cannot be procured either by the use of injec¬
tions, or by bougies, it has sometimes been proposed to
inject liquids capable of exciting irritation and inflam¬
mation in the affected part of the urethra. It is proba¬
bly on this principle that some gleets have been cured
by violent exercise on horseback, or a long journey.
There have also been cases cured by coition j but this
is not to be recommended, as there always may be a
certain risk of communicating the disease to the wo-
8 men. A blister, applied externally to the part af¬
fected, or to the perinaeum, has also been found useful.
. The cold bath has often been recommended in obsti¬
nate gleets, from which good effects often result j but
there are other cases in which it seems to increase the
discharge.
It is also proper frequently to change the injection ;
for it is observed that an injection less strong some¬
times produces a good effect, after a strong one has
been employed without success, and vice versa. In
many cases it is useful to combine internal medicines
with external means. The chief are mercurial prepa¬
rations, balsamic and resinous substances, and tonics.
- Swediaur has used, with much success, in gleets, pills
made of turpentine and oxide of mercury. Among the
resinous substances which are employed, the most com¬
mon is the balsam of copaiba. The best way of taking
this remedy is to give from thirty to sixty drops in a
small glass of cold water three times a-day, and after¬
wards to take, in a small glass of water, twenty drops of
the elixir of vitriol, which renders the balsam less dis¬
agreeable to the stomach. Haifa dram of turpentine,
of the balsam of Tolu, or of the balsam of Canada, an¬
swer the same end. Swediaur mentions the case of a
. young man, who, having been for a long time distressed
With a very obstinate gleet, swallowed at once between
E R Y. 53
two and three ounces of the balsam of copaiba, and was roiyya.
Sometimes the balsams, combined with tincture of
guaiac, or with kino, produce a desireable effect.
Among the corroborant or tonic remedies, the kiiif>,
which we have already mentioned, is one of the most
useful j the cinchona also in powder or infusion in red
wine, or, which is still better, in lime water 5 tormen*
tilla in powder, or in extract, in the form of pills, join¬
ed, according to circumstances, with preparations of
iron, are useful and efficacious remedies. The tincture
of cantharides, given in a dose from twenty to thirty
drops three times a-day, has often been found very be¬
neficial. It is one, however, which ought to be given
with precaution, as it may do much harm to people of
a delicate and irritable temperament.
There are, however, cases, where all our efforts to
cure a gleet are fruitless ; and we sometimes see, that
nature alone can in time succeed, after we have useless¬
ly tried all the resources of art.
Sometimes there remains a species of cordee or cur¬
vature of the penis after all the other symptoms of go¬
norrhoea have disappeared. Frictions, with mercurial
ointment, with camphorated oil, spirituous lotions, or
electricity applied to the part, are most appropriate re¬
medies in such cases.
In all cases of obstinate gleet, situated far back in
the canal of the urethra, the state of the prostate gland
should be carefully examined j for they often arise from
a disease in that part. When the prostate is found
swelled and hard, Swediaur has seen instances where,
after a mercurial treatment, the repeated application of
cupping-glasses to the perinoeum, and the use of large
doses of the conium maculatum, has succeeded.
The gonorrhoea of the prostate is a morbid discharge
of mucus from that gland, mixed sometimes with the
liquor of the seminal vesicles; and it takes place prin¬
cipally through the day, without any venereal desire.
1 his disease is soon followed by feebleness and general
debility, with emaciation of the whole body, and even
with death ; particularly if the patient has not employ¬
ed proper remedies.
The remedies most efficacious are the cold bath, in¬
jections of metallic salts, fomentations of hemlock, blis-.
ters to the perinteum, and internally tonic medicines,
with a well-regulated diet.
Sect. III. Of Inflammation of the Mucous Membrane
of the Nose.
Inflammation of the mucous membrane of the nose is
generally preceded by dryness in the nostrils, with an
itching feeling, and a weight over the forehead. It
is also accompanied with sneezing and an increased
flow of tears. The secretion of mucus from the nose is
at first diminished, and afterwards becomes very abun¬
dant. At first it is limpid and irritates the sound skin-
of the upper lip, over which it passes, and becomes af¬
terwards opaque, of a yellowish white colour, and a dis¬
agreeable odour. This state is sometimes accompanied'
by fever, and it continues for a longer or shorter period.
Most commonly it ceases at the end of a few days. It
sometimes, however, becomes chronic and indetermined,
in which case it is often intermittent, and re-appears at
rggolan?* -
54 SURGERY. Chap. Ill,
Oiuis. regular periods. Coryza, like all other inflammations
—V""—' of the mucus membranes, terminates by resolution. It
sometimes passes into the state of chronic catarrh, and
it also occasions an ulceration of the mucous membrane
of the nose ; but this is extremely rare.
Coryza is frequently accompanied with inflammation
of the mucous membrane of the eye, it also spreads in
many instances along the eustachian tube, producing
deafness, and it is very apt to extend down the trachea
and affect the lungs.
The nose is sometimes affected with a discharge of
thick viscid mucus, when there is very little apparent
redness or pain. Such instances are often connected
with the formation of polypi: but we have observed se¬
veral cases, where no other symptom than the mucous
discharge appeared, and where the disease had very
much the general character of some discharges from
the urethra.
Treatment.—Coryza is commonly an affection so
slight, and of such short duration, that it is seldom ne¬
cessary to employ any vigorous means to produce an
abatement of its symptoms. Somtimes, however, the
symptoms go to a very high degree, and it is then that
emollient vapours directed into the nasal cavities are
particularly indicated. If much symptomatic fever ac¬
companies the disease, it may be adviseable to draw
some blood from the arm, and in all cases a brisk pur¬
gative will be found to relieve the fulness and uneasi¬
ness in the head. When the inflammation spreads along
the mucous membrane of the trachea, it becomes the
more necessary to use every means to alleviate the in¬
flammatory symptoms, and to prevent the inflammation
affecting the mucous membrane of the bronchi.
Patients labouring under this disease, feel remarkable
relief from living in a warm atmosphere ; and the symp¬
toms of inflammation of the nose and trachea will be
much alleviated by the internal exhibition of opium.
When the inflammation and the discharge are of a
chronic nature, astringent injections, or a dossel of lint
dipt in similar solutions, and kept in the nose during
the night, are in such cases the most useful applications.
They gradually diminish the quantity of the discharge,
and render it more thick and tenacious j and the sense
of smelling, which is commonly destroyed, is restored.
If the discharge be foetid, and occasionally mixed
with blood, in all probability it originates from the
formation of an abscess or ulcer, connected with a ca¬
rious bone.
Sect. IV. Of the Inflammation of the Mucous Mem¬
brane of the Ear (Otitis).
In inflammation of the ear, there is the same charac¬
ters of the disease deduced from analogy of structure,
as in other mucous membranes. The principal causes
of this disease are sudden changes in the atmosphere;
above all, the change from heat to cold, or from dry¬
ness to moisture ; coldness of the nights, north winds,
suppression of any regular discharge, the crisis of acute
diseases, metastasis, the presence of an irritating body
in the ear, or the imprudent application of oily or spiri¬
tuous substances.
The inflammation sometimes takes place in the meatus
mditoiius; and in other cases it is confined to the cavity
3
of the tympanum and eustachian tube. In the first case, otpjg
there is more or less pain, and buzzing in the ears, and
afterwards a discharge of thin reddish yellow matter.
This matter gradually becomes white and opaque, and
increases in consistence till the termination of the dis¬
ease; when it differs in nothing from the wax of the
ear, but in its white colour. This affection generally
lasts twelve or fifteen days. It sometimes spreads to
the external parts of the ear, and often passes into a
chronic state.
When the inflammation is confined to the cavity of
the tympanum, it produces an obscure tingling sensa¬
tion, and a feeling of tension, which the patient supports
without much inconvenience j but most frequently the
inflammation is propagated from the cavity of the tym¬
panum along the eustachian tube. In this case, the
pains become more violent and extend along the con¬
tiguous mucous surfaces j they pass from the interior
of the ear into the throat ; there is great difficulty in
swallowing, and the food, when passing through the
pharynx, gives a sensation as if the skin had been ero¬
ded. The motions of the neck also become uneasy, and
the smallest attempt to cough, to sneeze, or blow the
nose, produces a painful sensation to the ear. The pa¬
tient also complains of a stoppage in the nose, of a fre¬
quent dry cough, and of pain in the head, and more or
less fever in the evening. The ear also feels hard or
distended, and there is generally deafness, particularly
towards the termination of the disease. Soon all these
symptoms diminish except the hardness in the ear, which
augments continually till the fifteenth or twentieth day.
Most commonly after this period, a quantity of foetid
matter is suddenly discharged into the external ear, or
into the throat, and then all the symptoms disappear.
This discharge generally diminishes daily, and in a short
time ceases altogether. At other times, particularly in
young people, it continues, and becomes chronic.
Treatment.—When the inflammation is confined to
the external meatus, the disease is generally so slight
that it may be allowed to run through its common pe¬
riods, and it is merely necessary to keep the patient
warm. When the inflammation is very considerable,
the mildest injections give pain, and in place of mo¬
derating the symptoms, they increase the irritation. _
We ought therefore to do nothing, except, perhaps,
to allow' some warm vapour to pass into the ear, to ap- ,
ply a poultice externally, and to pursue the antiphlo¬
gistic regimen. About the twelfth or fifteenth day, it
may be useful to apply tonic medicines, such as a piece
of cotton dipped in aromatic alcohol. When the inflam¬
mation is in the tympanum, or the eustachian tube, be¬
sides emollients, it will also be necessary to give some
brisk purgative, or to employ local or general blood-let¬
ting. If the membrane of the drum be much distended,
and accompanied with violent pains, it has been propo¬
sed to make an opening through the tympanum*. When * jCcjogrt
the matter has been discharged from the tympanum ei-p/ifc Philo-
dier spontaneously or artificially, little more is required
to be done, unless the disease assumes a chronic foim.^ar piruL
T iiis is most frequent in children. We often see the
purulent discharge continue in them for many months,
and some of the small bones of the ear become ca¬
rious, and are discharged along with the matter. In
such cases small does of calomel, for some time re¬
peated, blisters behind the ear, and injections of lime
water
Chap. III. sun
Angina, 'water combined with muriate of mercury, acetate of
—■v—lead and the like, should be employed.
Sect. V. Of Angina.
The parietes of the mouth, trachea, and larynx,
are often inflamed in catarrhal aflections, and present
symptoms which vary according to the intensity of
the disease, and particular seat of the affected mem¬
brane.
Angina has therefore been distinguished according
to its seat in the tonsils, the trachea, the pharynx, and
larynx.
When the patient has great difficulty in swallowing
bis food, and when the pain stretches in chewing, to
the ear along the eustachian tube, by a sort of crepita¬
tion, and if, on inspection of the throat, the amygdalae
and edge of the palate appear much inflamed, along
with an abundant excretion of mucus, the angina has
its seat principally in the amygdalae.
Angina affects the pharynx when deglutition is diffi¬
cult or impossible, and the food is returned by the nose,
respiration not being at the same time impeded. This
inflammation is also visible by examining the bottom of
the mouth. But if the deglutition is difficult j if no
redness is perceived at the bottom of the throat, and if
the patient has great difficulty in respiring, a sharp
pain in the motions of the larynx, the voice acute but
weak, and the speech short, we may then conclude that
the inflammation has attacked the larynx, or upper part
of the wind-pipe. An affection of this kind, though a
few cases have been known to take place in adults,
generally attacks children under twelve years of age.
It is known by the name of croup.
When the inflammation affects the amygdalae, inhal¬
ing steams of warm water and vinegar will often be
found to give great relief. A poultice, too, applied to
the outside of the throat, assists in lessening the tension
of the inflamed parts. Though in many cases the inflam¬
mation seems to be confined to the mucous covering of
the glands, yet in others it spreads into the glandular
substance, where it generally advances to suppuration.
In such cases, the early discharge of the matter gives
great and immediate relief; and though no matter has
been formed, puncturing the inflamed part with a sharp
instrument often produces an alleviation of all the
symptoms. The instrument delineated in Plate DXIV.
fig. 14. is well calculated for these purposes. By al¬
tering the position of the screw in the handle, the
depth of the cutting part of the instrument may be
regulated. When used, the fore finger of the left
hand is to be introduced down the mouth, and the
perforator concealed in the canola introduced as a di¬
rector. When the extremity of the canula reaches
the inflamed part, then the perforator may be safely
pushed into it, to a depth which had previously been
regulated.
W hen the inflammation affects the pharynx, relief
will also be obtained by inhaling the steam of warm
water, and by employing antiphlogistic remedies. In
croup, calomel has been found to have a specific ef¬
fect ; and it is astonishing the quantity that has been
given to infants for the cure of that disease.- See Me-
OLCIXE..
G E R Y. 55
When the albuminous effusion which takes place of th* Ca¬
in croup, is chiefly confined to the upper part of the tnirh of th«
larynx, and produces symptoms of suffocation, it has Hladder. ^
been proposed to make an artificial opening into the
trachea, below the place where the matter is effused, in
order to save the life of the patient. See Broncho-
TOMY.
Sect. VI. Of the Catarrh of the Bladder.
The ureters, the bladder, and the urethra, are all li¬
able to be affected with catarrhal aflections from gene¬
ral causes, the same as those affections of the mucous
membranes which have been already mentioned ; and
besides, the surfaces of the mucous membranes of these
parts are exposed to the action of particular causes,
namely, the ureters and the bladder to calculi, and the
urethra to the venereal virus.
The catarrh of the bladder is more frequent among
men than among women; and old people are more
subject to it than those at any other period of life.
It is often produced by the internal use of cantharides,
and by acrid diuretics. The sudden exposure to cold,
suppressed perspiration, the disappearance of different
diseases of the skin, of rheumatism, and of gout, are
sometimes followed by this catarrh. Other circum¬
stances may also give rise to catarrh of the blad¬
der. The presence of a calculus or any foreign body,
the continual application of bougies, a swelling of the
prostate gland 5 and above all, strictures of the ure¬
thra.
This disease is marked by pains of the bladder, and
at the point of the urethra, both before, and whilst
making water. The hypogastric region is tense, and
the urine presents a variety of colours j it is sometimes
whitish or reddish, or of a deep yellow colour ; and it is
muddy, exhaling an odour of ammonia, which becomes
more sensible a short time after it has cooled. It also
forms, in most cases, a mucus, which mixes and comes
away with the urine in the form of glairy filaments,
and which is afterwards deposited at the bottom of the
vessel in the form of a tenacious glairy substance, re¬
sembling somewhat the white of an egg.
The chronic inflammation of the mucous membrane
of the bladder, may be accompanied with an ulceration
of the kidneys or bladder j the mucus discharged
then becomes of a greenish yellow colour, sometimes
mixed with streaks of blood. It is deposited slowly, is
mixed easily among the urine, and in water j it has
little viscidity or fcetor, and does not coagulate by ebul¬
lition. The other symptoms which accompany this
excretion, as fever, pain, wasting of the flesh, suffici¬
ently distinguish this double affection of the bladder.
rIhe chronic catarrh is subject to return with great pain
in the region of the pubis and perinaeum, accompanied
with restlessness and anxiety. These intermissions are
irregular, and may remain some weeks.
Treatment.—The matter secreted by the mucous
membrane of the bladder, aud other membranes of the
same class, is sufficient to point out the means to be
employed in its treatment. The warm bath, and muci¬
laginous drinks, are particularly indicated at the begin¬
ning of the acute catarrh j but the tendency which it has
to become chronic, ought to make us cautious in not
prosecuting.
$6 SURGERY. < Chap. III!
Strictures, prosecuting the use of debilitating rentedies too far.
1 v'-——' Opium should be employed with great prudence, not¬
withstanding the intensity of the pain ; and as this is
often the result of distension of the bladder, from the
accumulation of urine, it is sometimes necessary to have
recourse to the introduction of the catheter.
The chronic catarrh of the bladder is generally dif¬
ficult to cure, and the more so, if it occur in old age :
If it arises from stone in the bladder, there is no cure
but the operation of lithotomy ; if it arises from meta¬
stasis, rheumatism, or any other disease, we ought to
employ remedies to the skin and intestinal canal. The
uva ursi has also been found a useful remedy. Exer¬
cise, dwelling in dry and elevated places, the use of
woollen clothes next the skin, contribute often more to
the cure of this disease, than the use of medicines, and
ought always to be combined with them.
The conjunctiva covering the eye-ball, eye-lids, and
lachrymal passages, are also subject to inflammation }
but these will be treated of among the diseases of the
eye and its appendages.
Sect. VII. General Remarks on Strictures.
The term Stricture has been usually applied to a con¬
traction of the urethra ; generally arising from a thick¬
ening of the mucous membrane lining that canal. This
change of structure is not, however, confined to the mu¬
cous membrane which lines the urethra; the same mor¬
bid alteration takes place in the (esophagus and rectum,
in the eustachian tube and meatus externus, in the max¬
illary sinus, in the bladder, in the lachrymal passages,
and in all canals lined by mucous membranes. Stric¬
tures, however, occur much more frequently in the ure¬
thra, and are there more pernicious than in any other
part. They appear also sometimes in the upper part of
the oesophagus. A similar change has been observed
in the internal part of the bladder. Bichat found the
membrane lining the maxillary sinus several lines in
* Jfittiofmethickness, and also the canals of the tympanum much
Generate, thickened *; and reasoning from analogy, and from
t01u' |r‘ what may be observed by an attentive examination of
4 the symptoms in many cases, of what is usually called
fistula lachrymalis, there is little doubt but a contraction
and thickening often take place of the mucous mem¬
brane lining the lachrymal sac and duct.
This change in the structure of mucous membranes
is always the consequence of inflammation ; and when
the membrane is thus altered, the discharge, instead of
being healthy mucus, is generally a puriform fluid, ap¬
parently a mixture of pure mucus with globules of pus.
Sect. VIII. Of Strictures in the Urethra.
The treatment of the diseases of the bladder and ure¬
thra has always been considered a difficult branch of
surgery, as their true nature is often obscure, and as it
is by no means easy to direct the proper means of relief.
Of the grfeat variety of causes which disturb the func¬
tions of these organs, strictures in the urethra are per¬
haps the most frequent, and most serious. They pre¬
vent the free evacuation of the bladder ; greatly disturb,
if not entirely destroy the function of generation ; and
often give origin to constitutional symptoms which some-
2
times increase to an alarming degree, and even prove Strictm-,
fatal. of the L'tj
That the urethra should be subject to many morbid l,lra-
changes, we may infer, not only from our knowledge of y’-'*-
the functions it performs, but also from its delicate and
no less complicated structure.
One part of this structure is intended for the evacua¬
tion of the urinary bladder, the other for the transmission
of the seminal fluid ; and as in the exercise of this last
function, the urethra sympathises, in a greater or less
degree, with the whole system, and also with the mind
itself, it must have a connection with many of the other
organs of the body. Accordingly, we find that patients
who have obstructions in the urinary canal, have at the
same time other complaints, which get well when the
obstruction is removed. And, on the other hand, dis¬
eases of other parts bring on morbid affections of the
urethra, which are cured along with the primary com¬
plaint.
The whole extent of the urinary canal is lined by a
delicate membrane, constantly covered with a viscid
fluid, secreted by numerous glands, whose ducts open
on its internal surface by orifices, which are called la¬
cunae. It is highly vascular, and is endowed with so
much sensibility, that irritating bodies applied to it
often affect, or even derange the whole system. It has
a considerable degree of contractility, is evidently elas¬
tic, and perhaps may possess a muscular power, al¬
though no muscular coat has yet been demonstrated ;
but to whatever cause this contractility be owing, it is
well known that it does not contract upon irritation.
As a proof of this contractile power, a remarkable case *
was mentioned by Mr Cline in his lectures, where a
stone, lying in the membranous part of the urethra one
evening, had been expelled during sleep, and was found
among the bed-clothes the following morning.
The contraction which forms a stricture in the ure¬
thra may take place round the whole circumference of
the canal ; it may arise chiefly at a particular point of
the circumference ; or, it may extend along a consider¬
able extent of surface, thus are produced obstructions
of different forms.
The stricture once begun, continues no longer than
the cause which first produced it continues to operate.
But if the parts are kept long in this state of contrac¬
tion they generally are attended with a degree of inflam¬
mation ; the membrane of the urethra acquires a morbid
degree of thickness ; the surrounding parts are altered
in structure ; and this change of form and appearance
remains after the cause which originally produced them
has ceased to operate.
lhat spasmodic strictures do exist appears from the
impressions made on bougies which have been passed
through them, and from the examination of the parts
after death ; for although complete obstructions to the
bougie were found when alive, yet not the smallest
remains can be observed on dissection. This con¬
traction is peculiarly violent, and from what we have
observed is more frequent, at the fossa navicularis than
at any other part of the canal. A gentleman, after
many attempts to make water during the night, was
not able to pass a drop, and he applied for relief in
the morning. A bougie was introduced, and met
with a complete obstruction at the glans, which
yielded
Chap. HI.
SURGERY.
57
Strictures, yielded in a few seconds after the bougie was in close
\r—contact with it. On being withdrawn the urine flow¬
ed freely, and the complaint has never since return¬
ed.
« See Plate
DXIV. fig.
6. and 7.
Situations
of stricture.
Contraction at this place is sometimes so violent as
for a long time to interrupt the entrance of the bougie;
and in one case, after being introduced, was so strong
as nearly to cut the instrument through. This hap¬
pened repeatedly with the same patient.
When there has been a permanent stricture, the
natural structure of the urethra is changed. There
is commonly a contraction at one particular part of
the canal ; and its appearance has been compared
to what would have been given had a pack-thread
been tied round it. In slight cases it is a mere nar¬
rowing *.
When a ridge is formed projecting into the cavity of
the canal, it is found to be a doubling of the inner mem¬
brane, with the cellular substance lying between the
fold. The internal membrane itself is diseased ; it
assumes a whitish colour ; becomes hard, sometimes as
hard as cartilage ; and in some cases this change is con¬
fined to the doubling of the stricture itself, whilst in
others it extends into the cavernous bodies. These
ridges or folds often form over one another, so that the
intermediate portion of urethra becomes preternaturally
contracted also ; but it never becomes so narrow as at
those parts where the original strictures were formed.
Instead of a distinct curtain or fold,, it happens also in
some cases that the urethra has the appearance of a
cone gradually converging before the stricture, and di¬
verging in the same manner behind it.
The contraction is generally round the whole of the
circumference of the urethra : but sometimes it is only
at one side, and in such cases the urethra does not form
a uniform tube, but becomes serpentine and contorted
in various directions.
When one stricture is formed, the portion of ure¬
thra anterior to it is. liable to sufl’er some changes,
which probably arise from its not meeting with the
ordinary distension, the stream of urine being diminish¬
ed. It is by no means uncommon, therefore, to find in
those cases where the original stricture has been formed
near the bladder, another stricture anterior to it, so
that when an obstruction is found at the glans or four
inches and a half from it, another is generally met with
at seven inches, or at the bulb.
From the peculiarity in the form of the urethra,
some parts are much more subject to strictures than
others. In the adult, and in the relaxed state, the
urinary canal is about nine inches long, and nearly of
the same diameter as a common quill; but its size va¬
ries at three difl’erent points, and at these strictures
most frequently arise. The contractions are at the
glans, the bulb, and the prostate gland (see fig. 5.
Plate DXIV.). The narrowest part is just below the
bulb, and here strictures most frequently occur.
The natural contraction renders it, in almost every
case of stricture, the seat of the disease. This part
ot the canal seems also to possess an uncommon de¬
gree of irritability, as it is here that the contrac¬
tion takes place in cases of strangury. When stric¬
tures continue long, and the violence of the symptoms
increase, diseases arise in other parts. The urethra
Vol. XX. Part I. f
between the stricture and bladder, from the obstruction gtiiclure*.
the urine has to overcome, enlarges, and is sometimes v ■— J
attacked with inflammation.
As the stricture is in most cases attended with a
gleet, the glands situated about the neck of the bladder
become diseased. The bladder becomes extremely
thickened, and its capacity diminished, from the strong
exertions it is necessary to make in order to overcome
the obstruction, and as it cannot contain much urine,
the ureters become dilated.
When the disease advances still farther, so that it is
impossible to evacuate the bladder, from the obstruction
being complete, the urine escapes by some new channel;
for as in such cases the parts between the bladder and
obstruction make less resistance than its coats, both on
account of their natural structure, and as these parts are
generally inflamed or ulcerated, they give way,* and the
urine takes a new course. When this change has once
taken place, so that no urine passes through the meatus
urinarius, the other symptoms will differ according as
the aperture has been formed by ulceration of the inner
membrane of the urethra, or by a sudden rupture. For
when the membranous part of the urethra has been
eroded, a suppurating cavity must have formed in the
contiguous cellular substance, and as the urine cannot
so easily be diffused in the surrounding parts, it makes
its way without difficulty through the integuments.
But when a sudden rupture or ulceration of the inner
membrane of the urethra takes place, as the urine meets
with no obstruction in insinuating itself into the cellular
membrane, it effuses itself in a short time over the peri-
nseum, scrotum, and adjacent parts ; extensive abscesses
are formed where the urine was diffused ; and as these
burst in numerous places, fistulous openings are formed,
which have either a direct or indirect communication
with the bladder, and through which the urine conti¬
nues to pass till the original obstruction is removed.
Symptoms.—Often this complaint does not become of
such importance as to give alarm to the patient till many
months, or even years, after the original cause has been
forgot. At other times, a few months after a gonor¬
rhoea has been cured, the urine, instead of coming away
with the accustomed ease, begins to be passed with
difficulty. The stream, in place of being full and even,
diminishes and becomes unequal; sometimes it comes in
drops after much straining and exertion, has a forked
appearance, cr scatters in different directions. From the
irritable state of the parts, the smallest quantity collect¬
ed in the bladder, brings on a desire to make water, and
a continual uneasiness along the course of the canal,
about the perinteum, anus, and lower part of the abdo¬
men. In most cases there is a discharge of matter from
the urethra. The gleet is always more severe after any
debauch or venereal act. It comes on immediately after
such excess, and gradually diminishes or disappears. It
is also not unfrequent to find stricturesaccompanied with
that profuse discharge of mucus from the bladder called
catarrhus vesicce. The irritation communicated to the
bladder in consequence of the disease of the urethra,
brings on inflammation, which is followed by a profuse
discharge of mucus from the whole of its internal sur¬
face, and this mucus comes away with the urine, and
is deposited, and firmly adheres at the bottom of the
pot in the form of a tough tenacious mass.
Nocturnal
58 S U R G
Strictures. Nocturnal emissions are sometimes the only symp-
* v— toms .which lead us to suspect the existence of stricture •,
for in some cases' the disease is neither attended with
any fixed pain in the urethra, nor is there any dis¬
charge of matter.
Fistulas in the perinteum, and along the course of the
penis, often derive their origin from an obstruction of
the urinary canal.
When, either from irritating injections, bougies, or
any other cause, inflammation comes on, the urethra is
completely shut at the place of the stricture, and the
internal membrane giving way, the urine is effused
in the cellular membrane, which gives rises to ab¬
scesses and fistulous openings, through which the urine
continues to pass, till the stricture is removed. The
inflammation in some cases spreads to the surrounding
parts; the mucous glands inflame, suppurate, and burst;
and hemorrhoidal tumors often form at the extremity of
the rectum.
Besides these, the more usual symptoms of stricture,
there are others which accompany that complaint, and
arise from constitutional causes. The most frequent is
a febrile attack, in the form of a complete paroxysm-;
but it differs from the common intermittent fever, in
its short continuance, its irregularity, and in the vio¬
lence of its termination. It happens most frequently to
those who have been in warm climates y but it is by no
means confined to them alone.
People of weak constitutions have often sickness at
stomach, nausea, and vomiting, and sometimes an un¬
easy state of irritability about the stomach, which gets
better when the stricture is relieved.
Gout, epilepsy, hydrocele, sciatica, erysipelas, have
all been found connected with stricture; but such cases
rarely occur.
There are other diseases of these organs which have
so many symptoms in common with stricture, that it is
necessary to inquire with much attention into the history
and state of all the symptoms, before we can judge of
the true nature of the complaint ; and when there is
any reason to suspect that an obstruction exists, it is
ascertained only by the introduction of a bougie ; but
the mode of doing this will be explained when speaking
of that instrument.
Diagnosis. There are diseases that ought to he mentioned as be¬
ing liable to be mistaken for stricture, and always kept
in view in forming the diagnosis. An irritable s'tate of
the urethra, proceeding from gonorrhoea, is one that is
very frequent. In such a case there is a discharge of
matter and a pain in making water. The urine flows
in a small stream at the commencement, but before it
is all evacuated it is of the natural size. The symp¬
toms come on a few hours after coition, hut abate in a
short time, and whenever the irritating cause is repeat¬
ed, they return.
The bladder also, when irritated, brings on diseases
of the urethra, as these parts sympathize so strongly
with one another; but when the primary affection is in
the bladder, there are always symptoms which aid us
in discovering the true complaint.
Enlargements of the prostate gland are by far the
most apt to mislead our judgment. Scrophulous and
schirrous enlargements of that organ were at one time
supposed to be very frequent causes of retention ; it is
l
E R Y. Chap. HI
now generally believed that they occur seldom, and are SirictureJ
chiefly confined to people advanced in life. '1 ■ y——
It will be afterwards mentioned how swellings of the
valvular process of the prostate are apt to be mistaken
for stricture when a bougie or catheter is introduced.
The obstruction in such a case is- always at a distance,
as the canal has increased in length from the enlarge¬
ment of the parts. If attention be paid to this remark*
and if the gland be at the same time examined from the
rectum* little doubt rvill remain of the nature of the
disease.
It is often difficult to draw off the water when the
prostate gland has become thus diseased : to do this,
much advantage will be found in using a catheter long¬
er than ordinary, as the common curve cannot reach
the extremity of the urethra from the increased length
of that canal. Pouches or irregularities are also apt to
form from the unequal growth of the gland; and as the
ducts of the seminal vesicles and mucous glands become
enlarged, the instrument ought to be of a large diame¬
ter to avoid being entangled by them.
From the idea we have of the manner in which Causes o'
strictures are formed, we infer that many substances stricture j
of an irritating nature, whether applied immediately to
the parts themselves, or to those connected with them,
may, under particular circumstances, produce this dis¬
ease. The stone irritating the bladder, numerous dis¬
eases of that organ and prostate gland, irritations in
consequence of gonorrhoea, long and repeated erections
or other stimulants, and the natural disposition which
the urethra has to contract in some constitutions, are
the common causes of stricture. In whatever man¬
ner irritation is produced, the symptoms and changes
observed in the structure of the urethra, make it
probable that there is always a certain degree of in¬
flammation subsequent to or accompanying it. Ob¬
structions in the urethra were supposed by liaran, and
others about his time, to originate from causes very dif¬
ferent from those now mentioned. They conceived that
the discharge from gonorrhoea proceeded from internal
ulcers, and that the cicatrices and indurations they left
behind were the most common causes of stricture. But
since the nature of the discharge from gonorrhoea is
found very rarely, if ever, to be purulent, and as ulcers
occur seldom, they cannot be considered as a common
cause of the disease.
Caruncles were also supposed to Be frequent causes of
obstruction in the urethra; but these are rarely met with..
One preparation of such a case may be seen in the mu¬
seum of St I homas’s Hospital. Indeed, since the in¬
ternal membrane of the urethra so much resembles that
which lines the cavities of the nose, mouth, and oeso¬
phagus, and as ulcers m these pails are more disposed
to form skin and heal, than to produce fungi, few cases
of obstruction can be ascribed to such tumors.
I he other causes which prevent the free discharge of
urine, are those which are attended with no morbid
change in the' structure of the urethra itself.-
Such are tumors or indurations of the prostate gland,
of the vesiculse seminales, or parts composing the body
of the penis, or of the mucous glands along the course of
the canal. b
By far the most common of these, is an obstruction
into the entrance of the bladder,, from a diseased prostate
■ gland.
Chap. III. S U R ,
Strictures, g^and. This proceeds from a netv form which the canal
o—y,“~j ^ias assumed in consequence of an enlargement of its
parts. Its cavity becomes deeper from the growth of
its sides, and the posterior extremity or valvular pro*
cess forms a projecting tumor into the cavity of the
bladder, which interrupts the passage of the urine, or
the entrance of a catheter. From the frequency of this
appearance in diseased prostate glands, it is probable
that it is the cause of diseases of that organ being often
mistaken and treated as strictures of the urethra, and
has in numerous instances not only prevented the in¬
troduction of a bougie into the bladder, but has been
the cause of the formation of artificial passages through
the substance of the gland.
Treatment of Stricture.—From the erroneous ideas
that the older surgeons formed of the nature of stric¬
tures, it was not to he expected that the means of cure
they employed were either founded on just principles,
* or attended with much success. They made use of
various external and internal remedies ; they prescrib¬
ed long and tedious courses of mercury, and gave
many medicines which were supposed to have peculiar
virtues iu curing diseases of these organs. They some¬
times introduced into the canal mechanical instruments
in order to dilate it; and when that was impracticable,
a new passage was made by force, or the diseased parts
were dissected away, and a new canal formed in the
sound parts.
WiV man’s w iseman, so far hack as the beginning of the last
I practice, century, exploded many of these rude and dangerous
practices, and introduced into use the waned candle or
bougie, by means of which he said he “ crushed the ca-
runculi to pieces.” He met with cases, however, where
this could not be done j that is to say, cases where it
was impracticable to pass small bougies into the blad¬
der ; and this led him to adopt another mode of treat¬
ment. He consumed them by stimulating applications
in the following manner. The wax at one end of the
candle was scraped away, and the wick dipped in
plasters composed of alum, red precipitate, calcined
vitriol, cerugo, and other such substances, and then it
The use of 'V;IS applied to the caruncle. “ But (says he), if after
caustic pro-doing this yog cannot pass the caruncle, you may well
posed by conclude it callous j in which case you may pass a
canula into the urethra to that caruncle, and whilst yon
hold that there steady, you may convey a grain of
caustic into the canula, and press the caustic to it j
and whilst you hold it .there, you will perceive its ope¬
ration by the pressing forward of the caustic. The
caruncle thus consumed, cast in a lenient injection
daily; and if you take notice of his urine, you may see
the separation of the sloughs as rags in it. After
which you may with the common medicated candles
wear away the remainder, and with the injections cica¬
trize it.”
After ’Wiseman, Daran introduced into use a kind of
bougie, the particular composition of which was kept
secret. They were supposed to possess very great me¬
dical virtues; and it was from these qualities that their
superior efficacy was supposedtoproceed. Othersurgeons
soon began to imitate them, and they found that those
they made had the same qualities as those of the original
inventor. This led them soon after to alter their
opinion »f their mode of action ; and instead of suppa-
G E R Y. 59
sing that all the beneficial effects proceeded from the strktures.
medicines in their composition promoting suppuration, l——v
cicatrization, &e. they explained their action on the
principle of a simple wedge.
But however successful their practice might have
been in alleviating, if not in curing strictures, yet many
cases occurred where the obstruction was so complete as
altogether to prevent the bougie being introduced. They
were therefore obliged to continue forcing past the
obstruction, till the mode of treatment described by
Wiseman was renewed, and held out as an original in¬
vention. The practice, indeed, generally followed by
modern surgeons is founded entirely on what Wiseman
has written ; but since these have been better under¬
stood, from the progress of pathological investigation, it
has been considerably mollified and improved. hen
we consider the effects of these modes of practice, and
try to reconcile them with the ideas we have formed
of the causes producing the stricture, it would appear
that those very means employed for their removal be¬
long to the same class of bodies with those originally
producing the complaint.
Though this cannot be denied, yet it will appear nei¬
ther surprising nor improbable, when we reason from
analogy, and observe the effect of similar applications
to other diseased parts, and similar phenomena in other
organs. It may here be observed, that the action of
any part depends not only on the kind of the stimulus
applied, but also on its degree of violence. We know
that a slight pressure on the skin produces uneasiness
or tickling, whilst in a stronger degree it passes un¬
noticed. A certain degree of light produces distinct
vision, but a more intense one destroys it. The up¬
per part of the throat is thrown into violent action by
a slight irritation. Similar phenomena take place in
disease; or slight irritations sometimes occasion violent
morbid action, whilst those that are more powerful
not only produce a lesser degree of disease, but are
even employed to remove such as are brought on from
a slighter cause. We see this opinion strongly con¬
firmed in ulcers, attended with much local or constitu¬
tional irritation. The most emollient applications in
such cases, if they do not increase the sufferings of the
patient, bring no relief; whilst strong stimulating ones,
such as a solution of lunar caustic, or diluted nitrous
acid, seldom fail to diminish the pain and promote the .
cure of the disease*. In toothach, the irritation pro-* gee
duced by the external air on the exposed nervous sur- Home's Obs
face excites much pain and even symptomatic fever; servations
but the application of caustic or acid destroys these071
sensations. The same we will find to take place whenf?/m‘
we consider the nature and the mode of treating stric¬
tures of the urethra; and if we can prove that stric¬
tures have all that variety of character which an ulcer
or many other diseases have, we will be better able to
judge of the comparative merit of the different inodes of
treatment, and in some degree to account for their mode
of action.
Of the Bougie.
When surgeons attributed all the beneficial effects of
bougies to their mechanical qualities, the principal desi¬
deratum .was to have them sufficiently pliable to take the
II 2 curvaturj
6o
S U R
Strictures, curvature of the urethra, firm and elastic to make re-
t'1" ' v~’ sistance, and mild so as to produce no irritation. But
however simple such instruments might he in their
composition, yet it will appear that their effect is not
the same as that which a wedge produces on inanimate
matter. That bougies cannot act by their mechanical
powers in removing spasmodic stricture, appears from
those cases where the mere introduction of the instru¬
ment into the urethra, and its contact with the obstruc¬
tion, removes at once all spasm.
The same thing is observed in those cases of perma¬
nent stricture which are attended with occasional spasm.
In such cases it frequently happens that a bougie finds
a complete obstruction on its first introduction, but after
being allowed to remain for some time in the canal it
passes readily without force. A remarkable case of this
kind happened, where there was not only a stricture in
the urethra, but fistulous openings in the perinaeum and
scrotum, through which most of the urine was dischar¬
ged. After much trouble, a very small-sized elastic ca¬
theter was passed into the bladder, and as it gave no pain
it was allowed constantly to remain. For the first five
days the urine flowed through the instrument, but after¬
wards it began to pass along its sides ; and gradually as
the urethra dilated, larger instruments were introduced
with similar good effect. The silver stiles used by
Mr Ware seem to act, in removing obstructions of the
lachrymal passages, on the same principle as the cathe¬
ter in the above example. The stile when first intro¬
duced, fills up completely the lachrymal duct j but in a
short time the tears begin to flow along the sides, and
pass into the cavity of the nose. In these examples
it is difficult to explain the action of bougies on mere
mechanical principles; it seems mucli more probable
that they produce their good effects, either by a change
of action of the living body, or by some alteration in
the structure of the diseased parts. Says Hunter,
Pressure produces action of the animal pow’ers, either
to adapt the parts to their new position or to recede by
ulceration.”
troifu bi ^ ^7'lcn sPeak'ng of the symptoms of stricture, it was
ilia boiwfe. observed, that in order to determine with certainty their
presence, it was necessary to introduce a bougie. To
do this, either with a view of ascertaining the state of
the urethra, or in order to remove a stricture, a good
deal of caution and nicety is required ; for as the ure¬
thra is generally tender, painful, and easily thrown in¬
to spasmodic action, any awkwardness might entirely
prevent the possibility of ascertaining the nature of
the complaint, or of affording the means of relief.
When, therefore, the operation is to be performed, in
order to discover the kind of obstruction, bougies ought
to be provided of different sizes, of a soft consistence,
*SeePlateand of a cylindrical form*. One of the size of a
common goose quill, or even larger, generally passes
easily, and is less apt to meet with obstructions before
it comes to the stricture, than one of less diameter.
Being of a soft consistence, it readily takes an impres¬
sion of the stricture, and its blunt point prevents its be¬
ing entangled by any accidental irregularity.
DXIV.
%. 2.
G E R Y. Chap. III.
As it ought always to be rubbed over with oil before Strictures,
being used, it generally passes with little more force -v—
than its own weight, till it comes to the contracted
part, where it stops. After changing with much cau¬
tion the direction of the point, by elevating or depress
sing the other extremity of the bougie, and perhaps
bringing it a little backwards and then forwards, so as
to be satisfied of the situation of the stricture, the in¬
strument may be allowed to remain in close contact
with it for a few seconds and receive its impression, so
that when it is withdrawn, a precise knowledge is ob¬
tained of its situation and form.
Some patients are often so irritable, that any foreign
body touching the urethra excites much irritation and
pain. In such cases it is the more necessary not to em¬
ploy the smallest force, and to use an application of
opium, or hyoscyamus, to the perinaeum, to prevent these
inconveniences as far as possible.
When the stricture lies near the extremity of the ure¬
thra next the bladder, the point of the bougie ought al¬
ways to he considerably be’nt previous to its introduc¬
tion, so that it may readily accommodate itself to the
curve of the urethra ; for as a large instrument does
not bend easily, it is apt to press on one of the sides of
the canal, and give rise to the suspicion of a stricture.
It is also of considerable importance that the point
of the instrument be not too conical*. When once * See Plat
w'e are well acquainted wfith the state of the parts, such DXIV.
formed instruments may be used with much ad van-2i
tage, as the small point enters the stricture, and by
pushing the bougie forward it is dilated by the base of
the cone.
It may be also here remarked, that in some instan¬
ces a catheter can be easily introduced when no bougie
can pass ; we ought therefore to make use of that in¬
strument before finally deciding on the nature of the
obstruction (d).
When a stricture is discovered, and when bougies are
to be used with a view of curing it, the first thing we
are to attempt is to pass one through it. As the bougie
we employ is most frequently of a very small size, wre
must attend particularly to the irregularities in the canal
which may entangle the point of a small instrument
and the occasional bendings it may make, while it is
supposed to be passing forwards towards the bladder.
As the mouth of the lacur.se are chiefly situated on the
superior part of the canal, the point of the bougie ought
to glide along its inferior surface to avoid them.
I he bending of the bougie is only to be prevented
by a forbearance in using force, and in directing pro¬
perly the point; but as the common bougies are apt to
do this, it is often extremely useful to have catgut ones for
this purpose j and it is necessary to have them very small.
_ I'1 order to overcome the obstruction when the bou¬
gie reaches it, the situation of the point ought to be
changed by shifting it backwards and forwards, and
from side to side, and even employing a little pressure,
till it passes forwards, provided the surgeon lias a clear
and distinct idea of the direction of the urethra.
As the introduction of the bougie almost always
brings
(D) The silver balls represented in Plate DXIV. fig. 4. have also been found useful in ascertaining the na-
ture of strictures by Mr Charles Bell.
E B Y.
Chap. HI. S U B G
Strictures, brings on spasm to a greater or less degree on the first
u—y——' attempt, it is often necessary to persevere some time be¬
fore it can be made to pass the stricture; and we must
continue in our endeavours a long time before we de¬
clare it impracticable.
Leeches and blisters on the perinaeum or loins, fo¬
mentations of warm water and spirits, turpentine gly-
sters, dipping the feet or glans in cold water, anodyne
applications, and the internal use of camphor, opium,
or tincture of iron, all assist in alleviating the spasmo¬
dic symptoms when they occur, and may be selected
for use according to the judgment of the surgeon.
Attention ought to be paid to the composition of the
bougie j for those made of elastic metal, catgut, or ela¬
stic gum, often give pain, while those made of soft plas¬
ter are mild and harmless.
The time which a bougie ought to remain in the ure¬
thra, must depend greatly on the peculiarities of the
case, for there are no diseases which appear under more
various forms than stricture. In most cases bougies
can be introduced with little pain, and can remain for
some minutes without inconvenience 5 but there are
others where the introduction not only produces gene¬
ral irritation, but the pain is so violent, as hardly to al¬
low them to enter the canal, and sometimes they give
rise to constitutional symptoms. In the first case, from
the little pain the patient suffers, their use has been
abused, and they have been allowed to remain not
only when asleep, but they have been Avorn during the
patient’s daily employments. It is found, however, that
bougies have a more powerful effect when retained for
a short time, and often repeated, than when they are
longer continued, but seldomer used ; so that in no
case, however little pain they may produce, ought they
to be allowed to remain for a long time. Many indeed
think that all their good effects are obtained after they
have remained twenty or fifteen minutes, while others
allow them to remain for one or more hours.
In cases of stricture accompanied with much irrita¬
tion, whatever pain the bougie may bring on, it ought
not to be thrown aside, but introduced repeatedly
whenever there is the least abatement of the symp¬
toms. This practice should be continued for weeks
before we despair of success, as afterwards the pain,
from daily habit, will be diminished, and the patient
will be gradually more and more able to bear it.
Whilst we continue the use of the bougie, it ought
gradually to be increased in size as the stricture gives
way, and be introduced once or perhaps twice a-day
till the obstruction is no longer felt, and till the urine
flows in a full, even, and natural stream.
When this happens we are not to consider the
cure as altogether complete 5 for it is very generally
found, that if the use of the bougie is at this time given
up, the parts soon begin to again contract, having
still a disposition to return to their former situation,
and the disease in a short time is completely renewed.
It will therefore be proper to continue using them at
distant intervals, sometime after the cure appears com¬
plete, and give them up in a very slow and gradual
manner.
It may be here mentioned, that it is not necessary to
retain the point of the bougie in the cavity of the blad¬
der, but merely to allow it to pass the stricture.
Of the Caustic.
In speaking of the use of bougies, we have supposed
it practicable to pass one through the stricture j but
cases often occur, where, from the tortuous form the
canal has assumed, the smallest bougie is prevented
from entering the bladder. In such cases, pressure
was employed on the diseased parts, in order to de¬
stroy the obstruction by producing ulceration 5 but as
this mode was found in many cases to be followed by
violent inflammation, and attended with great pain, it
was not often performed. Laying open the sinuses,
and dissecting out the diseased parts, Avas also a pain¬
ful and no less difficult operation, so that no easy
mode Avas ever adopted till Wiseman employed lunar
caustic.
From the delicate structure of the urinary canal, it
Avas not Avithout much caution, and in very urgent
cases, that this remedy Avas first employed j but since
its action Avas found not to be violent, it has been freely
used by many surgeons, and its application not con¬
fined to the more advanced stages of the complaint.
From the time of Wiseman to that of Mr J. Hun¬
ter, Ave find little worthy of remark in surgical AA'riters
regarding the use of caustic. The latter of these au¬
thors, hoAvever, again introduced it into practice, and
applied it to all those cases Avhere he could either do
no good Avith bougies, or Avhen he could not pass them
through the stricture. In his first trials he met Avith
success ; and as he soon improved the mode of its ap^
plication, he Avas enabled to employ it with consider¬
able advantage.
Mr Hunter’s mode of applying caustic Avas first a-
dopted by Wiseman 5 but as the silver canula which
he employed, not only gave much pain, but could not,
in many instances, be introduced as far doAvn the ure¬
thra as a common bougie 5 and as the caustic could not
be applied directly to the centre of the obstruction, a
new mode AA'as invented. A piece of caustic Avas fixed
in the extremity of a common bougie, and covered with
the plaster except at the extremity, Avhere a part Avas
exposed, but so small as merely to form the apex of
the conical point of the bougie. In this manner it is
found possible to apply it to almost all cases, and, in
dexterous hands, may be used with considerable safety..
Wrhen it is to be applied to a stricture, it is necessary
that some previous knoAvledge of the case should have
been obtained from the introduction of a soft bougie.
This done, the armed bougie must be introduced ra¬
ther quickly, but steadily, till it meets the stricture,
which is knoAvn both from the feel, and from the situ¬
ation previously determined. When brought into con¬
tact with the stricture, it is perhaps better merely to
touch it with the caustic for the two or three first ap¬
plications, and afterAvards it may be retained longer.
When the bougie is to be withdraAvn, it ought to be
done cautiously ; for as it has noAV become soft, and the
caustic not so firmly fixed in it, it might fall out, and
be left in the urethra. Although this mode has advan¬
tages over the silver canula formerly employed, yet
there is a way Avhich we think still preferable, as it
not only requires less dexterity on the part of the sur¬
geon, but is less apt to do mischief.
It
62
SURGERY. Ghap. Ill
Stiicttires. It Is evident, tnat Tvlic-n the armed bougie Is passed
" r V”” to a stricture, it will unavoidably touch several parts of
the side of the canal in Its passage; and as its intro¬
duction often brings on a spasm, which lasts some se¬
conds, or even minutes, a considerable portion of cau¬
stic may be dissolved on the sound membrane.
The frequency ot the application of the caustic must
be determined by the particular circumstances of the
case. It should never be repeated till after the effects
oi the first application have ceased; in general, every
second day will be found enough, but in some instances
it may be applied daily.
Alter the use of the caustic, the patient ought to be
kept quiet; he should not make any exertions to
empty the bladder, nor take any violent exercise. In
general the pain from the caustic lasts but a few mi¬
nutes } and the day following, when the slough sepa¬
rates, a rawness is felt on making water.
Bad effects The application of caustic to the urethra is, however,
of. caustic, often followed by a train of very alarming symptoms ;
instead of a mere burning heat in the parts, the patient
is seir.ed with violent pain, followed bv retention of
urine, swelling of the testicles and perinsenm, hsemor-
rhagy, and sometimes a complete febrile paroxysm.
ITom the sympathy that exists betwixt the urethra and
testicles, it is not unfr^uent that diseases of the former
produce morbid affections of the latter. Stone in the
bladder and the use of common bougies often bring on
swelling on one or both testicles 5 and in one case the
irritation of a bougie brought on an inflammation, which
terminated in a hydrocele of the vaginal coat. This is
a frequent eflect of caustic, but soon disappears when
its use is given up.
Strangury. Strangury has often followed the application of
caustic after any imprudence on the part of the patient;
and it generally happens in those cases where it has been
applied near the bladder. This may happen not only
from the great tendency this part of the canal has to
contract j but it may arise from the bougie passing a
part of the urethra where caustic had been formerly ap»
.plied, and which remained still tender. This retention
of urine in general does not continue long, and in most
cases it is relieved by the introduction of a bougie, or
the application of a blister.
.Hsmor- ^ lien caustic has not only destroyed the stricture,
rhagy. but extended its action to the sound parts, blood is often
poured out into the canal, or is effused into the cellular
texture of the penis. rI he haemorrhage is sometimes very
profuse, and seems to proceed from an erosion of the
spongy bodies ; but as it has, in every case hitherto,.pub¬
lished, ceased of itself, no particular means have been
found necessary to stop it. Keeping the,parts cool, and
giving cold acid drinks, quietness, and caution against
all causes of irritation, should be attended toY The
tumor composed of effused blood generally gives little
inconvenience, and like an ecchimosis on any other
part, it may be removed by the topical application of
stimulants.
Febrile fit. ,By far the most serious and most alarming symptom
which arises from the use of caustic is an ague or febrile
f;t. It begins with a severe cold stage, which continues
;from fifteen minutes to an hour. This is followed bv
another fit, which lasts sometimes several hours, and is
succeeded, by a very profuse perspiration, which is much
Z
greater than what happens in common ague. These Stricture*,
paroxysms do not return at regular periods, and seldom v——v—J
occur more than two or three times. When repeated,
they become more and more severe, and every future
application of the caustic brings on one in six or twelve
minutes. Patients attacked in this manner become ex¬
tremely debilitated ; and three instances have come
under our immediate knowledge where it proved fatal.
When such a symptom occurs, the caustic ought to
be immediately laid aside, emollients applied to the
urethra, and the patient supported by cordials.
The caustic too has been sometimes known to fall out Falling out
of the bougie, and dissolve in the urethra. When this0<We cau-
happens, if it be not immediately removed, it may pro-bUe*
duce a slough of almost the whole extent of the canal,
and bring on very alarming symptoms.
In place, therefore, of fixing a large piece of caustic Mode of
in the bougie, take such a quantity as is intended to be applying _
dissolved on the stricture; reduce it into a fine powder, L‘ie causd5
and stick it on the point of the bougie, by pressing them
on one another. WTen this is done, it may be dipped
in warm wax, and receive a thin covering of it.
A bougie prepared in this manner may be introduced,
down to the stricture without anv risk of injuring the
sound membrane ; for as the thin layer of wax which
covers the caustic, prevents it being immediately dis¬
solved, it is not till it has been kept some time in con¬
tact with the stricture that it begins to act. By follow¬
ing this plan we not only avoid injuring the internal
membrane, but we dissolve no more caustic on the dis¬
eased parts than is wished for, and there is no risk from
a portion of caustic being left behind.
There are, however, cases where a soft bougie cannot
he so easily introduced as a metallic instrument : in
these a silver catheter, or one made of elastic metal,
may be u?ed with much advantage.
Instead of holes being made at the sides of the in¬
strument, it ought to he-perforated at the extremity,
and this hole filled with caustic, and fixed in that situ¬
ation with adhesive plaster. Or,-what answers equally
well, the catheter may be introduced down to the
obstruction, and an. armed bougie, passed through it.
Comparative advantages of-the ■Bougie and Caustic.
Thus far have we mentioned the manner in which the
bougie and caustic are to be employed; we now come
to consider the peculiar merits of those two modes of
^practice, and to point out those, cases where the one is
-to be. employed in .preference to the other.
Notwithstanding the zealous advocates which have
lately introduced caustic.as a general remedy for stric¬
tures, we have no hesitation in declaring it as our opi¬
nion, that the simple bougie-is the instrument to be pre¬
ferred in the generality of .cases of this disease, and that
in all.cases where the cure can he accomplished by its
means, it should be adopted. Caustic, however, is a
remedy by no means less beneficial, though its use ought
to be much more circumscribed; for we certainly believe
that by its proper application many of the worst cases
cf stricture, cases indeed which are quite incurable by
• the bougie, may be benefited by its application.
Tn those cases of spasmodic stricture where the-com-
mon bougie either cannot pass the strictured part,.or
where
Chap. HI.
Strictures, where it has no effect in relieving the symptoms, caus-
tic may be used with advantage.
It may also be employed whenever the stricture is at¬
tended with much pain and irritation or constitutional
symptoms j and in cases where the contraction of the
urethra is such, as entirely to close up the canal, and
the urine comes through fistulous openings in the scro¬
tum and perinseum, the use of caustic is attended with
the best effects. We have met with cases, where, du¬
ring a succession of years, urine has drilled through
fistulous openings in the scrotum, in which six, eight,
or ten applications of the caustic bougie have opened a
free passage into the bladder, and allowed all the fistu¬
las to heal up.
From the rapidity of the cures performed by caustic
in comparison to those by the bougie, the former a few
years ago came into very general use, and wras tried by
different surgeons all over this island in every possible
variety of the disease. In this extensive field of expe¬
riment the merits of caustic have been fairly balanced,
and its exaggerated good effects have fallen into disre¬
pute, whilst the calumnious reports of its fatal and
dreadful consequences in the hands of experienced men,
have been shown to be without foundation. Thus in
the midst of medical rancour and dispute, cautious and
’ intelligent men have become acquainted with the good
qualities of a most active application and an unpre¬
judiced mind has laid before it a vast field of observa¬
tion on a disease which deeply interests a- considerable
number of mankind.
Sect. II. Of Strictures in the Oesophagus.
The mucous membrane lining the oesophagus, like
that of the urethra, is liable to become contracted,
forming a stricture. These contractions may be formed
at any part of the canal •, but it is observed that there
is one spot more liable than any other to become af¬
fected. The part alluded to is immediately behind the
cricoid cartilages of the larynx, where the fauces may
be said to terminate, and the oesophagus to begin. The
disease appears, on dissection, to consist of a transverse
fold of the internal membrane of the oesophagus, filling
Up in different degrees the aperture of the canal.
This part of the oesophagus is also liable to two other
diseases, whose symptoms are nearly alike, and therefore
may be mistaken for stricture. One of these is a thicks
ening of the coats of the oesophagus, which extends tb
the surrounding parts, and in the end most commonly
degenerates into cancer. The other is an ulcer of the
lining of the oesophagus, which is commonly situated a
little below the ordinary place of sti'icturs, and upon
the posterior or vertebral portion of the canal. Both
of these complaints produce a difficulty in deglutition,
and in their early stages are only to be distinguished
from stricture, by an examination with a bougie. Stric¬
ture appears to be a disease more frequent in the early
periods of life ; while the two other diseases are more
commonly met with at an advanced age.
With a view to ascertain the true nature of the dis¬
ease, it is always necessary to introduce a bougie. The
best mode of doing this, is that recommended by Sir
Everard Home. The patient is desired to push the
tongue as far as possible out of the mouth, thus bring-
63
ing the orifice of the stricture as nearly as possible in Strictures,
a line with the middle of the pharynx. The bougie be- v
ing oiled or covered with mucilage, is then to be thrust
down into the oesophagus. Wben the bougie passes
down to the distance of eight inches, measuring from
the cutting edge of the front teeth in the upper jaw,
the surgeon may be satisfied that it has gone beyond the
usual seat of stricture j and if it is brought back with¬
out any resistance, he may conclude that the aperture
of the oesophagus considerably exceeds the size of the
bougie which has been used. But if the bouaie stops
at six inches or even lower, he is to retain it there with
a uniform steady pressure for half a minute, so as to re-'
ceive on its point an impression of the surface to which
it was opposed. If the end of the bougie retains its na¬
tural form, or nearly so, and there is an indentation like
the mark of a cord on its side, whether all round or on¬
ly'partially, lie may decide that the disease is a stric¬
ture. But if, on the other hand, the bougie passes
without any difficulty to the distance of seven inches and
a half, and when brought back the point has an irregu¬
lar jagged surface, it is equally clear that the disease
is an ulcer on the posterior surface of the oesophagus. ■
When strictures of the oesophagus have been of long
continuance, ulceration takes place on the side of the
stricture next the stomach. When such ulceration
takes place, the character of the original disease is’
lost; and when the ulceration extends upwards, the
stricture itself is destroyed. A bougie passed under
such circumstances, will, in general, have its point en¬
tangled in the ulcer 5 and when so skilfully directed as
to go down into the oesophagus, it will meet with a dif¬
ficulty while it is passing from the sound oesophagus to
the ulcer, and again when it leaves the ulcer and’reen¬
ters the sound canal below. In its return there will al¬
so he two parts at which a resistance is felt. This may
mislead the most accurate observer, and create a belief
that there are two strictures, wliere'as in fact there is
an ulcer of some extent, and a power of contraction in
the upper and lower extremities of the oesophagus where
they terminate in the ulcer.
Treatment.—The treatment of stricture in the oeso¬
phagus is to be conducted on the same general principles
as stricture in the urethra.
Bougies which are made much longer and of larger
dimensions than those for the urethra, may be used
with the greatest safety. At first, indeed, they some¬
times create a good' deal of irritation and a febrile at¬
tack 5 and in such cases they must be employed with
the greatest caution. Once in twenty-four or forty-eight
hours, according to the nature of the case, will he suffi¬
ciently often to introduce them ; and they may be dis¬
continued in proportion to the alleviation of the symp¬
toms. The use of caustic in this species of stricture
has also been not only proposed, but adopted ; a prac¬
tice which is rather a proof of the boldness of its inven¬
tor than of his prudence *. It is not to be denied, that * Wpme on
some desperate cases of the disease may occur, where Stnctui-et,
every other remedy proving useless, the caustic bougie,
introduced and applied to the stricture Avith much dex¬
terity, may be beneficial. But these cases are so rarer
and there are so few able to use this active remedy pro¬
perly, that we cannot help thinking it can never be very
generally introduced into practice,.
SURGERY.
Sect.III.
64
Strictures.
S U R G
Sect. III. Stricture of the Rectum.
As far as vve know, there is no author who has given
any accurate account of the various morbid affections
of the extremity of the rectum. Under the general name
of haemorrhoids, a variety of tumors, very different from
one another have been classed 5 whilst under the name of
schirrus, have been considered all cases where the dia¬
meter of the lower part of the intestinal canal has been
diminished. In a practical point of view, these obser¬
vations are of the greatest importance, as they lead the
surgeon to discriminate between those cases which are
likely to be aided by the. use of medicines, and those
which are beyond the reach of art, or which the same
mode of treatment might tend moi'e to aggravate than
to alleviate.
In many cases of true schirrus, or cancerous af¬
fection of the intestine, the disease first appears by
the formation of one or more gristly tumors on the
internal surface of the canal; and these by increasing
in number and in size, and by involving the adjacent
parts, contract the canal, and at last ulcerate, form¬
ing true cancerous sores. But there is another class
of cases, in which the diameter of the intestines be¬
comes narrowed by a thickening of its coats, and which,
were we to reason from analogy, might be compared to
that thickening which forms stricture in the other mu¬
cous canals, as the oesophagus and urethra. It is cases
of this description that we suspect Dessault treated
* Oeuvres 80 much success by the use of bougies* ; and from
Chirm-. the good effects of this mode of treatment in cases of
gicales. stricture in other parts, it is reasonable to expect benefit
from their use in strictures of the rectum. Dessault,
However, wishes it to be understood that the practice is
to be employed in the true schirrus *, but the two cases
which are given in detail by Bichat in his edition of
Dessault’s works, in illustration of this practice in
schirrus, are by no means conclusive. The first is a
case of tumors of the internal membrane, which were
much alleviated by the compression of a bougie $ whilst
the second was a case which shows the relief to be ob¬
tained by the use of bougies in cases of schirrous con¬
traction in the discharge of the faeces, but by no means
in the cure of the disease.
In cases, therefore, of contraction of the rectum
which are not of a schirrous nature, besides the strict
attention to keep the bowels regular, and render the
faeces as soft as possible by the use of laxatives and
emollient injections, bougies made of a proper size may
be used with relief j and, as we have mentioned in an¬
other place, the practice is also highly serviceable in
some cases of tumors which grow from this part of the
intestine.
Sect. IV. Of Polypi.
When any part of a mucous membrane becomes
elevated above its natural level, so as to form a
circumscribed swelling, the disease is called a polypus.
That polypi are principally composed of a congeries of
arteries and veins ramified through a gelatinous sub¬
stance, seems probable from their disposition to bleed
when injured, and their small size when removed from
the living body.
E R Y. Chap. Ill
Polypi have been found on all the different mucous Of Polypi
surfaces j in the nose, frontal and maxillary sinuses, tr**»
pharynx, gullet, mouth and gums, meatus externus, con¬
junctiva, stomach, intestines, rectum, uterus, vagina,
bladder, and urethra.
There are four different kinds of polypi, varying from
each other in their structure. 1st, The mucous; 2d,
the.// eshy; 3d, the carcinomatous; and, 4th, the en¬
cysted polypi.
The mucous polypi have a .slippery surface, and are
constantly covered with a quantity of mucus. They
are of a grayish or dull white colour, and have a demi-
transparent appearance, resembling, particularly at their
extremities, a piece of softened glue. They are easily
torn and bleed freely 5 they are neither painful nor sen¬
sible to the touch j they suffer remarkable alterations
from changes in the state of the atmosphere, extending
prodigiously in cold and moist, and contracting in a dry
and warm air. They are of an irregular and angular
shape, and often seem to take the particular form of
the cavity in which they grow. They are commonly
attached by a narrow neck, and are quite moveable.
The fleshy or carcinomatous polypi are of a bright
red colour, their surface is smooth and regular. They
are of a rounded form, and are attached by a nar¬
row neck. They are firmer and are not so easily torn,
nor do they bleed so readily as those of the mucous
kind.
The carcinomatous polypi are of a darker red or more
purple colour than those of the fleshy kind, and some¬
times they are of a livid hue. They are supplied by a
great number of blood-vessels, which makes them bleed
profusely even when slightly injured, or gives them a
disposition to bleed of themselves. They are of a very
firm structure j some of them being as hard as car¬
tilage. They are more or less painful, and are very
sensible to the touch. Sometimes the pain is of that
stinging lancinating kind which carcinomatous tumors
have in other parts of the body. Their surface some¬
times ulcerates, and the ulcer assumes all the characters
of a cancerous sore. They are commonly attached by
a firm broad basis.
The encysted polypi occur least frequently. Rich¬
ter says that they resemble a reticular sac, which con¬
tains fluid sometimes resembling mucus j at other times
it is of a thick consistence. In one case we found the
mucous membrane covering the superior spongy bones
extended, but not much thickened \ and between its
folds there were several round semitransparent vesicles,
containing a thick glairy fluid.
Sect. V. Of Polypi of the Nose.
All the four different kinds of polypi have been
found growing from the mucous membrane lining the
cavity of the nose ; we have also seen the superior
spongy bone so increased in bulk, as to form a tumor
resembling the fleshy polypus.
The first symptom of a polypus in the nose is a pre¬
ternatural degree of redness of its mucous surface. It
becomes.spongy and callous, and there is an increased
secretion of mucus. The patient has some interruption
in breathing, and the voice is rendered more or less in¬
distinct j he feels as if stifled, and he tries to get quit
3
Dhap-III. _ SUE
Of Polypi °f something which incommodes him by blowing his
.—' nose j for the same reason as a person does who labours
under a common catarrh. The sense of smell becomes
impaired, and all these symptoms are more troublesome
in wet than in dry weather.
The symptoms increase till the extension of the mu¬
cous membrane increases to such a degree, as to form a
distinct circumscribed tumor j and the progress of the
complaint is generally so slow, that its nature is fre¬
quently not suspected till it gets this length.
By degrees the breathing through the nose and the
sense of smell are entirely destroyed from the mechani¬
cal obstruction of the tumor j and the patient himself
finds, that by a violent expiration or inspiration, the tu¬
mor can be pushed forward or backward in the nose.
The pressure which a polypus sometimes makes on
the nasal duct prevents the tears from flowing freely in¬
to the nose, and is the cause of a watery eye.
When the tumor is large, the septum of the nose is
frequently pressed, and pushed to the opposite side,
and then the respiration is oppressed in both nostrils.
Sometimes the tumor descends, and part of it projects
through the nostril j when this takes place, the surface
of the part exposed to the air becomes like common
skin. This indeed happens when any mucous sur¬
face is exposed. We have observed it in the vagina
when inverted, and in the eyelid when the palpebral
membrane was turned outwards, from a tumor, or any
other cause.
Morgagni takes particular notice that the natural
position of the septum is apt to be mistaken for disease,
as it frequently divides the nasal cavity into two un¬
equal portions.
More frequently polypi extend backward into the
pharynx, and can be felt by introducing the finger be¬
hind the velum pendulum palati. In one rare instance,
we have known a polypus so large, as to descend along
the oesophagus into the stomach, andjn another to fill
up the whole cavity of the mouth and produce suffocation.
It happens also that polypi growing from an exten¬
sive base, separate, displace, and produce an absorption
of the bones which surround them. The bones of the
nose are pushed upwartl j the maxillary bones and the
palate bones are disjoined, and carried outward $ the
arch of the palate depressed ; the inferior margins of
the orbits are pressed upward, and push the eyes out of
their orbits.
Polypi arise from everv part of the nasal cavity;
but most frequently from the spongy bones. Many
* surgeons have conceived that polypi arose from gene¬
ral diseases of the constitution, as scrofula, syphilis,
&c.; but it will in general be found to be a mere lo¬
cal disease, and probably arising from whatever tends
to produce a continued or repeated attack of inflamma¬
tion in the part.
Treatment.—If polypi are attached to the upper
spongy bones, their removal will be more dangerous, as
the inflammation excited by an operation will be rea-
pily conveyed to the brain. When they are attached to
the inferior spongy bones, they can be removed with
perfect safety.
. The most celebrated surgeons have never advised any
operation when the tumor is small and gives no distress ;
but whenever it becomes of such a size as to fill up the
Vol. XX. Part I. ' f
G E R Y. 65
cavity of the nostril, disturb respiration, and assume a Of Polypi.
malign aspect, it ought to be removed. '— '
As long as polypi continue small, or when the mu¬
cous membrane acquires that appearance which indi¬
cates the commencement of the disease, tonic and as¬
tringent remedies are generally recommended ; as a
decoction of oak bark with alum ; strong solutions of
white vitriol, saccharum saturni, or muriate of mer¬
cury, ardent spirits, and vinegar. Either of these
solutions, which may be selected, ought to be thrown
up n, little warm into the nasal cavity with a syringe,
retained there half a minute or more, and repeated
four or five times daily; or a piece of charpee wet
with them may be put into the nose with a probe, and
applied to the deceased surface. Kino, galls, white vi¬
triol, &c. sabine in the form of powder, snuffed up in¬
to the nose, as strong as the patient can suffer it, are
also useful in stopping the progress of the disease. Mer¬
cury has been found rather to make them worse *, caustic
and other corroding applications have been of use in the
softer kind, though they have never produced a cure.
Bougies have been recommended by Mr B. Bell, and
are said to have been useful ; and when the polypus is
small, they may act on the same principle as bougies do
on tumors of the rectum, a practice so successful in the
hands of Dessault.
Polypi may be removed either by tying a ligature
round their neck, by tearing or twisting them, or bv
cutting them out with a knife or scissars.
Operation.—Professor Richter of Gottingen, and se¬
veral eminent practitioners of this country, use, in ge¬
neral, the forceps; and in those cases where the poly¬
pus is attached to the inferior spongy bones, or to anv
of the inferior parts of the nasal cavity, this mode of
operation is much more easily performed, and has the
best chance of success. From the soft texture of the
superior spongy and ethmoid bones, with which they are
connected, there is a considerable risk of tearing and
injuring more parts than is necessary for the removal
of the polypus; and, as any inflammation excited on
these may spread to the membranes of the brain, it is
more adviseable to remove polypi attached to these
parts by the ligature.
When polypi are completely within the reach of the
knife, adhering towards the external opening of the no¬
strils, they may be easily cut away.
In performing any operation, or even making an ex¬
amination of the state of the nosq, it is of considerable
importance to attend to the position of the forehead, and
to employ a proper light.
The head should be bent backwards ; and in order
to enlarge the external nostril, an assistant, on whose,
breast the head of the patient rests, ought, with the
fore-finger of his right hand, to press upward the point
of the nose : whilst, with a probe in his left, he spreads
out the alse.
Of removing Polypi with the Forceps.—Forceps for
this purpose ought to be six inches or six inches and a
half long, and the axis at two-thirds of their length
distant from the extremity of the handle ; so that the
operator may have the advantage of a long lever. Hee
Fig. I. Plate DXV.
The points of them ought to be blunt, rounded on Plate
the outside, perforated, and a concavity, made rough,
I extending &g‘ r*
66
S U B G E R Y.
Chap. ]n„
Of po!)|)i. extending to near the axis. The two blades ought to
*——y-—1 be separated at their union, when closed, and not to
become parallel till they are opened to a considerable
distance, in order that the polypus may be held very
firmly. The blades should be strong, and pretty-
broad.
Even this form of forceps is not always sufficient j
and it is useful to have a pair of such as has been recom-
* See Plate mended by Richter *. They are intended to be em-
DXV.%,»,p]0yeti Jn those cases, where the polypus is so large
as completely to fill the nostril, and so hax-d, that the
upper part of the blades of the common forceps cannot
sufficiently dilate to allow their extremity to pass down
the nostril, and reach the bottom or neck of the
tumour.
It is of great importance to fix the forceps as near the
root of the polypus as possible j for, when that is ac¬
complished, the whole mass may be at once removed :
and the hsemorrhagy is never so great as if the polypus
was torn through the middle.
Often, however, it happens, that the polypus is so
large as to distend the nostrils in such a manner, that it
is impossible to discover the root till the extremity is
removed. We must, in such a case, remove as much
as we are able, and even although the bleeding is pro¬
fuse, persevere in the operation as long as we can pull
any away with safety.
When the operation is to be performed, the patient
ought, by his own efforts, to push the body as far for¬
wards as possible j then the surgeon, with a pair of
small forceps in his left hand, seizes the point of the
polypus, and having kept fast hold of it, he cautiously
introduces the polypus forceps on the outside of the
others. The more time that is bestowed on this step of
the operation, the more the polypus becomes elongated
and thinner, the more room is given for the forceps,
and therefore the higher up can the polypus be grasped.
After it is completely secured between the blades of the
forceps, it is to be twisted slowly round, and at the
same time pulled outwards. If only a portion of the
polypus is removed, what remains is to be extracted in
the same manner. The htemorrhagy is generally pro¬
fuse, but seldom requires the assistance of art to stop
it.
Of Removing Roly pi by the Ligature.—The liga¬
tures consist of wire, catgut, silk or cord $ and dif¬
ferent methods have been employed for passing them
round the root of the polypus. In order to remove
a polypus, the anterior part of which is situated in
•t Plate. one of the nostrils, a ligature (a) f is to be introduced
DXV.fig.3. through a double canula (6), and one end fixed round
the ring (c) ; whilst the other end (J) being loose, al¬
lows the noose at a, to be increased or diminished, ac¬
cording to the size of the polypus. The polypus is to
be grasped by a pair of forceps put through the noose,
and drawn forwards. The ligature is then to be carried
to the root of the polypus, either by means of the forked
probe (fig. 4.), or by one of the porte-noeuds (fig. 5.),
taking care to tighten the wire gradually, the further
the instrument is introduced. When the noose reaches
the root of the polypus, the ligature is to be firmly
drawn, and secured by being twisted round the ring of
the canula. If the polypus hang down behind the ve¬
lum pendulum palati, the doubled wire is to be slowly
insinuated through the nostril into the throat. The
finger of the surgeon is to be introduced into the month, yf
and by opening its doubling the noose passed over the 1
extremity of the polypus, and conducted to its root, by
gradually tightening the ligature, and then it is to be
firmly fixed. The ligature should be tightened once or
twice a-day, until the tumor entirely separates. As
there is generally a considerable degree of swelling and
inflammation of the tumor before this takes place, if it
be so situated as to disturb respiration, it may even be
necessary to perform bronehotomy as a preliminary step.
Should any part of the polypus remain, it may be de¬
stroyed by caustic, or the actual cautery, if practicable.
Besides this, which is the common and most simple
mode of applying the ligatures, there are others which
are well adapted for particular cases. The apparatus
employed by Dessault is extremely ingenious and well-
suited for its purpose, but is more particularly useful in
polypi of the vagina and uterus.
When this apparatus is to be used, two porte-noeuds Dessa^t>,
(a a) ought to be procured, and having pushed theappamui.
cylinder over the branches of the stalk, so as to shut the
rings (rf) completely, a ligature of waxed thread, cat¬
gut, or silver wire, is to be passed through them (£),
and the extremities may be either held along with the
canula or secured at e*.
The two canulas, thus armed, are introduced pa-« See
rallel to one another between the tumor and parietes ofPlateDX1
the cavity in which it lies; and when they reach itsfiS* S-
base, one is held firm, and the other carried found the
base, crossed over the other, forming a noose round
it. .
The ligature being pulled tight by an assistant, the
two ends are to be put through the hole (g) of the
other canula, and fixed to the axis at h.
The extremity (g) is then to be slipt along the liga¬
ture close to the polypus ; and the ligature being firmly
fixed to the other extremity, the two porte-nceuds may
be at once removed, by allowing the ring to divide and
the ligature to escape.
This being done, nothing remains to complete the
operation. The ligature is kept round the polypus till
it drops off, and as the parts begin to give way, it ought
to be retained always perfectly tight; and this may be
easily accomplished by turning the screw at k.
The apparatus, too, (fig. 6. Plate DXV.) may also
be sometimes useful, from the flexibility of the canula,
which conveys and directs the ligature.
2. Of the Polypus of the Rectum.
Polypi of the rectum differ considerably from the
common hcemorrhoidal tumor, in their symptoms and ap¬
pearances. They resemble the fleshy polypi in other
parts ot the body, in their colour and external form,
and they are also sometimes ulcerated on the surface..
On cutting through a large tumor of this kind, we
lound it composed of a vast number of cells, some of
them very large, and all of them filled with blood.
I heir progress is slow, and we have seen them grow as
kfS. as.a large walnut. They do not alter their size at
different times, as is observed of the hsemorrhoidal tu-'
mor, except, that they are apt to swell, when allowed
to remain long external to the anus. They are most
commonly situated in the rectum, close to the anus; so
that when the patient goes to stool they are pushed
downwards^
III. S U R G
downwards, and appear externally. When very large,
they are also apt to come through the anus by the least
exertion in walking. They are generally attended with
more or less pain or uneasiness on going to stool 5 and
when they become so large as to come through the anus
in walking, the disease becomes very distressing. They
are often accompanied with a discharge of mucus.
Sometimes, too, haemorrhoidal tumors are formed con¬
tiguous to the polypus ; but the latter is generally point¬
ed out by the patient as the original swelling, and that
which gives most pain. These tumors may also be rea¬
dily distinguished from one another by their dilference
in colour and form.
Treatment—Astringents, with opium, and bougies,
may alleviate the symptoms j but as they seldom give
permanent relief, the most complete and safest mode of
cure is removing them with the knife, if they can be
readily reached $ if not, the ligature is preferable, al¬
though it gives much more pain ; for it sometimes hap¬
pens, that a very profuse bleeding follows after they
have been cut away. The haemorrhoidal tumors which
accompany the polypus disappear after its removal.
When they are tied with a ligature, this can be done
In most cases by simply tying a strong silk thread firmly
round the base of the tumor. Often the base is larger
than the apex, and then it is necessary to pass through
the middle of the tumor a curved needle with two liga¬
tures, one to tie each half of it. To prevent any mis¬
take, and accelerate the operation, surgeons make one
of the ligatures of black, and the other of white thread.
Whilst the mortified part is separating, great attention
is necessary to keep the surrounding parts from excoria¬
ting ; and this is to be done by frequently washing with
warm water, or a saturnine solution, and anointing them
with saturnine ointments, or the unguentum resinosum.
Fig. 7. Plate DXV. gives an outline of tumors of this
kind.
3. Polypi of the Gums
Most frequently are connected with caries of a tooth,
or of the alveolar processes of the jaw bone ; sometimes,
however, not. They are generally of a firm fleshy tex¬
ture, rounded form, polished surface, and are very apt
to bleed ; and they sometimes grow to a very large size,
and become malignant. They are best removed by the
knife j and, as they bleed profusely, it is often neces¬
sary to use the actual cautery to restrain it. If the bone
he found carious, the diseased part should, if possible,
be removed, or means used to assist and promote its ex¬
foliation j and when this has taken place the polypus
often disappears without any operation.
4. Polypus of the Frontal Sinus.
This is a very rare disease, and it produces the same
dreadful consequences as that of the antrum. Art can
perhaps venture to do little, as the close connection to
the brain would render any attempt to remove it dan¬
gerous.
5. Polypus of the Antrum Maxillare.
The surgeon is seldom aware of the presence of this
disease until it is far advanced, and has begun to distend
the bony cavity in which it is formed. It sometimes
acquires a prodigious bulk, separating and rendering ca¬
rious the bones of the face, pushing the eyeball out of
e r y.
the orbit, and filling up the cavity of the mouth. If Of Pf»!
the nature of the complaint is early suspected, by re- ' v~
moving a portion of the external parietes of the antrum
with a trephine, the polypus may perhaps be removed
from its attachments ; but if that is impracticable, strong
astringent applications, caustic or the actual cautery, or
removing portions by the knife, may arrest the progress
of the disease.
6. Polypi of the Urethra.
These are what have been called caruncles, and were
supposed to be the most common cause of stricture. It
is now, however, well known that they occur seldom.
If their growth is not checked by the use of a bougie,
and if they are not near the meatus urinarius, it may be
necessary in some cases to cut in upon the urethra, in
order to get them extirpated 5 but that must happen
rarely.
7. Polypi of the Bladder
Are beyond the reach of the surgeon, but they occur
very rarely j and the distressing symptoms which attend
this disease, can only be alleviated by those internal me¬
dicines which dilute the urine and allay the irritability
of the bladder.
8. Polypi of the Bar.
They sometimes grow from the membrana tym-
pani, but they generally arise from the cavity of the
tympanum, after the membrana tympani has been de¬
stroyed by ulceration. They resemble the common
mucous polypi in structure j and they are most frequent¬
ly accompanied by a discharge of puriform matter and
a total loss of hearing. They may be removed with a
ligature in most cases very easily; or they may be torn
out with forceps ; and it is always necessary to touch the
part to which they adhered repeatedly with caustic, and
to use strong astringent washes, in order to prevent their
future growth.
9. Polypus of the Conjunctiva.
We have never observed them on the sclerotic con¬
junctiva } but they are formed on the inner membrane
of the eyelids, and most frequently on the upper one.
They are soft pendulous masses, which, being loose,
float between the eyelids and ball, and sometimes even
pass beyond the edge of the lids. They are of the red
colour of the inflamed mucous membrane; but those
portions which are exposed to the external atmosphere
become dry, and often drop off. They are often formed
in consequence of the membrane being inflamed by an
abscess bursting internally. They are easily removed by
the knife j and they are prevented from being regene¬
rated, by slight scarifications or the application of lunar
caustic to the base.
10. Of the Polypus of the Uterus.
These polypi are found to grow either from the fun¬
dus, the lower edge of the os uteri, or from the inside
of the cervix. The first is the most, and the second
the least frequent. The shape of the uterine polypi is
generally pyriform, having a very narrow neck. They
are commonly of the sarcomatous kind $ though it often
happens that polypi are formed in uteri affected with
I 2 cancer.
63
S U R G
cancer. Polypi protruding into the vagina are apt to
be mistaken for prolapsed uteri •, and this mistake is
more likely to take place in some cases where the po¬
lypus acquires a large bulk in the uterus, and is sud¬
denly protruded into the vagina, and strangulated by
the os tincse. Cases, too, of prolapsed uteri have been
mistaken for, and treated as polypi.
The safest mode of removing uterine polypi is with
the ligature. When it is situated in the uterus, this
operation is impracticable ; but when it descends into
the vagina, it may be very readily done bv the appara¬
tus of Dessault (Plate DXV. fig. 5.).
Sect. VI. Of Aphthce.
The formation of aphthae, when they are examined
with care in their different degrees, may probably ex¬
tend our views of the intimate structure of the mucous
membranes. Boerhaave considered them as small su¬
perficial ulcerations, and Stahl regarded them as tuber¬
cles or pustules. From the present state of our know¬
ledge it is difficult to determine whether aphthae origi¬
nate in the chorion of the mucous membrane, in its pa¬
pillae, or in its mucous follicles.
Aphthae are formed on the lips, the gums, the inte¬
rior of the mouth, the tongue, the palate, the amygdalae,
the oesophagus, and also in the stomach and intestines.
They are most frequent in children and old people, and
they have been observed in people who inhabit places
where the air is tainted, and who live on unwholesome
food.
The aphthae of the adult may be considered as a col¬
lection, more or less agglomerated or insulated, of white
superficial rounded tubercles, each about the size of a
millet seed. These tubercles discharge a serous humour-,
the pellicle which covers the mucous membrane is de¬
tached, and is progressively formed in the different parts
of the mouth, and even in the rest of the alimentary
canal. They are sometimes disseminated in solitary
pustules over the tongue, the angles of the lips, or the
back part of the mouth, with a benign character. At
other times they are formed and seemingly propagated
from the interior of the oesophagus j pass the back part
of the mouth, forming a white, thick, and strongly ad¬
hering crust and these are often dangerous from a com¬
plication of typhus fever.
Aphthous tubercles vary in colour. Sometimes they
are transparent; at other times they are white, with a
certain degree of thickness 5 they are also sometimes
of a deep yellow colour, and sometimes they are livid
or blackish, a symptom which always indicates a great¬
er degree of danger.
Aphthae may also be frequently observed in people
who have taken many courses of mercury. In these
cases, the repeated action of the mercury on the mouth
appears to leave on that organ a degree of sensibility or
weakness which disposes it to the disease. It happens
not unfrequently that aphthae are considered as vene¬
real sores, in consequence of the venereal disease not
having been properly cured \ on this supposition a new
mercurial course is employed, which only augments the
disposition to aphthae, and makes the sores spread more
rapidly.
The aphthae of children are preceded by a profound
sleep, by agitation of the muscles of the face and lips, dif-
E R Y. Chap. Ill
ficulty of respiration, prostration of strength, feebleness Of Ha;-
of the pulse, and vomiting. In the mild form of the monhagy
disease, white superficial spots appear in different parts (lom Mu.
of the mouth, which are separated from one another, brang”
and the interstices are neither red nor inflamed. The u—
bottom of the mouth has often been discoloured, and
the heat immoderate j there is no difficulty in swallow¬
ing, and the child can readily suckle j the sleep is na¬
tural, and there is a slight diarrhoea. The spots during
the first days preserve their whiteness and transparen¬
cy 5 they afterwards become a little yellow, exfoliate in
flakes, and go away entirely about the ninth or tenth
day, particularly when the child has a nurse.
The confluent or gangrenous aphthse have other cha¬
racters. The small pustules are contiguous to one an¬
other, and spread not only over the lips, the gums, the
tongue, and the anterior of the cheek but we also see
them at the bottom of the throat. The mouth of the
child is burning ; the lips are with difficulty applied to
the nipple, and sometimes it is excoriated by their con¬
tact. Deglutition is very difficult, and the most simple
drinks given in small quantities, and with precaution,
do not enter into the stomach but with pain. There is
a constant purging of greenish matter, which inflames
and excoriates the skin round the anus j the child is
very feeble and heavy, the eyes are sunk and shut, and
the child screams. The whole interior of the mouth
from the lips to the throat becomes at last lined with a
white thick crust, resembling coagulated milk. This
crust becomes yellow, and forms a slough, which, after
it falls off, exposes gangrenous ulcers of a dark brown¬
ish yellow colour.
Treatment.—In the benign form of the disease in
children, it is of great consequence to get the child a
good nurse and the affected parts may be washed over
five or six times a-day with a piece of caddis dipped in
a little water gruel, to which has been added a few
drops of sulphuric acid. Borax, either in powder or
solution, has also been considered by some as a useful
application. When the crust has separated, if the re¬
maining ulcer be painful and irritable, its surface may
be rubbed over with nitrate of silver, or any other cau¬
stic application. Sometimes very malignant looking
ulcers remain in the adult, after the separation of the
crust. In these cases, caustic may be employed ; and
we have often seen them heal rapidly by touching their
surfaces once a-day with a weak solution of corrosive
sublimate or muriatic acid. For the treatment of the
confluent aphthae, see Medicine,
Sect. VII. General remarks on Hcemorrhagy from
Mucous Membranes.
All the mucous surfaces are particularly subject to
haemorrhagy and this may arise either from a rupture
of the vessels, or the blood may be poured out by the
exhalents.
The superficial position of the vessels, and consequent¬
ly their want of firmness and support, exposes them much
to rupture by very slight concussions. We have ex¬
amples of this in the bronchiae, brought on by coughing j
in the nose, by slight blows on the head, or by violent
sneezing and in the rectum, by straining on going to
stool. The effect of stones or gravel on the mucous
membrane lining the urinary organs is the same j and
even
Chap. III. SUR
Of Ha;- everi ^ie most calit.ious introduction of a sound or bougie
morrhagy into the urethra, often causes bleeding; or the slightest
from AIu- friction of polypi of the nose and gums, or the introduc-
cmis r»lem-jjon 0f a protje int0 t[ie lachrymal passages. When con-
. sidering the diseases of the skin, we mentioned, that in
some diseases, particularly some pestilential fevers, the
exhalents of the skin poured out red blood. The same
thing happens among the mucous membranes. We of¬
ten see blood come from the nose, from the bronchise,
stomach, and intestines, urinary bladder and kidneys,
where there has been no reason to suppose ulceration
previously to have taken place, or any thing to cause a
rupture of any of the vessels. In one case a young wo¬
man bled from all the mucous surfaces.
i. Hccmorrhagy from the Nose.
Haemorrhagy from the nose arises from a variety of
causes. We often observe this after fevers, and then
it has been considered as critical. In young people it
occurs very frequently, and from very slight causes;
and it has been sometimes known to take place at the
menstrual period.
Haemorrhagy from the nose is generally preceded by
symptoms of an increased quantity of blood to the head,
pulsating motion of the temporal arteries, feeling of
weight about the head, symptoms which are preceded
or accompanied by other changes in more distant parts;
such as spontaneous lassitude, pains about the belly.
When the means mentioned for this complaint in the
article Medicine have failed, recourse must be had to
compression. Dossils of lint introduced into the nostrils
are sometimes effectual; or the gut of some small ani¬
mal, tied at one end, then introduced by a probe into
the nose as far as the pharynx, and filled with cold wa¬
ter, or water and vinegar, and secured by a ligature, by
adapting itself to all the parts, and pressing equally on
them, has been attended with advantage. When these
remedies likewise fail in their effect, a piece of catgut
or wire may be introduced through the nose into the
throat, and brought out at the mouth ; a piece of sponge,
or a bolster of lint of a size sufficient to fill the back-
part of the nostril, is then to be fixed to it; the sponge
is next to be drawn back and properly applied. Another
is to he applied to the anterior part of the nostril and
secured. The same may be done to the other nostril,
if it be necessary ; or the sponge may be of such a size
as to fill the ends of both nostrils at the same time. By
this contrivance the blood not finding an outlet, will
soon coagulate, and prevent any farther evacuation.
2. Hcemorrhagy from the Rectum, or Fluxus Hcetnor-
rhoidalis.
The discharge of blood from the rectum is a disease
chiefly confined to those advanced'in life. It is often
occasioned by full living, change from an active to a
very sedentary life, the abuse of purgatives, particularly
aloes ; violent passions, or habitual melancholy. The
symptoms which precede and accompany this disease, are
bearing down pains, and a. sensation of weight in the
back and loins, sometimes a numbness in the limbs,
and a contracted pulse, thirst, diminution of urine, fla¬
tulency, and sometimes a discharge by stool of a white
mucus. The discharge returns common! v in a periodi¬
cal manner once a month, and thus becomes necessary
G E R Y.
69
far the preservation of health ; for if it be suppressed. Of H«-
or if it stops spontaneously, it occasions a variety of morihagy
nervous affections, such as spasmodic tightnings about 110111
the chest, colic and vertigo.
Treatment.— When the hcemorrhoidal flux has be-1
come habitual like the menstrual discharge, we not
only ought not to attempt curing it, but if it be from
any cause suppressed, it ought to be restored. If it be
the effect of general plethora, it is to be removed by a
vegetable diet and moderate exercise. In order to mo¬
derate the discharge, the patient ought to lie in the ho¬
rizontal posture on a hard bed, avoid all exercise, keep
the belly open by cooling laxatives, or even to take
acids if the bleeding is excessive, and apply cold to the
loins and perinseunr. As a sudden suppression of the
haemorrhoidal discharge is the cause of many diseases,
it is sometimes of much importance to reproduce it. To
effect this, leeches and warm fomentations applied to
the anus, are the most efficacious remedies.
3. Hasmorrhagyfrom the Bladder (Hematuria).
Haemorrhagy from the bladder is a disease most fre¬
quent in old people; it is often occasioned by a suppres¬
sion of the haemorrhoidal discharge, or any other accus¬
tomed discharge of blood. It is sometimes the conse¬
quence of excess in living and drinking, and of a seden-
tary life followed by great exercise. It also arises from
a plethoric state of the system, violent exercise on
horseback, the internal use of cant ha rides, a contusion in
the region of the kidneys, or from rfcTie in the bladder.
Treatment.—The treatment to be employed is the
same as in haemorrhagy in general. Every thing ought
to be avoided which might tend to irritate the kidneys
or the urinary bladder. Laxatives, acid drinks, the ap¬
plication of ice to the lumbar region, hypogastrium, and
perinaeum, or to the inside of the thighs, is of great im¬
portance. Under the articles Medicine and Mid¬
wifery, we have considered the haemorrhagies from
the lungs and uterus. We may here remark the con¬
nection and strong sympathy which subsists between
these organs, and also between them and the other or¬
gans of the body ; for a minute acquaintance with these
may often lead to a successful mode of treating their dis¬
eases. When the menses are suppressed, there is often
a hasmorrhagy from the mucous membrane of the lungs ;
and there are also many cases of obstruction in the
bowels which bring on hasmorrhagy both from the lungs
and Uterus ; a haemorrhagy which never ceases until the
primary affection be removed.
Sect. VIII. General Remarks on the Ulceration of
Mucous Membranes,
Simple inflammation of a mucous surface seldom, if
ever, terminates in ulceration, most ulcers cf these parts
having a specific character. The venereal inflammation
rapidly terminates in ulceration ; and aphthae have the
same tendency, forming often what are called phagade-
nic sores.
The mucous membrane of the nose is peculiarly sub¬
ject to ulcei’ation ; ulcers also occur in the different
parts of the mouth and gums, in the pharynx, larynx,
oesophagus, in the intestinal canal, and also, though
very-.
7°
Of the
Diseases
Serous
Mem¬
brane*.
S U R G
very seldom, in the urethra. It is the first of tnese
°tonly which are to be treated ot in this place.
Of Ulcers of the Nose, or 0%cena.
a This species of ulcer sometimes appears in the no¬
strils, and sometimes in the frontal or maxillary sinus.
It generally succeeds a violent coryza. It also some¬
times arises from blows on the nose, or from the appli¬
cation of very acrid substances. Ozsena is often accom¬
panied with inflammation, hsemorrhagy, pains, caries of
the bones which sometimes destroys the palate bones,
cartilages of the nostrils-, and by hindering more or less
the free passage of the air, it alters the tone of the
voice.
Treatment.—In the simple ozsena, much benefit ge¬
nerally arises from the use of astringent washes, such as
a decoction of oak-bark and alum, solutions of sulphate
or acetate of zinc, or the acetate of lead. The best
mode of using these is to inject them a little warmed,
with a common syringe, into the affected nostril, three
or Four times a day j and when the quantity of discharge
diminishes and becomes of a better quality, an ointment
composed of the flowers of zinc or the like, spread on a
piece of lint, should be introduced once or twice a day
into the nostril.
When the ozsena is of a more virulent nature, and
the bones affected with caries, there is generally great
reason to suspect a venereal taint. This can only be de¬
termined by the history of the complaint and the consti¬
tutional symptoms of the venereal disease being present.
In such cases mercury is the only remedy, and along
with its internal use the injection of mercurial lotions,
and the use of fumigations, will be serviceable. In such
ulcers as are obstinate, and which do not partake of any
venereal taint, a liniment, with an eighth part of the
red precipitate of mercury, or a smaller proportion of
the acetate of copper, has been recommended by Mr
Bell as an useful application. In some cases too, where,
after the venereal taint is destroyed by a proper mer¬
curial course, there remains an obstinate sore, the above
liniment may be useful, and a course of sarsaparilla or
cinchona has also been found in such cases of much ad¬
vantage.
Chap. IV.
Of the Diseases of Serous Membranes.
General Remarks on the Pathology of Serous Mem¬
branes.
The phenomena of the diseases of serous membranes
are very different from any of those of the other textures
which have been mentioned. When they are attacked
with inflammation, the serous surfaces often adhere to¬
gether, or if suppuration takes place, it is never accom¬
panied with ulceration or erosion of their substance.
However abundant these purulent collections may be,
the membranes always remain sound, with only a little
additional thickness j the purulent fluid rejected from
them, being like the natural fluid formed by exhalation.
The serous cavities are also subject to hmmorrhagy,
and to preternatural collections of the exhaled fluid.
Under the article Medicine we have treated of in-
ilaramation of the pleura, membranes of the brain and
E R Y. Chap. IV
peritoneum, and also of hsemorrhagy from these organs, of Ascitol
In this place we shall consider dropsy and haemorrhagy ——v—-j
from the vaginal coat of the testes, as the only diseases
belonging to surgery.
Sect. I. Dropsy of the Peritoneum, or Ascites.
When water collects in a considerable quantity with¬
in the cavity of the peritoneum, the skin becomes dry
and scurfy, and the superficial veins varicose. In one
case they appeared like large tubes half filled with blood,
the anterior part of the canal thin and dry, and the po¬
sterior portion hard and unyielding. The skin at the
umbilicus is sometimes much distended, and the water
seen shining through it as in a common blister. The
water varies much in its appearance j most frequently
it is yellow or brownish. We have seen it as thick and
dark coloured as coffee grounds In one case it was
viscid and tenacious, resembling the white of an egg j
and in other instances it resembled milk and water,
with the milk partly curdled. Ascites is generally ac¬
companied with a disease of some of the abdominal vis¬
cera, and most frequently the liver.
It is not confined to any particular period of life,
but has been observed more frequently in men than iu
women.
The symptoms of ascites are, I. The swelling and
sense of tightness over the belly. 2. Laborious and dif¬
ficult breathing, especially in the horizontal posture.
3. The distinct feeling of fluctuation, upon applying one
hand to one side of the belly, and striking it with the
other hand on the opposite side. 4. The urine is in
small quantity, and of a dark red colour. There is
also thirst, a dry skin, often a feeling of heat, and very
frequently oedema of the inferior extremities.
Paracentesis.—When the swelling becomes large, and Operatb
internal medicines have no effect in diminishing it, it is
adviseable to discharge the water by an artificial open¬
ing, an operation which seldom cures the disease, but is
always attended with temporary relief, and may be re¬
peated as often as the water is found to collect. Smucker
has performed it seventy times, and protracted the pa¬
tient’s life for many years. The operation is to be per¬
formed by introducing a trocar* at the linea alba, as*gecp).,
used in hydrocele, about two or three inches below DXIV.
the umbilicus. Many surgeons now prefer this place,
as it prevents all risk of wounding the epigastric artery,
or any other important part. It was formerly the com¬
mon practice to introduce the instniment on the left
side of the abdomen, half way between the umbilicus
and anterior superior spinous process of the ileum, in
order to avoid the liver and epigastric artery. But
those who laid down this rule were not aware of the
change in the relative situation of parts when diseased ;
and it has several times happened to Mr Cline as well
as other eminent surgeons, in performing the operation
at this place, that they have wounded the epigastric ar¬
tery, and the patient has died of haemorrhage. The
dissection of the abdominal niuscles in patients wrho
have died of dropsy, shows how much the recti are ex¬
tended in breadth, and the situation of the epigastric
arteries changed.
The place for entering the trocar being determined,
and marked with ink, the patient should be placed in
the horizontal posture, and in such a situation that the
water
7*
Chap. IV. sun
Of water can be run crff readily into a vessel proper to re-
IHyiiroeele. ceive it. But as patients are very apt to faint if the
    ' water is suddenly removed, and no pressure applied
to support the belly as it is emptied, it is necessary to
make an equal pressure during, and after the operation.
From neglecting this in some cases, dangerous symptoms
have arisen, and in one instance the patient died three
days after the operation from this cause. A piece of
flannel as broad as the belly, and divided into several
pieces at each end, and these drawn across each other
# Plate by assistants, or the bandage *, answers for this pur-
DXIV. pose. By either of these the belly may be gradually
compressed as the water is let out, and the compression
continued for several days after the operation. Some¬
times the water does not come out readily, a portion of
omentum or intestine coming in contact with the end of
the canulaj but the discharge may be assisted by in¬
troducing within the canula a blunt probe, or a less
canula within the first, having small perforations at the
extremity and edges. After all the water is discharged,
a piece of plaster should be applied to the wound, and
every care taken to exclude the external air. The
bandage should also be kept applied, and it may be
worn for some time.
f
Sect. II. Water collected in the ca vity of the Vaginal
Coat, or Hydrocele.
The effusion of water in the tunica vaginalis, frequent¬
ly accompanies hernia, the scrophulous schirrus, vene¬
real and other enlargements of the testicle j but in such
cases, it is merely to be considered as a symptom accom¬
panying these disorders. Sir Everard Home mentions
cases where it was a symptom of stricture. It occurs also
during the abatement of inflammation of the testicle ;
and sometimes more or less of the water remains after
the inflammatory symptoms have disappeared. In cases
of this kind the tunica vaginalis is generally found
thickened, and there is an effusion of lymph over its sur¬
face as well as over the surface of the albuginea. In
many cases, the water is collected where there is no ap¬
parent alteration in the structure of the parts. The dis¬
ease in such cases most probably arises either from a
diminished absorption or from an increased exhalation.
If the disease has been of long duration, the tunica va¬
ginalis is generally thickened, and sometimes to a great
degree j and particularly in old people it becomes hard
or cartilaginous. We have seen preparations where it
was converted into a shell of bone. In two cases a
round substance resembling cartilage was found float¬
ing in the water of a hydrocele. It is not uncom¬
mon to find the vessels also of the spermatic veins more
or less varicose. Collections of water of considerable
size, form sometimes after birth (wind rupture^ ; but in
old people they are most frequent. The water is usu¬
ally collected only in one cavity ; but it sometimes
happens, that in consequence of adhesions between the
tunica vaginalis and albuginea, several irregular shap¬
ed bags are formed in which it is contained. The wTa-
ter usually collects in one side of the scrotum, but some¬
times in both. The water is generally clear and straw-
coloured, sometimes it is coloured with blood, some¬
times yellow or brown, and sometimes thick, and like
coffee grounds. See Morgagni, Ep. xxxviii.
G E R Y.
The quantity of water varies. In the Act. Erud. Lip- of
siensis 1725. p. 492, there is mention made of a case Hydrocele.
which contained forty pounds of fluid. Doight saw one ' " ”v 1
which contained four pounds. There are sometimes al¬
so hydatids found along with the rvater. Richter has
met with four cases of this kind.
Symptoms.—r. The scrotum is commonly of a pyra¬
midal form, and the corrugations of the external skin
are destroyed in proportion to the bulk of the swelling.
The shape of the tumor however varies •, in some cases,,
it is very globular, and in others it appears like two
swellings joined. It is even altered from the manner in
which it is suspended j if a bag truss has been worn it
is usually oblong. 2. The swelling generally begins at
the lower part of the scrotum, and as its bulk increases,
it gradually ascends towards the abdominal ring. 3. It
appears pellucid when held between the eye and a can¬
dle $ but this is not a certain prognostic, as the transpa¬
rency is destroyed when the tunica vaginalis is thick
and hard, or when the water is turbid and dark. 4. It
gives the distinct sensation of fluctuation. In some
cases, however, the degree of thickening of the tunica
vaginalis renders the fluctuation obscure or impercep¬
tible, and also destroys its transparency. 5. The tumor
cannot be made to recede or change its situation from
pressure or change of posture of the body. 6. The tes¬
ticle is involved in the swelling, and can be distinguished
like a firm unyielding mass usually at the posterior part
of it. In cases where adhesions have been formed, the
position varies; but the patient generally knows where
it lies, and pressure applied to the part of the swelling
where it is situated gives pain. Sometimes the testicle
is placed at the under part of the swelling, sometimes in
the middle. Mr Bell felt it twice forwards. Some¬
times along with the water there are hydatids float¬
ing in the cavity of the vaginal coat. Somering says,
that he has often observed this appearance. 7. T he
spermatic chord can be readily distinguished unalter¬
ed. 8. The tumor gives little or no pp.in, and the pa¬
tient suffers merely from its bulk. 9. The growth of
the swelling is generally very slow, and sometimes
years elapse before it becomes a great inconvenience)
sometimes, however, it forms rapidly. When it grows
very large, the integuments become think, and the veins,
varicose ) if the swelling extends up to the inguinal
ring, the cord cannot be felt, and the penis is sometimes-
so much involved in the tumor, that it appears like an.
umbilicus or piece of corrugated skin.
Treatment.—In children, the water generally disap¬
pears in a short time, by the application of strong astrin¬
gent or discutient applications. In some cases, the dis¬
ease advances so slowly, that it is sufficient to wear a
suspensory bandage. Richter mentions a case where it
was twenty years old before it was necessary to remove
the water. When the swelling becomes so large as to
render it necessary to discharge the water, the operation
may be either palliative or radical. The object of the
first is merely to remove the water, after which the
disease commonly returns •, by the second, an adhesion
is intended to be produced between the surfaces of the
vaginal coat and albuginea, and consequently the cavi¬
ty in which the water was collected is entirely oblitera¬
ted. In making choice of these modes of treatment, it
is necessary to attend to the following rules. 1. When
the.
2,
72
S U R G E R Y.
Chap. IV
Of the hydrocele is large, it is safer to perform the pallia-
Hydrocele, live operation ; and afterwards when it has again col-
——r ' lected in less bulk, the radical one may be employed.
2. When the state of the testicle is not accurately as¬
certained, it is better first merely to discharge the wa¬
ter, which allows it to be completely examined. 3. The
palliative operation should be employed in all cases
where the disease is connected with a morbid state of
any contiguous organ. 4. In all other cases, the ra¬
dical operation is preferable.
Palliative Operation.—The matter may be dischar¬
ged either by a puncture made with a lancet or by a
small trocar.
* See Plate When the trocar* is to be introduced, the poste-
DXIV. r;or part of the tumor should be firmly grasped in the
left hand, so that the fluid is pushed to the anterior
and inferior part of it. A puncture is to be made, with
a lancet, through the integuments at the most prominent
part of the swelling, large enough to admit readily the
trocar, taking care to avoid any large superficial vein.
The trocar is then to be pushed through the coats of
the tumor perpendicularly $ but when it has entered the
cavity, which is known by the feeling of a sudden want
of resistance, the point should be directed upward, and
carried forward a sufficient way •, so that the surgeon is
assured of its being within the cavity so far that there
is no risk of its falling out.
After all the matter has been allowed to flow out,
and the canula withdrawn, the wound should be cover¬
ed with a piece of sticking plaster, and the scrotum sup¬
ported by a suspensory bandage. If the operation is to
be done with a lancet, an incision should be first made
through the skin, rather larger than what is necessary
into the cavity. Then a puncture is to be made through
the tunica vaginalis, which will allow the water to
flow out} and the discharge may be assisted by the in¬
troduction of a probe, director, or hollow tube, into the
opening. The trocar should always be employed for this
operation, except when the hydrocele is so small that
the testicle is in danger of being wounded by it, or when
there is any enlargement of the testicle accompanying
the hydrocele, the nature of which is not well under¬
stood, or if the tunica vaginalis is extremely thick and
the fluctuation not distinct.
Radical Operation.—An obliteration of the tunica
vaginalis may be produced either by an infusion oilymph
on the surfaces of the tunica vaginalis and albuginea,
or by the process of granulation. The first is effected
by injecting into the cavity a stimulating fluid to pro¬
duce inflammation and adhesion ; the second by laying
open the cavity to produce inflammation and suppura¬
tion, and cause it to fill by granulation.
Ry Injection.—Dr Monro primus first proposed and
adopted this ingenious, yet simple mode of cure \ and
it is now that which is most generally practised in all
cases of hydrocele not attended with any peculiarity or
puzzling symptom. The fluid contained in the tunica
vaginalis, is to be discharged by a trocar, in the man¬
ner recommended in the palliative treatment. The
trocar for this purpose should be of a rounded form,
which is either altogether cylindrical, or only a small
slit at its extremity j for that of Andre, which is
flat and slit up at both sides, is apt to allow the
fluid to be effused into the cellular membrane of the
scrotum 5 an accident which we have seen repeatedly of
happen, and always frustrates the object ol the opera - Hydrocele
tion. v—-y—»
The fluid is then to be injected through the canula
either by a syringe (Plate DX^IV.), which has a move¬
able stop-cock, that it may be filled as frequently as is
necessary, or by an elastic bottle, which has a valve in
its pipe, so as to allow the fluid to pass forward, but to
prevent its exit. It is not necessary to inject as much
fluid, as there was W'ater in the hydrocele; it answers
well to fill the cavity moderately, and by gentle strokes
on the scrotum agitate it over the whole surface. T-he
fluid most commonly employed is poid wine. Some
recommend it to be diluted, but it is better to use
it pure, and allow it to remain a longer or short¬
er time according to the degree of pain it excites,
and the general irritability of the patient. In hospi¬
tals, other fluids are used, as being less expensive. Mr
Cline of St Thomas’s hospital employs a solution of
the sulphate of zinc 3i. ad Ibi. From five minutes
to a quarter of an hour is in most cases a sufficient
length of time to allow the wine to remain. If it
excite severe pain in the testicle or cord, it may be
detained more or less time. A considerable degree
of uneasiness is always to be wished for in order to se¬
cure success in the operation. After the wine is with¬
drawn, the wound should be covered with a piece of
sticking plaster or caddis 5 the scrotum well supported
with either pillows or a truss, and the patient put to
bed. The operation excites more or less swelling in a
longer or shorter period. The medium effect on the
,testicle is to cause it to swell about the bulk of a tur¬
key’s egg in four or five days ; and the surgeon should,
by pursuing the antiphlogistic regimen, moderate as far
as in his power the inflammatory symptoms to that
pitch, and by an opposite treatment bring them up
to that degree should they be too mild. Low diet,
local or even general blood-letting, purging, the hori¬
zontal posture and fomentations, are the most powerful
means to arrest inflammation 5 but if the patient has
little pain, he should live on a nourishing diet, and some
local stimulant may be applied over the scrotum until
a sufficient degree of inflammation comes on. If the
inflammatory symptoms abate, the swelling disappears j
and it is adviseable to wear always aftenvards a bag
truss to support the whole scrotum. In some cases the
water again collects, and then the operation should be
repeated j but it requires caution, as the relative situa¬
tion of parts is sometimes altered from some partial ad¬
hesions having formed between the tunics.
We have seen frequently cases where it was thought
that the water has been regenerated a few days after
the operation, which swelling afterwards disappeared.
This probably arises from an effusion in the cellular
membrane, but it requires no particular treatment.
By Incision.—After grasping the tumor firmly, an in¬
cision is to be made through the skin with a scalpel, from
its superior to its inferior part. A puncture is to be made
towards the upper part, with a lancet, large enough to
admit the point of the fore finger j the fluid is allowed
gradually to escape through the opening ; and the tunica
vaginalis is to be laid open its whole extent with a probe-
pointed bistoury in the same direction as the incision
through the integuments. Pledgets of lint dipped in
oil,
Chap. IV. S U R
Of oil, or covered with simple ointment, are to be put be-
IHyJrocele. tween the lips of the wound, down to the bottom of the
■V"”'' cavity, one on each side of the testicle ; and the edges
of the scrotum are to be brought together either by
straps or suture. A single ligature put through the in¬
teguments opposite the testicle, answers best, and pre¬
vents the testicle from being pushed without the edges
of the wound in consequence of the degree of swelling
the operation occasions. The whole should be covered
with a pledget of ointment, and suspended in a tight
bandage.
In three or four days after the operation, the external
dressings should be removed j and in one or two days
more, the pledgets interposed between the tunica vagi¬
nalis and testicle may be taken away and renewed. The
ligature should be cut out whenever the swelling of the
part begins to abate, or at any time when it appears to
create irritation. During the cure, great care should
be taken, first, by the introduction of slips of plaster,
to prevent the union but from the bottom j secondly, to
guard against the collection of matter in any cavity J
thirdly, to prevent the lips of the wound separating far,
thus exposing the testicle and protracting the cure $ and
fourthly, to lay open freely any sinuses which may form.
The cure goes on much more rapidly by persevering in
the horizontal posture, and keeping the scrotum well
supported. The bowels should be always kept open
and regular, and when suppuration has begun, the pa¬
tient’s strength should be supported by a nourishing diet
Wlientobe an(] bark or port wine, if necessary. The cure takes
adopted. fr0m three to eight weeks in most cases. This mode of
operating is the most eligible when there is any ambi¬
guity in the case, as it allows the testicles to be accu¬
rately examined, and castration performed if necessary.
It ought also to be performed when the tunica vagina¬
lis is much thickened and hardened, and it is sometimes
necessary, even to cut aw7ay some of the hardest portions.
The modes of curing hydrocele by a seton, caustic, &c.
are now generally given up.
Sect. III. Dropsy of the Thorax, or Hydrothorax.
The fluid is sometimes confined to one, and sometimes
affects both sides of the chest. It is commonly of a
brown or yellow colour j sometimes it is reddish from
a mixture of blood. Its chemical qualities are those of
serum. When it is accumulated in a large quantity,
the lungs are more or less compressed. Dr Baillie has
seen a lung not larger than the closed fist. It is also in
some instances accompanied with adhesions between the
surface of the lungs and pleura.
The existence of water is known by the following
symptoms. Respiration is short and difficult j and the
patient cannot rest in bed, except the head and trunk
be elevated from the horizontal posture. The sleep is
often interrupted by alarms and disagreeable dreams,
and the patient suddenly starts from it with a sense of
suffocation : he is unable to stoop much forward, or raise
any thing Rom the ground. There is sometimes a teas¬
ing cough, with little expectoration. During the pro¬
gress of the disease, the pulse is very variable ; but it is
generally irregular. The countenance is pale, and the
lips and cheeks of a purple hue. The urine is dimi-
nisbed in quantity, and of a high colour. The bowels
are generally constipated. The feet and legs are com-
Vol. XX. Part I. f
G E R Y.
73
cele.
monly anasarcous. The undulation of a fluid may be Of
heard by the patient himself, and moving the body by Haemato-
sudden jerks will sometimes assist in discovering the dis¬
ease. The affected side has in some cases been observed
to be enlarged.
This disease is treated by the exhibition of internal
medicines, where the quantity of water is small 5 but
when it collects in such a quantity as to threaten suffo¬
cation, it ought^to be discharged by an opening made
into the cavity of the thorax. The incision ought to
be made between the fifth and sixth ribs, half way be¬
tween the sternum and spine j two inches in length
through the skin. The subjacent parts ought to be
cautiously divided ; and the incision should be directed
rather towards the upper part of the sixth rib, to avoid
wounding the intercostal artery and nerve, which creep
along the inferior edge of the fifth rib. The pleura,
which is distinguished by its bluish colour, should be
carefully cut with the point of the knife; so that, in case
of adhesion, the lung is not wounded : and if the water
flows out, a canula should be introduced into the open¬
ing. If it does not, in consequence of adhesion, another
incision must be made. Great care should be taken to
prevent the admission of air, and for that purpose, the
opening should be made valvular, by pulling up the
skin which is to be cut through. If the quantity is very
great, it may be drawn off at two different intervals ;
or if it is collected in both cavities of the thorax.
Sect. IV. Dropsy of the Pericardium.
Water is sometimes found in the pericardium when
there is none in any other cavity of the thorax, but it is
generally accompanied with a collection of water in
some of them. The symptoms of this disease are nearly
similar to those of hydrothorax ; and we find that Des-
sault and other very eminent surgeons have not been
able to distinguish them. Dr Baillie says, “ that the
feeling of oppression is more accurately confined to the
situation of the heart; and the heart is more disturbed
in its functions in dropsy of the pericardium than in
hydrothorax.” It is also said, that a firm undulatory
motion can be felt at every stroke of the heart.
If the existence of this complaint is ascertained, and
if the quantity of W'ater is suspected to be great, it may
be perhaps advisable to discharge it, as practised in one
case by Dessault, by making an opening between the
sixth and seventh ribs of the left side, opposite to the
apex of the heart.
Sect. V. Plood effused in the Tunica Vaginalis.
(Hoematocele).
The effusion of blood within the cavity of the va¬
ginal coat is characterised by the sudden appearance
of the tumor, by its wanting the transparency of a hy¬
drocele, by its greater weight, and by its being more
commonly occasioned by some accident. It is usually
produced by the trocar used in performing the palliative
operation wounding a vessel which pours its blood into
the vaginal cavity; it is still more apt to happen when
a lancet is used anti a varicose vessel punctured. It also
takes place from the rupture of a varicose vessel by the
sudden depletion of a large hydrocele.
If the swelling is small, it may disappear by the local
K use
74
SURGERY.
Of use of discutients and stimulants, such as solutions of
Ganglions, saccharum saturni, or that of alum, vinegar, &c. It it
v does not yield to these, and if it has acquired a consi¬
derable bulk, the blood should be discharged by an in¬
cision j and any bleeding vessel either secured by a liga¬
ture, or by strong stimulants, and the wound afterwards
treated as in common hydrocele.
Chap. ^
by the application of blisters j but the most certain me- Of
thod is, to make a small puncture into the sac, or to Collecti
draw a cord through it; or, after the puncture is made,
to press out the contents, and then inject some gently ,
stimulating fluid, as port wine and water heated blood-
warm. Some have removed the ganglion by bursting
the sac by a violent blow.
in tbi
Joints
Chap. V.
Diseases of the Sinovial Membranes.
Sect. I. General Observations on the Pathology of
Sinovial Membranes.
The diseases of the sinovial membranes are much
more limited and less understood than those of the tex¬
tures which we have examined. They do not appear
to be sympathetically affected in the diseases of other
parts. In the acute diseases of the important viscera,
the skin, the mucous surfaces, the cellular membrane,
the nerves, &c. are more or less sympathetically atfect-
ed, whilst all the sinovial membranes remain undisturbed.
In this respect they resemble the bones, cartilages, and
fibrous membranes. Neither is the sinovial fluid subject
to the different alterations, which we observe of the
serous fluid. We never find any preternatural mem¬
branes formed on the articulating surfaces; and the pre¬
ternatural collections of sinovia never contain any of the
white floculent matter so frequent in serous collections.
The sinovial membranes are subject to inflammation,
and are probably the seat of many of those pains about
the joints which are so frequent. Their fluids are also
sometimes increased to a preternatural quantity, and
chalky or earthy depositions are also occasionally found
in them.
Sect. II. Of Ganglions.
An increase of the sinovial fluid in the bursa;, or ten-
dinoussheaths, formsa species of dropsy called a
It is not, however, probable that these tumors are al¬
ways formed in a natural sinovial capsule : most com¬
monly they are accidental, being formed in the cellu¬
lar membrane ; and are frequently found in parts where
no natural capsule exists. They are most frequently
met with over the tendons upon the back of the wrist,
and likevvise about those of the ankle and other parts of
the extremities. When pressed, they are found to pos¬
sess a considerable degree of elasticity, from which,
and from their situation, they may generally be distin¬
guished from other encysted tumors. They seldom ar¬
rive at any great bulk, are not often attended with
pain, aitd commonly the skin retains its natural appear¬
ance. On being laid open, they contain a tough, viscid,
transparent fluid, resembling the glaire of egg, which is
sometimes of a reddish colour.
They are generally produced by sprains or contusions
of the joints, or by rheumatism. In many instances,
they go off insensibly, without any assistance from art ;
but as this is often not the case, means ought to be used
for removing them. For this purpose, friction frequent¬
ly repeated, or gentle compression applied to them by
means of thin plates of lead and bandages, sometimes re¬
move them. In some instances they have been removed
Sect. III. Of Collections within the Capsular Liga¬
ments of the Joints.
Collections within the capsular ligament may consist
of serum, blood, or pus and synovia combined. They
are most frequently met with in the joint of the knee,
and may be produced either by internal or external
causes. These kinds of collections may in general be
distinguished from each other.
Watery effusions, commonly called dropsical swellings
of the joints, arise chiefly in consequence of severe rheu¬
matic complaints ; and when the tumor is not very
large, the fluctuation of the fluid may be felt by pres¬
sure. When a large effusion appears immediately after
a violent bruise, it is probable that it consists chiefly of
blood : but when it succeeds a violent sprain, attended'
with great pain, inflammation, and swelling, termina¬
ting in an effusion, there is every reason to think that
the contained fluid consists of pus mixed with synovia.
Swellings of the joints are most apt to be confounded
with collections in the bursas mucosae, or with matter
effused in the adjacent cellular substance. From the
first of these they are generally distinguished by the con¬
tained fluid passing readily from one side of the joint to
the other, and from its being diffused over the whole of
it; whereas, when it is contained in the bursae, the tu¬
mor is confined to a particular part, and is seldom at¬
tended with much pain.
When such collections can safely be allowed to re¬
main, the capsular ligament ought never to be opened,
as they can often be removed by discutients. Even con¬
siderable collections arising from rheumatism may com¬
monly be discussed by friction, fomenting the parts with
warm vapour, keeping them constantly moist with sa¬
turnine solutions, covering them properly with flannel,
and applying blisters. When these fail, supporting the
part with a laced stocking, or with a roller, has fre¬
quently been of service. But whether a rheumatic tu¬
mor can be discussed or not, it ouyht not to be opened ;
for the inconvenience attending it is more tolerable
than the pain and inflammation which may ensne. But
when the matter would do mischief by lodging, it should
be discharged. Effused blood and matter which suc¬
ceed high degrees of inflammation are of this kind.
Blood is frequently extravasated among soft parts with¬
out much detriment; but when in contact with carti¬
lage or bone, it soon injures them. The matter ought
to be discharged so as most effectually to prevent the ad¬
mission of air into the cavity of the joint. For this pur¬
pose the opening should be made with a trocar; and
the skin, previously drawn tight to the upper part of the
tumor, should be pulled down immediately on withdraw¬
ing the canula. A piece of adhesive plaster should be
immediately laid over the opening, and the whole joint
should be firmly supported by a flannel roller carefully
applied. If the patient be plethoric, he should be
blooded to such an extent as his strength will bear; he
should
VI, S U R G
Of the Dis. should be put upon a strict antiphlogistic regimen, and
isases of the in every respect should be managed with caution ; for
inflammation being very apt to ensue, we cannot too
much guard against it»
i Chap
Bones,
E R Y.
75
Sect. IV. Of Albuminous Concretions within the Sino-
vial Capsules.
Moveable bodies have been found in many of the
sinovial capsules of the human body. But they are most
frequent in the knee joint} and it is there only where
they require surgical assistance. These bodies are gene¬
rally composed of cartilage in the form of lamellae, and
there is often an osseous concretion in their centre. The
cause of their formation is not known ; but it is probable
that they are formed by a gradual deposition of the car¬
tilaginous matter on the articulating surface. They
have been often met with, attached by narrow necks to
the sinovial cavity •, so that when this attachment is de¬
stroyed, they float loose in the cavity, and undergo per¬
haps but little future change.
When they occur in the knee joint, and acquire such
a bulk as to obstruct or derange, the motions of the joint,
it then becomes necessary to remove them. This ought
to be done by bringing the moveable body to the outer
part of the joint, and making a valvular incision of such
a size as to admit of its extraction. Sometimes much
inflammation succeeds this operation, which ought to
make us careful in choosing a proper time for perform¬
ing it, and in using every endeavour to repress any in¬
flammatory symptoms afterwards.
Sect. V. Of the Spina Bifida.
Spina biflda is a tumor which sometimes appears upon
the lower part of the spine in new-born children. A
fluctuation is distinctly perceived in it, and the fluid it
contains can in some measure be pressed in at an open--
ing between the vertebrae. In some cases this opening
is owing to a natural deficiency of bone ; in others, to
the separation of the spinous processes of the vertebrae.
The disease proceeds from a serous looking fluid col¬
lected within the coverings of the spinal marrow. It is
always fatal. Children labouring under it have been
known to live for two or three years 5 but, in general,
they linger and die in a few weeks. All that art has
been able to do is to support the tumor by gentle pres¬
sure with a proper bandage. When a tumor of this kind
is laid open or bursts, the child generally dies in a few
hours. A tumor nearly of the same nature with this is
sometimes met with upon different parts of the head in
new-born children : it is formed by a fluid lodged be¬
neath the membranes of the brain, which have been
forced out at some unossified part of the skull. What
we have said with respect to the former is exactly ap¬
plicable to this disease.
Chap. VI.
Of the Diseases of the Bones.
Sect. I. General Remarks on the Pathology of the
Bones.
The diseases of bones are remarkable for their slow
progress, in comparison with what is observed of other
structures. Inflammation proceeds extremely slowly j
and callus is remarkable when compared with the cica-of the Dis-
trization of other parts, for the length of time necessary eases of tlie
for its formation ; the origin and progress too of an ex- , J*une5-
ostosis is very difl’erent from a tumor of the soft parts.
Suppuration also, which requires only a few days in
other organs, takes months before the same process is
completed in bones. There is also a striking diflerence
between a gangrene of the soft parts and a caries or
necrosis of the bones. In the natural state the bones
have no sensibility, but when diseased, they are often
the seat of acute pain } this is observed in the spina
ventosa, in caries, necrosis, &c. Besides the changes
to which the bones are subject from inflammation and
various accidents, they also suffer alterations in their
hardness and softness. Preternatural growths also form
upon them j and they are liable to absorption.
Sect. II. Of Particular Diseases of the Bones.
The bones, as well as the softer parts, are liable to
be swelled, either throughout their whole length, or to
have tumors formed on particular parts of them.
Exostosis is one species of tumor of the bone. Ac-Exostosis,,
cording to Mr Bromefield, no swelling should be so
called, but an excrescence continued from a bone, like
a branch from the trunk of a tree. Under this head
therefore is ranked the benign node, which may be pro¬
duced by external injury, such as contusions and frac¬
tures : it can hardly be called a disease, but rather a
deformity.
There are risings or tumors observable on the bones Tophus,
which are often the consequents of venereal virus, and
are termed tophi, gummi, or nodes.—Tophus is a soft
tumor in the bone ; and seems to be formed of a chalky
substance, that is intermediate between the osseous
fibres. These cretaceous extravasations are sometimes
found on the ligaments and tendons, as well as on the
bone } and may sometimes be taken out by the knife.
We have known many instances where chalk stones in
gouty people make their way out through the skin of
the fingers and toes.
Gummi are soft tumors on the surface of the bone, Cummi.
between it and the periosteum j and their contents re¬
semble gum softened, from whence the name.
The confirmed venereal node has the appearance of a Venereal
divarication of the osseous fibres. When the periosteum nol^e‘
is thickened, but the bone not affected, a course of mer¬
cury will often produce a perfect cure : but when the
bone itself is diseased, this method will often fail. But
here the division of the extended periosteum has been
known to give perfect ease.
The usual method, formerly, was to apply a caustic
equal to the extent of the node, which being laid bare,
required exfoliation before it could be cicatrized. If
the incision is made early, that is, before matter be
formed under the investing membrane, it seldom re¬
quires exfoliation 5 and, as we often find that the bone
itself is not affected, but only the periosteum thickened,
we may be deceived even after a careful examination :
it is therefore proper that the patient should be pretty
far advanced in a course of mercurial unction before
even the incision is made ; for, should the tumor de¬
crease, and the pain abate during the course, chirurgi-
cal assistance, with the knife, most likely may become
unnecessary.
K 2 A
76 SURGE R Y. Chap. VI
Of the Dis- A bone may become carious first in its internal parts;
eases of the and that from external injury, as well as from a vitiated
Bones, state of the animal fluids. Authors seem not to agree
as to the technical term for this kind of disease of the
bones ; some calling it cancer organgrcena ossis ; others,
spina ventosa, from the pointed extuberances usually
attendant on this disorder of the bone ; and some again,
teredo, from the appearance of the carious bone, like
wood that is worm-eaten.
Abscess. It is universally allowed, that this disease takes its
rise from matter being formed either in the diploe, or in
the marrow : whenever obstruction is begun in the ves¬
sels expanded on, or terminating in, the medullary cysts,
the consequence will be inflammation, and, if not early
removed, matter will form ; for this reason this case
may be called abscessus in medulla. Whenever, then, a
patient complains of dull heavy pain, deeply situated in
the bone, consequent to a violent blow received on
the part some time before, though the integuments
appear perfectly sound, and the bone itself not in the
least injured, we have great reason to suspect an abscess
in the medulla. Children ofa bad habit of body, though
they have not suffered any external injury, will often
become lame, and complain of the limb being remarkably
heavy ; and though not attended with acute pain, yet
the dull throbbing uneasiness is constant. If rigors hap¬
pen during the time the patient labours under this in¬
disposition, it generally implies that matter will be form¬
ed within the substance of the bone. If the extremities
of the diseased bone swell, or if it becomes enlarged
throughout its whole extent, it may he known to be an
abscess in the medulla, or the true spina ventosa, as it is
called : if neither of these symptoms take place, the
great insensibility of the bone in some subjects will pre¬
vent that acuteness of pain usual in other parts where
matter is formed, though the acrid matter is eroding the
bone during the whole time it is contained within it.
This matter at length having made its way through, ar¬
rives at the periosteum, where it creates most violent
pain. The integuments then become swelled and in¬
flamed, and have a sort of emphysematous feel. On
being examined by pressure, the tumor will sometimes
be lessened, from part of the matter retiring into the
bone: from this appearance to the touch, most likely
the name of ventosa was added to the term spina.
When we are assured of matter being under the peri¬
osteum, we cannot be too early in letting it out, as it
will save a considerable deal of pain to the patient,
though probably it may not be of any considerable ad¬
vantage in respect to the carious bone ; for, where the
fluids in general are vitiated, no chance of cure can be
expected from topical remedies ; but where the consti¬
tution Is mended, nature will sometimes astonish us in
her part, as the carious bone will be thrown off from
the epiphyses, or the teredines will be filled up by the
ossific matter that flows from the parts of the bone
where some of the spinse have come away.
If proper medicines are given, the children well sup¬
ported, and the parts kept clean and dry, patience and
perseverance will frequently give great credit to the sur¬
geon. In case it should have been thought advisable to
apply a trephine, to give free discharge to the matter,
the washing it away, as well as the small crumblings of
the carious bone, by means of detersive and drying in-
a
jections, has been known to contribute greatly to the of the Di«.
curing this kind of caries, after the habit of body in eases of tht
general had been mended. Bones.
Besides those above mentioned, the bones are liable v—»■
to two opposite diseases ; the one termed friabilitas, the
other mollities; the former peculiar to adults, the latter
more frequent in infants, though sometimes seen in
adults, from a vitiated state of their juices.
From repeated salivations, the bones in old people Ricket*.
have been rendered extremely brittle ; insomuch that in
many subjects they have been fractured merely from
their weight and the action of the muscles : but in such
cases, this is not owing to the friability of the bones,
but to the loss of substance, from the erosion of the bone
by an acrimonious humour thrown on it : to which
cause perhaps may be attributed the disease called ric¬
kets in children. The effects of scorbutic humour in
rendering the bones soft in many instances, have often
been remarked.
By proper diet, gentle friction, exercise, and cold
bathing, rickety children will frequently get their con¬
stitution so much changed, as that, by ihe time they ar¬
rive at the age of 20 years, there shall not remain the
least vestige of their former disease. The epiphyses are
generally most affected in this species of the disorder.
For want of early attention to invalids of this sort, we
find that their bones not only become soft, and yield to
the powers of the muscles, but remain distorted during
the rest of life, though they have acquired a perfect de¬
gree of solidity. In such cases, therefore, the assistance
of a skilful mechanic is necessary both to support tire
parts improperly acted on, and to alter the line of direc¬
tion of the distorted osseous fibres.
Though the curvature of the extremities, or thick¬
ness of the ends of the bones near their articulations,
may give the first alarm to those who are constantly
with children, yet there are other symptoms that give
earlier notice ; which if they had been timely discover¬
ed, it is highly probable that the curvature of the limbs
in many children might not have happened. The belly
generally becomes larger in this disease, from the in¬
creased size of the contained bowels ; the head then be¬
comes enlarged ; then a difficulty of breathing succeeds,
which is generally supposed to be the effects of taking
cold. The sternum is elevated and sharp, and the tho¬
rax becomes contracted ; the spine is protruded in seve¬
ral parts ; the pelvis altered, according to the pressure
of the parts within, and habitual inclination of the pa¬
tient to obtain that line of direction in which the per¬
pendicular from the centre of gravity may fall within
the common base of the body; ihe extremities of the
cylindrical bones, and the ends of the ribs next the ster¬
num, become enlarged; soon after this the bones in ge¬
neral become soft and flexible, yielding in such direc¬
tions as the strongest muscles determine.
Where the affection of the mesenteric glands is evi¬
dent, Mr Bromefield asserts, that after a dose or two of
the pulvis basilicus to empty the intestines, thoroughly,
the purified crude quicksilver is by much the most effi¬
cacious medicine to remove obstructions in those glands.
W hen the belly begins to soften and subside, the chyle
passes without interruption, and the child begins to get
flesh ; then the cold bath becomes truly serviceable, and
the decoction or cold infusion of the Peruvian bark is a
proper
'hap. VI. SURGERY. 77
: die Dis pvoper restorative j but the cold bath used too early, or
.ses of the the baik given before there is a free circulation of chyle
Doties, through the lacteals, would be very injurious.
Among the diseases of the bones we may likewise
hvcrex- take notice of that palsy of the loiver extremities which
unities, takes place, as is generally supposed, in consequence of
a curvature in some parts of the spine. To this distem¬
per both sexes and all ages are liable. When it attacks
an infant of only a year or two old or younger, the true
cause of it is seldom discovered until some time after the
effect has taken place. The child is said to be uncom¬
monly backward in the use of his legs, or it is thought
to have received some hurt in the birth. When the
child is of an age sufficient to have already walked,
and who has been able to walk, the loss of the use of
his legs is gradual, though in general not very slow.
He at first complains of being very soon tired, is lan¬
guid, listless, and unwilling to move much or at all
briskly. Soon after this he may be observed frequently
to trip and stumble, though there be no impediment in
his way ; and whenever he attempts to move briskly, he
finds that his legs involuntarily cross each other, by
which he is frequently thrown down without stumbling j
and when he endeavours to stand still in an erect pos¬
ture without support, even for a few minutes, his knees
give way and bend forward. As the distemper ad¬
vances, it will be found that he cannot, without much
difficulty and deliberation, direct either of his feet ex¬
actly to any one point; and very soon after this, both
legs and thighs lose a good deal of their natural sensibi¬
lity, and become quite useless. In adults, the progress
of the disease is much quicker, but the symptoms near¬
ly the same.
Until the curvature of the spine is discovered, the
complaint generally passes for a nervous one ; but when
the state of the back bone is adverted to, recourse is al¬
most always had to some previous violence.to account for
it. That this might have been the case in some few in¬
stances might be admitted ; but in by far the greatest
number some predisposing cause must be looked for.
Mr Pott, who has written a treatise upon this disease,
recommends it to our observation, that though the lower
limbs are rendered almost useless, or even entirely so,
yet there are some circumstances in which it difl’ers from
a common nervous palsy. The legs and thighs, though
so much affected, have neither the flabby feel of a truly
paralytic limb; nor have they that seeming looseness at
the joints, nor the total incapacity of resistance, which
allows the latter to be twisted almost in all directions :
on the contrary, the joints have frequently a consider¬
able degree of stiffness, particularly the ankles ; by
which stiffness the feet of children are generally point¬
ed downward, and they are prevented from setting them
flat upon the ground.
At first the general health of the patient seems not to
be at all, or at least not materially affected ; but when
the disease has continued for some time, and the curva¬
ture is thereby increased, many inconveniences and com¬
plaints come on ; such as difficulty in respiration, indi¬
gestion, pain, and what they call tightness at the stomachy
obstinate constipations, purgings, involuntary flux of
urine and faeces, &c. with tire addition of some nervous
complaints, which are partly caused by the alterations
made in the form of the cavity of the thorax, and partly
by impre.ssions made on the abdominal viscera.
Mr Pott was led to a knowledge of the true cause of the. jd>#-
and cure of this distemper, from observing the case of a eases of the
youth of 14, who was restored to the use of his limbs Arterial
immediately after a seemingly accidental abscess near , (
the part. From this he was inclined to think, that the
curvature of the spine was not the original cause of the
disorder, but that the surrounding parts were predispos¬
ed towards it by some affection of the solids and fluids
there 5 and he was confirmed in these suspicions by a
variety of appearances, which he observed both in the
living body and upon dissection of the subject after
death ; all of which are narrated at full length in his
treatise upon this subject.
“ The remedy (says he) for this most dreadful disease
consists merely in procuring a large discharge of matter,
by suppuration, from underneath the membrana adiposa
on each side of the curvature, and in maintaining such
discharge until the patient shall have perfectly recovered
the use of his legs. To accomplish this purpose, I have
made use of different means, such as setons, issues made
by incision, and issues made by caustic; and although
there be no very material difference, I do upon the
whole prefer the last. A seton is a painful and nasty
thing : besides which it frequently wears through the
skin before the end for which it was made can be ac¬
complished. Issues made by incision, if they be large
enough for the intended purpose, are apt to become in¬
flamed, and to be very troublesome before they come to
suppuration ; but openings made by caustic are.not in
general liable to any of these inconveniences, at least not
so frequently nor in the same degree : they are neither
so troublesome to make or maintain. I make the eschars
of an oval form, about two-thirds of an inch in diame¬
ter on each side of the curve, taking care to leave a suf¬
ficient portion of skin between them. In a few days,
when the eschar begins to loosen and separate, I cut out
all the middle, and put into each a large kidney-bean :
when the bottoms of the sores are become clean by sup¬
puration, I sprinkle, every third or fourth day, a small
quantity of finely powdered cantharides on them, by
which the sores are prevented from contracting, the
discharge increased, and possibly other benefit obtained^
The issues I keep open until the cure is complete; that
is, until the patient recovers perfectly the use of his legs,
or even for some time longer: and I should think that
it would be more prudent to heal only one of them first,
keeping the other open for some time j that is, not only
until the patient can walk, but until he can walk firm¬
ly, briskly, and without the assistance of a stick: until
he can stand quite upright, and has recovered all the
height which the habit or rather the necessity of stoop¬
ing, occasioned by the distempers, had made him lose.5*
Ghap. VII.
Of the Diseases of the Arterial System.
Sect. I. General Hcmarks on the Diseases of the Ar¬
terial System.
The diseases of the vascular system form an important
class in systems of Nosology. In the diseases of every
organ, the action of the arteries and veins is more or
less influenced, though the changes of structure to-which
these vessels are subject are very limited. The only
disease*
Of the en¬
cysted a-
neurism.
Of the dif¬
fused aneu
rism.
S U R G
diseases to be treated of in a system of surgery, are a-
neurism and varix.
Sect. II. Of Aneui'isms.
The term a?ieurism was originally meant to signify a
tumor formed by the dilatation of the coats of an ar¬
tery ; but by modern practitioners it applies not only to
tumors of this kind, but to such as are formed by blood
effused from arteries into the contiguous parts. There
are three species generally enumerated ; the true or en¬
cysted, the false or diffused, and the varicose aneurism.
The true or encysted aneurism, when situated near
the surface of the body, produces a tumor at first small
and circumscribed ; the skin retains its natural appear¬
ance : when pressed by the fingers, a pulsation is evi¬
dently distinguished ; and with very little force the con¬
tents of the swelling maybe made to disappear; but
they immediately return upon removing the pressure.
By degrees the swelling increases, and becomes more
prominent; the skin turns paler than usual, and in more
advanced stages is oedematous: the pulsation still con¬
tinues ; but parts of the tumor become firm from the
coagulation of the contained blood, and yield little to
pressure ; at last the swelling increases in a gradual
manner, and is attended with a great degree of pain.
The skin turns livid, and has a gangrenous appearance.
There is an oozing of bloody serum from the integu¬
ments ; and, if mortification do not take place, the skin
cracks in different parts ; and the artery being now de¬
prived of the usual resistance, the blood bursts out with
such force as to occasion the almost immediate death of
the patient.
When affections of this kind happen in the larger ar¬
teries, the soft parts not only yield to a great extent,
but even the bones frequently undergo a great degree
of derangement.
The false or diffused aneurism consists in a wound or
‘ rupture in an artery, producing, by the blood thrown
out of it, a swelling in the contiguous parts. It is most
frequently produced by a wound made directly into the
artery. A tumor, about the size of a horse-bean, gene¬
rally rises at the orifice in the artery soon after the dis¬
charge of the blood has been stopped by compression.
At first it is soft, has a stx-ong pulsation, and yields a
little to pressure, but cannot be made entirely to disap¬
pear ; for the blood forming the tumor being at rest,
begins to coagulate.. If not improperly treated by
much pressure, it generally remains nearly of the same
size for several weeks. The enlargement, however, pro¬
ceeds more rapidly in some cases than in others. In¬
stances have occurred of the blood being diffused over
the whole arm in the space of a few hours ; while,
on the contrary, swellings of this kind have been many
months, nay even years, in arriving at any considerable
size.
As the tumor becomes larger, it does not, like the
true aneurism, grow much more prominent, but rather
spreads and diffuses itself into the surrounding parts.
By degrees it acquires a firm consistence ; and the pul¬
sation, which was at first considerable, gradually dimi¬
nishes, till it is sometimes scarcely perceptible. If the
blood at first thrown out proceed trom an artery deeply
seated, the skin preserves its natural appearance till the
disorder is far advanced: But when the blood gets at
E R Y. Chap. VII.
first into contact with the skin, the parts become instant- Of
ly livid, indicating the approach ot mortification ; and Aneurisim,
a real sphacelus has sometimes been induced. The tu-
mor at first produces little uneasiness; liut as it increases
in size, the patient complains of severe pain, stiffness,
numbness, and immobility of the whole joint; and these
symptoms continuing to augment, if the artery be large,
and assistance not given, the teguments at last burst,
and death ensues.
When an artery is punctured through a vein, as in Of the y*.
blood-letting at the arm, the blood generally rushes intoncos.e a-
the yielding cellular substance, and there spreads so asneu^sra•
to shut the sides of the vein together. But in some in¬
stances where the artery happens to be in contact with
the vein, the communication opened has been preserved ;
and the vein not being sufficiently strong for resisting
the impulse of the artery, must consequently be dilated.
Th is is a varicose aneurism. Soon after the injury the
vein immediately communicating with the artery begins
to swell, and enlarge gradually. If there beany consi¬
derable communications in the neighbourhood, the veins
which form them are also enlarged. The tumor disap¬
pears upon pressure, the blood contained in it being
chiefly pushed forwards in its course towards the heart;
and when the tumor is large, there is a singular tremu¬
lous motion, attended with a perpetual hissing noise, as
if air was passing into it through a small aperture.
If a ligature be applied upon the limb immediately
belorv the swelling, tight enough to stop the pulse in
the under part of the member, the swelling disappears by
pressure, but returns immediately upon the pressure be¬
ing removed. If, after the swelling is removed by pres¬
sure, the finger be placed upon the orifice in the artery,
the veins remain perfectly flaccid till the pressure is ta¬
ken off. If the trunk of the artery be compressed above
the orifice, so as effectually to stop the circulation, the
tremulous motion and hissing noise immediately cease;
and if the veins be now emptied by pressure, they re¬
main so till the compression upon the artery be removed.
If the vein be compressed a little above, as well as be¬
low the tumor, all the blood may generally, though not
always, be pushed through the orifice into the artery ;
from whence it immediately returns on the pressure be¬
ing discontinued.
When the disease has continued long, and the dilata¬
tion of the veins has become considerable, the trunk of
the artery above the orifice generally becomes greatly
enlarged, while that below becomes proportionably
small ; of consequence the pulse in the under part of the
member is always more feeble than in the sound limb of
the opposite side.
Aneurisms have frequently been mistaken for absces-Diagnoii*
ses and other collections of matter, and have been laid ofaneurisB
open by incision ; on which account great attention is
sometimes required to make the proper distinction. In
the commencement of the disease the pulsation in the
tumor is commonly so strong, and other concomitant
circumstances so evidently point out the nature of tire
disorder, that little or no doubt respecting it can ever
take place ; but in the more advanced stages of the dis¬
ease, when the swelling has become large and has lost
its pulsation, nothing but a minute attention to the pre¬
vious history of the case can enable the practitioner to
form a judgment of its nature.
Aneurisms may be confounded with soft encysted tu¬
mors,
hap. VII. S U R
Of mors, scrofulous swellings, and abscesses situated so near
Ueurisms. to an artery as to be affected by its pulsation. But one
symptom, when connected with strong pulsation, may
always lead to a certain determination that the swelling
is of the aneurismal kind, viz,, the contents of the tumor
being made easily to disappear upon pressure, and their
returning on the compression being removed. The
want of this circumstance, however, ought not to con¬
vince us that it is not of that nature j for it frequently
happens, especially in the advanced stages of aneurisms,
that their contents become so firm that no effect is pro¬
duced upon them by pressure. Hence the propriety, in
doubtful cases, of proceeding as if the disease was clear¬
ly of the aneurismal kind.
Sbgnosis. In the prognosis, three circumstances are chiefly to
be attended to; the manner in which the disease appears
to have been produced, the part of the body in which
the swelling is situated, and the age and habit of bo¬
dy of the patient.
If an aneurism has come forward in a gradual man¬
ner, without any apparent injury done to the part, and
not succeeding any violent bodily exertion, there will be
reason to suppose that the disease depends upon a gene¬
ral affection either of the trunk in which it occurs, or
of the whole arterial system. In such cases art can give
little assistance ; whereas if the tumor has succeeded
an external accident, an operation may be attended
with success.
In the varicose aneurism a more favourable prognosis
may generally be given than in either of the other two
species. It does not proceed so rapidly ; when it has
arrived at a certain length, it does not afterwards ac¬
quire much additional size ; and it may be sustained
without much inconvenience for a great number of
years. As long as there is reason to expect this, the
hazard which almost always attends the operation ought
to be avoided.
Treatment.—~In e very case of aneurism, the use of pres¬
sure has been indiscriminately recommended, not only in
the incipient period of the disease, but even in its more
advanced stages. In the diffused or false aneurism, as
pressure cannot be applied to the artery alone, without at
the same time affecting the refluent veins; and as this,
by producing an increased resistance to the arterial pul¬
sations, must force an additional quantity of blood to the
orifice in the artery, no advantage is to be expected
from it.
pres- In the early stages of encysted aneurism, while the
'• blood can be yet pressed entirely out of the sac into the
artery, it often happens, by the use of a bandage of soft
and somewhat elastic materials, properly fitted to the
part, that much may be done in preventing the swelling
from receiving any degree of increase ; and on some
occasions, by the continued support thus given to thfe
weakened artery, complete cures have been at last ob¬
tained. In all such cases, therefore, particularly in every
instance of the varicose aneurism, much advantage may
be expected from moderate pressure.
But pressure, even in encysted aneurism, ought never
to be carried to any great length; for tight bandages,
by producing an immediate degree of reaction in the
containing parts to which they are applied, instead of
answering the purpose for which they were intended,
have evidently the contrary effect. Indeed the great-
G E R Y.
79
est length to which pressure in such cases ought to go, of
should be to serve as an easy support to the parts af- Aneurisms,
fected. 1 ' r~—~J
Ot late years the subject of aneurism has attracted
the notice of several eminent surgeons in this country ;
and arterial trunks have been successfully tied, which
had been often proposed, but never before executed.
Mr John Bell several years ago, tied the trunk of the
gluteal artery. Mr Abernethy tied the common femo¬
ral. Mr Astley Cooper tied the common carotid; and
Mr Ramsden tied the subclavian artery.
Sect. III. Of the Popliteal Aneurism.
Me are indebted to Mr John Hunter for the ingeni¬
ous operation for popliteal aneurism. The operation
consists in exposing the femoral artery about the middle
ot the thigh, and putting a ligature round the vessel.
An incision is to be made through the integuments, two
inches and a half in length on the inner edge of the
sartorius muscle (see Plate HXVI. fig. i.). An in¬
cision is to be made through the sheath containing
the artery with its accompanying vein and nerve, and
a double ligature is to be introduced underneath it, by
means of a blunt needle ; care being taken not to in-* See Plato
elude either the femoral vein, or crural nerve. One li- DXIU.
gature is to be tied as high up, and the other as low as
the artery is separated from the contiguous parts ; the
distance between the two being rather more than half
an inch. The artery should then be divided by a
probe-pointed bistoury, (Plate DXIII.) in the inter¬
space between the two ligatures, but nearer to the lower
ligature than to the upper one. The ligature should be
moderately thick, in order that the noose may be drawn
as tightly as possible, without risk of tearing, or cutting
the coats of the vessel. The limb may be kept warm
after the operation, by artificial heat if necessary; and
the wound treated in the usual manner.
Sect. IV. Of the Femoral Aneurism.
The external iliac artery was first tied by Mr Aber¬
nethy*; and there are now eight cases on record where * See Mr
the practice has been followed, six of which were success- Abemethjf*
ful. Mr Abernethy’s operation consists in making an ^ureicnl
incision through the integuments of the abdomen, a-iton™"'
bout three inches in length in the direction of the ar¬
tery, beginning just above Poupart’sligarnent, (see Plate
DXVI. fig. I.), and half an inch on the outside of the
abdominal ring, in order to avoid the epigastric artery.
Jhe aponeurosis of the external oblique muscle is then
to be divided in the direction of the wound. The low^er
margin of the internal oblique and transverse muscles is
to be cut with a crooked bistoury. Jhe finger may
then be passed between the peritonaeum by the side of
the psoas muscle, so as to touch the artery. A double
ligature is to be put underneath the vessel, and tied as
in the operation for popliteal aneurism.
Sect. V. Of the Carotid Aneurism.
It had been repeatedly proposed to tie the carotid
artery; but the operation was first performed by Mr
Astley
8o S U R G
Of Varicose Astley Cooper. There are several instances of this ar-
Veins. tery having been successfully tied, so that there is suf-
,r v ' ficient encouragement to adopt the practice in future
cases, where there is room to tie the artery above the
sternum. The operation is to be done by making an
incision on the side of the artery next the trachea,
laying bare the vessel, and carefully avoiding the par
vagum and the recurrent branch in placing the liga¬
ture.
Sect. VI. Of the Axillary Aneurism.
Mr Keate of St George’s Hospital, tied with suc¬
cess the axillary artery, where it passes over the first
rib j and Mr Ramsden has lately tied the subclavian
artery for an axillary aneurism. The patient, how¬
ever/died. A similar operation was attempted by Mr
Cooper, but he failed in tying the ligature round the
artery, from the bulk of the tumor. Mr Blizzard
completely succeeded in performing this operation.
The great difficulty felt in these operations was the
passing of the ligature below the vessel on account of
its depth.
Chap. VIII.
Of the Diseases of the Venous System.
Sect. I. Of Varicose Veins.
When the veins of any organ become preternatu-
rally dilated, they are said to be varicose. This state
of the veins is most usually met with in those which are
superficial, and seems to arise either from some mecha¬
nical cause preventing the ready flow of blood through
them, or from the veins themselves losing the necessary
support of the skin and adjacent parts. The gravid
uterus, by pressing on the iliac vessels, frequently ren¬
tiers the veins of the lower extremity varicose. Va¬
rious tumors produce similar eftects. We also see the
veins of the integuments of old people become tortuous
and swelled from no mechanical pressure.
Varicose veins are a frequent attendant on ulcers of
the leg, and it has been observed that the ulcer seldom
or ever heals until the varix is cured.
Varicose veins of the extremities may generally be
much relieved by the application of a proper bandage
from the toes upwards *, and in cases where this does
not give relief, the venous trunk should be tied with a
ligature as directed in aneurism.
Sect. IT. Varicose Spermatic Veins (Varicocele).
The veins of the spermatic cord often remain vari¬
cose after inflammation of the testicle, and also in early
life without any known cause. The disease is generally
easily distinguished by the tortuous irregular swelling.
It sometimes, however, acquires a large size ; but even
then its nature may be readily distinguished by placing
the patient in a horizontal position, and applying pres¬
sure to the tumor. By this the swelling disappears,
and if the upper part be grasped so as to allow nothing
to pass out of the abdomen, the swelling will neverthe¬
less be again formed.
The disease occurs most frequently in the left side,
E R Y. Chap. IX
and this may arise from the vein in that side not termi-ofibe I)i>
nating directly in the vena cava, but in the emulgent. eaFesofih
Treatment.—The use of astringents, along with a pro- , Te*tick.
per suspensory bandage, will generally afford relief. It
has also been proposed to tie a ligature round one or
more of the varicose vessels. In one case this was done
with complete success.
Sect. III. Of Hcemorrhoidal Tumors.
The haemorrhoidal tumor consists in a dilatation of
the veins about the anus and extremity of the rectum.
They are round smooth tumors of a purple colour, and
more or less painful. They vary in their size and num¬
ber. Sometimes they are accompanied by a regular
periodical discharge of blood (bleeding piles), and in
other cases no such discharge takes place (blind piles),
and then they are more subject to inflammatory at¬
tacks.
Hsemorrhoids occur more frequently in women than
in men, and they commonly arise from a long continued
pressure on the rectum j as obstinate costiveness, pro¬
lapsus, gestation, calculus or tumors about the bladder,
uterus, or vagina.
Treatment.—When they are inflamed, local bleed¬
ing, fomentations and poultices give much relief, care
being taken at the same time to keep the tumors within
the anus, and to keep the bowels very open by mild
laxatives and clysters.
In some cases the piles acquire a very considerable
bulk, and form a number of large and loose tumors
round the anus, which prevent the free discharge of
faeces. In such cases the tumors ought to be removed,
and this may be best done with the knife j or, as some¬
times happens, if they be so situated as to render this
dangerous, they may be removed by a ligature.
Chap. IX.
Of the Diseases of the Glandular System.
General Remarks on the Pathology of the Glands.
We observe a vast variety of diseases of the glandular
system, and the greater number of these arise from a
morbid state of their secretions. We see striking ex¬
amples of an increased secretion in diabetes, in the mer¬
curial salivation, and in many bilious disorders : on the
other hand the natural secretion is diminished in suppres¬
sion of urine, in dryness of the mouth, &c.
An alteration in the secretory function is not, how¬
ever, the only disease of this system } there are a great
number of organic alterations of structure with which
they are affected, and a variety of tumors are also found
to form in them. As, however, most of the principal
glands of the body are situated within the larger cavi¬
ties, few of their diseases come within the province of
the surgeon.
Sect. I. Of the Diseases of the Testicle.
i. Of the Schirrus and Cancer of ^T<?^2c/£’,(Sarcocele).
This affection is liable to a considerable variety in its
appearances j and as in the description of it which has
been given by authors, they have included symptoms of
diseases
Chap. IX. SURGERY. . 81
)t the Dis-(*‘seaS€9 VV'UC^ are very different from the true schir-
;ase« of the His. ~
Testicle. The most remarkable symptom of scirrhous testicle is
—'V—J a gradual enlargement and induration of the body of
the gland or epididimis, advancing from one point, with¬
out marks of inflammation or pain. Along with its in¬
crease in bulk it acquires additional hardness, and its
surface, from being smooth, turns by degrees unequal
Symptoms. ant^ ^notty* The integuments become of a purplish
red, at last ulcerate, discharge a foetid ichor, and a
cancerous fungus grows from the wound. The sperma¬
tic chord also becomes enlarged, knotty, and hard, and
the glands of the groin swell, the health of the pa¬
tient becoming entirely destroyed, and at last carrying
him off in the greatest misery.
The progress of this disease is in general slow, and
is commonly attended with an aching sensation about
the testicle, and severe pain darting from it to the loins,
particularly when the testicle is not supported. The
disease is most frequent in the advanced stages of life.
It commonly arises from an unknown cause. It has at
times been known to succeed a venereal affection, but
this is by no means common, and it is sometimes pre¬
ceded by a blow or some accident which excites inflam¬
mation.
! ippear- When the scirrhous testicle is examined by dissection,
nces on Dr Baillie observes that “ it is found to be changed into
jssection. a hard mass of a brownish colour, which is generally
more or less intersected by membrane. In this there is
no- vestige of the natural structure, but cells are fre¬
quently observable in it containing a sanious fluid, and
sometimes there is a mixture of cartilage.” Sometimes
water is found collected in the cavity of the tunica va¬
ginalis, but more frequently the tunics adhere to each
other. W hen the spermatic chord is affected, that exhi¬
bits the same changes of structure as the testicle itself.
Treatment.—When a testicle is known to be affected
with the true scirrhus, all prospect of a cure by the ex¬
hibition of internal or external remedies becomes hope¬
less, as there is no fact better known and more severely
felt in the history of scirrhus and cancer in every organ
of the body, than its resisting all means of relief, but by
the complete removal of the diseased part. In a few
• rare cases, by a moderate diet, keeping the bowels open,
suspending the tumor, avoiding violent exercise, or any
thing which may prove a source of irritation, the dis¬
order has been said to be not only prevented from in¬
creasing, but has in a gradual manner entirely disap¬
peared ; but we much suspect that these cases whose
termination was so favourable, have not been of a schir-
rous nature. This is probable from what is known of the
termination of scirrbus in other organs of the body, and
also from the difficulty we have in forming an accurate
diagnosis in the diseases of the testicle. There are, we
hesitate not to say, many testicles extirpated which
might have been saved $ for our imperfect knowledge of
the various morbid changes of this organ, has made it
too much an established practice to extirpate all tes¬
ticles which are enlarged and hard, and which do not
yield to mercury.
W hen, however, by an attentive examination of the
history and symptoms of the disease, no doubt is enter¬
tained of its scirrhous or cancerous nature, the more
speedily the tumor is removed, the better chance there
is of a permanent cure. In performing the operation,
^ ol. XX. Part I. t
care should be taken to remove completely every part of the Dis-
suspected to be diseased, and no part of the skin should eases of the
be left with a view of covering the wound more com- testicle.
pletely which has the least discolouration or mark of' ' y
disease.
Mode of extirpating the Testicle.
The parts being previously shaved, the patient is to
be laid upon a firm table covered with a blanket or mat¬
tress. His legs should hang over the table, and be sup¬
ported by assistants. An incision is to be made through
the integuments with a common scalpel, extending from
a little above the external abdominal ring to the bottom
of the scrotum. The cellular membrane around the
spermatic chord is to be dissected back, and the chord
laid fairly bare •, and this part of the operation is much
more easily accomplished when the incision through the
skin is very free. A ligature of considerable thickness
is to be put underneath the chord, and it may be intro¬
duced with a blunt-pointed needle or instrument (fig. 17.
Plate DXIII.). The extent of the disease in the
chord should now be examined as accurately as possible,
and the ligature should be tied firm with a running
knot, as far above the diseased part as possible. If any
hardness extends to the external abdominal ring, the
chord may be even dissected up along the inguinal ca¬
nal, and the ligatnre*put on at that place. The chord
may be divided one-fourth of an inch below where the
ligature has been applied, and then the whole of the
testicle and its vaginal coat may be readily dissected
away, taking care not to cut into the vaginal cavity of
the opposite side of the scrotum. After the testicle is
removed, the ligature should be loosened, and the sper¬
matic artery and veins included in separate ligatures.
The ligature upon the spermatic chord is to be left
loose, so as to act as a tourniquet if a haemorrhagy
should ensue. Much care should also be taken to secure
any arteries of the integuments of the scrotum which
are seen bleeding; as we once met with a very trouble¬
some hsemorrhagy from one of these retracting among
the loose cellular texture, and not being seen after the
operation. It therefore will be a good general rule
to tie those with ligatures immediately after they are
divided.
The wound is to be dressed, so as to be healed if pos¬
sible by adhesion; and this may generally be accomplish¬
ed, except at the upper part where the ligatures come
through. With this view the wound and scrotum are to
be carefully washed, and two or three stitches, as may be
thought most expedient, are to be put through the edges
of the wound $ for in a part like the scrotum, where the
skin is loose and puckered, it is hardly possible to ap¬
ply adhesive straps with sufficient accuracy, so as to
serve the purpose. Small pieces of adhesive plaster,
however, should be neatly placed between each of the
stitches, along the whole extent of the wound, and a
pledget of simple ointment and compress afterwards to
be laid over it, the whole being secured with a T ban¬
dage.
After the operation, the patient is to be put to bed,
being directed to lie on his back with a pillow between
the thighs, so as to support the scrotum.
Opiates should be given to allay pain, and if any in¬
flammatory symptoms supervene, bleeding at the arm
should be had recourse to without the least hesitation ;
L for
82
SURGERY.
Of the Dis¬
eases of the
Testicle.
Mode of
dressing
the wound.
Symptoms,
for we have made a general remark, that after almost
all surgical operations, there has scarcely ever an in¬
stance occurred where the patient died from loss of
blood, and on the contrary, that almost all patients who
have lost much blood, or who have been previously much
emaciated, have recovered more quickly than those in
full health. The antiphlogistic regimen in almost every
case should he rigidly pursued, until at least all inflam¬
matory appearances of the wound are gone, and a healthy
suppuration commenced. About four, five, or six days,
according to circumstances, the dressings should he re¬
moved, and if the wound is healed by adhesion, the
stitches may be withdrawn, and the edges of the wound
kept together by adhesive plasters. The ligature on
the spermatic chord may now be safely taken away, and
that round the spermatic artery and veins generally
comes readily away before the tenth dressing. In this
manner the wound should be dressed daily until it is
cicatrised. When the wound, instead of healing by ad¬
hesion, suppurates, the stitches may he taken away as
soon as it appears that the edges of the wound can be
accurately kept together with the adhesive plasters 5 for
if the stitches are allowed to remain long, they general¬
ly ulcerate the contiguous skin, and form sinuses, which
continue to discharge matter after the rest of the wound
has healed. The wound should be dressed once or even
twice in twenty-four hours if the discharge be profuse,
and care should be taken to wash away with a sponge
any matter which may be deposited on the sound skin
of the scrotum or groin. The edges of the wound
should be brought accurately together at each dressing,
any matter collected in different parts of it should be
gently squeezed out, so as to pxevent any lodgement
from taking place. Should the patient become weak
from the continuance of the discharge, he should be or¬
dered a nourishing diet, with a proper proportion of
wine ; and if the discharge be at any time thin and very
profuse, we have found much benefit in such a case from
the internal use of bark (cinchona).
2. Inflammation of the Testicle (Hernia humoralis).
Inflammation is one of the most frequent diseases of
the testicle. Sometimes the inflammation is confined to
the substance of the testicle, at other times it affects the
epididimis, and in some cases it spreads to the albuginea
and vaginalis. The surface of the inflamed testicle is
uniform and smooth, more or less sensible to the touch,
equally firm and tense throughout when pressed upon,
and the integuments are generally discoloured, having
a blush of redness, and interspersed with varicose veins.
When examined by dissection, the testicle exhibits, ac¬
cording to Hr Baillie, precisely the same appearances as
the inflammation of the substance of other parts. The
vas deferens sometimes partakes of the inflammation, its
coats becoming considerably thickened, and in other in¬
stances the veins of the spermatic chord become vari¬
cose. Inflammation of the testicle most frequently is
preceded by gonorrhoea, but it also occurs from a va¬
riety of causes. It occurs sometimes from exposure to
cold, from violent exercise, and is often excited from
blows, riding on hoi’seback, &c.
The inflammation of the testicle concomitant of go¬
norrhoea generally begins by spreading along the vas
deferens from the prostate gland through the inguinal
Chap. IX.
canal till it comes to the testicle ; it is in most cases at- Of the Dii
tended with excruciating pain from the rapidity of its eases of the
progress 5 and as it commonly comes on when the go- 1 estieie.
norrhoeal discharge diminishes or disappears, and sub- ' " '
sides when the discharge returns, many authors have
supposed that it was a true metastasis of the venereal
matter.
If the disease be left to itself, the body of the testicle
becomes more hard and painful, with all the symptoms
of local inflammation, and the tumor sometimes acquires
an enormous bulk. Sometimes the inflammation is ac¬
companied with violent fever, with a pulse hard anel
strong in the plethoric, and feeble and rapid in constitu¬
tions which are delicate and irritable. The patient also
often complains of pains in the loins, and has nausea and
vomiting. In general the discharge from the urethra
diminishes considerably, and often it ceases altogether
before the testicle becomes aflected ; but sometimes that
does not happen in any remarkable degree till one. or
two days after the swelling has begun to appear. It
never happens that both testicles are affected at the same
time, but when the swelling of one disappears, often the
other begins to be attacked.
The testicles sometimes swell and inflame from the
absorption of the matter of a chancre, and as the pro¬
gress of the swelling is in such cases slow, and generally
more irregular, it has sometimes been mistaken lor a
schirrous testicle; hut an investigation into the history of
the case, and particular attention to the appearance of
the skin of the scrotum, and any symptoms of the vene¬
real disease in other parts of the body, will generally lead
to a knowledge of the true nature of the case. It some¬
times happens that inflammation is chiefly confined to
the spermatic chord, and in many cases it affects the
epididimis alone. The extent of the disease is always
easily ascertained by a careful examination of the parts*
It seldom happens that both testicles are inflamed at
once ; we have, however, remarked this to take place.
Inflammation, such as has now been described, generally
abates by the application of proper remedies : in some
cases, however, an induration of the testicle remains.
It terminates, though rarely, in suppuration.
Treatment.—When an inflammation has arisen from
a blow, from exposure to cold, or from any injury done
to the testicle, it ought to be treated according to the
general plan laid down of treating inflammation of other
organs. Local bleeding by leeches is a most useful re¬
medy, and ought to be the first thing employed if there
is the slightest pain, tenderness, or redness of the scro¬
tum. Fomenting the scrotum with warm water, or a
decoction of poppy heads, chamomile flowers, or tobacco
leaves, often gives much relief, and great attention
should be paid in supporting the testicle with a silk net
truss (Plate HXIV.). Some have also used with suc¬
cess the application of ice or snow to the part. If the
symptoms and pain are very violent, bleeding at the arm
may be necessary. The bowels should be kept open,
and even purged ; the patient should be confined to a
low diet, and he should keep as much as possible to the
horizontal posture, as this is found to be of the greatest
importance in promoting the cure.
When the inflammation arises from gonorrhoea, par¬
ticular attention must be paid not only to the disease in
the testicle, but to that of the urethra. Indeed it is of
much importance in the treatment of gonorrhoea to use
means
Chap. IX. SURGERY. 83
Of ihe Dia-means to prevent tlie testicles from becoming inflamed j
case* of the and as every tiling which causes a suppression of the dis-
Testide. cljarge tends to produce a swelling of the testicle, it is
v natural to suppose, that in order to prevent this tr-ouhle-
some disorder, every thing should be avoided capable of
increasing the irritation and inflammation of the urethra,
as exposure to cold, violent exercise, ill chosen injec¬
tions, and balsamic medicines; but, above all, the use of
* Traite a suspensory is most efficacious, and Swediaur * recom-
ywr fci Ma- mends one to be worn in every case of gonorrhoea from
ladies f'c. j.|ie commencement of the disease, to prevent all risk of
the testicles becoming inflamed. When the inflamma¬
tory symptoms are severe, the treatment should be
adopted as we have recommended in common inflamma¬
tion of the testicle. If the discharge from the urethra
is stopt, means should be used to restore it. Whenever
the inflammatory fever is rendered more mild, Swediaur
recommends, with this vieiv, a dose of opium to be given,
and according to circumstances, an injection compos¬
ed of two or three ounces of oil of linseed and decoc¬
tion of barley, along with fifty or sixty drops of the vi¬
nous tincture of opium. This may be repeated every
ten or twelve hours, taking care always to have the
bowels well opened before using it. Swediaur has
found the extract of hyoscyamus in many cases answer
better than opium. Fomentating the penis and adjacent
parts with warm vinegar and water, injecting warm oil,
and the use of bougies, may also be advantageous in pro¬
moting the discharge from the urethra.
3. Induration of the Testicle.
After the inflammatory symptoms have abated, it ge¬
nerally happens that a degree of swelling and hardness
of the body of the testicle, but still more frequently of
the spermatic cord or epididimis, remains, and in many
cases continues for months, or even during life. This
effect takes place from whatever cause the inflammation
may have arisen. In many cases the testicle itself re¬
mains quite sound, and the epididimis is converted into
a very hard unyielding mass, which feels as if it were
injected with quicksilver. Sometimes the testicle, whilst
it remains hard, diminishes in size, and becomes much
smaller than natural. When the testicle is examined
by dissection, it is found to have lost its natural struc¬
ture, and is sometimes changed into a hard brown-co¬
loured mass (Voigtel), intersected more or less by mem¬
branous bands ; sometimes parts having a cartilaginous
quality appear in it, and sometimes cells are formed which
contain matter. The seminal vessels are so changed
and hardened, that they cannot be distinguished from
each other. In some cases the whole testicle has been
found converted into a cartilaginous mass, and in a few
instances some parts of it have been converted into
bone.
rveatasent. The treatment usually recommended in cases of in¬
duration of the testicle preceded by inflammation, are
strong stimulating and astringent applications; such as
solutions of the muriate of ammonia, acetate of lead, sul¬
phate of zinc, &c. either applied by moistening with
them a piece of linen, which is to be kept constantly wet,
or by using them in the form of a poultice. Frictions
with mercurial ointment, either singly or combined with
camphor, over the scrotum and perinaeum, sometimes
produce a good effect ; mercurial fumigations to the
genital organs have also been recommended. In some
cases the internal use of mercury has been found neces- of the Dis-
sary. A mercurial plaster with camphor, or the com-eases of the
mon soap plaster, is also a good application, and is very ^ t esticle. .
useful in defending the testicle. ——y—
The internal and external use of the hemlock (co-
nium maculatum) has been much recommended by
Plenk. Electricity has also been successfully employ¬
ed. The muriate of lime, and the muriate of barytes,
have been used by some authors. Swediaur says that he
has known some affections of the testicle produced by
gonorrhoea, and also some diseases of the eye from the
same cause, cured by the patient getting a fresh infec¬
tion. In a few cases of induration, and swelling of the
testicles, we have employed blistering with good effects.
The scrotum should be shaved before this is done ; and
it is often necessary to repeat the blister several times
before the hardness or swelling begin to abate.
4. Abscess of the Testicle.
It sometimes, though rarely happens, that the testicle Symptoms,
suppurates. The matter which is formed, is commonly
a tough, thready, yellow-coloured substance, which ad¬
heres to the surface of the cavity in which it is contain¬
ed. Sometimes there is only one abscess; in other cases
the matter is contained in several small irregular shaped
cavities. Sometimes the matter is formed in the very
middle of the body of the testicle ; in other cases was
have observed small abscesses in different parts of the
epididimis, the body of the testicle remaining quite
sound. When an abscess is formed in the testicle, the
structure of the gland becomes more or less changed ;
generally instead of being soft, and the tubes of which
it is composed being easily separated, it degenerates
into a hard firm mass.
Abscesses of the testicle should be opened as soon as Treatment,
possible, in order to prevent the substance of the testicle
from being destroyed. The presence of matter is learnt
by a fluctuation which can be felt externally: but it is
often extremely difficult to determine the true situation
of the abscess, whether it is formed in the body of the
testicle, in the epididimis, or between the albuginea and
tunica vaginalis, or in the cellular membrane external
to the tunica vaginalis ; for when such a degree of in¬
flammation has taken place as to terminate in the for¬
mation of an abscess, the accompanying swelling destroys
the natural form of the parts, and converts the whole
into a shapeless mass. Richter remarks, that there
are sometimes soft spots in the testicle, in which it is
believed there is a fluctuation. When such swellings
are opened no matter is discharged, nothing but blood
appears, and the inflammatory symptoms are afterwards
increased. The more matter discharged from an ab¬
scess of the testicle, the smaller the testicle grows, as
the matter is sometimes formed partly of the thready
substance of the testicle. Cases have occurred where
the whole testicle has been pulled away, the surgeon
having mistaken the seminiferous tubes for sloughs. Ab¬
scesses of the substance of the testicle seldom heal, and
generally a fistulous opening remains, through which
there is a permanent oozing of the seminal fluid.
5. Fistulous Sinus of the Testicle.
As far as we know, no author has taken notice of this
appearance. In one case we observed it very remark¬
able. The epididimis alone was swelled, and there was
SURGERY.
Of the Dis- a thickened portion of scrotum adhering to one part of
eases of the it, in which there was a small sinus, and through which
Testicle. j.|ie semina[ fluiJ constantly oozed. In a similar case
the sinus was laid open, but with no good effect j for a
small opening remained unhealed, through which the
semen continued to be discharged.
6. Scrofulous Testicle.
Symptoms When the testicle is affected with scrofula, it presents
some of those general characters of scrofula in other
glandular parts. Its tubular appearance is destroyed j
it becomes enlarged j and when cut, it is found to be
composed of a dull white substance, of the consistence of
curd, which in some parts is mixed with a thin puriform
fluid. The scrotum is in almost all cases involved in
the disease j it becomes red and inflamed, and the vagi¬
nal coat adheres to the albuginea. Abscesses also form in
various parts of the cellular membrane of the scrotum,
which sometimes communicate with the body of the
testicle. This disease generally occurs during the early
periods of life, and most commonly only one testicle is
affected with it. Sometimes, however, when one reco¬
vers, the same disease attacks the other.
Treatment mos^ cases °f this kind surgical aid does not avail
much, for the progress of the disease cannot be check¬
ed by any internal and external remedies. All that can
be done is to relieve the inflammatory symptoms, to al¬
lay pain, and to prevent the formation of sinuses. With
a view to alleviate the symptoms of inflammation, no¬
thing is so beneficial as the application of leeches to the
scrotum, and the use of fomentations and poulticing, or
solutions of the acetate of lead. Opiates and laxatives
may be also freely given, unless in cases where from ex¬
perience these are known to disagree. When matter has
once formed, the sooner it is discharged the better, and
this should be done by a small incision. After one ab¬
scess has healed, others are very apt to form in succes¬
sion ; these should be treated in the same manner, and
if at any period of the disease sinuses form, they should
be at once laid completely open to the bottom ; or if
they are very deep and extensive, a seton may be intro¬
duced j if this, however, does not produce an adhesion
of the cavity, they should be laid open with a bistoury
in the manner directed when treating of sinuses.
*]. Testicle prctcrnaturally small, or wanting.
After violent attacks of inflammation, or in cases of
abscess, the testicle sometimes diminishes greatly in
size, is almost entirely absorbed •, and in a few instances
people have been born with them much smaller than
natural (Baillie). Sometimes a testicle has been known
to waste away without any known cause, so as to dis¬
appear altogether. Sometimes one testicle, and some¬
times both remain in the cavity of the abdomen through
life ; so that a person appears to have only'one testicle
or to be without them altogether. Mr Hunter suspects
that in these cases they are not so perfect as when they
descend into the scrotum; ,and if we were to reason
from what is observed in other animals, in the horse
particularly, where this by no means unfrequently takes
place, it is highly probable that when the testicles do
not descend into the scrotum, they are not capable of
performing their functions.
These cases, though they cannot be relieved by medi¬
cal aid, yet they are worthy of the notice of medical men.
Chap. IX.
Of the DU.
8. Fungus of the Testicle. eases of the
Mamma,
There sometimes arises from the testicle a species of y-J
fungous tumor, which was first accurately described by
Mr Lawrence, demonstrator of anatomy at Bartholo¬
mew’s hospital, in London.
The patient generally assigns the origin of the com-Symptoms,
plaint to some injury. In some cases, it is the conse¬
quence of hernia humoralis, and in others it appears
spontaneously. The scrotum, after a certain length of
time inflames, and adheres to the testicle already swell¬
ed j at last the skin ulcerates, and the opening thus
formed, instead of discharging matter, is filled up with
a fungous tumor, which is of a firm texture, and gene¬
rally insensible. Whilst the fungus is increasing, tire
inflammation of the scrotum diminishes ; and if the fun¬
gus is at this time removed, a cicatrix is formed in the
skin, which adheres to the testicle. There is sometimes
a copious and very foetid discharge from the whole sur¬
face of the fungus. On dissection, the fungus is found
to arise from the pulpy substance of the testicle, more
or less of which remains according to the duration and
extent of the disease.
It may be worth while to remark here, that we have
met with one case, where, from an abscess and ulcera¬
tion of the scrotum, the testicle itself slipt out at the ul¬
cerated orifice, and exhibited very much the appearance
of the fungus above described.
This species of tumor may be safely removed by the TKatment.
knife, by ligature, or by escharotics ; the removal by the
knife is perhaps the safest, and certainly the most expe¬
ditious method.
For an account Fungus Hccrnatodesiri the testicle,
W'e refer to War drop's Observations on Fungus llce-
matodes.
Sect. II. Of the Diseases of the Mamma.
From the changes which take place in the female
breast at the age of puberty, during the menstrual dis.8<-’rv3t.>0DS'
charge, and before and after the birth of the child, we
ought to expect a considerable variety in the diseases of
this organ and, in considering these, we should always
keep in view the powerful sympathy between that gland
and the uterine system. $
The gland of the mamma is subject to inflammation
and abscess. Scrofulous tumors also form in it; it is
subject to a particular disease, called milk abscess, to
scirrhus, and to other indurations, the nature of w hich
is not well ascertained.
The nipple and integuments around it are subject
to particular kinds of excoriations and ulcerations j
tbe lymphatic glands w’hich lie close to the mamma,
are also frequently diseased, and the contiguous cellular
membrane is subject to those diseases which are met
with in the cellular membrane of other parts.
At the age of puberty, when the uterine system be¬
comes fully developed, the female breast swells, turns
hard, and becomes tender, or even painful. A change
also takes place during pregnancy 5 the breast enlarges,
becomes very tender and painful, and a dark-coloured
zone is observed round the nipple. In women w'ho are
suckling about the ninth or tenth month after parturi¬
tion, and sometimes sooner, the menses reappear j and
if
((tliap. IX.
SURGERY.
SS
(iilie Dis- it' the woman afterwards continues to suckle, at each
e^s of the monthly return a remarkable change takes place in the
“ milk j it loses its sweetness, acquires a bitterish taste, be-
w-y~—' comeg 0f a rej,][s{j co|our, and excites a temporary de¬
rangement in the system of the child. Obstructions of
the menses, their final cessation, and all the diseases of
the womb, aiTect more or less the mamma ; and at the
age of puberty, the time of menstruation, during preg¬
nancy, in the early months of suckling, and at the time
of the cessation of the menses, blows and other injuries
are most apt to produce disease in the mamma.
This consent between the mamma and uterine system
ought to be always kept in view when forming our opi¬
nion of any disease in these organs ; and it is particular¬
ly worthy of the notice of surgeons when operations on
that organ become necessary.
i. Of Inflammation and Abscess of the Mamma.
This disorder occurs most frequently in nurses by the
stoppage of the milk, which is always occasioned by sud¬
den or imprudent exposure to cold.
1 utment. In the early stages of the alfection, resolution is to be
attempted, unless the swelling appears to have an evident
tendency towards suppuration. The remedies used in
inflammation, in general, seem useful in every case of in¬
flammation of the breasts. When the patient happens
to be nursing, a sudden evacuation of blood is apt to
diminish the quantity of milk : In such cases, therefore,
blood is to be extracted in small quantities at a time.
The application of cooling saturnine poultices is advise-
able. When suppuration is taking place, fomentations
and poultices are to be used, and the matter is to be dis¬
charged by making an incision in the most depending'
part of the tumor.
2. Of Scirrhus and Cancer of the Mamma.
Cancer has been met with in the female breast more
frequently than in any other part of the body. We
have also seen an example of it in that gland of the
male ; but such instances are extremely rare.
The commencement and progress of a scirrhous tu¬
mor in the female breast, is extremely various in differ¬
ent people ; and has been often the cause of scirrhous
tumors, and tumors of a more benign nature, being mis¬
taken for one another.
Sjbtoms4 Scirrhous tumors have generally made some progress
before they are taken notice of. Sometimes they are
first felt like a pea underneath the skin, and lying loose
over the gland of the mamma ; in other instances, a
portion of the central part of the gland is found indu¬
rated. Of whatever bulk, and in whatever situation
the swelling be discovered, it is remarkable for its un¬
yielding and incompressible hardness, and its rugged un¬
equal feel.
When the tumor is small it seldom gives any pain,
and the patient generally discovers its presence by ac¬
cident. In some cases its existence is discovered by an
acute pang darting through the breast leading to its
examination ; but in many cases it acquires the bulk of
a large hazel nut or walnut, particularly when the pa¬
tient is fat, before any circumstance leads to its disco¬
very.
As the tumor increases in bulk, it advances towards
the surface of the body and adheres to the skin. The
skin then becomes thickened, inflamed, and ulcerated.
If the tumor be situated near the nipple, the disease of the Dis-
speedily affects that part, sometimes enlarging and hard- eases of the
ening it j and in other cases puckering it and drawing Mamma,
it inwards. When the nipple becomes involved in the y
disease, the sanious fluid formed in the tumor often
escapes before the skin ulcerates, by the lactiferous
tubes.
The pain which accompanies the tumor in its more
advanced form, is generally of a lancinating kind ; but
its frequency and degree is susceptible of great variety.
Sometimes sharp stinging pains pass frequently from the
tumor as a centre, and extend through the whole breast;
in other cases there is more of a burning heat in the part.
The progress of the disease is generally very slow, and
in many cases three, four, or more years elapse before
it ulcerates. When ulceration has taken place, the
appearance of the ulcer is similar to that we have de¬
scribed when treating of cancer of the skin*; and the * See Chap,
progress of the ulceration is often so slow, that many IY"
years elapse before the disease proves fatal.
Scirrhous tumors have been met with in the mamma,
from the age of twenty or twenty-five, to a very advan¬
ced period of life ; but they occur about that period,
when the catamenia disappear, much more frequently
than at any other.
Treatment.—There is no part of practice about which
less has been satisfactorily established, than the treat¬
ment of scirrhus in the mamma. The good effects of an
early extirpation of cancer in the skin is very generally
admitted ; but the want of success in removing scir¬
rhous mammae, in the hands of many, has not only led
some surgeons to desist from performing an operation,
except in very recent cases, but has even deterred others
from attempting their removal in the first stages. There
are no doubt many patients who submit to a painful
operation from which no relief can be reasonably ex¬
pected ; on the contrary, the irritation and fever occa¬
sioned by it seem to hasten the progress of the disease.
But there are others where this practice has had a hap¬
pier effect, and where the patients have lived for many
years without a return of the disease. Whenever, there¬
fore, a scirrhous tumor appears in the mamma, which is
moveable and distinctly circumscribed, past experience
warrants us in removing it. On the other hand, when
any of the absorbent glands have become enlarged and
hardened, or when the skin has ulcerated, we believe
that the operation should not be resorted to. Some so¬
litary examples of the disease, assuming this form, may
have occurred to individuals, where an operation has
arrested the progress of the disease ; but these, opposed
to the vast number of unsuccessful cases, are by no means
sufficient to warrant the operation.
Method of Extirpating the Mamma.— In extirpating
the mamma, which we shall first suppose is to be done
where the skin is sound, and where the tumor has no
uncommon adhesion to the pectoral muscle, the patient
ought to be placed horizontally in a bed, or upon a
table covered with a mattress. Two incisions are to be
made with a common scalpel through the skin and cel¬
lular substance along the whole extent of the tumor, in¬
cluding a small portion of skin. When the longest dia¬
meter of the tumor is across the body, instead of a lon¬
gitudinal incision, a transverse one is to be made. The
integuments being dissected from the mamma on both
sides of the incisions, the patient’s arpi is to be extend¬
ed 4
86
SURGERY.
Chap. IX.
Of the Bis- ed to save the pectoral muscle ; anti the whole glandu-
eases of the lar part is to be detached from the muscle, though a
' Mamma. ^ sma|l portion only should be diseased, beginning at the
upper side, and separating downwards. Atter the dis¬
eased parts are removed, the wound is to be cleaned
with a sponge wrung out of warm water, which will ge¬
nerally render the small bleeding vessels more conspicu¬
ous. These are to be tied, and the integuments are to
be closely applied to the parts underneath, and retained
there by adhesive straps. A large pledgit ot simple
ointment is now to be laid over the whole ; and this is
to be covered with a compress of lint, tow, or soft li¬
nen ; and the dressings to be kept in their place, and
moderate pressure made by a circular roller and scapu-
lary bandage.
3. Of Sore Nipples.
Women are more generally affected with sore nipples
in suckling their first child than at any future period.
This may, in some measure, be owing to the smallness
of the nipple j but very often it arises from their being
unaccustomed to the irritation of sucking. In some
cases, the nipples are so flat, and so much sunk in the
breast, as to render it difficult for the child to lay hold
of them. Here assistance can sometimes be given, by
the mother pressing back the prominent part of the
breast, so as to make the nipple project between two of
her fingers. Should this be insufficient, the nipple may
be made to project by applying to it a stout child seve¬
ral months old : but when this cannot be done, breast-
* See Plate glasSes * may answer the same purpose. By applying
DXV. tjiese to nipple, and sucking out the air, the child
will commonly be enabled to lay hold of it.
The nipples at this time are liable to excoriations,
cracks, or chops j which, though not attended with a
formidable appearance, are frequently more distressing
than large ulcers. Mild, astringent, and drying appli¬
cations are most to be depended upon in such complaints j
saturnine water, or lime-water, will answer 5 and either
ought to be applied warm. After bathing the parts
with any of these, the nipple should be covered with
Goulard’s cerate. Even a little soft pomatum frequent-
Iv rubbed upon the part, and covered with a soft linen
rag, is sometimes found to give considerable relief. But
the nipple should be perfectly cleared of these applica¬
tions before the child is laid to the breast; and this may
be done with a little port wine, or equal parts of brandy
and vinegar. If proper attention be paid to these reme¬
dies, they will commonly be found to have the desired
effect} but if the contrary should happen, another re¬
mains to be mentioned, which, in different instances,
has given great relief: it consists in the application of a
thin skin to the nipple, as the neck and part of the
body of a swine’s bladder with an aperture in it; which,
beius properly moistened and fixed to the breast, will
completely protect it in the time of sucking. As long^
as the nipples remain any way affected, small cups ot
glass or tin are useful for retaining the dressings, de¬
fending the nipples from the friction of the clothes, and
receiving any milk which may fall from the breast.
Ansmaloas ^
Kwelangsof Swellings and hardnesses are found in the breast
ma!U which are not of a scirrhous nature. Scrofulous indura¬
tions are particularly frequent. They often become of tlm Dis.
old and hard, and are then commonly considered as enscii oftbf
scirrhus. If the surgeon succeeds in discussing them by
means of any kind of remedy, he is apt to think that he , -,- '4
has discussed a scirrhus. These scrofulous swelling*
sometimes inflame, and the progress ot the inflammation
is very tedious. The breast is long painful before any
softening or fluctuation can be perceived. The surgeon
then perhaps considers it as an occult cancer, extirpates
it, and thinks that he has successfully cured a cancerous
affection. If the surgeon opens such a suppurating knot
before all the hardness is dissolved by the suppuration,
and if he makes a large opening, there commonly fol¬
lows a very malignant ulcer, which may be mistaken
for a cancerous sore. Many cases, where ulcerated
cancers have been supposed to have been extirpated
with success, may have been of this kind.
Venereal indurations are not unfrequent in the breast,
and also cause similar mistakes in practice. Encysted
tumors are also met with in the breast, and are most
commonly of that kind called meliceris.
In the breast of young girls, ten or twelve years of
age, hardnesses sometimes appear, which disappear as
soon as menstruation takes place. Sometimes they do
not go away until the first delivery. Sometimes the
breast swells to an enormous size, and becomes indeed
not hard, but throughout firm, like muscular flesh. lu
such a case the extirpation has been successfully per¬
formed.
Sometimes considerable and often quite hard swell¬
ings appear in the breasts, which proceed merely from
blood. In such cases blood flows from the nipple at
each menstrual period. When the menses disappear
with years, the discharge of blood no longer appears
from the breast $ but then there is a hard not painful
swelling arises, which often acquires a considerable size.
If it is opened, coagulated and fluid blood is discharged,
and a fistula follows, which discharges a purulent fluid,
and sometimes pure blood, and often continues several
years, without giving great uneasiness. The swelling,
which was at first quite hard, sometimes becomes soft,
and then the surgeon is commonly induced to open it.
Sometimes such swellings are observed in women who have
the menstrual discharge 5 and in such cases the swelling
always becomes greater at each period. Sometimes hec¬
tic fever and death follow the opening of these tumors.
(Monro). The mamma is also subject to fungus hce-
matodes ; for an account of which, we refer our reader#
to Wardrop’s Observations on Fungus Hcematodcs.
Sect. III. Of the Diseases of the Tonsils and Uvula.
1. Of the Enlargement of the Tonsils and Uvula.
The tonsils sometimes grow so large and hard as to
become incurable, and even to threaten suffocation.
The tumors have been commonly considered to be of a
scirrhous nature 5 but they are neither attended with
shooting pain, nor are they apt to degenerate into can¬
cer j neither do swellings return after the tonsils have
been extirpated : hence they ought not to be removed
till by their size they essentially impede deglutition or
respiration j but whenever they do this, they may be
removed with safety. The only proper method of re-Treatmt*
moving them is by ligature, which is not only void of
danger,
'tap. IX. S U R G
i the Dis~^anSer> but seldom fails to perform a care. If the base
i' es of the of the tonsil be smaller than the top, the ligature is to
■. nsils and lje used as for polypi in the throat j but however broad
. jyu*a- , the base of it may be, much difficulty will seldom occur
in fixing it, for the swelling is always very prominent.
In diseases of this kind both tonsils are generally affect¬
ed ; but if the removal of one of them forms a sufficient
passage for the food, the other may be allowed to re¬
main. When, however, it is necessary to extirpate
them both, the inflammatory symptoms produced by the
extirpation of the first should be allowed to subside be¬
fore any attempt be made to remove the other.
When the form of the tonsils happens to be conical,
eo that the ligature would be apt to slip over their ex¬
tremities, Mr Cheselden has recommended a needle
(Plate DXV.) with an eye near the point: a double
ligature being put into the eye, the instrument is to be
pushed through the centre of the base of the tumor, and
the ligature being laid hold of by a hook and pulled for¬
wards, the instrument is to be withdrawn j then the li¬
gature is to be divided, and so tied that each part may
surround one half of the tumor. This method, however,
is scarcely ever found to be necessary.
I'large- Enlargements of the uvula, from inflammation or from
*Mts of other causes, may generally be removed by the fre-
t* uvula. qUent use of astringent gargles, as of strong infusions
of red rose-leaves or of Peruvian bark. But when these
fail, and the enlargement is so considerable as to give
great uneasiness by impeding deglutition, irritating the
throat, and so causing cough, retching, and vomiting, ex¬
tirpation is the only treatment upon which any depend¬
ence can be placed. Excision is the readiest method
when the uvula is only elongated ; but when the size is
considerable, dangerous haemorrbagies sometimes attend
this method j on which account a ligature is prefera¬
ble.
Raiment. I'1 performing the operation, the speculum oris (Plate
DXV.) is necessary to keep the mouth sufficiently open,
and the uvula should be laid hold of by a pair of for¬
ceps or a small book, so as to keep it firm, and prevent
it from falling into tire throat. After tire operation, if
the bleeding be considerable, it may be checked by
astringent gargles, or by touching the part with luuar
caustic m, but this will seldom he necessary.
When a ligature is to be employed, it may be readily
done according to the method recommended in the ex¬
tirpation of polypi.- A double canula with a ligature
may be passed through the nose, or the ligature may he
applied according to Cheselden’s method in extirpation
®f the tonsils.
2. 0/' Scarifying and Fomenting the Throat.
In inflammatory affections of the throat, the means
commonly employed are gargles, fomentations, emetics,
scarification, or topical bleeding. Gargles are useful for
cleaning the fauces from mucus, or in cases of ulcera¬
tion. In relaxation of the parts, they are employed with
advantage when made of astringent materials. Fomen¬
tations may be of some use when externally applied ;
but the steam of water, &c. drawn into the throat,
late by means of Mudge’s inhaler (fig. I.) is preferable.
Sometimes it is necessary to draw blood from the part
* affected. Here recourse may be had to scarilying, which
may be readily done by the scarificator (Plate DX1V.
X
E R Y. 87
fig. 14.). After a sufficient number of punctures have Of the Diw
been made, the flow of blood may be promoted by the eases of the
patient’s frequently applying warm water to the punc¬
tures. When an abscess forms, notwithstanding the use
of these remedies, the matter may be discharged with
the scarificator already mentioned.
Eye.
Chap. X.
Of the Diseases of the Eye and its Appendages.
In the account of the diseases of the eye, we shall
follow the same principles of arrangement as we have
already adopted, and treat of the diseases of each par¬
ticular texture of which the eye is composed, in the or¬
der in which they appear most natural ; as the diseases
of the conjunctiva, cornea, iris, crystalline lens, &c.
Sect. I. Of Inflammation of the Conjunctiva.
The general phenomena of inflammation of the con-(jeneraj re,
junctiva, are analogous to those which have been al-marks.
ready enumerated, when treating of the inflammation of
mucous membranes*. Along with the symptoms there * See Chap,
enumerated, there are others which arise from the pecu-m.
liar functions of the organ. The eye cannot endure the
usual quantity of light, vision becomes obscured, and
there is an increased secretion of tears. The inflamma¬
tion is sometimes confined to the palpebrte, sometimes
to the conjunctiva covering the white of the eye, in
some cases to that portion of it which forms the exter¬
nal layer of the cornea, and in others it spreads over
the whole of these surfaces. These differences merely
regard the extent of the inflammation : but there are
others which arise from a difference in the specific na¬
ture of the disease, forming three distinct species j I.
The purulent ophthalmia j 2. The purulent eyes of
new-born children j and, 3. The gonorrhoeal ophthal¬
mia.
I . Of the Purulent Ophthalmia.
The purulent ophthalmia appeared in this country as gyniptoms.
an epidemic after the return of our troops from Egypt
in the year 1801. Since that period, it has spread
with the greatest violence over most part of Britain.
This disease generally begins with a peculiar purple-
coloured redness over the whole eyeball and inner mem¬
brane of the eyelids. There is a sudden pain produced
in the eye, as if sand or some foreign substance was
lodged between it and the eyelid. As the redness in¬
creases, the conjunctiva becomes swelled, from the effu¬
sion of a transparent fluid in the loose cellular mem¬
branes, between it and the sclerotic coat. There is at
first a profuse discharge of tears from the eye, and the
eyelashes are glued together when the patient awakes.
There is soon created intense pain in the ball of the eye,
and a dull aching pain in the forehead. The cornea
sometimes becomes opaque j and if the violence of the
inflammation continues, it ulcerates and ruptures, al¬
lowing the aqueous humour to be discharged j after
which, an abatement of the inflammatory symptoms ge¬
nerally takes place.
Before the disease advances thus far, the eyelids are
generally considerably swelled j and, besides the flow 01
tears,
Eye.
88 SUB,
Of the Dis-tears, there is a profuse discharge of a puriform fluid,
eases of the The inflammation usually attacks both eyes, and it be¬
gins in one several days before the other.
Treatment.—In slighter cases of the disease, foment¬
ing the eye with a decoction of poppy heads, and a
brisk purge, have been found sufficient to abate the in¬
flammatory symptoms. In other cases, however, it has
been necessary to draw blood to a very great extent.
When the disease occurs in a strong plethoric person,
recourse should be immediately had to the lancet, and
the operation repeated on any recurrence of the symp¬
toms. It has been the usual practice of Dr Veitch, and
of those who have had extensive opportunities of treat¬
ing this disease, to draw the blood from the arm. A
smaller quantity, however, taken from the temporal ar¬
tery or external jugular vein, would be found to have
an equally good effect.
When the purulent discharge becomes profuse, some
have recommended the use of collyria, in the form of
injections. The aqua camphorata is recommended by
Mr Ware } and a weak solution of corrosive sublimate,
with opium, has been found to have equally good ef¬
fects. In those cases where there are much pain and
tension in the eyeball and brow, along with a turbid
state of the anterior chamber, and ulceration beginning
in the cornea, the discharge of the aqueous humour has
been attended with much success *. This operation
may be easily, and at all times safely performed, by
making a puncture with a common extracting knife,
through the sound part of the cornea, near its junction
with the sclerotic coat.
'* See Mr
Ware's
Treatise on
the Puru¬
lent Oph¬
thalmia.
G E R Y. Chap. X
the eyelids, and in restoring the transparency of the of the Dk.
cornea. eaS€S
Eyf.
3. Of the Gonorrhoeal Ophthalmia. '—-y—*
The gonorrhoeal ophthalmia occurs very rarely j and
it has been known to arise from the suppression of a go¬
norrhoea, or from the accidental application of the go¬
norrhoeal matter to the eyes. In this respect, its origin
is very similar to the common purulent or Egyptian
ophthalmia, and to the purulent ophthalmia which oc-
curs in children.
The symptoms and progress of the disease are also si¬
milar, only that its progress is much more violent, and
it generally completely destroys the organ.
Treatment.—When it is suspected that the disease
has arisen from a suppressed gonorrhoea, such means
ought to be employed as are most likely to restore the
discharge from the urethra j such as the introduction of
a bougie, the injecting of warm oil, and the application
of poultices and fomentations to the perinaeum. If the
inflammatory symptoms run high, powerful evacuants
should be employed. Besides purgatives, blood should
he taken from the arm or temporal artery.
The local applications should consist of weak injec¬
tions of corrosive sublimate and opium, or acetate of
lead and opium j and the swelling and redness may be
also relieved by the application of the red precipitate
ointment, or the ointment of Janin.
2. Of the Purulent Ophthalmia in Children.
The symptoms of the purulent eyes of children are
very similar to those which have been mentioned. The
disease generally appears a few days after birth by an
increased redness of the palpebral membrane, more or
less swelling, and a puriform discharge. Sometimes the
membrane swells so much as to evert the eyelids, and
render it impossible to examine the eyeball. The cor¬
nea becomes obscure, ulcerates, and allows the aqueous
humour to be discharged. The disease generally affects
both eyes. From what we know of the origin of puru¬
lent ophthalmia, and from some ingenious observations
of Mr Gibson of Manchester f, it appears probable, that
Edinburgh the origin of this disease is communicated by the lodge-
Medical ment of an acrimonious discharge upon the eyes of the
and Surgi- from the vagina of the mother. In a great pro-
Tkal^xol'm Porti°n cases> Mr Gibson found the mothers of those
children, affected with purulent ophthalmia, had leu-
corrhcea 5 and it is probable, that this, as well as other
acrimonious discharges, which we know take place from
the mucous membranes of these parts, may produce the
disease.
Treatment.—Solutions of saccharum saturni and
opium, injected between the eyelids, or the aqua cam¬
phorata of Beates, ought to be employed in the first
stage of the disease ; and the eyelids ought to be like¬
wise covered with some mild unctuous application.
When ulceration has advanced so as to endanger a rup¬
ture of the cornea, that may be prevented by dischar¬
ging the aqueous humour. In the second stage ot the
inflammation, scarifying the eyelids, and applying the
red precipitate ointment, will generally be found to
be useful in allaying the inflammation and swelling of
f See The
Sect. II. Of the Pterigium.
The word pterigium denotes all those morbid changes
in which that portion of the conjunctiva covering any part
of the cornea or sclerotic coat becomes thickened, vascu¬
lar, and opaque. If the disease be confined to a particu¬
lar part of the conjunctiva, the disease is observed at its
commencement like a small globule ot tat, or condensed
cellular substance, situated most frequently near the junc¬
tion of the cornea and sclerotic coat \ and this spot ex¬
tending imperceptibly along the surface of the conjunc¬
tiva at length passes over the cornea, the conjunctiva on
the adjoining part of the sclerotic coat becomes puckered,
and as if it were forcibly drawn over the cornea. The
portion of it which lies on the sclerotic coat is common¬
ly loose, and can be easily elevated, but that which is
on the cornea adheres more firmly. This species of pte¬
rigium has generally a triangular form *, one of the
angles of the triangle advancing towards the cornea, or
covering a portion of it, and the base lying on the scle¬
rotic coat. Sometimes the thickening of the conjuncti¬
va is first perceived on the cornea j the conjunctiva co¬
vering the sclerotic coat remaining quite sound. A pte¬
rigium is always considerably elevated above the adja¬
cent cornea ; but the degree of its thickness varies from
that of a thin membrane to that of a fleshy mass.
Pterigia arise most commonly at the nasal angle of
the eyeball. They are formed, also, at the temporal
angle ; and they sometimes occur at both places in the
same eye. In one case there were two pterigia in each
eye. They are formed very rarely on the upper and
under parts of the eyeball.
Treatment.—The only mode of removing this disease
is by excision. This may be done by elevating the dis¬
eased portion of the conjunctiva with a pair of forceps j
and separating it at its base by cutting it through with a
pair
)hap. X. S U R
(f the Dis- pair of scissars ; and then carefully dissecting it off to its
ase* Of the apex. If any portion of it has been allowed to remain,
Eye‘ . or if the wound shews any tendency to form a fungus’
* lunar caustic ought to be'applied to it, and the appli¬
cation repeated as often as may appear necessary. Any
slight inflammation or weakness in the eye which may
continue after the operation, may be speedily removed
by the application of the vinous tincture of opium.
Sect. III. Of Pustules (Ophthalmia pustulosa).
Kmptoms. Pustules are small tumors which are formed both on
the cornea and sclerotic coat, but they occur most fre¬
quently near the junction of these membranes. A pus¬
tule commonly first appears like a dusky yellow or red¬
dish spot, a little elevated above the surface of the cor¬
nea or scleiotic coat $ and in a short time it becomes a
distinct conical tumor. The adjacent part of the cornea
is always more or less dim 5 and a considerable degree
of inflammation accompanies it, which is either confined
to the white of the eye contiguous to the pustule, or is
spread over the whole eyeball. Whilst the pustule is
forming, the inflammation is generally confined to that
part of the white of the eye which is in its immediate
vicinity. The blood vessels are of a pale livid hue ;
they appear superficial, and can be readily elevated by a
pointed instrument j each trunk can be distinguished,
for they are never so numerous as to appear confused, or
like one red mass, fhey sometimes run in various di¬
rections, anastomose freely with one another, forming
net-works upon the white of the eye.
If the inflammation and pustule remain for some time,
the pustule generally advances to suppuration. When
suppuration takes place, the apex of the pustule ulce-
lates, and frequently a chalky white spot appears at the
centre of the ulceration ; and the opacity of the cornea
at the same time daily increases around it. In other
cases, the opaque matter separates, and leaves behind it
a deep ulcerous excavation.
Sometimes the suppuration proceeds more like a com¬
mon pimple or phlegmon of the skin ; a small quantity
of a thick matter collects within the pustule, and when
it is discharged, a conical tumor remains, which has a
depression at the apex. When the pustule contains a
watery fluid, the fluid is most frequently absorbed in a
gradual manner j but at other times the’pustule breaks,
and an ulcer is formed.
. V? e’^ier these cases, the contents are artifi¬
cially discharged, all the accompanying inflammatory
symptoms are much increased.
Most frequently there is only one pustule, and only
one eye affected j but in some cases there are several
both on the cornea and sclerotic coat of each eye.
The disease, at its commencement, is almost inva¬
riably accompanied with the sensation of a mote in the
eye, and the whole conjunctiva covering the sclerotic
coat has often a yellowish and shining glassy colour be-
oie the redness appears. There is often also a degree
0 redness and swelling, chiefly of the upper eyelid ; and
the tarsi are found adhering together in the morning,
rom the exudation of a yellow matter among the cilia?.
1 here is frequently an unusual dryness felt in the eye j
ut if it be exposed to a bright light, or if an attempt
e4^.e l?se It* ti16 secretion of tears is increased,
ns species of inflammation is always accompanied
Vol. XX. Parti. ' ^ f
G E R Y. g9
with a much greater degree of general fever, in proper- of the Dis-
tion to the severity of the local symptoms, than any eases of the
other ophthalmia. The pain is rarely acute till the pu- Eye.
stule ulcerates j but, if that takes place, it is commonly ' 1 ^
very severe.
An eye which has been once affected with pustule, is
very subject to repeated attacks of the disease. Pustules
of the cprnea are met with in people of all ages ; but
they are more common in young people than in those
advanced in life.
Ireatment.—Sudorific medicines, cooling diluent
drinks, and purgatives, ought to be employed in the
first stage of the disease; and given according to the
violence of the constitutional symptoms. The eye, and
parts around it, should be fomented three or four times
a-day, with a decoction of poppy heads; to which may
be added a small quantity of spirits. When the symp¬
tomatic fever abates, and the redness assumes a more
purple hue, the vinous tincture of opium may be applied
to the eye once or twice a-day j and this will be found
equal ly useful whether the pustule is in a state of sup¬
puration or not 5 and it ought to be continued as Iona;
as there are any remains of the disease.
Sect. IV. Of Matter collected between the Lamellce
of the Coi'nea.
Purulent matter is sometimes collected between the
lamellae of the cornea, when the disease is termed unguis
or onix; or in the anterior chamber, when it is called
hypopion.
When the matter is collected between the lamella of
the cornea, it appears in the form of a yellow spot; and
as the quantity increases, the spot becomes larger, but
does not alter its situation from the position of the head.
When the matter is collected in the anterior cham¬
ber, it generally appears like a small yellow globule be¬
tween the iris and cornea, occupying the inferior part of
the cavity. These abscesses are commonly the effect of
violent ophthalmia, occasioned by a blow, or injuries of
the eyeball; they are also formed, though rarely, with¬
out any accompanying inflammatory symptoms.
Ireatment,—1 hough the purulent matter may be
more or less absorbed on the abatement of the accom¬
panying inflammatory symptoms; yet it would be found
a good general practice to evacuate the matter when¬
ever it apears, by making an incision through the cor¬
nea. I he discharge of the aqueous humour along with
the matter, never fails to diminish the inflammation ;
and this perhaps may be the reason why the practice is
so useful. Besides this, fomentations, brisk purges, and
cupping at the temples, may be necessary if the inflam¬
matory symptoms are severe.
Sect. V. Of Ulcers oj the Cornea.
(jlceis 0. the cornea have been divided by some au¬
thors into a number of species, from differences in their
size, in their duration, in the degree of the severity of
the accompanying symptoms, and from the various causes
from which they have been supposed to originate.
The most frequent variety of ulcer is that which re¬
mains after the cornea has suppurated and burst $ either
in consequence of a pustule or of an abscess.
VMien a pustule suppurates, the central part of it ge»
^ nerall v
go S U R G
Of the Dis-nerally giveaway ; and as the disease continues, the ul-
eases of the ceration extends in all directions from that point. Ul-
cers of this kind are generally circular, and the edges
rounded and smooth ; having sometimes the appearance
of a small artificial dimple : in other instances they
have an irregular shape, and their edges are jagged and
acute. The size of ulcers is very various j in some
cases they do pot appear larger than a depression made
by the point of a pin, whilst in others they cover a large
surface. Most frequently the part of the cornea conti¬
guous to the ulcer becomes more or less dim 5 and in
some cases red vessels may also be traced in it.
Treatment.—The acute pain which generally attends
most ulcers, particularly those which are the consequence
of pustules, will generally be much relieved by the ap¬
plication of the vinous tincture of opium, repeated two
or three times a day. When this produces no good ef¬
fect, and the ulcer spreads rapidly, attended with acute
paih, much relief will be obtained by touching the sur¬
face of it with lunar caustic, or if there is a risk of the
ulcer eroding the whole thickness of the cornea, and a
prolapsus of the iris to take place, it may be advisable
to prevent this by discharging the aqueous humor.
Sect. VT. Of Specks of the Cornea.
There are three forms of the corneal speck *, the jfirsf
and most simple variety, is when a particular part of the
cornea loses its natural transparency, and appears cloud¬
ed ; objects being seen by the patient as if looked at
through a mist or smoke. Some of these specks are un¬
defined, others distinctly circumscribed, and they have
each an equal degtee of opacity throughout, or one part
is more opaque than the rest. They are most common¬
ly of a circular form 5 but in some cases their shape is
very irregular. This size varies from the smallest spot,
to such an extent as occupies the whole cornea.
In the second form of the corneal speck, the opacity
is of a darker shade, giving the cornea a bluish, or in
some parts a milky appearance. It is seldom equally
opaque through its whdle extent; being generally more
so at the centre, and becoming gradually of a lighter
shade towards the margin. In some instances the shade
is very unequal in the different parts of the speck.
In the third form of the corneal speck, the cornea
becomes of the opaque glistening white colour of com¬
mon pearl, and the opacity generally extends through
the whole of the lamelke of the cornea *, so that if even
several of those layers which are external be removed,
the remaining ones completely interrupt vision. Specks
of this description sometimes produce a slight thicken¬
ing of the cornea and are accompanied by adhesions be¬
tween the cornea and iris. They are almost always di¬
stinctly circumscribed, though generally not so opaque
at the edge. When they are of any considerable size,
they are nourished by one or more red vessels.
In the first form of speck, the iris can be seen through
the diseased portioh of the cornea ; but in the second and
third form of the disease, the degree of opacity is such,
that nothing can accurately be distinguished behind it.
If there is an external inflammation accompanying the
speck, the red vessels will be seen in a cluster on that
part of the sclerotic coat nearest to it; and some of the
branches can ofte'h be ttaced passing ever the edge ol
E R Y.
Chap. X.
the cornea, and terminating in the substance of the of ])}(,
speck. As the accompanying inflammation abates, the eases of tb
number of the red vessels on the cornea commonly dimi- ,
nisbes j but sometimes one or more trunks remain, and
are distributed on the speck, in some cases, there are
large specks with numerous blood-vessels supplying them
during the continuance of active inflammation j and al¬
though the opacitv remains extensive after the inflam¬
mation abates, yet no red vessels continue to nourish it.
The number of blood-vessels is in no case in proportion
to the degree or extent of the opacity during any stage
of the accompanying inflammation. l or we frequently
observe a net-work of blood-vessels on a cornea which
has very little obscurity, and at other times there i& a
large opaque spot, with only one, or even without a
single red vessel supplying it. Specks appear on every
part of the cornea, but most frequently towards its
centre.
Specks appear to he formed most frequently oh the
external lamella of the cornea 5 but it is difficult to de¬
termine accurately their situation. I hey vary in num¬
ber. Commonly there is only one 5 but it frequently
happens that there are two, three, or more distinct spots
on one cornea, all of which differ in their size, shape,
and in degree of opacity.
Specks impede vision in proportion to the degree of
their obscurity, and according to their situation. Even
a speck of the slightest shade, which is hardly percep¬
tible to a common observer, if it be placed directly op¬
posite the pupil, materially injures the sight ; whereas
those of the opaque kind, if placed beyond its circumfer¬
ence, diminish the sphere, but not the distinctness of vi¬
sion. In those cases where the speck is of a moderate
size, and placed .towards the centre of the cornea, thfe
patient sees better in a dull, than in a clear light. For
in a clear light the pupil contracts so much, that it be¬
comes covered by tbfe speck, and the rays of light are
prevented from entering 5 but in a dull light it becomes
larger, so that the rays of light enter by its edge.
Specks, most commonly, are either preceded or ac¬
companied by inflammation of the cornea. Likewise
wounds, if they do not unite without suppuration, and
ulcers of the cornea, are followed by a speck.
Specks are formed at every period of life •, but they
occur most frequently in young people ; probably be¬
cause in them the cornea is much softer, and more
spongy ; and also as they are more subject to inflamma¬
tory complaints of the eye than adults.
Treatment.—Those specks which have been describ¬
ed tinder thefrst and second form of the disease, gene¬
rally disappear either by the use of remedies, or in some
cases after the inflammatory symptoms abate.
When the eye is inflamed, and the eyelids turgid with
blood, slightly scarifying the eyelids, and immediately
after the bleeding ceases, applying a quantity of an oint¬
ment composed of the red oxide of mercury (ten grains
to a dram of simple ointment), will be found a very ac¬
tive remedy. And the scarifications along with the bint-
nlerit should be repeated every second or third day as
Idbg as any inflammation continues. When thebe is rib
inflaturriation accompanying the spefck, the ointment may
be applied alone. The nnguentbm citrinutrg and various
powders composed of the sulphate of alum, sulphate of
ZinCj^ub-hdrate of soda-, diluted with from a fourth to ah
eighth
hap. X.
S U R
ihe Dis-eighth part of sugar, may also he advantageously employ¬
es of the etl. In specks of long duration, it will be found useful to
Kye- vary the application, and to employ two or three of the
above medicines ten days or a fortnight alternately.
Those specks of the third form, seldom become more
transparent, even by the use of the most active reme¬
dies. In those cases where only a small central portion
is of that description, the size of the speck may be di¬
minished by the treatment already mentioned j and in
some cases, much benefit has arisen from cutting away
an external layer of the most opaque part 5 and after¬
wards using the above applications. It often happens,
however, that if portions of a very old and opaque speck
be cut away, the part is regenerated by an equally opaque
matter.
The specks which are formed rapidly, are in general
most speedily removed. They go aw^ay, too, much more
quickly in children than in old people 5 and in them,
also, a much greater degree of obscurity can be made
entirely to disappear. When a part of the cornea has
become opaque, the opacity begins to disappear at the
circumference of the speck, or at that portion of it
nearest to the circumference of the cornea. In some
cases it may also he observed, that the external laminae
of the cornea first regain their transparency.
Sect. VII. Of the Staphyloma.
When the cornea, besides losing its transparency,
swells to such a degree, that its internal surface comes
in contact with, and adheres to the iris, and when it
forms a prominent tumor externally, the disease has
generally been called staphyloma. When the whole cor¬
nea is affected, it generally assumes a more or less coni¬
cal form *, loses entirely its natural transparency ; and
vision is completely destroyed. The opacity is generally
most remarkable towards the apex of the tumor, and is
generally of a pearl white colour diffused through the
whole corneal substance. The internal surface of the
cornea adheres to the iris, and the pupil is in most cases
altogether obliterated.
In many cases the cornea does not project beyond
the eyelids: but in others, particularly in children, a
large tumor is formed, which projects beyond the eye¬
lids, and is attended with pain and inflammation, which,
in some instances, renders the other eye weak and ir¬
ritable.
Treatment.—When a part of the tumor gives way,
and allows the contents of the tumor to be discharged,
the patient always experiences a speedy relief, but the
tumor is soon formed again ; so that in order to prevent
its growth, it is necessary not only to discharge its con¬
tents, but also to remove a portion of the diseased cor¬
nea of such a size as to prevent the humors from again
collecting. A common extracting knife may be passed
through the tumor, so as to divide a segment nearly
equal to half the cornea, and the other half may be
readily cut away with scissars. Inflammation and sup¬
puration succeed; and the eyeball finally collapses if
there be not a sufficient degree of inflammation excited.
A pointed instrument may be introduced through the
wound, so as to allow the crystalline lens, or any por¬
tion of the vitreous humour which may have remained,
to be pressed out.
G E R Y.
9i
Sect. VIII. Of Inflammation of the Iris.
Of the Dis¬
eases of the
Eye.
Inflammation seldoni affects the iris alone, though in
some cases it appears to be the principal diseased part of
the organ. The disease is accompanied with intense
pain on exposure to light; discoloration of the iris
from the addition of red blood j disposition of the pupil
to contract j and lymph to he effused on the surface of
the iris and pupil.
Treatment.—Copious bleedings from the arm, or tem¬
poral artery, are generally necessary; and in order tu
prevent any permanent contraction of the pupil from
taking place, much benefit will be derived from keep¬
ing it dilated by the action of an infusion of belladona.
Sect. IX. Of the mode of Making an Artifcial Pupil.
The iris, whether from previous inflammation or other
cause, has been often found with the pupil so much con¬
tracted, and adhesions formed between it and the capsule
of the crystalline, to such a degree, as to prevent vision.
The pupillar edge of the iris, too, sometimes adheres to
the cornea, and is contracted ; and sometimes a portion
of cornea opposite to the pupil is a cause of blindness. In
all such cases it has been repeatedly attempted to make
an artificial pupil; hut this operation has seldom been
successful. Various modes have been proposed to perform
it, but that recommended by Scarpa is entitled to most
attention. This method Consists in introducing a curved
couching needle (Plate DXVII. fig. 20.), as in the
operation of couching the cataract, passing its point
through the iris at the place where it is intended the
new opening should be made, and then forcibly tearing
down a portion of iris from its connection with the cili¬
ary ligament. After the operation it will be found use¬
ful to keep the iris for some time under the influence of
belladona. We understand that Mr Gibson, an inge¬
nious surgeon in Manchester, has operated with great
success in a new manner. He makes the punctuation of
the cornea at its transparent part with an extracting
knife (Plate DXVII. fig. 1.), and presses the eye¬
ball so as to squeeze the iris through the incision of the
cornea; or if any adhesions render that impracticable,
he drags it out with a hook (Plate DXVII. fig. 19.),
and afterwards cuts away with a scissars the prolapsed
portion. Then immediately the perforated iris falls back
into its natural situation, leaving a proper opening.
Sect. X. Of the Cataract.
The most common disease of the lens is a loss of its
natural transparency ; and this arises either from a
change in its structure, or from a deposition of new mat¬
ter. The capsule of the lens is also subject to opacities.
These diseases are known by the name of cataract.
There are four species of cataract generally enume¬
rated. In the first, the crystalline lens itself becomes
opake {cataracta crystalline). In the second, the cap¬
sule is changed in its structure {cataracta membrana-
cea). In the third, the liquor Morgagni becomes opake
{cataracta interstitialis) ; and when all those parts are
affected at the same time, it has been denominated the
mixed cataract, {cataracta mixta).
M2
When
92
S U R G
Colour of
cataracts,
Diagnosis
between
hard and
soft cata¬
racts.
Of the Dis- When the crystalline lens becomes opake, the opacity
eases of the generally begins towards the central part of the lens,
^)'e- and extends towards its circumference; in other cases a
Consistence Senera^ obscurity extends over the whole lens,
of cata- The consistence of the lens varies very much in the
racts. different kinds of cataract. Sometimes it is converted
into an aqueous or milky fluid, or like thin jelly ; at
other times it becomes harder and firmer than natural;
and in several cases it has been found converted into
bone, or into a chalky looking substance. It has been
generally remarked, that the fluid or milky cataract is
most frequent in children, but we have also met with it
in those advanced in life. The solid or concrete cata¬
ract, on the other hand, has been generally found in
adults. At the same time, we have observed the lens of
young people converted into a hard and white substance
resembling chalk.
The colour of different cataracts is very various ; and
they never appear of the same colour in the eye as when
removed from it. The most usual colour of them in
the eye is a bluish white or gray; sometimes clouded in
different parts or striated, sometimes of a lead colour,
sometimes greenish, and sometimes of a yellow or amber
colour. When taken out of the body, those which ap¬
peared white or gray are generally dark yellow or am¬
ber ; and those of a yellow tinge in the eye often ap¬
pear white when extracted.
There is scarcely any diagnostic mark of a soft and
hard cataract which can be altogether depended on. The
colour proves nothing, those of a milky colour being
often quite hard, and sometimes those of a pearl colour
are quite soft. Neither is there any thing to be learnt
from the degree of the opacity; for it will be found that
those who see no moi’e than to be able to distinguish light
from darkness have the lens quite soft, whilst those who
can distinguish colours and large objects have the lens
quite hard. Richter, however, has remai'ked two symp¬
toms, which he says have seldem deceived him in ascer¬
taining this point. The softer the lens is, the larger and
thicker it is in general, and therefore anproaches nearer
to the plane of the iris or to the edge of the pupil.
Hence he always concludes that the cataract is soft
when it is near the pupil. In order, however, to judge
of the space between the pupil and lens, the surgeon
must look into the patient’s eye from one side; and in
general it requires much experience to judge of this with
accuracy.
We are also able, in some cases, to discern points,
streaks, or inequalities, in the shade of a cataract. If,
after having observed the place, figure, and disposition of
them, we find that in some days afterwards, or upon
rubbing the eye pretty hard, they have undergone any
change in their figure, situation, or shade of colour, we
may then conclude with certainty that the cataract is
soft; only we must he cautious not to draw an opposite
conclusion, viz. that we are not to conceive the cataract
to be hard if these changes should not be perceptible.
“ A perfectly hard cataract,” says Beer,* “ shows
metkungen, itself very plainly before the operation ; the pupil is
uber dai equally opake in its whole circumference ; there are not
to he observed any points, streaks, or spots, of a clearer
or darker colour ; the lens is evidently separated from
the iris, so that a sufficient number of rays of light can
enter, and the patient is still capable of distinguishing
some objects from the side of the eye; the motions of the
3
* Sec Be-
Crauer
Star*
E It Y. Chap. X.
pupil are extremely lively, and it never remains consi-of the Dij.
derably enlarged. The opacitv behind the pupil at the eases of the
commencement of the disease is first observed in the Eye.
middle, and it then extends, but very slowly, towards w J i
the circumference. Such patients, if the middle part of
the pupil is completely opake, can for the most part
read writing by the assistance of a magnifying glass, and
distinguish small objects. The colour of the hard cata¬
ract is gray, passing more or less to a greenish hue;
and the smooth level of the lens may he very plainly re¬
marked.”
In most patients the cataract is to be considered as a Cataract
local disease, though there are also many cases where an generally
opacity of the lens comes on after or along with other
diseases of the eye. It has been observed in gouty andaisea
rheumatic constitutions, and in such people there is rea¬
son to suspect that it is more or less connected with the
general constitutional affection. This observation is of
importance ; for when an operation is performed in such
cases, a total blindness is usually the consequence. Rich¬
ter operated on a man who had been much troubled with
gout, and his sight was restored. In seven months after¬
wards the pupil gradually contracted, at last closed, and
a second blindness followed. In one case of a similar
kind on which we operated, an attack of gout succeeded
the operation, the eye suppurated, and the inflammation
has never altogether disappeared, though two years have
elapsed since the operation. Even in such cases the ope¬
ration is not to be entirely forbidden : the success is less
certain, and the patient will require a very careful pre¬
paration before it, and much attention after it.
There are some varieties of cataract which are con-Hereditan
sidered to be hereditary. Richter extracted a cataractCiltalraot,
from a man whose father and grandfather were both
blind from that complaint. Maitre Jean and Janin have
both met with similar cases. Richter also saw three chil¬
dren, horn of the same parents, who had all cataracts at
the age of three years. We have known several simi¬
lar facts, and particularly one of twins, who both were
affected with cataract when one year old.
When the cataract is seated in the capsule above, it in Cataract
general arises from a blow or wound with a pointed in-of the
strument. Sometimes the whole anterior portion is opakesu^’
and very much thickened, whilst that which is posterior
remains transparent; and in some cases the capsule has
been extracted in the form of a hag, having become al¬
together opake, and containing within it the crystalline.
Such cases have been called by Richter the cataracta
cystica. He says he has only met with one case of that
form of the disease ; Beer, however, mentions many;
and from meeting with them he has been led to propose
the extraction of the capsule along with the crystalline
in all cases of the disease.
I lie cataracta membranacea primitiva of Scarpa is
also another form of the disease. In this variety the
lens disappears, and leaves the capsule opake, or at most
in its interior a speck not larger than a pin-head. This
kind of cataract, Scarpa remarks, occurs most frequently
in infants, or in people under twenty years of age. It
may he distinguished by its resemblance to a verv thin
scale, or by a very white point, at the centre or at the
circumference of the crystalline. Jj
The tremulous cataract {cataracte tremblante of the
French), is another variety of the disease which deserves6
to be noticed. It is generally of a very opake white
colour,
Carnet
c nbined
wh amau-
rcs.
♦hap. X. SUE
14 the Dis-col°ur> an(l seldom large. It moves about on every mo-
«»;e9of thetion of the eye, and the whole iris trembles and fluctu-
ates to and fro. Sometimes they altogether disappear,
M“"v at times passing behind the iris, but they soon regain
their situation. In one example of this disease we obser¬
ved that the opake lens sometimes fell into the anterior
diamber through the pupil. In this form of the disease
it generally happens that the functions of the retina are
impaired or lost-, though this is not always the case.
Cataract is often accompanied with a complete amau¬
rosis. In some cases of this kind there is a great dilata¬
tion and immobility of the pupil, and the opake lens
is observed of a very large size behind it. The patient
can seldom distinguish light from darkness 5 and the
want of sight generally precedes any obscurity of the
lens. In some cases, where there is a combination of
cataract and amaurosis, the pupil remains of its natural
form, and alters according to the quantity of light.
But, as in the former variety of the disease the opacity
of the lens most commonly precedes the amaurosis, it
generally too comes on suddenly, preceded by sparks of
fire appearing before the eyes, or clouds flying before
them, or headach, and pains about the brow or temples.
We have seen an instance of a simple cataract in one
eye, and in the other cataract and amaurosis combined.
Commonly cataract aftects both eyes simultaneously;
but there are also many examples of the disease affecting
only one eye. It also happens, that first one eye is affect¬
ed, and many years afterwards the second. We have in
general observed, that when the cataract takes place
only in one eye in young people, or when it succeeds
a blow, the other eye is seldom affected. But on this
we should not trust much, for it is an undeniable fact,
that a great sympathy exists between the two eyes j and
that when one of them becomes diseased, the other is
very apt to become similarly affected. We have seen
a case where a staphyloma arose in one eye in conse¬
quence of a wound, and in a few years afterwards the
other eye became staphylomatous. A man who received
a blow on one eye, which produced amaurosis, had soon
afterwards a cataract formed on the other. Richter men¬
tions an analogous case. St Ives mentions a very re¬
markable case of a man who was'wounded in the right
eye with a small shot, and shortly after that eye was
affected with a cataract. Some time afterwards the
same disease took place in the left eye, but which gra¬
dually disappeared after the cataract had been extracted
from the right eye. These observations on the connec¬
tion between the two eyes, have led some surgeons to ad¬
vise operating for cataract when only one eye is affected,
in order to prevent the second eye from becoming
diseased. There are a few cases where this practice has
been successfully adopted, and there are others where it
has failed. We know of one gentleman, now upwards
of seventy years of age, who was couched for a cataract
m one eye when twenty years old, and the disease has
never attacked the other eye. Richter once performed
the operation on a woman who had a complete pearl-
coloured cataract in the left eye, and an incipient one in
the right, which, before the operation took place, was
beginning to advance rapidly. After operating on the
left eye, the progress of the disease in the right seemed
to be checked, and for years after the operation it had
fiot made the smallest progress. On the other hand, we
G E R Y. 93
have operated in several cases where the disease was just Of the Dis-
commencing in one eye, and when the operation did notea>es of the
appear to arrest its progress in the second one. It is ,
therefore a point not yet determined in what cases it
would be advisable to operate when only one eye is af¬
fected ; for in those where the progress of the disease
in the second eye cannot be arrested by an operation on
the first, no operation should be performed on either eye
until vision is nearly altogether destroyed.
The progress of this disease is very various : some- Progress of
times it proceeds so slowly as not to destroy vision for the disease,
many years ; at other times a complete obscurity of tire
lens has been known to take place almost instantaneous¬
ly. Richter and Eschenback both relate cases where
people labouring under gout, which suddenly retroced¬
ed, were entirely deprived of their sight in one night.
We have observed analogous cases, though wre could
not determine the existence of any constitutional af¬
fection.
From the sound crystalline being chiefly composed of
albumen and a small quantity of gelatine, whatever
might produce a coagulation of these, would destroy
the pellucidity of the lens. Whatever too would pro¬
duce inflammation of the capsule of the lens might also *
render it obscure j for when any serous surface is in¬
flamed, and to that class belongs the capsule of the lens,
its transparency is destroyed, and it becomes thickened
from an effusion of albuminous matter on its surface.
Cataracts arising from wounds are probably produced in
this manner.
In old people there is often distinguishable a slight
obscurity of the lens, and sometimes it even forms a
complete cataract. In such cases the obscurity pro¬
bably arises from a want of balance in the secreting and
absorbent systems, or the necessary perfection of these
functions to preserve the natural state of parts, which
we observe to decay in many other organs, as well as the
eye, in those far advanced in life.
Besides the symptoms which are to be observed in an Symptoms
eye affected with cataract, there are others remarked byrenmrked
the patient. Objects appear to him as viewed through ^a"
a mist or cloud ; and as the opacity of the lens increases,
the cloud appears greater until it finally prevents even
the largest objects from being distinguishable.
The patient, at the commencement of the disease, can
distinguish objects better in a moderate than in a bright
light; and the same thing happens if the light be in¬
terrupted by the interposition of the hand or any other
shade. The reason of this is obvious ; because the pupil
is more dilated in a moderate than in a bright light,
and thus still admits a certain number of rays of light
by means of the pellucid circle of the lens.
When the exterior part of the lens is less obscured
than the centre, the patient sees those objects much bet¬
ter which are placed by his side, than those which are
opposite to him.
If the obscurity has not affected the middle of the
lens, but some part of its edge, any circular body look¬
ed at by the patient, appears to have its edge imperfect.
It has been also remarked that some patients see every
thing with perforations in them. The cataract is sel¬
dom accompanied with any pain. When it is brought
on from internal causes, both eyes are generally aflect-
ed.
Of
p4
SURGERY.
eases o/tlie °fthe Treatment of Cataract.
In the treatment of cataract, recourse has generally
been had to a surgical operation. Some have pretend¬
ed to cure cataract by internal medicines. Small doses
of calomel, electricity, extractum hyoscyami, aqua lauro-
cerasi, have been extolled 5 but their use is now very ge¬
nerally given up. In some cases of cataract which have
arisen from an injury of the eye, Mr Ware has seen
them disappear by an external application of aether,
* See his w^‘c^ promoted the absorption of the opaque body *.
Surgical There are two operations which have been proposed
Operations, for the cure of the cataract j the one called extraction,
and the other couching. In the first, an incision is
made into the cornea, and the lens removed by pushing
it through the pupil. In the second, the lens is taken
out of its capsule, and lodged in some part of the vitre¬
ous humour, where it may be entirely out of the axis of
the eye. Each of these methods has been much prac¬
tised 5 and though a decided preference seems at present
to be given by the most distinguished surgeons to the
mode bv extraction, yet there are also cases attended
with peculiar circumstances, in which the operation of
couching may be successfully employed. Both opera¬
tions ought therefore to be well understood by every
surgeon.
Preparatory It was formerly the custom, before performing either
*teps. of these operations, to confine the patient for several
weeks, or even months, to a strict antiphlogistic regi¬
men j but this precaution, except in very particular
cases, may be generally dispensed with. People who
have become blind, generally lead a quiet life, and are
not exposed to any of those dissipations which are like¬
ly to afiect the constitution. It will therefore general¬
ly be found sufficient precaution, before attempting
an operation, to enjoin the patient to live moderately ;
to avoid spirituous liquors, and take a few doses of any
of the common laxative medicines. If he be strong
and plethoric, it will be necessary to pursue such a
course a little further } to give doses of laxative medi¬
cines for a longer period, and even to bleed the patient
in the arm. Many surgeons lay it down as a general
rule, to take some blood on the morning of the day of
the operation, either from the arm, from the temples,
or from the neck by cupping j and either of these me¬
thods is to be preferred, according to the quantity of
blood which is intended to be taken. In old people of
a healthy constitution, we have often found it unneces¬
sary to use any of these means, no inflammatory symp¬
tom having arisen during the progress of the cure. In
many cases, instead of bleeding before the operation, w’e
have preferred doing it after the operation was perform¬
ed, when the patient was put quiet in bed. Blood
taken at this period may be reasonably supposed to have
a more powerful effect in giving check to any inflam¬
matory attack which might be apt to succeed the ope¬
ration, than if an equal quantity had been taken away
before it. The bleeding too, immediately after the
operation, we have often observed, renders the patient
calm, and more disposed to rest, whereas at the same
time any of those disagreeable symptoms are avoided
during the operation, which are apt to remain for seve¬
ral hours after bleeding, when the patient is in the erect
posture. It is also of importance before the operation is
performed, the patient being so situated, that he can be
Eye.
Chap. X,
easily put to bed. The operation should therefore be of the Dk
performed in the same chamber in which he is to re-eases of
main, or in one immediately adjoining j and he should (
be clothed in a bed-gown or some loose dress, so as to
enable him to get into bed without much trouble. 1 he
bed should be placed in such a position in the room that
the light does not fall directly on the patient’s face, so
that during the cure, all glaring lights may be easily
avoided.
Of the Rxtraction of the Cataract.
In this operation the object of the surgeon is to make
a wound in the cornea, and to extract through it the
opake lens. In performing it there are four steps which
require to be particularly considered. The f rst of
them is the means to be employed for securing the eye
during the operation. The second is the mode of
making the incision through the cornea j the third, the
mode of opening the capsule of the crystalline lens 5 and
the foui th is the extraction of the lens. All these shall
be considered separately.
Mode of securing the Rye and Ryelids.
One of the great improvements in modern surgery
is the simplicity of the mechanical means employed in
performing operations. A great variety of contrivances
have been proposed, in order to secure the eyeball and
eyelidsduringthe extraction of the cataract. Experience,
however, shows, that almost all these are completely
useless, and most of them extremely hurtful. To dis¬
pense, therefore, with these instruments, and to be able
to execute with the fingers alone those parts of the
opei-ation for which they were employed may be justly
considered as a material improvement. The eyeball
and eyelids may be completely secured in almost all
cases, by the fingers of one hand of the operator, and
those of an assistant. The assistant will generally find
that, with the fore finger of one or of both hands placed
upon the tarsus, one upon the internal, and another to¬
wards the external angle of the eye, he will be easily
able to raise the upper eyelid, so as to expose the cor¬
nea j and by the finger being placed towards the inter¬
nal angle he will be also able to assist the operator in
preventing the eyeball from being turned inwards,
when the incision into the cornea is about to be made.
The operator is to secure the under eyelid by the fore
and middle fingers of his left hand. They are to be
placed in such a manner over the edge of the tarsus,
that they may come in contact with the eyeball} and
the middle finger is to be pressed pretty firmly in the
internal angle of the eye, between the eyeball and
lachrymal caruncle, so as effectually to prevent the mo¬
tion of the eye towards the nose. In this position of
the fingers of the operator and assistant, those who are
accustomed to perform operations on the eye, find that
they are completely master of the motions of the eye¬
ball ; and by altering the positions of the points of the
fingers, and applying more or less pressure, they are
able to counteract any untoward motion of the organ.
Before attempting to secure the eyeball, the operator
should be prepared to advance in every step of the ope¬
ration ; for it will be generally found, that if an at¬
tempt has been made to open the eyelids forcibly, a
certain degree of irritation and watering of the eye
takes place ; so that, when a second attempt is made,
with
C m X. SURGERY. 95
■yf' e. Uis-W'th a view of proceeding to the other steps of the ope-
;asiof the ration, more difficulty is met with in holding the eye
1 f®; than at first would have been the case. It is a good
precaution, however, for the surgeon to take an oppor¬
tunity, before the day of the operation, to try to fix the
eye, ami to explain to the patient this step of the ope¬
ration ; for it often happens, that patients start, and
make great resistance by squeezing the eyelids, when
the operation comes to be performed •, so that by habi¬
tuating them to the mode of securing the eye, it is
more easily accomplished. The first thing to be attend¬
ed to, before attempting to fix the eye, is a proper
light, the position of the patient’s head, and the
height of the chair in which he is to sit. The light
of the room should come from one window, and the
patient sit in sueh a manner that the light falls oblique¬
ly over his nose upon the eye to be operated on. If
be be placed so that the rays of light from the win¬
dow fall in the direct line of the eye, the surgeon will
find that he is obliged, either to sit in his own light, or
that the reflections upon the cornea tend to embarrass
him. As soon as the other eye is covered, so as to pre¬
vent it from having any motion, and communicating
that motion to the eye on which the operation is to be
performed, the assistant is to be placed behind the pa¬
tient, and the patient’s head to be supported firmly on
his breast. The height of the chair on which the pa¬
tient is to be placed, will depend on the height of the
patient, and always should be so low, that the assistant
is able to look over the head, and completely command
the motion of his own fingers. The operator and assist¬
ant should open both eyelids at the same time, which will
more readily secure the eyeball in a proper position. The
eyeball, however, is apt to be turned upwards, so that
the cornea is thrown out of view. When this happens,
the upper eyelid should be first raised, and the assistant
should be always ready with the points of his fingers, to
press in such directions, that when the eyeball at any
moment places itself in a proper position, he may be
ready to secure iU When, on the othef hand, the eye¬
ball is thrown downwards, the operator himself must
place it in a proper position, and in this manner both the
operator and assistant are to co-operate with each other,
and the one or the other placing his fingers in such a
manner as to counteract most effectually any awkward
position of the eyeball; When the eyeball appears
steady, the incision of the cornea ought to be immediate¬
ly performed. But before entering the knife, it will be
found a useful precaution to touch the cornea frequent¬
ly with its back, and see if tire patient starts, or if the
eyeball remains quite steady. It will often happen,
that whenever the point of the instrument touches the
eyeball, it is suddenly thrown into motion ; and was the
incision of the cornea to have been begun at this mo¬
ment, mueb difficulty would hare arisen. If, however,
the eye be repeatedly touched with the knife, the start¬
ing motion will sooner or later cease, and then the inoi-
sion of the cornea may be'began with every possible ad¬
vantage. When the knife hits passed thretogh both sides
of the ‘cornea, there is no danger of any motion of the
eyeball hindering the operation.
It sometimes happens that the eye is extremely :small,
and that it is sunk deep in the orbit. In such -people the
operation becomes much mere difficulty and we have
met with cases, where, from these -circomstaaces, it was
2
almost impossible to secure the eyeball with the fingers; of the Dis-
the room which the fingers necessarily take preventing eases of the
the knife from being properly managed, and covering a a
portion of the cornea. In such cases, the speculum con¬
trived by M. Pellier will he found to be a useful in¬
strument. See Plate DXVII. fig. 8. The speculum
consists of a piece of silver wire, bent in the manner
represented in the plate; and though in itself extreme¬
ly simple, it requires a good deal of management and
nicety in using it. The curved edge of the wire (a) is to
be placed upon the inside of the cilice on the horizontal
plate of the tarsus ; the skin of the upper eyelid being
previously stretched upwards. The assistant is then to
move the speculum upwards, imitating, as it were, the
natural motion of the eyelids; and, when the eyeball
is sufficiently exposed, the speculum, with the handle
(6) resting on the brow of the patient, is to be kept
firm and steady in the same position. In using the spe¬
culum, it is necessary to make a considerable pressure
on the eyeball, in order to prevent the eyelid from slip¬
ping from underneath the speculum. At the same
time as little pressure should be employed, as will pre¬
vent this from taking place. Many surgeons, in using
the speculum, place it behind the cilice ; and whenever
any watering of the eye takes place, from the irritation
of the instrument, it is very apt to slip from the moisture
of the skin. In order to prevent this, we have found
very material benefit from simply folding round the
speculum a thin fold of crape, which, from its rough¬
ness, effectually prevents the risk of the speculum slip¬
ping. The operator is to manage the under eyelid in
the same manner as if the upper eyelid was covered by
the fingers of an assistant; and it more particularly rests
with him to prevent the eyeball from rolling inwards,
the speculum merely serving to support the upper eye-
lid.
After the knife has penetrated both sides of the
cornea, the assistant is to be aware that no pressure is
to be made upon the eyeball. When, therefore, this
step of the operation is completed, the assistant, if be be
using the speculum, is to be particularly careful in
taking ofl'any pressure which it may make, and merely
to support the eyelid.
Mode of making the Incision of the Cornea.
TJm great object to be kept in view in making an in¬
cision of the cornea is, that it be of sufficient size to al¬
low the easy extraction of the crystalline lens, and that any
cicatrix which may remain may not interrupt the en¬
trance of the rays of light through the pupil. The mode
which has been recommended to effect these purposes,
is to make a semicircular incision, parallel to the circum¬
ference ot the cornea, and about half a line distant from
the junction of the cornea and sclerotic coat. One of the
knives (Plate DXVII. fig. i, 2, 3.) is to puncture the
cornea half ;aline distant from its circumference, to be
carried across the anterior chamber to the opposi te -side, ,
and brought through the cornea at the same distance
from the sclerotic coat to where it was entered ; after¬
wards the incision is to be finished by pushing the knife
forwards till the incision is completed. *SeeEdin~
Instead of making the incision in this manner, Air burgh Me-
James Wai'drop basiproposcd another form of incision, in an^
order to re fit we several objections to which the former
operation wasitable* . The disad vantages vvhich MrWar- Y01. ir. ’
drop
\
96 SURGERY. Chap. X
Of the Dis- drop supposes to arise from the usual mode recommend-
eases of the ed are,
. . i. The cornea being of very considerable thickness,
a great part of the semicircular incision will be carried
through between its laminae, and therefore the length
of the incision of the internal lamina will be much less
than that of the external one. This he explains by two
plans, Plate DXVII. fig. 11, and 12. where besides the
external form of the incision (a a a), there is drawn a
second line (6), intended to represent the incision of
the internal lamina. The dark space, therefore, in¬
cluded between these two lines (£ and a) is intended to
represent that portion of the incision which is made be¬
tween the laminae.
2. The external form deceives us in the extent of
the internal incision, and much more difficulty is met
with in bringing tbe lens through it, than from its ap¬
parent length could have been expected j for, as the line
of the internal incision has a very slight curvature, the
thickness and tension of the cornea admit the edges of
the wound to be separated only a little way from one
another.
3. When the cornea is divided nearly at its union
with the sclerotic coat, and when the aqueous humour
and lens have escaped, the portion of the iris opposite to
the centre, and most depending part of the wound, loses
its natural support given to it by the cornea, and is
pushed forward, so that it comes in contact with the
cornea, and even insinuates itself between the edges of
the incision. The greater the opening is, the more
danger there is of a prolapsus, both of the iris and vi¬
treous humour; for it would seem as if these two parts
of the eve were pushed forwards in consequence of the
contraction of the coats of the eye, which takes place
as soon as the incision is made ; and if two-thirds of the
cornea be cut, there is certainly much less resistance
than when the half only has been divided. Thus, the
iris and cornea form permanent adhesions in conse¬
quence of the inflammation which always follow's the
operation. The pupil becomes of an irregular form, is
drawn from the centre of the eyeball j is sometimes
very much contracted, and retains but a very limited
sphere of contraction and dilatation.
4. The contraction of the muscles of the globe of
the eye pressing forward the contents of the posterior
chamber, are very apt to push a portion of the vitreous
humour through the pupil and wound of the cornea.
When this happens, the pupil becomes irregular, and
drawn dowm towards the incision, the form of the eye¬
ball is somewhat altered, and the prolapsed vitreous hu¬
mour inclosed in its capsule, appears externally in the
form of a round transparent tumor.
5. As the external edge of the semicircular flap of
the cornea is very thin, and lies loose, the smallest move¬
ment of the eyelids, particularly of the upper one, is
apt to catch and raise it out of its proper situation, and
thus that speedy union is prevented which would take
qilace if the two divided surfaces had been kept in accu¬
rate and constant contact.
6. and lastly ; As the internal edge of the incision is
often unavoidably made, from the smallnes of the ante¬
rior chamber, and the flatness of the cornea, nearly op¬
posite to the inferior margin of the pupil j and as all the
extent of the cut surface (Plate DXVII. fig. 12.),
sometimes remains opaque after the tvound is healed,
the opacity of the cicatrix must diminish the sphere ofOftheDii.
vision. , eases of the
All these disadvantages in the usual mode of making . ^e‘ ^
an incision of the cornea, appeared to Mr Wardrop to
arise chiefly from the want of a sufficient portion of the
cornea being left at the inferior part of the wound, to
support the iris, and to prevent the pressure of the parts
contained within the eyeball, and the occasional action
of the muscles pushing forward the iris towards the
wound of the cornea j he therefore conceived that if the
incision could be made in such a manner that a larger
portion of the cornea could be left at the inferior part of
the wound, being at the same time made of such a form
as to allow the easy extraction of the cataract, and the
cicatrix not afterwards to interfere with vision, a consi¬
derable improvement would be made in the operation.
With this view he made the incision in the following
manner.
The best knife for the purpose is of the same size and Of the cot.
shape with that delineated in Plate DXVII. fig. 1.nea k«if«
The blade is of a simple triangular form, the back be¬
ing one continued line with the handle, except merely
the point. The point, though extremely sharp, should
be made firm, and the blade should turn gradually thick¬
er from the point towards the handle. The point of
the knife must be sharp on both edges for at least the
breadth of a line, in order that it may penetrate the
cornea quickly and easily. The back of the knife
should not be left angular, but the edges rounded off
and made smooth, so that it be convex on both sides.
Particular care ought to be taken that the point of the
knife be well conditioned j and it is not only necessary
that it be sharp, but that the metal of which it is made
be neither too hard nor too soft. This may be easily
ascertained by pressing the point upon the nail 5 for if
it bend readily, not being so brittle as to break through,
and sufficiently elastic to recover the straight line, we
may be confident that it will answer the purpose. It is
also a good precaution to have the knife sharpened the
day before, or the morning of the operation ; and in
case of any accident happening to the point, the opera¬
tor himself should carefully examine by trying how it
penetrates a thin piece of leather, immediately before
using it. From the point of the knife being too brittle,
we have known a case where the point of it was broken
off, when attempting to penetrate the inner part of the
cornea ; and from the point being too soft, we in one
case, after puncturing the cornea, found it impossible to
penetrate with the knife the opposite side, and this we
found had arisen from the point of the knife bending
round.
Having previously smeared the knife with oil, or
smoothed the edge of it upon the palm of the hand, in
order to make it cut more keenly, its point is to be
thrust through the cornea at its transverse diameter, and
at least half a line distant from the sclerotic coat, and in
a direction as if it was to wound the iris, or nearly per¬
pendicular to the spherical surface of the cornea (see
Plate DXVII. fig. 13. and 15. a). When the point of
the knife reaches the plane of the iris, it is to be turned
towards the opposite side of the cornea, by moving the
blade upon the incision already made, as a fulcrum. It
is then to be carried forward, so that the cornea is again
punctured at its transverse diameter b, at thesame distance
from the sclerotic coat at which it had been entered on
the
C up. X. ^ ' SUE
■: Dis-the Opposite sUe (fig. 13.) By these two incisions the
ms<of the blade of the knife has cut perpendicularly, or very nearly
, re' ' SO, to the spherical surface of the cornea, and the gradual
.■ in- thickening of the knife, by filling up the wound as fast
iisi of the a9 it is made, prevents any of the aqueous humour from
ior u, making its escape. The eye is now completely secured
with the knife, and the assistant who has been support¬
ing the upper eyelid, should receive a signal from the
operator, to take away all pressure from the eyeball, and
merely to support the eyelid sufficiently to allow the in¬
ferior half of the cornea to be seen. When the knife
has been pushed forward a little way, as is represented
in fig. 15. the incision is to be finished by turning
round the blade on its axis, and thus keeping the edge
turned outwards, in such a manner, that the remaining
part of the incision is made a straight line, and there¬
fore nearly perpendicular to the lamellae of the cornea
{fig. 13. c). Whenever the last step of the operation
is begun, the aqueous humour begins to escape, which
allows the knife to cut the cornea readily and in any
direction.
Supposing, therefore, that the cornea, instead of being
spherical, were a plain surface, the incision now de¬
scribed would be represented by the lines a, b, and c,
I3- 7 hut as it is a segment of a sphere, the form will
more resemble that represented in fig. 14.; at least this
is the form of the incision which the operator should
have in view when performing the operation. By the
inspection of these figures (13 and 14), it appears,
1. That a large portion or ring of the cornea is left
attached to the sclerotic coat, and must form, from its
thickness, a complete support to the iris.
2. That as the incision is made throughout nearly per¬
pendicular to the lamellee of the cornea, the length of
the incision of the internal lamella will be nearly equal
to that of the external one, and will be greater than
when it is made in the usual manner, by the semicir¬
cular incision j and consequently the cataract will be
more easily extracted through it.
3. The upper edge of the internal incision is at a
greater distance from, or further below the edtres of the
pupil.
4. As the flap of the cornea is very small, the exter¬
nal edge thick, and not easily moveable, or apt to he
caught by the motion of the eyelids, the edges of the
incision are not liable to be displaced, and consequently
the wound has a much better chance of uniting by ad¬
hesion.
Lastly, the cicatrix which remains is scarcely percep¬
tible, and cannot even be distinguished when the cornea
is looked upon in a direction perpendicular to its sur¬
face. The incision should be made so that the inferior
edge of the wound (fig. 3. c) is half way between the
circumference of the cornea and the edge of the pupil,
supposing the pupil to be in a moderate state of dilata¬
tion. If it be made nearer to the sclerotic coat, then the
advantages to be expected from this mode of operating
will be lost; and on the other hand, if it be made at
too great a distance from the sclerotic coat, and conse¬
quently too near the pupil, the edge of the pupil will
be apt to pass through between the lips of the wound.
In one case in which this accident happened, partly on
account of the incision being at too great a distance
rom the sclerotic coat, and also from the knife having
been entered too far above the transverse diameter of
Vox. XX. Part I. +
G E ft Y. 97
the cornea, the wound was long in uniting, and after-it Of the Di.r
was healed, the pupil remained very irregular and con-easrR 0* lli0
tracted.
In making the incision of the cornea in the manner
that has been directed, another circumstance also parti¬
cularly deserves notice, which is, that after having punc¬
tured both sides of the cornea, in giving the knife the
motion round its axis, some of the aqueous humour
escapes, and there is a great risk of a fold of the iris
turning over the cutting edge of the knife. An opera¬
tor who meets with this for the first time, is apt to think
a wound of the iris is inevitable j but if he cautiously
stops the progress of the knife by gliding the point
of the fore-finger over the cornea, and pressing the iris
from its edge, the incision may be completed with per¬
fect safety.
It sometimes happens that after the knife has entered
the cornea, the eyeball makes a sudden motion inwards,
towards the nose, and a considerable part of the cornea
is thus thrown out of view. This accident happens
either from a fault in the operator or his assistant, and
ought to be particularly guarded against; for when it
has taken place, it is irremediable. When this hap¬
pens, the operator must not attempt to proceed any fur¬
ther, but immediately withdraw the knife, allow the
wound of the cornea to heal, the aqueous humour to be
regenerated, and after any slight inflammation which
might succeed, has gone oft, the operation may be a
second time attempted without any additional risk.
It sometimes happens that, on punctitring the cornea
on the nasal side, the point of the knife does not come
through at the proper distance from the sclerotic coat.
If it pass through too near the centre of the cornea, as is
represented in Plate DXVII. fig. 17. considerable dis¬
advantage arises; for besides the incision being too
small, so that the lens is extracted with difficulty, the
eye is apt to receive considerable injury, and the cica¬
trix afterwards to interfere with vision. When this
accident happens, it will be the most prudent practice
to proceed no further in the operation, but to allow the
wound to heal by adhesion, so that a second operation
might be aftenvards attempted with all the advantages
of a first attempt. It is astonishing the rapidity with
which a wound of the cornea made by a cutting instru¬
ment heals, and except it be very large, scarcely can
the most acute eye detect any cicatrix. It is therefore
much more prudent, whenever any fault in the incision
arises, that the wound be allowed to reunite, so that
afterwards a second operation may be successfully per¬
formed, instead of attempting by scissars or other in¬
struments to correct any bungling. If the knife passes
through the cornea too close to the sclerotic coat, it is
not attended with such had effects as when it passes too
far from it; and was it not for the danger of wounding
the iris, it would be advisable in all cases to lay it
down as a general rule to make the kniie come out very
close to the sclerotic coat.
Of the Mode of opening the Capsule of the Lens.
After the operator has completed the incision of the
cornea, he should make a pause, and allow the patient
to compose himself a little, in case of any involuntary
motion of the eyeball injuring any part of its structure.
It sometimes happens, indeed, that the moment the in¬
cision of the cornea is finished, the lens suddenly follows
^ the
See finr. 18,
9*
S U R G
Of the f)is- the knife ;
but this is a circumstance never to be wished
eases of the for, as the same cause which throws out the lens may
. ^y,e' also push after it some of the vitreous humour. When
the incision of the cornea is finished, and nothing has
escaped but the aqueous humour, the patient should he
directed to turn his eye from the light, and to keep his
eyelids shut, taking great care not to squeeze them, so
that the pupil may he allowed to dilate. In most sur¬
gical operations, particularly those attended with much
pain, it is of importance to finish them as quickly as pos¬
sible. This, however, is.not the case in the extraction of
the cataract. It will he in general found that the severity
of an injury done to any part of the body depends, not
only on its extent, but on the sudden manner in which it
is inflicted. Thus, a small drop of blood suddenly effu¬
sed on the surface of the brain, often produces a series of
much more distressing symptoms than a large collection
of purulent matter in that organ. It is therefore rea¬
sonable to expect that if the different steps of the opera¬
tion for the extraction of the cataract are gone through
in a rapid manner, the eye will be much more injured
than if the same operation be performed more slowly.
There is another advantage too, derived from perform¬
ing the operation in a cautious manner *, by holding the
eye firmly for some time, the muscles become fatigued,
and during the latter steps of the operation, when there
is the greatest danger of injuring the organ, the power
Mode of °t resistance to the operator is much diminished,
puncturing The next step of the operation is to make a puncture
the capsule, in the capsule of the crystalline lens, so that the lens
maybe brought through the pupil. Ou opening the eye¬
lids, it will generally be found that the pupil has a very
irregular appearance, which an inexperienced observer
may suppose to be in consequence of a wound of the iris,
though no such accident has happened. Some surgeons
employ an assistant to support the upper eyelid, whilst
others take both eyelids completely under their own
management j and when the operator finds that he can
easily accomplish this last mode, he should always prefer
doing so. When the eyelids are opened in such a man¬
ner as to expose the incision of the cornea and pupil, the
* Sec point of the instrument called the curette*, is to be in-
Pl. DXVII.troduced through the wound of the cornea and pupil, to
fig, 19. puncture the capsule of the lens. Richter advises that
the capsule should be punctured several times with the
point of this instrument, in order that a large opening
may be made into it. When the lens is soft and milky,
this may be necessary, but when it is of a firmer texture,
if one puncture be made, it sufficiently tears the capsule
so as to allow itself to come away easily. Before intro¬
ducing the curette, moderate pressure should he made on
the eyeball, which lias the effect not only of keeping the
eye steady, but also of dilating the pupil. The convex
part of the instrument {a) is then to be introduced through
the wound of the cornea, and conducted to the central
part of the pupil. When it reaches the pupil, from the
curvature of the instrument, a very small turn of the
handle will place the point upon the capsule of the
crystalline lens, and by pushing the point upwards, the
capsule will be readily punctured. It is not necessary
that the point of this instrument be very thin and deli¬
cate } a rounded point rvill answer all the purposes of
puncturing the capsule ; whilst from this form there will
be less danger of wounding the iris from any unexpected
motion of the eyeball. Very little force is necessary
E R Y. Chap. X
to puncture the capsule, and when the point of the cu- or the hi.
rette passes through it, it gives the sensation as if punc-eases ofti
luring a piece of very fine papCr with a pin. , J
This part of the operation we have often found to be j
one of the most difficult; for in many patients the eye
becomes extremely unsteady, and whenever an attempt
is made to bold it firm, or introduce the point of the cu¬
rette, the eyeball is immediately rolled upwards under
the roof of the orbit. The eyeball, too, is apt to make
some untoward motion, after the point of the curette has
been introduced into the anterior chamber 5 so that if
the operator be not on his guard, the iris may he caught
and torn by the point of the curette. In one case
where, after the point of the curette was introduced
through the pupil, the eye turned suddenly upwards,
and the hooked part of the instrument catching the edge
of the iris, pulled it downwards, though fortunately
without tearing it.
Mode of Exti'acting the Lens.
Whenever the capsule of the lens is punctured, the
lens in many cases begins to move forward, and the
pupil to dilate. The operator, carefully watching this
change, should keep up an equal and moderate pressure
upon the eyeball, which will assist the lens in getting
through the pupil. Whilst the lens is making its escape,
and appears to press very much on the inferior part of
the pupil, the iris should be supported by the back of
the spoon, (b Plate DXVII. fig. 19.) which is gene¬
rally, for conveniency, fixed upon the opposite end of the
handle of the curette. In applying the pressure on the
eyeball, it is of great importance that it he kept up uni¬
formly, and it should always be proportioned to the ef¬
fects which it appears to produce on the dilatation of
the pupil. In most cases a very moderate pressure will
he found to answer the purpose. We have met with
other instances, however, where it was necessary to
compress the eye with a good deal of force, before it
was possible to remove the lens.
Any small portion of opaque lens which now remains
in the capsule, or on its surface, must be extracted by
means of a small scoop. When the fragment lies on
the surface of the capsule, or in any part of the anterior
chamber, it is in general easily removed j hut when the
opaque body remains within the capsule, it becomes ne¬
cessary, that the scoop should enter the capsule through
the opening which was made in it. When this opening
is large and wide, the scoop will easily get in, and reach
the opaque fragment; but, on the contrary, when the
opening is small, the scoop may he moved about in
every direction, in hopes of laying hold of it, for
the scoop is on the outside of the capsule, and can¬
not procure an entrance. It has happened accordingly,
that every endeavour to extract the remaining fragment
has been fruitless, and in such cdses it was supposed by
the operator to adhere to the capsule. It was more
probable, however,' that the capsule had not been suf¬
ficiently opened, and that the scoop could not reach the
small fragments. In all cases, however, it is an ob¬
ject of importance, completely to remove the opaque
body j for though any remaining portions be ultimate¬
ly absorbed, yet in the mean time the operation is by
no means so complete as it would have been, had no¬
thing been allowed to remain. It has been advised by
some, (and the practice lias certainly been attended
X.
SUE
f);s with good effects), that after the principal part of the
Jofthe]ens jj. rernove(]} any fragments which may remain, and
t.' * , which are not visible, may be brought into view by
shutting, and cautiously rubbing the eye-lids with the
finger.
Beo-
m-
Of the Extraction of the Capsule.
When, after the crystalline lens is removed, the cap¬
sule is found to be opaque, it is absolutely necessary that
it be at the same time taken away. Opacities of the
capsule are generally situated in its anterior parts, which
renders the removal of them much more practicable.
The forceps for this purpose (Plate DXVII. fig. 9.)
are to be cautiously introduced through the wound of
the cornea and pupil, and any opaque portion laid hold
of, and cautiously removed. It has been observed that
though the capsule did not appear opaque during the
operation, yet in consequence of inflammation, which
occurs more or less afterwards, the capsule has become
opaque. This circumstance has led to a proposal, that
in all cases the capsule should be extracted along with
the opaque lens. From the natural structure of the eye,
and the strong adhesion which exists between the poste¬
rior part of the capsule of the lens and the interior por¬
tion of the capsule of the vitreous humour, it would ap¬
pear impracticable to separate them from each other, so
as to extract the capsule entire. Many cases, however,
are recorded by different authors, where, in performing
the common operation, the lens inclosed in its capsule
lias made its escape. In these cases, however, it is
probable, that the natural adhesion between the capsules
of the two humours had been destroyed by some mor¬
bid alteration of structure. Such cases have probably
been the cause of the proposal to extract in all cases
the capsule of the lens. Mr Beer, a celebrated oculist
in Vienna, has published a work*, in order to recom¬
mend and describe the mode in which such an operation
should be performed. After some general observations
on the bad consequences which arise from portions of
the capsule remaining behind after the lens is remov¬
ed, he describes his mode of operating in the following
words.
“ Immediately after dividing the cornea, I dilate the
pupil as much as possible, by a gentle pressure on the
eyeball with the finger. I then introduce the lancet
(Plate DXVII. fig. 4.), through the wound of the
cornea, and plunge it into the lens; one surface being
turned upwards, and the other downwards, so that none
of the lancet is visible. It is particularly to be recom¬
mended to the instrument-maker, that this lancet have
a pretty thick body, by which means, the moment of
introducing it, the lens will be somewhat pressed back,
and its weak anterior adhesion will be separated. The
lancet must now, when in the middle of the lens, be
moved upwards and downwards, in order divide its
connections above and below. Lastly, the instrument
must be turned suddenly on its axis, and moved to the
inner angle of the eye, and then drawn out in a straight
direction. The lens often follows with its capsule, im¬
mediately after the lancet is withdrawn,-or at least it
comes out quite easily, along with its capsules, on a
continued pressure of the finger. There is not merely
a sleight of hand, which must be carefully observed in
the use of the lancet j experience has taught me many
precautions which must not be neglected the moment
G E II Y. 99
that the lens comes out, otherwise the capsule may be Of tlic Dis-
very easily rubbed off from the lens, either in passing easrs of th«
the pupil, or in the wound of the cornea. ,
“ In order to avoid this, the opening of the cornea
should be made as large as possible, and it is best to di¬
vide two-thirds of it j thereby the operator has the fol¬
lowing advantages.
“ 1. The pupil dilates of itself after the division of
the cornea by the pressing forward of the lens j and
this dilatation may be easily increased by the slightest
pressure.
“ 2. The more the pupil is dilated, the better the ope¬
rator can observe the management of the lancet •, he can
move his instrument more freely in different directions
in the lens, and consequently separate more quickly and
more surely, the lens along with the capsule, from all
its connections.
“ 3. The lens with its capsule passes more easily
through the pupil, the wider the opening in the cornea,
(which indeed requires in most cases much space), and
the further and more easily the pupil dilates, the less
danger there is of the capsule being separated on com¬
ing out. If the wound of the cornea is small, the cap¬
sule will be either separated from the lens in the pupil,
or in the .wound of the cornea, or passed back again
either entirely, or at least partly, into the posterior
chamber of the eye.”
To those who are accustomed to perform operations
on the eye, the method which we have detailed will at
once appear to be difficult, extremely dangerous, and in
many cases totally impracticable. The causes of failure
in the operation for cataract seldom arise from an opa¬
city of the capsule of the lens, and when this does occur,
it is always in consequence of a violent or long-continu¬
ed inflammation of the eyeball. Whenever, therefore,
the inflammation which takes place after the operation
is checked by proper remedies, a cataract of the capsule
will seldom be met with.
Of the Treatment after the Operation.
After the lens has been extracted, and the eyelids al¬
lowed to remain shut for a short time, the eye ought to
be examined, in order to ascertain that the edges of the
wound of the cornea ai*e in their proper place 5 that no
portion of the iris has passed through it, and that the pu¬
pil is quite regular. When the incision of the cornea is
made in the manner and of the size already described,
the edges of the wound, from their firmness and thick¬
ness, accurately apply themselves to each other; and
if the iris has sustained no injury, it will remain in its
natural situation, and the pupil will become perfectly
circular. When the pupil is not regular, it has been
generally recommended to expose the eye to a bright
light, in order to make it contract, and thus detach it
from any part to which it might have adhered. When
a portion of the iris protrudes through the wound, this
generally arises, not from any injury in that part, but
in consequence of the incision of the cornea having been
made too large. If the incision be more than semicir¬
cular, (or two thirds of the circumference of the cornea
as directed by Mr Beer) this accident will almost con¬
stantly happen $ and when it does take place, can never,
as far as we know, be remedied. In such cases the
operator should be careful not even to attempt with the
spoon, nor any such instrument, to replace the prolapsed
N 2 iris ;
IOO S U R G
Of the Dis- iris j for it has always been observed, that attempts of
eases of the this kind are fruitless, and never fail to increase the in-
Eye- flammation which succeeds the operation.
In applying the necessary compresses and bandages on
the eye, the objects to be held in view are, to keep the
eyelids in such a position, that they cannot disturb the
wound of the cornea by their motion, and that the eye
be not exposed to any light. The upper eyelid will be
completely secured, by placing over it, and in the hol¬
low of the orbit, a small stripe of wet caddis. The piece
of caddis should not be so large as to press much upon
the eye, and from its being wet, it will be readily kept
in its situation. Above the caddis should be placed a
piece of linen covered with simple ointment, large enough
to cover both e.*es j and this may be secured by one
turn of a bandage round the head. In applying the
bandage, care should be taken to place it so that the
pins are put in at the forehead and temples. The con-
veniency of this will be afterwards found, the bandage
being easily removed without moving the patient’s
head from the pillow. The patient should now be put
cautiously to bed, and his head kept extremely low.
The room in which he sleeps should be made so dark,
that no light may pass through the bandage to the eye.
In an hour or half an hour after the operation, when the
patient has become composed, he should be bled in the
arm, if from the previous stateof the patient’s health that
should be deemed a proper precaution. Rest, quiet¬
ness, and abstinence, ought to be rigidly adhered to for
the first dav after the operation ; the patient should be
allowed none but liquid food, in order that any mo¬
tions of the jaw may be avoided, and the food should
be given through a tea-pot, in order to prevent any
motion of the head. Sixteen or twenty hours are suf¬
ficient to produce an adhesion of the cornea in favour*
able cases 5 and after this period the compress of wet
caddis placed upon the upper eyelid, becomes no long¬
er necessary $ for if it be allowed to remain any long¬
er, it becomes hard and dry, and will be apt to ir¬
ritate. The bandage and plaster ought therefore to be
loosened, and the piece of caddis removed. The eye¬
lids will now be found to adhere, and the patient will
find much relief by cautiously wetting the ciliae with
cold water, in order to liberate the eyelids. From
this period it is advisable to keep the eyelashes con¬
stantly greasy with an unctuous application.
In all cases, the symptoms which wre are particu¬
larly to guard against after this operation, are those
of inflammation : for when these arise, various effects
may be produced which might frustrate all our endea¬
vours to restore the patient’s sight. If the wound in
the cornea, instead of uniting by adhesion, goes through
a tedious process of suppuration, the pupil becomes irre¬
gular and contracted ; or if there is an effusion of lymph
in the pupil, or if an opacity of the capsule takes place,
the-ie effects, all of which may arise in consequence of
inflammation, might either greatly impair, or entirely
destroy vision. The patient, therefore, ought to be
carefully watched every six or eight hours for several
days, and on the evening of the day of the operation,
or at any future period, if symptoms arise which indi¬
cate the commencement of inflammation, he ought to
be freely bled. The symptoms which are to guide us
in adopting such means, are pain and uneasiness darting
through the eye or head, and a frequent and full pulse.
Ey«.
E R Y. _ Chap. X
We have often remarked, after this operation, that even Of theDh,
in those cases where no bleeding is necessary, the pulse eases of il-
becomes unusually full. This symptom alone would not, ^
therefore, be sufficient to warrant us in proceeding far
in adopting such a practice. We have long believed,
that the success of all surgical operations, depends much
on the adoption of the means to prevent any inflamma¬
tory action. The danger of amputation, and such ope¬
rations in a vigorous and healthy constitution, is well
known ; it is equally well known the speedy recovery
of patients from operations, who have been much debili¬
tated from previous disease yand we have repeatedly re¬
marked that patients who have lost much blood from
some accident, after an operation, have recovered much
more speedily than those to whom no such accident had
happened. Aware of these circumstances, we have in^
variably adopted rigorously the depletive system after
the operation for the cataract; and in many of those
patients from whom a very considerable quantity of
blood has at different periods been taken, we have ob¬
served that the success of the operation has been more
speedy and more complete. The surgeon will sometimes
find cases where, from the mildness of the symptoms, he
is led to hesitate on the propriety of bleeding. In such
a situation it is the safest plan to have recourse to it,
for in general, wherever no symptoms have arisen which
may indicate the impropriety of such a practice, if it b«
not useful, it is at least never followed by any bad con¬
sequences.
Venesection at the arm is the easiest and best mode of
extracting the blood j but should any circumstances occur
which render the operation at this place impracticable,
or should it be thought necessary to take away the blood
nearer to the inflamed organ, an opening may be made
in the temporal artery. For the first two or three nights
after the operation, the patient’s arms should be watch¬
ed, or secured in such a manner, that when he is asleep,
he shall not be able to raise his hand towards bis eyey
for the most gentle stroke upon the eye, even several
days after this operation, is attended with most excru¬
ciating pain, and is generally succeeded by violent in¬
flammation. The patient should be enjoined to lie on
his back, or on the sound side of the head $ and after
the first twelve hours he may be allowed to raise his
head to the usual height. Most authors who have laid
down rules to be followed after this operation, have di¬
rected that the eye should be kept shut up, and in total
darkness for many days after the operation. We have,
however, found an opposite practice attended with the
most beneficial effects, and we have always considered
it as a general principle to be followed, that the eye, from
the very clay after the operation, be gradually restored
to its natural state, that the globe of the eye and eyelids
be allowed to move, and that day after day the quantity
of light to which it is exposed be gradually increased.
In regulating the quantity of light, and the motion of
the eye and eyelids, we should be entirely guided by
the patient’s feelings. Whatever be the quantity of light
to which the eye is exposed, or its extent of motion,
if it does not create uneasiness or pain, it will never be
found to prove injurious j but on the contrary, if such
a quantity of light be admitted as to create uneasiness,
or if any motion of the eyes or eyelids giv^s pain, these
circumstances will all tend to increase the inflammatory
symptoms.
It
(hap. X. S U R G
C'the Dis- It has been already mentioned, that on the first day
t ’« of the after the operation, the wet caddis should be removed,
KXe. and the eyelids separated and covered with some unctu-
' ous substance, so that the patient may, from time to
time, cautiously move the eyelids, provided it gives
him no uneasiness. The pledget of ointment covering
the eyes will prevent, during this day, any light from
entering.
On the second day the pledget of ointment may be
removed, and both eyes covered with two or three folds
of old linen, the patient being directed to bathe his eye
frequently with a little warm water, so as to remove any
glutinous or concreted matter from the eyelids. He
should also continue frequently to move the eyelids, and
by opening them, to expose the eye to the small quan¬
tity of light which passes through the linen. On the
following days, the light is to be admitted more and
more freely into tbe room, and by degrees the patient
will find that he is able to look down upon the bed¬
clothes, or any large object without uneasiness. People
are often apt, from the joy which they feel in having
their sight restored, to make too much use of the eye,
and to render it "weak and painful. Too much care,
however, cannot be taken, to avoid any accident ot
this kind ; and though the patient may feel his eye
perfectly easy, and has no other complaint, yet it is al¬
ways prudent to confine him to his bed for the first six
or eight days. After the second or third day he may
raise the head or body safely in bed j but we have re¬
peatedly observed that when patients began to sit up
early, and particularly when they approached too near
a fire, they have been seized with a peculiar head-
ach and inflammation of the eye, which tvere at¬
tended with much distress, and very difficult to remove.
In ten or twelve days after the operation, the patient
is commonly able to use the eye with considerable free¬
dom, and to look even at minute objects without pain
or uneasiness. It sometimes happens that after this pe¬
riod, a slight irritability of the eye remains, but this in
general is speedily removed by the use ol the vinous
tincture of opium, or sometimes by the application ol a
weak ointment composed of the red oxide of mercury.
The application of the vinous tincture of opium will be
found peculiarly useful 5 and we have known many in¬
stances of patients who have undergone this operation,
who were frequently, for a long time afterwardsj attack¬
ed with slight pain or inflammation of the eye, which
were always speedily and completely removed by tbe
use of this medicine. It is scarcely necessary to observe
that during the tvhole of the after treatment, tbe anti¬
phlogistic regimen should be rigidly pursued, and that
the patient should avoid every kind of food which from
experience he knows to be apt to disagree with him}
and that above all he should abstain from tbe use of wine
and spirituous liquors of every description.
O f Couching.
By this operation the lens is depressed from its natu¬
ral situation behind tbe pupil, by introducing a needle
into the posterior chamber.
The operation may be performed by introducing a
needle (Plate DXVII. fig. 20.) through the sclero¬
tic coat, about two lines distant from its junction with
the cornea. The point of the needle is to be directed
immediately over the opaque lens, and the lens to be
E R Y. 101
depressed a little with the convex surface of the end of of the Dis-
the needle. The point is to be pushed in a transverse eases of the
direction as far as the inner edge of the lens. Then the , ^ye~ t
operator is to incline the handle of the instrument to- Y
wards himself, by which means its point will be direct¬
ed through the capsule into tbe substance of the opaque
lens, and by inclining the needle downward and back¬
ward, the former will be lacerated and conveyed with
the latter deeply into the vitreous humour. The treat¬
ment to be employed after couching is similar to that
after extraction.
Sect. XL Of the Fistula Lctcrymalis.
When the lacrymal sac is distended with a purifornt
fluid, or when it has ulcerated, and the tears do not
pass freely down the nasal duct, the disease is called fis¬
tula lacrymalis. In the first stage of the disease, a di¬
stinct tumor is formed in the situation of the sac, out ot
which, when compressed, a quantity of puriform fluid
flows upon the eyeball through tbe puncture, or some of
it passes through the nose. In the second stage of the
disease, the integuments covering the sac ulcerate, and
the puriform fluid and tears are constantly oozing through
a fistulous opening. The eyelids are affected most com¬
monly in the second stage of the disease, and sometimes
also in the first, though not always. From the affection
of the internal palpebral membrane, Scarpa has suppos¬
ed that all the puriform fluid contained- in the sac was
secreted by it, but this does not always happen.
Treatment.—When the disease has originated in the
mucous membrane of the eyelids, applications to it alone
will be sufficient to remove the accumulation in the sac.
A collyrium of the oxymuriate of mercury, and the daily
application of the ointment of Janin, or of an ointment
composed of the red oxide of mercury, are well suited
for this purpose. When the sac has been the original
seat of the disease, a solution of corrosive sublimate, ace-
tite of zinc or of lead, will be useful, and these may be
used by‘allowing them to be absorbed by the puncta in¬
to the sac, along with the tears, or by injecting them
into the puncta by a proper syringe, (see Plate I)XVII.
fig. 23.).
If there be a complete obstruction in the nasal duct,
these remedies generally fail, and it becomes necessary
to open the sac, and remove the cause of obstruction
in the duct. The sac may be readily opened by
plunging a common lancet into it while distended
with matter. Tbe sac should then be examined with
a probe, and the probe passed down into tbe nose in the
direction of the natural canal. A surgeon well acquaint¬
ed with the situation and direction of the duct, can
never fail in introducing the probe ; for we never met
with any case where the obstruction could not be over¬
come. A style, (Plate DXVII. fig. 24.) such as has
been recommended by Mr Ware, is to be introduced in
place of the probe, and allowed to remain until the ca¬
nal is quite open. When the parts around the sac ap¬
pear healthy, the style may be withdrawn, and the
opening of the sac then heals. In many cases the dis¬
ease returns, and in such, after the parts are a second
time healthy, a tube (Plate DXVII. fig. 25.) may be
introduced and allowed to remain during life. This
operation requires that there be a free external opening,
and that the head of the tube be pressed completely
down
102
Of the Dis-down below the edge of the skin. Generally the ex-
ease> ot‘the ternal opening heals in a few days. When the sac has
•Eye. ulcerated, there will generally be found some sinuses in
v t|ie integuments covering the sac, all which should be
freely laid open, and the style introduced as in the
former case. After the skin and sac are apparently
healthy, the tube may be introduced as in the former
case. Besides the use of the style, it is also requisite
to apply the eye-waters and ointments recommended in
the first stages of the disease.
Sect. XII. Of the I*sorophthalmia.
In this disease there are numerous small brown co¬
loured eminences formed at the roots of the cilise of
both eyelids, and generally both eyes are affected. The
adjacent skin has a brownish red tinge, and becomes
scurfy ; the cilise drop out, and the patient has a dif¬
ficulty and uneasiness in opening the eyelids, particular¬
ly in candle-light. The blood-vessels of the internal
palpebral membrane are also turgid, and preternatural-
ly numerous. This disease affects often many branches
of the same family.
Treatment.—-The unguentum citrinum is a specific
remedy in this disease. When there is much inflam¬
mation of the eyelids, they ought to be scarified, and
the ointment applied immediately after. A eollyrium
composed of a weak solution of corrosive sublimate is
also sometimes useful.
Of the Ophthalmia Tarsi.
In many people who use their eyes much, particular¬
ly in candle light, and in those who live freely, the in¬
ternal membrane of the eyelid often becomes gorged
with blood ; a thick puriform fluid glues the cilise to¬
gether in the morning, and the patient complains of an
inability to move the eyelids, or to look at an object
in a bright or dazzling light, without much uneasiness
being excited. In other instances the eyelids become af¬
fected with scrofulous inflammation, the glands of Mei-
bomius swell and suppurate, the cilioe drop out, and the
eyelids lose their natural form.
Treatment.—Scarifying the inflamed vessels, and ap¬
plying immediately afterwards a quantity of the red
precipitate ointment, seldom fails in bringing relief, and
in many instances the ointment alone will answer. In
some cases the disease in the eyelid is much aggravated
by, and connected with affections of the stomach and
bowels, and in such the greatest attention becomes re¬
quisite to keep the belly regular, and even to purge.
Of the Entropion.
When the eyelids are inverted, so that the tarsus with
its cilioe come in contact with the eyeball, the disease is
called entropion. This disease, Mr Crampton has shown,
arises in some cases from a thickened and diseased state
of the internal palpebral membrane. In others the ci-
liae are turned in upon the eye from repeated and tedious
inflammation altering the form of the tarsus, and in
some old people where the integuments are very loose,
the whole tarsus is inverted by the action of the orbi¬
cularis muscle.
Treatment.—In the first case, Mr Crampton has in¬
geniously recommended that the tarsi be divided at their
junction towards the external canthus, and that the eye¬
lids thus liberated be kept in their proper situation by
Chap. XL )i
plasters, compresses, and when in the upper eyelid by oftheDis.
fixing the speculum of Pellier, until such time as the eases of the J
wound has healed. In the second case little can be Venous |
done but pulling out from their roots any of the cilise
which may have taken a wrong direction, and repeat- ji
ing the operation whenever they grow again. In the
third case, the disease may be cured by removing an
oval portion of the skin the whole length, and close to
the tarsus, and uniting the wound by one or two stitches
and adhesive plasters. This operation may be also ad¬
visable along with that of Mr Crampton, when one is
not sufficient to cure the complaint.
Chap. XI.
Of the Diseases of the Ear.
The functions and structure of the internal mem¬
brane of the external meatus, and also of the eustachian
tube and cavity of the tympanum, prove that it belongs
to the mucous system, and that it is not a continuation
of the periosteum as many anatomists have supposed.
The analogy in the diseases of this organ prove the
same. In catarrhal affections of the pituitary membrane
of the pharynx, the ear is always more or less affected,
and often the function of the organ is much impaired.
Polypi also grow from the cavity and membrane of the
tympanum of a similar structure to those found in other
mucous surfaces. See Polypi. It is also subject to hae-
morrhagies, and when it becomes inflamed, instead of
suppuration taking place, there is a discharge of a puri¬
form fluid from the surface, the same as what is observ¬
ed in inflammation of the urethra, nose, &c.* * See In*
The internal membrane of the ear is also subject toflanmatm
the same kind of thickening and contraction of the ca-°f the Mu
nal, as takes place in the urethra and lacrymal sac, Cb°^n^\
&c. in consequence of long continued inflammation t.| seegtJ
This we might conclude from analogy, but the hetturesof
has been proved in one instance. Bichsft dissected
the body of a person who had been exposed during his ^em‘
life to a puriform discharge from the ear, in which he^’amS‘
found a very remarkable thickening of the membrane
of the tympanum, but no mark of erosion could be de¬
tected.
The most common disease of the ear, and almost the
only one which the surgeon can relieve, is a collection
of wax in the meatus externus. Its presence can always
be determined by the inspection of the ear j and it can
be removed by directing the patient to drop some warm
water into the ear for a few successive nights, and after¬
wards syringing out the softened wax, an operation
which may be performed with a syringe (such as is re¬
presented in Plate DXVII.), having fitted for it a
pipe of considerable length.
Chap. XII.
Of the Diseases of the Nervous System.
Sect. I. General Remarks on the Pathology of the
Nerves.
A great number of diseases have been considered
under the class of nervous; and much obscurity has
been thrown on this department of medical science,
from
S URGE R Y.
SURGERY.
Qiap. XII.
CRhe Dis- from our imperfect knowledge of the laws which regu-
e;fes of the late this part of the natural system, and from mere symp-
! ervous toms having often been considered as primary affections.
■ v^eiu’ . Pathological investigations have been also unsuc¬
cessful j and in only a few cases has the most skilful
anatomist been able to detect any morbid alteration of
structure in nerves, which, during life, had been the
seat of agonizing disease. In a few cases, where tu¬
mors have been found growing in their substance, it is
not unlikely, that the cellular structure, connecting
their fibrillae, has been the part first affected. Their
arteries and veins are subject to the diseases of these
vessels in other organs j we have seen an aneurismal
tumor as big as a hazel nut formed in the nutrient ar¬
tery of the popliteal nerve j and Bichat mentions hav¬
ing seen the veins of the sciatic nerve varicose in a pa¬
ralytic limb. Sir E. Home has described in the Phi¬
losophical Transactions a particular tumor of one of the
axillary nerves, in which it is difficult to ascertain if
the medullary portion be affected j and in the Encyclo¬
pedic Methodique there is a description of a case of dis¬
ease, resembling, in some respects, that mentioned.
The disease was in the middle of the radial nerve j
and as the hand had neither lost its sensibility nor the
movement of any of the fingers, this circumstance led
to the supposition, that the medullary portion of the
nerve was not affected, but merely its neurilema. In
the fungus hcematodes, it is by no means improbable
that there is a morbid alteration in the medullary mat¬
ter of the nerves j though this fact can only be deter¬
mined by an accurate examination of the disease in va¬
rious organs.
Most diseases belonging to this system have been ful¬
ly treated of in the article Medicine. There is only
one which becomes an object of surgical treatment.
Sect. II. Of the Tic Doleureux (Nevralgie).
Affections of this kind are distinguished by the na¬
ture of the pain, which is sharp, gnawing, and, particu¬
larly at its commencement, accompanied with torpor,
and sometimes with pulsations. It is attended with no
heat or redness, or any tension or swelling of the part.
It comes on in paroxysms, more or less long, and at
different intervals. Sometimes the attack is periodi¬
cal.
The pain is always fixed in the trunk or branch of
a nerve 5 and, during the paroxysm, it darts from the
part first affected through all the ramifications of the
nerve.
Many nerves of the body have been found affected
with this disease. The first pair of the loins (nevralgie
ibo-scrotale), the posterior crural (ischias nervosa pos-
tica), the crural, but particularly the nerves of the face
are subject to it. When the disease affects the face, it
is generally situated either in the frontal nerve, in the
infra-orbitar nerve, or in the submental nerve. Some¬
times the pain affects not only all the branches of these
nerves, but it extends to their anastomosing branches,
and spreads to one or more of the trunks.
This disease appears to be produced from a variety
of causes, according to which its symptoms are varied.
Sometimes it has been known to succeed a local irrita¬
tion, such as an injury on the trunk of the nerve j and
in other cases, the affection of the particular nerve Is Of He raise,
sympathetic ol a disease in some distant organ.
In some instances we have observed this disease arise
from an affection of the primae viae ; so that in all cases
it becomes the first object of the surgeon to trace the
cause of the disease.
Treatment.— When the stomach or intestinal canal
are disordered, along with the particular affection of the
nerve, the nervous affection will often cease when they
are restored to their natural state. This is to be ac¬
complished in most cases by emetics, and a course of
laxative medicines, pursued according to the qualities
and quantity of the evacuated matter.
In some cases, particularly in the affection of the
frontal nerve, we have found great relief from the re¬
peated application of small blisters over the nervous
trunk. In some instances, too, the patients have expe¬
rienced great relief, and have even completely recuver-
ed, by a continued attention to a very spare vegetable
diet, or to a milk diet. ri he celebrated Marmontel was
a remarkable instance of this kind.
There are, however, cases where these means fail,
and where the disease appears to depend on some fixed
cause of irritation in the affected nervous trunk. In
such cases, it is the usual practice to divide the trunk
of the nerve. This operation generally gives instant
relief; but its effects have, we believe, in most cases,
been but of short duration. It is a fact completely
established, that the ramifications of the nervous as w'ell
as of the vascular system, though divided, are gradually
regenerated. The numerous anastomoses preserve the
life of the part on which the divided trunk was distri¬
buted, and the divided edges of the trunk gradually
coalesce ; so that the nerve is again able to perform its
natural functions. This reunion of the nerves does not
take place so rapidly as we observe it in the arteries, in
the skin, cellular membrane, or muscle ; and months
elapse before it is completed : but, from this reunion,
it is probable, that the morbid action in tic doleureux,
of the nature of which wre are ignorant, the operation, in
most cases at least, brings merely temporary relief.
When the operation is to be performed, the necessary
steps are extremely simple. Some have contented them¬
selves with introducing a sharp-pointed bistoury through
the integuments towards one side of the exit of the nerve,
passing the point underneath it, and then dividing it 3
thus leaving only a small puncture of the skin.
When, however, the operation is done in this man¬
ner, the divided extremities, from being separated only
a little way, are apt immediately to reunite ; a circum¬
stance which should be prevented. We could therefore
advise that a free incision be made immediately above
the nerve; that the nerve be completely divided, and
either a portion cut altogether away, or the divided ex¬
tremities separated to a distance, and the wound allow¬
ed to heal by suppuration.
Chap. XIII.
Of Hernia.
I HE word hernia has been used to signify a protrusion
of any viscus, from its proper cavity 3 but we shall only
treat in tnis place of abdominal hernia. The viscera of
this cavity are most frequently protruded at the inguinal
and
104 S U R G
Of Ilernue. all<l crural rings and die umbilicus. They, however
v y.... 'protrude also at the Jovcwicn ovulc^ at pci incciwiy
through the ischiatic notch, and diaphragm.
The names that have been given to different kinds
of hernia, have been derived both from the contents of
the hernia, and from its situation. If they contain omen¬
tum only, they are called omental hernia, or epiplocele >
if only intestine, intestinal hernia •, if both, omentum
and intestine, entero-epiplocele ; it the stomach is con¬
tained in the tumor, gasti'ocele ; if the liver, hepatocele;
if the bladder, cystocele ; if the uterus, hysterocele.
The peritonaeum generally protrudes prior to any of
the viscera, forming a bag called the hernial sac, in
which the protruded viscera are afterwards contained.
The protruded portion of peritonaeum is not diagged.
from its natural situation, but becomes elongated by
gradual distension; and it is usually not only lengthen¬
ed, but more or less thickened.
Sfxt. I. Of the Inguinal Hernia.
In an inguinal hernia, the protruded viscus enters the
abdominal ring, passes along the inguinal canal, and
comes out either at the inguinal ring, and goes into the
scrotum (scrotal hernia), or bursts through the tendon
of the external oblique muscle (inguino-abdommal).
Or, it passes through the tendon of the transversalis,
and internal oblique, and appears at the inguinal ring
(abdomino-inguinal).
Inguinal hernia is more frequent in men than women,
the round ligament of the uterus being of a smaller size
than the spermatic chord. It sometimes appears on both
sides, but most frequently on the right side..
Appear- When the skin of the scrotum of an inguinal hernia
ances on remove(l by dissection, a fascia is found lying under-
dissection. wh;cb varies in thickness according to the
bulk and duration of the tumor. This fascia comes off
from the tendon of the external oblique muscle above
the abdominal ring. Below this fascia is the ciemaster
muscle, which is united both to the fascia and hernial
sac, though easily separable from them by dissection.
When the fascia and cremaster muscle are removed, the
hernial sac is exposed. The epigastric artery is situated
on the pubic side of the sac. The spermatic cord lies
generally behind the sac ; sometimes to one side, and
sometimes on its anterior part. Often the vessels of the
cord are split, the epididimis passing along one side of
the sac, and the artery, veins, and absorbents, on the
other. Sometimes there are more than one hernial sac
on the same side. Mr Cooper found, in one case, two
within the inguinal canal. rihis arises in some cases
from wearing a truss.
In the inguino-abdominal hernice, the sac enters the
abdominal ring j and, instead of being continued along
the inguinal canal, it passes through the tendon of the
external oblique muscle. The hernial sac, in this case,
is composed of two distinct layers ; the one internal and
peritoneal, the other external, and produced by an
elongation and gradual thickening ol the aponeurosis of
* Ucrru the external oblique muscle *•
at’i Petit. In the abdomino-inguinal hernia,thesacpassestbrougli
the tendon of the transversalis or the tendons ot both
the transversalis and oblique muscle, enters the inguinal
canal, appears at the inguinal ring, and then passes
E E Y.
Ohap. XIE
down into the scrotum. In this case, Mr Cooper ob-Of Ilerni*,
serves, that the spermatic cord lies on the upper or out-1
er part of the sac. rIbe epigastric artery lies on the
outside of the sac f. _ \Rishter,
The inguinal hernia is generally pyriform, small ^°~ '
wards the ring, and enlarging as it descends. It may mon^
be distinguished from other swellings of these parts, by
the following symptoms : I. When the patient is desired
to cough, the tumor becomes immediately distended,
owing to the pressure of the abdominal muscles forcing
into the sac more of the viscera or of their contents.
2. When the patient can remember that the tumor used
to disappear when in the horizontal position. 3* M hen
the progress of the tumor has been from the groin to
the scrotum. 4. When the tumor contains intestine, it
is elastic and uniform ; and, when pushed up into the
abdomen, it returns with a gurgling noise. When
omentum is contained, the tumor is less equal on its
surface, receives an impression with the lingers, and
does not return with a gurgling noise. Most common¬
ly, however, both intestine and omentum are contained
in the sac. 5. The functions of the viscera are some¬
what interrupted, producing eructations, sickness, con¬
stipation, colicky pains, and distension of the abdo¬
men.
The inguinal hernise ought to be carefully distin¬
guished from hydrocele of the vaginal coat, from encyst¬
ed hydrocele of the spermatic cord, from enlargements
of the testicle, from haematocele, and from varicocele.
Hydrocele and hernia, too, are often combined, particu¬
larly omental herniae.
Sect. II. Of reducible Inguinal Hernia, and of Trusses.
Hernite are either reducible, irreducible, or strangu¬
lated. In the reducible state, the parts may be return¬
ed into the cavity pf the abdomen. To prevent the es¬
cape of the bowels, and the danger of such an accident,
a constant pressure should be applied at the part where
the hernia opens into the abdomen, to shut the mouth
of the sac, and thus oppose an effectual resistance to the
protrusion of its contents. To accomplish these pur¬
poses, various trusses have been contrived. The truss
should be made of steel, and the spring not stronger
than is sufficient to keep up the bowels; for, if the
pressure be great, the abdominal muscles, where it is
applied, are weakened, and even absorbed. Mr Cooper
advises the pad to be made of a conical form, the apex
of which should rest on the mouth of the sac. But, as
there will be found much variety in the situation and
size of the opening through which the hernia passes, it
will often be necessary to vary the form and bulk of the
pad. The truss ought to be applied so that it makes
pressure noton the inguinal ring where the hernia comes
out, but upon that part where the spermatic cord, and
with it the hernia, first quit the abdomen ; and this
point may always be determined, by making the patient
cough after the hernia has been reduced, and ascertain¬
ing the furthest part from the inguinal ring, where the
hernial sac is found to protrude. On this point the pad
should rest. If the pad be too large, and press merely
on the inguinal ring, it will allow the bowels to pass
through the internal or abdominal ring, and enter into
the inguinal canal. Ou the other hand, the pad should
not
Gap. XIII.
0( nguinal not be too small, so as to press Into the mouth of the
Ierilise- sac and plug it up, for that would prevent all chance
u"> ' of a permanent cure j the bowels may be prevented
from entering into the sac $ but the pad will act as a
dilater or bougie, keep the mouth of the sac constantly
open, and even increase its diameter. The pad, there¬
fore, ought always to be made of such a size and shape,
as to make a pressure on the abdominal ring, inguinal
canal, and inguinal ring.
Sect. III. Ofl rreducibls Hernia.
Hernise become irreducible when the protruded parts
are suffered to remain long in the hernial sac and in¬
crease much in bulk, when membranous bands form
across the sac and entangle its contents, or when an ad¬
hesion takes place between the sac and its contents, or
amongst the contents themselves.
Treatment.—‘In such cases, a bag truss ought to be
worn, so as to keep up a uniform and steady pressure
on the scrotum. The application of ice, too, has been
known to procure the return of a hernia which appear¬
ed irreducible.
Sect. IV. Of Strangulated Hernia.
A hernia is said to he strangulated when not only the
intestine and omentum are irreducible, but when the
protruded bowels are inflamed, and when the passage of
the fgeces through the strangulated portion is complete¬
ly interrupted.
S ptomi. The tumor is attended with considerable pain, which
sometimes extends through the abdomen, and is often
situated at the umbilicus. Hiccup and vomiting suc¬
ceed ; at first the contents of the stomach only are eva¬
cuated, hut afterwards those of the lower portions of the
alimentary canal. The bowels are completely obstruct-
edi except that portion below the seat of strangulation.
The pulse is commonly quick and hard j sometimes,
however, it is full. If the disease continues, the skin
covering the tumor becomes discoloured and slightly
(Edematous, and the abdomen tender and tense j the
pulse becomes small and thready, the countenance has
an expression of anxiety j and all these symptoms are
subject to exacerbations. They are greatly mitigated
for a while, but soon recur with increased violence.
After having suffered great pain during the first stage
of the disease, the patient becomes suddenly easy, and
the tumor becomes of a purple colour, and has a crack¬
ling feel. The abdomen becomes more tense, a cold
sweat covers the body, and the pulse is weak and inter¬
mittent. At last the patient, deluded with the hopes
of a recovery, sinks under the complaint.
AjJear- On dissection, the hernial sac is generally found to
'cUon con^a*n a fluanl-^y ^00^y serun1. The intestine
” is of a dark chocolate brown, with black spots inter¬
spersed over it, which are easily torn on being touched
with the finger. The surface is covered with a layer
of coagulated lymph. Even when the intestine is not
mortified the colour is extremely dark, but then the
black spots do not appear. Within the abdomen the
whole intestinal canal sometimes appears quite natural;
at other times portions of the intestines appear inflamed,
and in some rare cases they are glued together by an
effusion of lymph.
Vol. XX. Part I. i
105
On examining the seat of stricture, it will be found q* in^uinftl
to take place either at the abdominal or inguinal ring. Hernia.*.
In large herniae, Mr Cooper has remarked that the stric- *—-v—"—'
ture is most frequent at the external opening, and then
it may be often seen from the particular shape of the
tumor, a constriction being distinguishable at that part.
In other cases the stricture is seen at the entrance of the
spermatic vessels into the inguinal canal ■, so that, in
operating for hernia, it is not sufficient to dilate the ex¬
ternal ring, but it becomes necessary to dilate the upper
part of the canal.
Treatment.—In the treatment of strangulated hernia,
the leading object which is to be kept in view, is to re¬
turn the displaced viscera as speedily as possible, and,
at the same time, while doing this, to diminish the
symptoms of inflammation or prevent their accession.
The first thing to be attempted, except when the tumor Taxi*,
is much inflamed and painful, is the reduction of the
hernia. In doing this, it is necessary to attend to the
position of the patient and the mode of applying the
pressure. The body of the patient should be placed on
an inclined plane, with the head downwards, and the
thighs bent towards the trunk of the body. The pres¬
sure which is employed on the tumor should always be
directed upwards and outwards along the course of the
spermatic cord, and it may be persevered in from a
quarter to half an hour. Besides these mechanical
means, tobacco clysters and cold have been useful in
accomplishing the reduction. Ice is the easiest and best
mode of applying cold to hernial tumors ; but, when
this cannot be procured, Mr Cooper uses a mixture of
equal parts of sal ammoniac and nitre. To one pint of
water in a bladder, ten ounces of the mixed salts are
added, the bladder tied up, and then laid over the tu¬
mor. If, after four hours, the symptoms become miti¬
gated, and the tumor lessens, this remedy may be per¬
severed in for some time longer ; but if they continue
with equal violence, and the tumor resist every attempt
to reduction, no further trial should be made of the ap¬
plication.
The operation which it is now necessary to perform, Operation,
consists in making an incision through the integuments
along the upper part of the tumor, making an opening
into the hernial sac, and extending it, so as to allow
the contents to be examined, and the fore finger to
reach the seat of stricture. The stricture will be readily
detected by the point of the finger, and may be easily
divided by introducing the bistoury along the finger,
till the point of it passes below the stricture *. A very # See pIa
slight pressure of the edge of the instrument will be suf- DX1X?16
ficient to divide the stricture, and allow the bowels to
be returned into the abdomen. If merely the stricture
is divided, and it is never necessary to extend the inci¬
sion further, it is of little importance in which dn*ection
the incision is made; though surgeons have been at
great pains to point out the dangers which might arise
were it of too great an extent.
Sect . V. Of Femoral Hernia.
In femoral hernia, the hernial sac lies beneath thd
crural arch, being pushed through an opening between
the edge of the broad insertion of Poupart’s ligament
and the pubic side of the femoral vein f. .As the tumor ,
enlarges, instead of falling downwards like the inguinal1 DXX.
O hernia,
SURGERY.
io6 S U R G
Of Femoral ^ern‘a» ^ Passes forwards, and often turns over the
Herni*. anterior edge of the crural arch. As it proceeds, the
swelling increases more laterally than upwards or down¬
wards $ so that it assumes an oblong shape. In the cru¬
ral hernia, the sac has two coverings besides the inte¬
guments j the superficial fascia of the external oblique
muscle, and the fascia propi'ia of Mr Cooper, which is
formed by the protrusion of the fascia which naturally
covers the opening through which the hernia passes, and
the fascia of the crural sheath. The taxis and use of
trusses are the same in femoral as in inguinal hernia j
and the same series of symptoms indicate the necessity
of an operation in both when strangulated.
Operation.—Mr Cooper recommends that the inci¬
sion of the integuments be made in the form of a T, be¬
ginning one incision about an inch and a half above the
crural arch, in a line with the middle of the tumor,
and extending it downwards below the arch, and
meeting a second incision nearly at right angles with
the other, the whole length of the tumor. The two
fascias are next to be divided, and the hernial sac open¬
ed at its lower part, sufficiently large to admit readily
the finger. The seat of the stricture is to be ascertain¬
ed by the introduction of the point of the fore finger
under the crural arch, and it may be readily divided in
a direction upwards and inwards, of a sufficient extent
to liberate the intestine j generally a very slight motion
of the edge of the bistoury will be found sufficient for
that purpose.
Chap. XIV.
Of Hare-lip.
4
The hare-lip is a fissure in the upper lip, very sel-
* See Plate dom in the under one. * It is attended with want of
DXX1V. substance, and has its name from a resemblance to the
lip of a hare. In general it is only a simple fissure,
though sometimes it is double.
In proceeding to the operation, the patient, if a
child, should be secured upon a table j but if an adult,
he is to be seated upon a chair, in a proper light. The
fraenum connecting the gums to the upper lip is to be
divided ; if a fore-tooth project so much as to prevent
the parts from being brought properly together, it is to
be extracted; or when the fissure runs through the
bones of the palate, if a small portion of the bone pro¬
ject, this must be removed. The operator is then to
lay hold of one side of the fissure between the thumb
f Plate antl fore-finger, or between the forceps f, then with a
DXX1V. pajr s|iarp an(j very strong scissars, or with a scalpel,
to cut oil’ a thin portion of the lip, and to repeat the
same thing upon the other side of the fissure, so as to
render the whole edges of the fissure completely raw *,
by which, if the operation be properly performed, a
piece will be separated in form like an inverted V. Af¬
ter the incisions have been made, the vessels should be
allowed to bleed freely to prevent inflammation } and
when the bleeding has ceased, the sides of the wound
are to be brought accurately together, and kept in that
state by the twisted suture. The first pin ought to be
as near as possible to the red edge of the lip ; another
is to be inserted near the upper angle j and if the pa¬
tient be an adult, a third pin will generally be necessa¬
ry, half way between the other two. In passing them,
3
E R Y. Chap. XV.
they ought to go rather deeper than half through the Amputa-
lip, that the edges of the wound may be kept properly lion,
in contact. An assistant now keeps the parts together,' * —
while the operator applies a firm waxed ligature first to
the under pin ; and having made three or four turns
with it in the form of an eight figure, it should then be
carried about the second, and in a similar way about the
third, care being taken that the thread be drawn of a
proper tightness. When, from a great want of sub¬
stance, the retraction has been considerable, some ad¬
vantage is derived from the use of adhesive plasters ap¬
plied to the cheeks and tied between the pins. During
the time of the cure the patient should be fed upon
spoon-meat, and prevented from making any exertion
with the lips, otherwise the cure might be considerably
retarded. At the end of five or six days the pins may
be taken out, when the parts will commonly be found
completely united.
In the case of a double hare-lip, the operation should
be first done upon one fissure j and when a cure is com¬
pleted there, it may be done safely upon the other.
Chap. XV.
Of Amputation.
There are two modes generally employed for per¬
forming amputation ; the common operation by two cir¬
cular incisions, and the flap operation. We shall
describe in detail both these modes of operating in the
thigh.
The patient should be placed on a table of a conve-Amputa-
nient height, in such a manner that the diseased limb tion of the
may hang over the edge of it, and be secured by an as-thigh.
sistant seated on a low chair before him j the other
limb and the arms are also to be secured by proper as¬
sistants. The tourniquet (see Plate DXVI.) is to
be placed on the thigh, three or four inches below
Poupart’s ligament, where the femoral artery may be
most easily and completely compressed. Dessault pre¬
ferred to the tourniquet, the finger of a strong and
intelligent assistant. A cushion fixed on a handle
answers very well for making pressure on the artery
when a tourniquet is not to be used ; and it is a useful
instrument to have in readiness, in case the tourniquet
should go wrong; or when it becomes necessary to am¬
putate the thigh so far up, that a tourniquet cannot be
safely fixed.
After the operator has determined on the place for
the incision of the integuments, an assistant should grasp
the limb with both hands a little above where the skin
is to be divided, and draw it upwards as far as possible.
The operator then with the knife (see Plate DXXII.
fig. io.) makes a circular incision through the skin
and cellular membrane, flown to the muscles; and
this may be done, either by one stroke of the knife, or
by first making one semicircular incision round the un¬
der part of the limb, and afterwards another incision
upon the upper part corresponding with the former.
When this is made, the integuments retract considerably
from their natural elasticity, and they are to be separa¬
ted from the muscles and dissected with the point of the
knife, as far back as to leave a sufficient quantity of skin
to cover the stump. The skin being turned back, the
operator,
hap. XV.
s U B G E K Yo
107
operator, by a second incision carried close to its invert¬
ed edge, cuts the muscles perpendicularly down to the
bone. During this part of the operation, care should
be taken to avoid wounding the edge of the skin, by
tracing attentively the edge of the knife during the
whole course of the incision. After the muscles are di¬
vided, a considerable retraction takes place, and any
muscular fibres attached to the periosteum should be
separated from it by the point of the knife, in order to
allow the bone to be sawn through as high as possible,
and thus secure to it a firm fleshy covering. All the
soft parts are next to be drawn upwards as far as their
separation from the bone will admit of. They are to
be kept in this situation by an instrument called the re¬
tractors, until the bone is sawn through. The retrac¬
tors may be either made of iron plates (see Plate
DXXII. fig. 5.), or a piece of linen or leather cut as
represented in fig. 6. The assistant who uses either
of these instruments, should take care when he ap¬
plies them, that the soft parts are completely out of
the reach of the saw, and that they are held back as
far as the place where the bone is to be divided. Any
sharp edges which may be left on the end of the bone
after it has been sawn through, should be taken away
with pliers, Plate DXXII. fig. 8. The arteries are
next to be tied, and both the femoral artery and vein
may be included in one ligature. The bleeding being
stopped, and the wound cleaned, the tourniquet is to
be altogether taken away, and the soft parts drawn
down, so as to cover the extremity of the bone. In or¬
der to keep them in this situation, a bandage of thin
flannel or cotton cloth, not exceeding two inches and a
half in breadth for an adult, is to make one or two cir¬
cular turns round the body above the ilium ; it is then
to be carried obliquely aver the groin, and turned round
the upper part of the thigh pretty firmly two or three
times, forming as it were at this place a point of support
to the muscles and skin. It is afterwards to be passed
in a spiral manner downwards to near the edge of the
wound, taking care to pull the soft parts towards the
stump, whilst applying each turn of the bandage. The
turns should not be so tight as to cause pain, but suffici¬
ent to keep the parts in the situation in which they are
placed. The surface of the muscles and the edges of the
skin are now to be accurately brought together in such
a direction, that the wound forms a straight line, extend¬
ing from the anterior to the posterior aspect of the limb.
Strips of adhesive plaster, about half an inch in breadth,
and eight or ten inches in length, should be applied, in
order to keep the lips of the wound in this position.
Those over the middle part of the wound ought to be
put on first j and great attention is necessary in their
application, to prevent the edges of the skin from over-
lapping and puckering. They should be of such a
number as completely to cover the surface of the wound,
leaving only a small opening for the ligatures of the ar¬
teries to be brought out at that part of the wound near¬
est the place where the artery is situated. The wound
is^ to be afterwards covered with a piece of linen or cad¬
dis spread with simple ointment, and a compress of fine
tow laid over it, the whole being secured by a few turns
of the roller.
Ihe bedclothes should be kept from pressing upon,
and coming in contact with the stump, by a frame or
cradle, as it is called. (See Plate DXXIII. fig. 11.).
When this operation is to be performed, the incision Utbotomy.
of the integuments may be made, either with a com-l—-v 
mon scalpel, or with the end of the amputating knife, opera-
as represented in Plate DXXII. fig. 10. After the skintl0!1’
is divided, it is of importance to allow it to retract as
much as possible, by cutting the fibres of cellular
membrane which connect it with the fascia of the
thigh, before dividing the muscles. If the limb be
much emaciated, the division of the muscles may be also
made with the scalpel j if, on the contrary, the limb be
bulky, the incision ought to be made by a common am¬
putating knife, in order that the surface of the flaps be
plain and uniform. After dividing the muscles ob¬
liquely upwards down to the bone, they should be se¬
parated from it a sufficient way, so as to leave enough
to cover the end of the bone, and they should be
allowed to contract as much as possible before the
bone is sawn through. After the limb is ampu¬
tated, and the circular bandage applied, the flaps
will be found to meet very accurately together#
and to form a round and smooth stump. From the
angles of the skin being removed, no puckering or cor¬
ners are left, and the two surfaces and muscles being
applied to each other, and covering the end of the bone,
give it a firm and fleshy covering, whereas in amputa¬
tions performed in the common mode, the bone is co¬
vered by integuments alone. The adhesive plasters
are to be applied in the same manner, and the patient
is to be treated afterwards as in the other modes of ope¬
rating.
The general rules to be attended to in amputation
in other parts of the body, are the same as those already
mentioned j and in Plate DXXII. and DXXIII. we
have delineated the place and direction of the incisions.
Chap. XVI.
Of Lithotomy.
The manner of preparing the patient for this opera¬
tion depends upon a variety of circumstances. If he be
plethoric, a few ounces of blood should be taken away,
and at proper intervals the bowels ought to be emptied
by any gentle laxative which will not gripe. The diet
should consist of light food for some time previous to the
operation. If the pain be violent, opium is necessary.
Sometimes it is relieved by keeping the patient in bed
with the pelvis raised, so as to remove the stone from
the neck of the bladder. He ought not to sit up, or
take any exercise, in the time of preparation. The
warm bath ought to be used two or three times, and
the patient should remain in it half an hour at each
time. A laxative ought to be given on the day preced¬
ing the operation, and an injection a few hours before it
is performed. The patient ought to drink plentifully
of some diluent liquor, and to retain the urine several
hours previous to the operation. If this cannot be rea¬
dily effected, a slight compression, by means of a liga¬
ture, may be made upon the penis, so as to have the
bladder sufficiently distended, that there may be no
danger of the posterior surface being hurt by the end of
the gorget. The perinaeum and parts about the anus
should be well shaved.
A table somewhat more than three feet in height,
and of sufficient strength, is to be firmly placed,
O 2 and
io8 sun
Liihotomy.and properly .covered with blankets, pillows, &c. Up-
" »" J on this tlie patient is to be laid and properly secured j
and for this purpose there ought to be two pieces of
broad firm tape, each about five feet in length, which
are to be doubled, and a noose formed upon them. A
noose is to be put upon each wrist, and the patient de¬
sired to lay hold of the middle of his foot upon the out¬
side. One end of the ligature is to go round the hand
and foot, and the other round the ankle and hand, and
cross again, so as to repeat the turns in the reverse way.
A running knot is to be tied, by which the hand and
foot will be properly secured. The buttocks are then
to be made to project an inch or two over the table,
and to be raised considerably higher than the shoulders
by a couple or more pillows, and one pillow ought to
be put under his head.
The operator is now to introduce a grooved staff
(Plate DXXI. fig. 5.) of proportionable size, and open
to the end, through the urethra into the bladder ; and
having fully satisfied himself of the existence of a stone,
he inclines the staff, if he be right-handed, obliquely over
the right groin, so that the convex part of the staff may
be felt in the perinaeum on the left side of the raphe.
He then fixes it, and delivers it to his assistant, who is
to hold it with his right hand, desiring him to press it
gently, in order to make the sulcus of the staff project
in the direction in which he received it. With his
left hand the same assistant is to raise and support the
scrotum.
The thighs of the patient being sufficiently separated
by the assistants, and the surgeon being seated upon a
chair of a proper height, and in a convenient light, he
makes an incision with a common convex-edged scalpel
through the skin and cellular substance, below the sym¬
physis of the ossa pubis, which is a little below the scro¬
tum, and where the crus penis and bulb of the urethra
meet, and on the left side of the raphe, and continues it
in a slanting direction downwards and outwards to the
space between the anus and tuberosity of the ischium,
ending somewhat lower than the basis of that process,
by which a cut will be made of three or four inches in
length. This incision ought not to be shorter than is
here directed, otherwise there will not be room for the
rest of the operation. As soon as the integuments are
divided, he ought to introduce two of the fingers of the
left hand. With one he keeps back the lip of the
wound next the raphe, and with the other he presses
down the rectum. He ought likewise particularly to
guard against cutting the crura of the penis, which he
can readily feel, and separate at their under part with
one of his fingers. He next makes a second incision al¬
most in the same direction with the first, but rather
nearer to the raphe and anus, by which he preserves the
trunk of the arteriapudica. By this incision he divides
the transversalis penis, and as much of the levator ani
and cellular substance within these as will make the
prostate gland perceptible to the finger. If any consi¬
derable vessel be cut, it is immediately to be secured,
though this is seldom necessary. He is now to search
for the groove of the staff with the fore finger of his
left hand, the point of which he presses along from the
bulb of the urethra to the prostate gland which sur¬
rounds the neck of the bladder. He keeps it there jand
turning the edge of the knife upwards, he cuts upon the
groove of the staff, and freely divides the membranous
l a
G E R Y. Chap.
part of the urethra, till the staff can be felt perfectly j
bare, and that there is room to admit the nail of the
finger j and as the finger assists in keeping the parts
stretched, and effectually prevents the rectum from be¬
ing hurt, the incision into the urethra may be made
with perfect ease and safety.
The next part of the operation, viz. dividing the pro¬
state gland and neck of the bladder, might, by a dexte¬
rous operator, be safely performed with a common scal¬
pel with the edge turned the opposite way. But to
guard against accidents, a more convenient instrument,
called the cutting gorget, is now in general use. It was
originally invented by Mr Hawkins of London, and
since his time has undergone various alterations *. The ^
membranous part of the urethra being now divided, and
the fore finger still retained in its place, the point of the
gorget, previously fitted to the groove, is to be directed
along the nail of the finger, which will serve to conduct
it into the groove of the staff j and as this is one of the
nicest parts of the operation, the most particular atten¬
tion is required that the point of the gorget be distinctly
felt to rub in the bare groove.
The operator now rises from his seat, takes the staff
from the assistant, raises it to near a right angle, and
presses the concave part against the symphysis of the ossa
pubis 5 satisfies himself again that the point or beak is
in the groove, and then pushes on the gorget, following
the direction of the groove till the beak slip from the
point of the staff into the bladder. The gorget is not
to be pushed farther than this, otherwise it may wound
the opposite side of the bladder,&c.
The gorget having now entered the bladder, which
is readily known by the discharge of urine from the
wound, the staff is to be withdrawn, and the finger in¬
troduced along the gorget to search for the stone, which,
when felt, will point out the direction to be given to
the forceps ; at any rate, the introduction of the finger
serves to dilate the wound in the bladder j and this be¬
ing done, a pair of forceps f of a proper size, and with
their blades as nearly together as their form will allow,
are to be introduced, and the gorget withdrawn slowly,
and in the same direction in which it entered, so as to
prevent it from injuring the parts in its return. After
jhe forceps are introduced, and passed till they meet
with a gentle resistance, but no farther, the handles
ought to be depressed till they are somewhat in an hori¬
zontal direction, as this will most correspond with the
lundus of the bladder. One blade of the forceps is to
be turned towards the symphysis of the pubes, to defend
the soft parts there j the other of consequence will guard
the return, After they have distinctly touched the
stone, by moving them a little in various directions,
they are then to be opened, and the stone laid hold of*
which may generally be done with considerable ease. It
frequently happens, however, that when the stone ia
small, it is not readily felt with the forceps j and in¬
stances may happen where the under and back part of
the bladder may be so depressed as to conceal the stone.
In such a situation, nothing will more readily bring it
in the way of the forceps than to introduce the finger
into the rectum, and elevate this part of the bladder.
Straight forceps are generally used 5 crooked ones, in
some very rare cases, however, may be necessary, and
therefore the surgeon ought to be provided with
them.
After
;:;Chap. XVI.
lithotomy. After the forceps has laid hold of the stone, if it be
^ u—y——' small and properly placed, it may readily be extracted :
but if, on the contrary, the handles of the forceps are
now observed to be greatly expanded, it is certain the
stone is improperly fixed, or that it is remarkably
large: in either case it should not be held fast, but al¬
lowed to move into the most favourable situation ; or
the finger is to be introduced so as to place it properly
for extraction. If this cannot be done with the finger,
IC9
it ought to be allowed to slip out of the forceps, in or-I)^tholornT•
der to get it more properly fixed j and as the most com- v '
mon form of the stone is flat and oval, or somewhat
like a flattened egg, the forceps should have hold of the
smallest diameter, while an end presents to the neck of
the instrument. The stone should be grasped with no
greater firmness than is merely sufficient to bring it
fairly out, and it should be extracted in a slow gradual
manner.
SURGERY,
EXPLANATION of the PLATES.
Plate DX1II.
Fig. 1. and 2. Common scalpels. Fig. 3. A blunt-
edged silver knife for dissecting close to important parts.
Fig. 4. and 5. A sharp and blunt-pointed bistoury.
Fig. 6. Richter’s hernia knife. Fig. 7. Dissecting for¬
ceps. Fig. 8. A blunt hook. Fig. 9. and 12. Direc¬
tories. Fig. 10. and 11. Dissecting hooks. Fig. 13.
Lancet. Fig. 14. 15. and 16. Seton-needles. Fig. 17.
and 18. Sharp and blunt-pointed needles. Fig. 19.
Outline of a steatomatous tumor, the dotted line point¬
ing out the direction in which the incision of the inte¬
guments ought to be made for its extirpation.
Plate DXIV.
Fig. 1. 2. .and 3. shew the different forms of the
points of bougies. Fig. 4. 3. and 6. are different sizes
of silver balls used by Air C. Bell for introducing into
the urethra, in order to determine the form and length
of strictures. Fig. 7. an outline taken from a cast of
the urethra, to shew the difference of the diameter at
different parts of that canal. Fig. 8. and 9. shew the
form of strictures in the urethra. Fig. 10. shews a
stricture in the oesophagus. Fig. 12. and 13. Male and
female syringes. Fig. 14. Scarificator for the throat.
Fig. 15. is the apparatus for injecting hydrocele.
Plate DXV.
Fig, 1. and 2. Forceps for removing polypi described
in Chap. III. Sect V. lig. 3* 5* and 6. Instruments
for removing polypi by ligature. Fig. 7. Outline of
one large and two small polypi in the rectum. Fig. 8.
A breast-glass. Fig. 9. Cheselden’s needle. Fig. 10.
A speculum oris. Fig. 11. Mudge’s inhaler.
Plate DXVI.
Fig. 1. Drawing of a femoral aneurism given by Mr
Freer, a is the direction and extent of the incision as
made by Mr Abernethy. The artery, however, may
he more easily tied by making an incision parallel to
Poupart’s ligament (6). c is the place and direction
where the iucision ought to be made in the high opera¬
tion for popliteal aneurism. Fig. 2. is the instrument
used for compressing the artery or aneurismal tumor.
l!g. 3. The common tourniquet.
Plate DXVI1.
Fig. 1. 2. and 3. Different forms of extracting knives.
Iig. 4. Beer’s lancet for extracting the capsule of the
kns. Fig. 5. Instruments for scarifying the eyelids.
6. A thin scalpel for paring the cornea. Fig. 7.
Instrument for holding down the under eyelid.. Fig. 8.
Pelier’s speculum. Fig. 9. Capsule forceps of Wenzel,
Fig. 10. Eye scissars. Fig. 11. 12. 13. 14. and 15.
have been referred to in N0 224. Fig. 16. represents
the wound of the cornea where the knife has been en¬
tered too near the inner edge of the pupil; Fig. 17.
where it has been brought out at too great a distance
from the sclerotic coat; Fig. 18. where it has been
brought out loo close to the sclerotic coat. Fig. 19. A
curette and Daniel’s spoon. Fig. 20. Scarpa’s needle:
Fig. 21. shews its point magnified. Fig. 22. Common
spear-pointed couching needle. Fig. 23. Fistula lachry-
malis syringe. Fig. 24. The style for introducing into
the lachrymal duct. Fig. 25. Tube for introducing in¬
to the lachrymal duct; and fig. 26. Instrument for in¬
troducing the tube.
Plate DXVIII.
Shews the external appearance of hernia. Fig. 1. is
a femoral hernia, the tumor being unequal and divided
into two portions ate; the iliac portion is formed of
svyelled glands, and the pubic contains the intestine.
Fig. 2. is a specimen of inguinal hernia; and fig. 3. of
inguino-abdominal.
Plate DXIX.
Fig. I. Common inguinal hernia, copied from Mr
Cooper’s plate. ar The abdominal ring, b, Poupart’s
ligament, c, The femoral artery, r/, The epigastric
artery, e, Hernial sac below the ring. /, Hernial sac
above the ring, g, Sharp part of the knife introduced,
between the ring and the sac, with its side placed to¬
wards the sac. Its edge should be turned forwards to
divide the stricture. Fig. 2. The hernia on the inner
side of the epigastric artery, c, The abdominal ring.
b, Poupart’s ligament, c, The femoral artery, d, The
epigastric artery, e, Internal oblique and transverse
muscles passing over the sac. f, Tendon of the trans¬
verse muscle passing under it. g, Fascia from Poupart’s
ligament, from which the cord has been withdrawn to
shew the place through which it passes. A, 7, The her¬
nial sac. k, Knife introduced to shew the manner of
dilating the stricture, which Mr Cooper directs always
to be done forwards and upwards, opposite to the mid¬
dle of the mouth of the hernial sac, in all the varieties
of inguinal hernia. Fig, 3. Form of the hernial truss;
and fig. 4. Mode in which it should be applied.
Plate DXX.
Fig. I. Crural- hernial sac removed, to shew the hole
by which it descended, in the female, a, Seat of the
pubes, b, Crural arch extending towards the iliunio
cc, Abdominal muscles, d, Crural arch, e, Fascia
lata.
no
SURGERY.
Hxplana. lata* f Semilunar edge of the fascia lata. Third
tion of the Insertion of the external oblique. A, Crural artery.
l*liites. Crural vein, k. Crural sheath. /, Abdominal ring.
v The orifice by which the crural hernia descends form¬
ed on the outer side by the crural sheath; on the inner
by the semicircular insertion of the tendon of the exter¬
nal oblique: and above, in part, by the crural, and in
part bv the semilunar edge of the fascia lata. Fig. 2.
A small crural hernia in the female $ shewing its passage
through the crural sheath, and its distance from the
crural arch, o, Seat of the symphysis pubis. Spi-
nbus process of the ilium, c, Crural arch, r/, Abdo¬
minal ring, f, Fascia lata. fy Semilunar edge of the
fascia lata. £, Portion of the crural sheath. hy Sa¬
phena major vein passing into the crural sheath, r, Her¬
nial sac inclosed in its fascia, which is extremely dense,
and is proportionably so as the hernia is small. ky The
hole in the crural sheath through which the hernia passes.
Fig. 3. A small crural hernia dissected. 0, Seat uf the
symphysis pubis. by Seat of the spinous process of the
ilium, c, Tendon of the external oblique muscle, d.
Internal oblique and transversalis. e, Fascia of the
transversalis. /j Tendon of the transversalis. g, Inner
portion of the fascia transversalis, passing to unite itself
with the tendon. //, The crural arch, it, Round li¬
gament. ky The round ligament passing into the abdo¬
men. /, Crural artery, m, Crural vein. », Origin
of the epigastric artery. 0, Course of the epigastric
artery behind the round ligament, p, Crural nerve, q,
Superficial fascia, r, Fascia propria of Mr Cooper, the
hernial sac having been drawn into the abdomen to
shew this fascia distinctly. Fig. 4. shews the form and
mode of applying the truss in femoral hernia.
Plate DXXI.
Fig. 1. An umbilical hernia truss, (a), The pad.
(£), The spring added to the pad. (c), An elastic band
to assist the pressure of the pad j the lower (£) points to
the belt which is added to keep this truss in its place in
corpulent people. Fig. 2. 3. 4. Different forms of the
gorget, as used by Hawkins, Cline, and Cooper. Fig. 5.
The staff. Fig. 6. and 7. Different forms of the for¬
ceps for the extraction of stones from the bladder.
Plate DXXII.
CxpI&M.
tion of (k
Fig. 1. A lateral view of the thigh and leg j the , *
dotted lines shewing the direction of the incision in am¬
putation. Fig. 2. An anterior view. I ig* 3* f orru of
the stomp j and, Fig. 4. Mode of applying the circular
bandage. Fig. 5. 6. and 7. Retractors. Fig. 8. Pliers
for removing any spicul* of bone. Fig. 9. Head of
a trephine, two thirds of the cutting teeth being remo¬
ved. This instrument is intended for removing the
ends of bones, particularly those of the metatarsus and
metacarpus. Fig. 10. and II. Amputating knives.
Fig. 12. Amputating saw.
Plate DXXIII.
Fig. I. Lateral view of the arm and hand, the dot¬
ted lines shewing the direction of the incision, in ampu¬
tation at the shoulder joint and last joint of the fore¬
finger. Fig. 2. and 3. Saws used in amputations of the
hands and feet* Fig. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. and 9. shew the dif-
femit parts of an artificial leg. Fig. II. Cradle used
after amputation in order to prevent the bedclothes pres¬
sing upon the limb.
Plate DXXIV.
Fig. I. shews the hare-lip with a fissure of the pa¬
late. Fig. 2. The simple hare-lip. Fig. 3. A double
hare-lip with two irregular teeth. Fig. 4. shews the
part of the lip into which the pins ought to be introdu¬
ced. Fig. 5. shews the mode in which the ligatures
ought to be applied. Fig. 6. The lip after the opera¬
tion. Fig. 7. and 8. Pins for the lip. Fig. 9. Lip
forceps. Fig. 10. Lip forceps, with one blade broader
than the other, which is covered with wood in order to
make resistance, and not injure the edge of the knife.
Fig. II. Strong scissars for dividing the lip. Fig. 12.
Scissars with curved blades, to be used when the lip is
very thick, and not easily grasped by the common scis¬
sars. Fig. 13. Shews the appearance of the club-foot.
Fig. 14. Machine invented by Scarpa for the cure of
club-feet. Fig. 15. Distorted foot from a relaxed state
of the ligaments, a deformity which may, in general, be
removed by wearing a boot, fig. 16. to which is fixed a
steel-rod, extending from the sole of the foot to the knee.
INDEX.
A.
ABSCESSES treated by Celsus, page 26
nature of, 32
opening of, 33
by caustic, 34
by incision, ib.
by the seton, 35
Abscessus in medulla, nature of, 76
JEsculapius, a Greek surgeon, 25
JEtius writes on surgery, 27
Albucasisy an Arabian surgeon, ib.
his horrid operations, ib.
Amputation, 106
Angina, symptoms of,
treatment of,
Aneurisms, varieties of,
encysted,
false or diffused,
varicose,
diagnosis of,
prognosis of,
treatment of,
Anthrax, see Carbuncle.
Antrum maxillare, polypus of,
Aphtha, symptoms of,
treatment of,
page 55 Archagathus, a Greek, practises surgery
ib. in Rome, P9?6:!
78—80 is banished from the city»>
ib. Arrangement of surgical diseases,
ib. objected to, 1
ib. of Bichat,
ib. Arsenic employed in cancer by Celsus,
79 Arterial system, diseases of, 1’]’^
ib. Asclcpiadcs practises medicine in Rome,
Ascites, symptoms of,
67 operation for,
68 Atheroma, a kind of tumor,
ib. Avicenna revives medicine in the east,
AvicW
Iriex.
Aikenna, his system of surgery, page 27
AVlary aneurism, 80
B.
Bribers practise surgery in Britain, 28
in Holland and Germany, ib.
Btff his method of extracting the ca¬
taract, 92
Ba Benjamin, his system of surgery
the completest, 29
Bilat's arrangement of surgical dis¬
eases according to textures, ib.
Blkder, polypi of, 67
hemorrhage from, 69
nature and treatment of, ib.
Ba nature and treatment of, 45
Bcpe, nature and method of using, 60, 61
Bt njield, an English surgeon, 29
Bo s} diseases of, 75—77
C.
Cmer of the skin,
symptoms of,
treatment of,
Caplar ligaments, collection of fluid
in,
treatment of,
jUjxtles, sinovial, moveable bodies in,
how removed,
id anenrisra,
vnclc, nature of,
treatment of,
a writer of 16th century,
Can-act, nature of,
four species of,
consistence of,
l colour of,
diagnosis of,
a local disease,
sometimes hereditary,
of the capsule,
trembling,
combined with amaurosis,
progress of,
symptoms of, observed by the
patient,
treatment of,
extraction of, 94—101
treatment of,after extraction, 99
—101
couching, method of perform¬
ing*
Qcts couched by Celsus,
'h of bladder, nature of, and
n ji treatment.
applied in opening abscesses,
in stricture of urethra,
bad effects of,
use of, in stricture compared
with bougie,
r* r , ,he^10(i of applying
^‘armembrann
46
ib.
ib.
74
ib.
75
ib.
79
38
ib.
28
?b.
ii,!
ib.
ib.
ib.
ib.
ib.
93
ib.
ib.
94
101
27
55
34
61
62
membrane, diseases of,
enumerated,
ib.
ib.
3°
his work on surgery recommended, 26
SURGERY.
Chilblains, nature of, page 45
how treated, 46
Conjunctiva, polypi of, 67
inflammation of, 87
Cornea, diseases of, 89, 90
ulcers of, ib.
treatment of, ib.
specks of, 90
mode of treating, ib.
Corns, nature of, 47
treatment of, 48
Coryza, symptoms of, 53
treatment of, 54
Couching of the cataract, 101
Croup, nature and treatment of, 55
Cupping glasses employed by Celsus, 27
, dry» 33
Cystocele, 104
Cysts, nature of, 39
Dease on wounds of the head, 29
Division of surgical diseases, 30
E.
Bar, inflammation of mucous membrane
of. See Otitis.
polypi of, 67
diseases of, 102
Else writes on hydrocele, 29
Emphysema, nature and symptoms of, 43
tumors, treatment of, 40
by the seton, ib.
by an operation, 41
Entropion, nature and treatment of, 10a
Epiplocele, or omental hernia, 104
Erysipelas, nature and symptoms of, 44
treatment of, 43
Eyes, diseases of, treated by Celsus, 26
of, 87—102
Exostosis, nature of, 7 c
E.
Fabricius ah Aquapendente, a writer
on surgery of 16th century, 28
Femoral aueurism, 79
Fistula lacrvmalis, nature and treatment
of, 101, 102
Fistula:, nature of, 36
causes of, ib.
treatment of, by injection, ib.
by compression, ib.
by incision, ib.
Fluxut hemorrhoidalis, nature and treat¬
ment of, 69
Fomentation, method of applying, 32
French writers on surgery, 29
Frontal sinus, polypus of, 67
Furunculus, nature and treatment of, 45
G.
Ganglions, nature and treatment of, 74
Gastrocele, 104
Gei~nmn writers on surgery, 29
Glandular system, diseases of, 80—89
Gleet, a form of gonorrhoea, 50
nature and cure of, 53
I I I
Go/wr/rrt’a, nature and symptoms of, p.49,50
virus, of, 31
treatment of, ib.
in women, 32
treatment of, ib.
injections for, now used, ib.
Greek surgeons, 23, 26
Gums, polypi, nature and treatment of, 67
Gummy, a disease of the bones, 7 5
H.
Hemorrhage from mucous membranes, 68,
69
Hemorrhoidal tumors, nature and treat¬
ment of, 80
Hematuria, symptoms and treatment
of, 69
Hare-lip, Iq6
Hematocele, nature and treatment of, 73
Hernia, described by Celsus, 27
Hernie, different kinds of, 103, 105
Hepatocele, 104
Hill writes on cancer, 29
Hippocrates, a Greek physician, 25
method of treating surgi-
' cal cases, 2$
Hydrocele, nature and symptoms of, 71
treatment of, ib.
palliative operation for, 72
radical operation for, ib.
cured by injection, ib.
diflerent solutions for, ib.
cured by incision, ib.
mode of treatment by inci¬
sion preferred, yj
Hunter, William and John, eminent
surgeons, 29
Hydrothorax, symptoms and treatment
of, 73
Hysterocclc, 104
L
Inguinal hernia, nature and symptoms
of, IO4
reducible, ib.
irreducible, ib.
strangulated, ib.
Iris, inflammation of, 91
treatment of, ib.
L.
Lens, crystalline, method of extract¬
ing, IOI
capsule of, method of
opening, 97
Lithotomy, operation for, by Celsus, 27
performed by females among
the Arabians, 28
modern operation for, 106
M.
Mamma, diseases of, 84—86
inflammation and abscess of,
scirrhus and cancer of, ib.
treatment of, ib.
method of extirpating, ib.
anomalous swellings of, 86
Maturation
1X2
Maturation of a tumor, Page 33
Meliceris, a kind of tumor, 39
Monro lectures on surgery, 28
his treatise on osteology recom¬
mended, ib.
Mucous membranes, diseases of, 48
pathology of, ib.
extent of, ib.
inflammation of, 49
haemorrhage from, 68
ulceration of, 69
N.
Ncevi materni, description of, 48
how removed, ib.
Nervous system, diseases of, 102, 103
Nipples, sore, nature and treatment of, 86
Nodes, venereal, 75
how treated, ib.
Nose, inflammation of mucous mem¬
brane of. See Coryza.
polypi of, 64
treatment of, 65
removed by an operation, ib.
with forceps, ib.
by ligature, 66
haemorrhage of, 69
ulcers of, 70
how treated, ib.
O.
P.
77
42
70
28
Palsy in lower extremities,
Pancreatic sarcoma,
Paracentesis, operation of,
Parey, a French surgeon,
Paronychia. See Whitloe.
Paulus Egineta treats of surgeiy, 27
best surgical writer among the
ancients, ib.
Pericardium, dropsy of, 73
Peritoneum, dropsy of, 70
Phlegmon, symptoms of,. 31
resolution of, 3 2
terminates in abscess, ib.
S U B G E R Y.
Phlegmon, treatment of, - page 32
Pott, an English surgeon, 28
greatly improves the art, ib.
Polypi, different kinds of 64—67
Popliteal aneurism, 79
Psorophthalmia, symptoms and treat¬
ment of, 102
Pterygium, nature and treatment of, 88
Pus, nature of, 30
Pupil, artificial, method of making, for
the eye, 91
Mr Gibson’s method, ib.
Oedema, symptoms of, 48
treatment of, ib.
Oesophagus, strictures in, 63
how treated, ib.
Ophthalmia, purulent, symptoms of, 87
treatment of, 88
in children, nature and
treatment of, ib.
gonorrhoeal, ib.
pustulosa, symptoms and
treatment of, 89
tarsi, nature and treatment
of, 102
Otitis, symptoms of, 54
treatment of, ib.
Ozcena, symptoms, and treatment of, 70
R.
Rectum, strictures in,
treatment of,
polypi, of,
how treated,
heemorrhagy from,
treatment of,
64
ib.
66
67
69
ib.
Resolution, what, 32
Rhazes revives medicine in the east, 27
Rickets, nature and treatment of, 76
Romans, history of surgery among, 26, 27
Rose. See Erysipelas.
S.
Sanies, nature of,
Sarcotna, nature of,
pancreatic,
mammary,
tuberculated,
Sarcomatous tumors, treatment of,
by caustic,
by incision,
Sarcocele. See Testicle.
Scirrhus of testicle,
Serous membranes, diseases of,
Sinovial membranes, diseases of, 74,
Strictures, remarks on,
in urethra,
situation of,
symptoms of,
diagnosis of,
causes of,
treatment of,
by Wiseman,
bougies applied to,
method of using, 60,
Sedative remedies in inflammation,
Seton, used in opening abscesses,
Sharpe, an English surgeon,
Sinuses, nature of,
method of treating,
Skin, diseases of,
pathology of,
Spina bifida, nature and management of,
ventosa, nature of,
Steatoma, a kind of tumor,
description of,
treatment of,
Suppuration in the cellular membrane,
30
41
42
ib.
ib.
42
ib.
ib.
80
70
75
56
ib.
ib.
58
ib.
59
ib.
60
61
32
35
28
36
ib.
43
ib.
Index
Staphyloma, nature and treatment of, page j
Surgeon, qualifications of, 2
Surgeiy, definition of, 2
different from medicine,
departments of,
history of,
among the Greeks, i
practised in Britain by bar-
bers, farriers, &c. in 16th
2
.
century,
greatly improved in the 18th
century, i
T.
80—!
Testicle, diseases of,
mode of extirpating,
inflammation of,
induration of,
abscess of,
scrophulous,
preternaturally small
fungus of,
Thorax, dropsy of,
Throat, method of scarifying and fo¬
menting,
Tic doloureux, nature and treatment
of, \
Tophus, a disease of the bones,
Tonsils, diseases of,
treatment of,
Trusses, nature and application of, to
herniae, ]
Tumors, nature of,
encysted,
symptoms of,
mode of formation,
Varicose aneurism,
veins,
spermatic veins, nature and
treatment of
Varicocele, nature and treatment of,
Venereal disease brought from America,
Venous system, diseases of,
Urethra, inflammation of. See Gonor‘
rhoca.
polypi of,
Uterus, polypi of.
Uvula, diseases of,
treatment of,
W.
75
76
39
41
ib.
30
Wirner, his writings on surgery,
IVarts, description of,
of two kinds,
treatment of,
White, his works on surgery,
Whitloe, symptoms of,
treatment of,
sinuses in, to be avoided,
Wounds treated of by Celsus,
SURIN4
SURGERY.
PLATE Dim.
/’LITV JJX/1
S URGE RY.
-Fij/. 'i.
PLATE JJXV
SUlU.LitY
PLATE DXV1.
E.Mitc/ie///rv///' /
1
/
SURGERY.
/v/. /.
plat]; mi//
u/
KT]
d>rh
>\
SURGERY
PLATE DXVUL
/vy. /.
Fe/iiQ/vt-lJ¥i’r/n/x
/
d
SURGEltV
d
J’jL LTB zjxlw
SURGERY. PLATE USX.
I' /y. /.
/v/. 2.
F>//4
f rrf/J
□ >)
/V /
sriuiiiin:
/■Lm; /jw///
PLATE DXHV.
sun
r
umamj
ti
irmullet.
SURINAM, a country of Guiana, which extends
about 75 miles along a river of the same name, in
N. Lat. 6. 16. This river is navigable for 90 miles up
the country. The chief productions of Surinam are,
wood for dyeing, indigo, cotton, sugar, tobacco, gums,
and different species of fruit. Prodigious numbers of
monkeys infest the woods, as well as very large serpents.
This settlement was ceded to the Dutch in 1674, as an
equivalent for New York ; was retaken by the British
in 1799, and restored in 1814. Paramaribo is the ca¬
pital. N. Lat. 6. 16. W. Long. 56. o. The produc¬
tions of this country, when in the hands of the Dutch,
yielded, in the year 1775, the sum of 822,905!. ster¬
ling ; and it may be presumed that the value of these
will not diminish in the hands of its present proprietors.
Population about 100,000 persons.
Demerara.—Connected with Surinam we may notice
the colony of Demerara, which surrendered to the Bri-
tish troops in 1781 ; and after some other changes was
secured to Britain in 1814, along with Berbice and
Essequibo. Its productions cleared from the port of
Demerara, from January 1806 to the same month of
1807, were 19,337 hogsheads, 474 tierces, and 801
barrels of sugar •, 4722 puncheons and 17 hogsheads of
rum; 25,604 bales, two bags ol cotton; 12,390,102
pounds of coffee ; and 1694 casks of melasses ; a pro¬
duce which we hope will be constantly increasing under
the mild and humane conduct of the British govern¬
ment. It is deemed a valuable acquisition, on account
of its flourishing condition. Stabroek is the capital of
Demerara. See Demerara, Supplement.
Essequibo, on the banks of a river of the same name,
was first founded in 1698, but came into the hands of
the British much about the same time with the pre¬
ceding. The unaccountable neglect shewn by Hol¬
land towards her colonies rendered them an easy con¬
quest.
Eerbice is situated between Demerara and Surinam,
containing about 104 small plantations, scattered at
considerable distances from each other, the produce of
which was long ago valued at 50,000!. sterling, but
may be expected to have a rapid increase. Population
between 8000 and 9000 persons of various descriptions.
See Berbice, Supplement.
Pomaroon is a country which has a rich and fertile
soil; yet the inhabitants chiefly confine themselves to
the cultivation of cotton, for the produce of which it is
found to be admirably adapted. It is not so well fitted
to yield good crops of coffee or sugar, as the land is by
far too rich, and strongly impregnated with saline mat¬
ters. In 1799 and 1800, a thirst for planting cotton
was greatly increased, as the crops of that article were
then the largest ever known to be produced in the co¬
lonies.
SURMOUNTED, in Heraldry, is when one figure
is laid over another.
SURMULLET. See Mullus, Ichthyology
Index.
13 1
SURNAME
sun
, that which is added to the proper
name for distinguishing persons and families. It was ’
originally distinguished from sirname, which denotes the
name of the sire or progenitor : thus Macdonald, Ro¬
bertson, are sirnames expressing the son of Donald, the
son of Robert. The word surname, again, signified
some name superadded to the proper name to distinguish
the individual, as Artaxerxes Longimanus, Harold
Harefoot, Malcolm Canmore. From this it is evident
that every sirname was a surname, though the reverse
was not so. In piodern times they are confounded ;
and as there is now no occasion to preserve the distinc¬
tion, Dr Johnson has rejected the word sirname alto¬
gether. See Name.
Surnames were introduced among all nations at an
early period, and seem to have been formed at first by
adding the name of the father to that of the son. I his
was the practice among the Hebrews, as appears from
the scriptures. Caleb is denominated the son of Je-
phnnneh, and Joshua the son of Nun. That the same
tiling was customary among the Greeks, every one who
has read the poems of Homer must remember. We
have an instance of it in the very first line of the Iliad :
A%(A>.n«s “ Achilles the son of Peleus.” This
is perhaps the general origin of surnames, for it has
been common among most nations (a).
The Romans generally had three names. The first
called prcenomen answered to our Christian name, and
was intended to distinguish the individuals of the same
family ; the second called jiomen corresponded to the
word clan in Scotland, and was given to all those who
were sprung from the same stock ; the third called cog’-
nomen expressed the particular branch of the tribe or
clan from which an individual was sprung. Thus 1 ub-
lius Cornelius Scipio, Publius corresponded to our names
John, Robert, William ; Cornelius was the name of the
clan or tribe, as Campbell was formerly the name of
all the duke of Argyle’s clients, and Douglas the name
of the retainers of the duke of Hamilton’s progenitors.
Scipio being added, conveyed this information, that
Publius, who was of the tribe of the Cornell!, was of
the family of the Scipios, one of the branches or fami¬
lies into which that tribe was divided. Respecting the
three names which were common among the Romans,
we may say that the first was a name and the other two
surnames.
Du Chesne observes, that surnames were unknown in
France before the year 987, when the lords began to
assume the names of their demesnes. Camden relates,
that they were first taken up in England, a little before
the conquest, under King Edward the Confessor: but
be adds they were never fully established among the
common people till the time of Edward II.; till then
they varied with the father’s name; if the fathei, c. gi.
was called Bickard, or Roger, the son was called Bich-
ardson, or Hodgson ; but from that time they were set¬
tled, some say, by act of parliament. The oldest sur¬
names are those we find in Domesday-l^ook, most of
them
Sur
. (VI This might he supported by examples borrowed from many nations,
Saxons added the word son to the end of the father’s name, as v u iai ^
VOL. XX. Part 1. t
sun
Surname, them taken froin places, with the addition of de; as
Surplice. Godefridus de Mannevilla, Walterus de Vernon, 11 o-
v—' bert de Oyly, &c. Others from their fathers, with fi-
lius, as Gulieimus films Osberni j others from their of¬
fices, as Eudo Dapifer, Gulieimus Camerarius, Gisle-
bertus Cocus, &c. But the inferior people are noted
simply by their Christian names, without any sur¬
names at all.
Surnames seem to have been introduced into Scotland
in the time of William tbe Conqueror by the English who
accompanied Edgar Atheling when he fled into that
kingdom. These had their proper surnames, as Mou-
bray, Lovell, Lisle, using the particle de before them ;
which makes it probable that these surnames had been
derived from the lands which their ancestors or they
themselves had possessed. In Kenneth JT.’s time in
800 the great men had indeed begun to call their lands
by their own names •, hut the ordinary distinctions then
used were only personal, and did not descend to suc¬
ceeding generations, such as those employed by the
H cbrews and Greeks : for example, John the son of
William ; or the names of office, as Stewart 5 or acci¬
dental distinctions from complexion or station, as Black,
White, Long, Short ; or the name of their trade, as
Tailor, Weaver.
It was long before any surnames were used in Wales,
except that of son, as Evan ap Ilice, Evan the son of
Hice 5 Evan ap Howel, Evan the son of Howel : but
many of them have at length formed separate surnames,
as the English and Scots, by leaving out the a in ap,
and joining the p to the father’s name : thus Evan ap
Rice becomes Evan Price ; Evan ap Howel, Evan
Powel.—We are told, surnames were unknown in Swe¬
den till the year 1514, and that the common people of
that country use none to this day ; and that the same
is the case with the vulgar Irish, Poles and Bohe¬
mians.
When we come to inquire into the etymology of sur¬
names, we must allow that many of them were origi¬
nally significant of the qualities of mind, as Bold, Har¬
dy, Meek ; some of the qualities of body, as Strong,
Low, Short ; others expressive of the trade or profession
followed by the persons to whom they were applied, as
Baker, Smith, Wright 5 Butler, Page, Marshal. But
the greatest number, at least of the ancient surnames,
were borrowed from the names of places. Camden says,
that there is not a village in Normandy but has given
its name to some family in England. He mentions as
examples, Percy, Devereux, Tankervil, Mortimer,
w arren, &c. They were introduced with William the
Conqueror. Several have been derived from places in
the Netherlands, as Gaunt, Tournay, Grandison ; and
many from the names of towns and villages in England
and Scotland, as Wentwoith, Markham, Murray, A-
herdeen. Many have been formed from the names of
animals, as quadrupeds, birds, fishes ; from vegetables,
and parts of vegetables, as trees, shrubs, flowers, and
fruits ; from minerals of different kinds. Others are
formed from such a variety of accidents that it is impos¬
sible to particularize them.
SURPLICE, the habit of the officiating clergy in
the churc h of England. By Can. 58, every minister
saying the public prarers, or ministering the sacrament
or other rites of the church, shall wear a decent and
comely surplice with sleeves, to be provided at the
S U R
charge of the parish. But by 1 Eliz. c. 2. and 13 and Surplke
14 Car. II. the garb prescribed by act of parliament, in jj
the second year of King Edward \ I. is enjoined and Sunende
this requires that in the saying or singing ot matins and
even songs, baptizing and burying, the minister in pa¬
rish churches and chapels shall use a surplice. And in
all cathedral churches and colleges, the archdeacon,
dean, provests, masters, prebendaries, and fellows, be¬
ing graduates, may use in the choir, besides their sur¬
plices, such lioods as pertain to their several degrees.
But in all other places every minister shall lie at liberty
to use a surplice or not. And hence in marrying,
churching of women, and other offices not specified in
this rubric, and even in the administration ot the holy
communion, it seems that a surplice is not necessary.
Indeed for the holy communion the rubric appoints a
white alb plain, which differs from the surplice in be¬
ing close sleeved, with a vestment or cope.
SURREBU TTER, in Law, is second rebutter ; or
the replication of the plaintiff to the defendant’s rebut¬
ter.
SURREJOINDER, is a second defence of the
plaintiff’s declaration, by way of answer to the defen¬
dant’s rejoinder.
SURRENDER, in Common Law, a deed, or instru¬
ment, testifying that the particular tenant ot lands and
tenements, for life or years, doth sufficiently consent
and agree, that he who has the next or immediate re¬
mainder or reversion thereof, shall have the present
estate of the same in possession ; and that he hereby
yields and gives up the same to him, so that the estate
for life or years may merge or drown by mutual agree¬
ment of the parties. Of surrenders there are three
kinds ; a surrender properly taken at common law *, a
surrender of copyhold or customary estates j and a sur¬
render improperly taken, as of a deed, a patent, &c.
The first is the usual surrender, and it is usually di¬
vided into that in deed, and that in law.
Surrender, in deed, is that which is really made
by express words in writing, where the words of the
lessee to the lessor prove a sufficient assent to surren¬
der his estate hack again.
Surrender, in Law, is that wrought by operation
of the law, and which is not actual.—As if a man have
a lease of a farm for life or years, and during the term
he accepts a new lease $ this act is, in law, a surren¬
der of the former.
Surrender of a bankrupt. See Commission of
Bankruptcy.
Surrender of Copyholds is the yielding up of the
estate by the tenant into the hands of the lord, for such
purposes as are expressed in the surrender : as to the
use and behoof of A and his heirs, to the use of his own
will, and the like. This method of conveyance is so es¬
sential to the nature of a copyhold estate, that it can¬
not possibly he transferred by any other assurance. No
feoffment, fine, or recovery (in the king’s courts) h&ih Commc$i
any operation upon it. If I would exchange a copyhold vol. a
with another, 1 cannot do it by an ordinary deed of ex¬
change at the common law, hut we must surrender to
each other’s use, and the lord will admit us according¬
ly. If I would devise a copyhold, I must surrender it
to the use of my last will and testament and in my
will I must declare my intentions, and name a devisee,
who will then be entitled to admission.
t 114 ]
Surrender
* ^
u-ler
[ 115
mden's
itamia
Gough.
SUE
Surrender of Letters Patent and Offices. A sur¬
render may be made of letters patent to tbe king, so
; that he may grant the estate to whom lie pleases, &c.
and a second patent for years to the same person for the
same tiling is a surrender in law of the first patent.
io Rep. 66. If an officer for life accept of another
grant of the same office, it is in law a surrender of the
first grant j but if such an officer take another grant
of the same office to himself and another, it may be
otherwise.
SURREPTITIOUS. See Subeeptitious.
SURROGATE, in Law, denotes a person that is
substituted or appointed in the room of another.
SURit t, a county oi England, bounded on the west
by Berkshire and Hampshire, on the south by Sussex,
on the east by Kent, on the north by Middlesex, from
which it is parted by the Thames, whence it had the
name ol Suth-rey from the Saxons, i. e. the country on
the south side of the river. It is 38 miles m length
from east to west, 23 in breadth from north to south,
and 112 in circumference. It contains 13 hundreds,
140 parishes, of which 35 are vicarages, 13 market-
towns, 450 villages, and 592,000 acres. The number
of inhabitants in 1811 was 323,851. The members
sent from it to parliament are 14, viz. two for each of
tbe. boroughs of Southwark, Bleechingley, Ryegate,
Guildford, Gatton, Haslemere, and two for the county.
The air of this county, towards the middle, which
consists mostly of hills and heath, is sharp, but pure and
wholesome. About the skirts, where it is more level,
and the soil richer, the air is milder, but also salubrious.
In. the middle parts the soil is barren enough in general j
but towards the extremities, and where the country is
open and champaign, it is fruitful in grass and corn, par¬
ticularly on the south side in Holmsdale, in which mea¬
dows, woods, and corn-fields, are agreeably intermixed.
The soil is also very fertile along the Thames, especially
towards London, to whose market it contributes largely.
It has several rivers, abounding with fish, the chief of
which are the Wye, the Mole, anil the Wandle. See
Surry, Supplement.
SURSOLID, or Surdesolid, in Arithmetic, the
filth power of a number, or the fourth multiplication of
any number, considered as a root.
SURV LA ING. That part of practical mathematics
which teaches the method of ascertaining the limits and
extent of land or estates, and of representing these in
maps or plans, is called surveying, or land surveying;
but this term, in a more extended sense, includes the
valuing of landed property, the buying and selling of
estates, and the dividing or laying out of landed pro¬
perty to the best advantage.
Considered as a branch of practical mathematics, sur¬
veying depends for its principles on Geometry and
1 kigoNgmetry, and as far as it is confined to the
mensuration of plain surfaces, has already been consider¬
ed under the article Mensuration. It is the object of
the present article to explain and illustrate the most ap¬
proved methods of applying these principles to practice,
and in particular to point out the use of the field book,
and the mode of surveying large estates, towns, counties,
01 similar extensive tracts of land. We shall also point
nut the most approved mode of surveying subterraneous
works, as coal-pits, mines, &c. a subject which has hi-
•uerto been entirely neglected in works of this nature.
d ] SUE
. Bef'0,'e entering on the practical part of the subject Surveying,
it may be proper to mention the previous knowledge y——>
wdiich a surveyor ought to possess, and to notice the in- ,2
struments which he is to employ in his operations.
As a surveyor has perpetual occasion for calculation, Jcd-e'nro-'
it is necessary that he be familiar with the four first peiMor a
rules of Arithmetic, and the rule of Proportion, both smvey°r*
in whole numbers, and in Fractions, especially Deci¬
mals, with the nature of Logarithms, and the use of
Logarithmic Tables; and with, at least, Algebraic
Flotation. As it is his business to investigate and mea¬
sure lines and angles, and to describe these on paper,
he should be well acquainted wiih the elements of Geo¬
metry and Trigonometry, and with the application
of these principles to the Mensuration oi Heights,
Distances, and Surfaces. In particular, he should be
familiar with the best practical methods of solving the
ordinary geometrical problems, and should lie expert in
drawing lines and describing figures. He should be
acquainted with the principles and practice of Level¬
ling ; should know something of the principles of Op¬
tics and Magnetism, and should possess at least a
smattering of the arts of Drawing and Painting.
I tic insti uments usually employed in surveying, have lustru-
been enumerated under Mensuration, vok xiii. pp. ments.
51 G 519> an(l of tiiese the chain, the plane-table, the
cross, and the theodolite, are there sufficiently desciibed,
and the Circumferentor, the Compass, Levels, the
Perambulator, and Protractors, are described,
and their uses explained under their proper heads in the
general alphabet of this work.
I he most simple methods of surveying, are those in
which the chain or the plane-table are employed, and of
these methods a general idea has been given under
MENSURATION. It may be necessary in this place to
describe a little more at large the use of the plane-table,
as this instrument is one of the most convenient for sur-
veying fields, or other small plots of ground.
In preparing the plane-table for use, a sheet of paper Practical
that will about cover the plane-table, is to he wetted, then directions
spread flat on the table, the marginal frame of which
is to be pressed down on its edges, so as to keep it table. U1<>
smooth and even. On this paper, thus stretched, the
plan of the field or other plot is to be traced in the fol¬
lowing manner.
Suppose it be required to make a plan of a field that
has the figure represented at A, B, C, D, E, F, fig. 1.
Plate DXXV. and in such a situation, that all its angles
are accessible.
The plane-table is to be fixed at one of the angles,
as at A, in the position represented at fig. 2. and its sur¬
face must be brought to a horizontal plane. A point is
then to be made on the paper with a pencil, as at a, to
represent the point A, where the plane-table is station¬
ed. Fixing a needle perpendicularly at this point, the
index of the table is to be applied to the needle, on that
side which corresponds with tbe sight vanes, and is to be
turned round this point, sliding on the table, till the
eye looking through the sights, perceives a mark set up
at the point B. A line is now to be drawn from a
along the edge of the index. In the same manner a
line is to be drawn from a, marking the direction of
the side AF. Thus the angle baf, (fig. 2.) will be
similar to the angle BAF (fig. 1.) : the plane-table is
now to be removed from the, point A, to another corner
P 2 of
Plate
DXXV.
Figs. x. and
2.
Fig. 2.
SUll [ 11
Surveyin ’-, of the held, as B, and a pole, or other mark is to he left
' v■"1 ■■' at A. The length AB is to be measured by the chain,
and a proportional length marked oil on the paper, in
the direction a, b, from a plotting scale, or scale of
equal parts. Proceeding as at first, a line is to be
drawn from b towards c, in the direction of the side
BC, and marking the measure of the angle CBA. In
this manner, by placing the plane table successively at
each corner of the field or plot of ground, the outline
figure of the whole will be transferred to the paper,
and «, b, c, d, e, ft will be the plan of the field A, B,
C, D, E, F.
If it be not convenient to place the plane table at the
corners of the ground to be surveyed, the plan may be
taken by placingtheinstrumentany where within the area,
Fig- 3* as at E (fig. 3.) in the middle of the field A, B, C, D.
In this case we can readily find the direction of the lines
EA, EB, EC, ED, and the angles which they form at
the point E. By measuring the distances from E to the
several angular points, and transferring the proportional
distances from the plane scale upon the paper, and then
joining the points thus found, there is easily traced the
outline of the whole field.
It may happen that no part of the ground to be mea¬
sured is accessible, except one line, as the line AE in
Fi«. 4. t}ie space A, B, C, D, E, 1‘, G, (fig. 4-)*
In this case, the plane table is to be fixed at the
point A, of the base line AE, and a point made on
some part of the paper at pleasure, to represent the sta¬
tion A, and the base line AE is in the usual manner to
be ascertained and laid down. Then from the station
A, the situation or direction of the points B, C, D, E,
F, G, are to be observed through the sights of the in¬
dex; and lines corresponding to the lines AB, AC, AD,
AE, AF, AG, are to be laid down on the paper, but
of an indefinite length. When this is done, great at¬
tention must be paid to preserve the table steady and
perfectly horizontal. The length of the base line AE
being determined, the table is now to be removed to
the other extremity E, and so disposed that the base
line on the paper may be exactly over the base line EA
of the field; and proceeding as before, the directions of
the lines EA, EB, EC, ED, EF, EG, are to be de¬
termined, and correspondingindefinitelines drawn on the
paper. The points where these last lines cross those
before traced, are to be carefully noted, and the outline
joining all these points of section, will correspond to the
1 outline of the plot to be surveyed.
The following general directions to be observed in
using the plane table, are given by Dr Hutton. I. Let
the lines on which stations are made be directed towards
objects as far distant as possible ; and when any such
object is set, go round the table and look through the
sights from the other end of the index, to see if any
other remarkable object be directly opposite; if there be
none such, endeavour to find another forward object,
such as shall have a remarkable backward opposite one,
and make use of it, rather than the other; because the
back object will be of use in fixing the table in the ori¬
ginal position, either when you have measured too near
to the forward object, or when it may be hid from
your sight at any necessary station by interveninghedges,
&c.
2. Let the said lines, on which the stations are taken,
be pursued as far as conveniently can be done; for that
6 ]
S U R
will be the means of preserving more accuracy in the Surwyir,
work. 1 v—
3. At each station it will be necessary to prove the
truth of it, that is, whether the table be straight in the line
towards the object, and also whether the distance be
rightly measured and laid down on the paper. To
know whether the table beset down straight in the line,
lay the index on the table in any manner, and move the
table about, till through the sights you perceive either
the fore or back object; then, without moving the
table, go round it, and look through the sights by the
other end of the index, to see if the other object can be
perceived ; if it be, the table is in the line ; if not, it
must be shifted to one side, according to your judge¬
ment, till through the sights both objects can be seen.
The aforesaid observation only informs you if the station
be straight in the line ; but to know if it be in the
right part of the line ; that is, if the distance has been
rightly laid down : fix the table in the original posi¬
tion, by laving the index along the station line, and
turning the table about till the fore and back objects
appear through the sights, and then also will the needle
point at the same degree as at first. T hen lay the in¬
dex over the station point and any other point on the
paper representing an object which can be seen from the
station ; and if the said object appear straight through
the sights, the station may be depended on as right; if
not, the distance should be examined and corrected till
the object can be so seen. And for this very useful
purpose, it is adviseable to have some high object or
two, which can be seen from the greatest part of the
ground accurately laid down on the paper from the be¬
ginning of the survey, to serve continually as proof ob¬
jects.
AYhen from any station, the fore and back objects
cannot both be seen, the agreement of the needle 'vith^ ^ ^
one of them may be depended on for placing the table ^
straight on the line, and for fixing it in the original
position *. 5
The foregoing examples are extremely simple, as the Method1
bounding lines are straight and regular. Here, there-
fore, it is not requisite to measure what surveyors call
the offsets, or the perpendicular distances between a
base line, and the several angles which it subtends. It
seldom happens, however, that the work can be carried
on in so regular a way, as the bounding lines, even of
small pieces of ground, are generally more or less
crooked.
Let us suppose A, /, w, /?, o,p, q, r, (fig. 5.) to be a Fig. 5-
crooked hedge, or other boundary of a piece of ground,
and A B the general base line subtending its several
angles. In measuring along this base, when the survey¬
or comes opposite to anv of the bendings or corners of
the fence, as at c, d, e, &c. he measures the perpendicu¬
lar ofisets c/, dm,en, &e. either with the offset staff,
or, if they are of considerable length, with the chain.
These offsets are to be noted down, as will be explained
immediately.
When the offsets are not very large, their places may
be determined pretty exactly by the eye, especially when
assisted by laying down the offset staff in a direction per¬
pendicular to the base, and opposite to the angles ; but
when the offsets are very large, their positions are best
determined by the cross, or the plane table, in the fol¬
lowing manner. In measuring along A B (fig. 5.)*
when
S U R
6
of the
•book.
[
when coming nearly opposite to /, tvliere an offset is
likely to stand, the cross or ylane-table is there to be
fixed, as at c in the line A B, and its index is to be
turned till the extremities of the base A and B can be
seen through the sights, both backward and forward.
Then looking along the cross sights of the cross, or the
cross line on the index of the plain table, it is easy to
observe whether the station of the instrument be exactly
opposite to the corner. If it be not, the instrument must
be moved backward or forward along the line A B, pre¬
serving the index in the same situation till the station
and the point / be exactly opposite to each other. The
exact measured distance between A and c, is then to be
noted and registered, and the measure of the offset c/ is
to be set down opposite to the former, and on the left
hand of it, as the work is advancing from A to B. In
the opposite direction the offsets would of course appear
on the right hand. In this method, no field book or re¬
gister is usually necessary, but where the survey is more
extensive, and where the theodolite or other complex in¬
struments are required, it is necessary to have recourse
to some method of registering the successive operations.
The field book employed on these occasions is va¬
riously constructed, according to the taste or particular
object of the surveyor. The following is a specimen of
the usual field book, as described by Dr Hutton.
Offsets and remarks on
the. left.
92
Cross a hedge, 24
House corner, 51
34
A brook,
3°
Footpath, 16
Cross hedge, 18
Stations
Bearings,
and
Distances,
© I
roj0 25'
00
73
248
610
954
© 2
53° 10'
00
25
1 20
734
® 3
67° 20'
61
248
639
810
973
Offsets and remarks on
the right.
25 corner.
Brown’s hedge.
0 o
00
00
21
29 a tree.
40 a stile.
35
16 a spring.
20 a pond
Of the three columns which compose this field book,
the middle or principal column is for noting down the
stations, angles, bearings and distances, as they are as¬
certained, and the columns on the right and leit are for
the offsets to the right and left of the principal course,
which are placed against their corresponding distances
1,1 toe middle column, as also lor occasional remarks or
memorandums, to which it may be useful to refer in
drawing the plan of the surveyed lands.
17 ] S U R
Here © 1 is the first station, where the angle or Surveying,
bearing is 105° 25'. On the left, at 73 links in the "v '
distance or principal line, is an offset of 92 j and at
610 an offset of 24 to a cross hedge. On the right, at
o, or the beginning, an offset 25 to the corner of the
field ; at 248 Brown’s boundary hedge commences 5
at 610 an offset 35 ; and at 945, the end of the first
line; the o denote its terminating in the hedge. And
so on for the other stations. A line is drawn at the end
of every station line, to prevent confusion.
Various improvements have been made on the field-
book, especially by Mr Abraham Crocker, and Mr field-book^.
John Bodham. We shall give a specimen of each.
Fig. 6. represents a page of Mr Crocker’s field-book, 6‘
exhibiting a part of the survey of an estate called the
Mill Estate ; the outlines of which were surveyed with
the theodolite, and the interior parts filled up with the
chain. In this book the operations are noted down, so
as to begin from the foot of the page, carrying them on
upwards.
In surveying after this method, Mr Crocker advises
to choose two or more eminences, as principal stations,
and measure a general base line from one station to the.
other, noting each hedge, brook, or other remarkable
object as it is passed by ; measuring also such short per¬
pendicular lines to such bends of hedges as may be near
the base. From the extremities of this base-line, or
from any convenient parts of it, the surveyor must pro¬
ceed with other lines to some remarkable object situat¬
ed towards the sides of the estate, without regarding the
angles they make with the base-line or with one ano¬
ther, remembering to note every hedge, brook, or other
object by which he passes. These lines, when laid down
by intersections, will with the base-line form a principal
triangle en the ground to he surveyed ; several of which,
if necessary, being thus laid down, the surveyor may
proceed to form other smaller triangles and trapezoids,
on the sides of the former ; and so on till the several
enclosures are finished.
This principal triangle being completed, and laid
down on the rough plan paper, the parts, exterior as
well as interior, are to be completed by smaller triangles
and trapezoids.
When the whole plan is laid down on paper, the con¬
tents of each part of the estate may be calculated by the
methods already explained under Mensuration.
In countries where the lands are enclosed with high
hedges, and where, many lanes or roads pass through an
estate, a theodolite may be employed with advantage,
in ascertaining the angles of such lands ; and by these
means an outline of the estate may he obtained, and the
lane lines serve as the bases of such triangles and trape¬
zoids as are necessary to fill up the interior parts.
To illustrate this method, let us take AB in the plan
of the estate,.(fig. 8.) for the principal base line. From p]ate
B go off to the tree at C, noting down in the field hook DXXYI,
every cross hedge as you measure on, and from C mea- %• s-
sure back to A,, noting down every thing remarkable,
as before directed. This figure also illustrates the me¬
thod of measuring the cross lineSj offsets, and interior
parts and enclosures. s
Fig. 7- represents a page from Mr Rodham’s field Rodham's
book. His method of procedure is as follows:—Like field book.
Mr Crocker, he begins from the bottom of the page, 7. and
and writes upwards; denoting the crossing of fences, by 9*
lines
SUE [ n8 1 SUE
lines drawn across the middle column, or only a part
of such a line on the right and left opposite the figures,
to avoid confusion, and the corners of fields, and other
remarkable turnings in the fences, towards which off¬
sets are taken, by lines joining like the fences, as will
be best seen by comparing the specimen at fig. 7. with
the plan at fig. 9.
The marks called a, b, r, &c. are best made in the
fields, by making a small hole with a spade, and placing
there a chip or small piece of wood, with the pai'-
ticular letter marked on it, to prevent one mark being
taken for another, on any return to it, though in gene¬
ral the name of a mark is very easily seen, by referring
in the book to the line in which it was made. After
the small Italic letters have been gone through, the ca¬
pitals may be next employed, and the Roman letters af¬
terwards, and so on. Perhaps it would be preferable to
distinguish the marks by figures.
The letters in the left hand corner at the beginning of
each line, denote the mark or place measured from; and
that at the right hand corner of the end, is the mark
measured to. But when it is not convenient to go ex¬
actly from a mark, the place measured from is describ¬
ed such a distance from one mark towards another; and
where a mark is not measured to, the exact place is as¬
certained by writing, turn to the right or left hand,
such a distance to such a mark, it being always under¬
stood that those distances are taken in the chain line.
The characters used are for f turn to the right hand,
1 for turn to the left hand, and A placed over an offset,
to shew that it is not taken at right angles with the
-chain line, but in the line with some straight fence, being
used chiefly when crossing their directions, and is a bet¬
ter mode of ascertaining their true places than by offsets
at right angles.
When aline is measured whose position is determin¬
ed, either by former operations (as in the case of pro¬
ducing a given line or measuring from one known place
or mark to another) or by itself (as in the third side of
a triangle) it is called a fast line, and a double line is
drawn across the book at the conclusion of it; but if its
position be not determined (as in the second side of a
triangle) it is called a loose line, and a single line is
drawn across the book. When a line becomes deter¬
mined in position, and is afterwards continued, a double
line is drawn half through the book.
When a loose line is measured, it becomes absolutely
necessarv to measure some line that will determine its
position. Thus, the first line a b, (fig. 9.) being the
base of a triangle, is always determined, till the third
side j b is measured \ then the triangle may be con¬
structed, and tiie position of both is determined.
At the beginning of a line to fix a loose line to the
mark or place measured from, the sign of turning to the
right or left hand must be added (as at / in the third
line)', otherwise a stranger, when laying down the work,
may as easily construct the triangle hj b, on the wrong
side of the line a h, as on the right side •, hut this error
cannot be committed, if the sign above named be care¬
fully observed.
In choosing a line to fix a loose one, care must be
taken that it does not make a very acute or obtuse
angle, as in the triangle/? B r; by the angle at B being
' very obtuse, a small deviation from truth would make
1
the error at B when constructed very considerable ) but Surm;,
by constructing the triangle p Bg, such a deviation is v—
of no consequence.
When the words leave off are written in the field * Mutin'
hook, it is to signify that the taking of offsets is from AM/t.Ih
thence discontinued ; and of course something is want- WT1
ing between that and the next oflset *. p I
The general use of the theodolite in measuring sepa-Fractiea!
rate plot*, has been described under MENSURATION.direetioc:’
The following practical directions for the use of this in-^j^j
strument are given by Mr Crocker, and apply to his0j0
field book, exemplified at fig. 6. and the plan at fig. 10.
Suppose the surveyor to plant his theodolite in the
road © 1, and having duly adjusted it, bv placing its
head exactly horizontal, by the levels; and setting the
index part of the limb exactly at 360°; and by moving
the whole head about till 360° in the compass-box conies
to the line in the north end of the needle ; there fixing
all fast, by the screw under the head, between the legs,
he will have his instrument completely adjusted.
The theodolite thus adjusted, the surveyor sends one
of his assistants forward as far as he can conveniently pK u
see how to measure a straight line, as at Q 2. Taking
then his angle of observation, by his telescope, to the
picket at that station, he finds it to be 69° from the
north part of his magnetic meridian line towards the
east, which he enters in his field book, noting it with
NE, as a memorandum on which side of the magnetic
meridian it lies. He is now to fasten his limb to the
other part of the head, by a screw for that purpose.
His chain-man having laid the chain in the direction
to the picket © 2, in order to measure the line, he makes
such offsets to the right and left, in his first chain’s
length, as may be necessary. At his first station, he
finds that on the right, the general road fence is 30
links, and also a nook of 40 links more, and 30 links
broad ; and that on the left of his station he-has an off¬
set of 10 links, all of which he must note in his field
book. Rroceeding forward on this line, he finds at 300
he has an oflset of 25 on the right, where is a gate,
which he has to notice ; and, on the left 20, which de¬
termines the breadth of the road at that spot. At 400,
he will find 10 on the right and 20 on the left to be
the breadth ; and at 700 (the end of the line) he will
find 35 on the right and 15 on the left to be the breadth
of the road ; where also he will find a small road branch¬
ing off to the right. Thus the first station line is
finished.
To this spot (which is his second station) he brings
the theodolite; and after setting it level, he unlocks
the under screw, and turns the whole head about, till,
through the telescope, he sees the back picket or station
stall’ to be cut by the cross hairs. Here, again, lock¬
ing the head of his theodolite firm by the under screw,
lie must unscrew the limb, and turn it about, till through
the telescope, he lias a view of the picket at © 3 ; the
bearing of which he will find to be 2530 io' from the
north to the eastward, which he will enter in his field
book. Measuring on from © 2, tovvards © 3, he will
find at 130 links, that he is come to a turnpike, where
the breadths at the right and left are 30 and 15. At
200, he has an offset of 15 on the left, and a break off
at the right of another road, at 25 from his line, with
two other offsets, as expressed in the field book. It
mugt
SUIl [ i
S kying, mtist be noted where this road leads to. At 26? he
*--v~— has offsets of 30 on the left, and 20 on the right, thus
ends the second station line.
Now bringing his instrument to ©3, he is to adjust
it in the manner before directed at ©2; and turning
the limb about towards the picket forward, he will find
the angle of bearing to be 570 45', still from the north
to the eastward. At 20 links he will be opposite to a
cross hedge on the left, belonging to the estate he is
surveying. At 293 he ends the line of this station,
where the offsets are 5 and 35, as noted in the field
book.
Coming next to ©4, and having adjusted his theo¬
dolite, he finds his next angle =226* NE. At 120
his offsets are 20 and 15. At 410, they are 15 and
30, where, on the left, is a cross hedge, of a backward
dnection. At 480 his offsets are 3 and 2^* where is
another cross hedge. At 750, is a break-in of the
fence, and the offsets are 304-15 on the left, and 10 on
the right. At 1050, the offsets are 20 on each hand,
and another cross hedge on the left. At 1150 are off¬
sets of 20 and + 20. where stands a house. At 1300,
the offset of 30 on the right terminates the house; and
at 5 on the left is a cross hedge, ol a backward direc¬
tion. 1353 ends this line, where roads diverge to the
right anti left.
At ©5, the instrument being adjusted, the angle is
found to be 284° 50' nearly W. At 50, his offset to
the hedge is 15 ; at 220 it is also 15, where is a cross
hedge, the other end ol which was noted at 1050 in the
j last line. At 320 the offset is 25; at 350, the end of
the 0, the distance from the fence is 15.
At ©6, the bearing is 305° 35'N. W. At 130
the offset is 30, where a cross hedge goes off to the
point which was noted at 750, in the line from ©4 to
€>S- At 16o the line is nearly close to the fence, end¬
ing at 210.
At ©7, the angle forward is 1060 25' N. W. The
line is 143 long, with an offset at the end of 15.
At ©8 the bearing is 269° 20' N. W. At 100
I and at 300 the oflsels are 15 and 10.
The bearing at ©9 is 70° 45' S. W. At 30 the
measurer finds it expedient to cross the fence, and pro¬
ceed within the hounds of the estate. At 90 he has an
onset of 30 to the right, where he crosses a hedge. At
880 he crosses another hedge, having there an offset of
20. at 940 is an offset of 50. At 990 he again crosses
the hedge; and at 1020 is an offset of 20 to the left :
at 1040 he again crosses the hedge : at 1080 he comes
to the corner of the farm house; and 1165 ends his line,
where is a small curve at the right.
At © 10, the bearing is 20 J5 S. W. At 70 is an
offset ol 5 at the right: at 230 is i 5 at the left, and a
cross hedge: at 600 is 25 on the left, and 204-15 on
t e right: 690 ends the line, where are 15 on each
side, where there is also a cross hedge.
/Ihe angle at ©11 is 3550 30' S. E. At 280 is an
0 set of 33 on the right, and 10 with a cross hedge on
| cleft: at 400 is an offset of 30, and another cross
*1 on Id1 ? and 470 ends the line, where are
0 sets of to and 20 on the right and the left.
At © 12 the angle is 1550 S E. At 60 is a cross
ie Se : at 219 the offsets are to and 15 ; and at 229
J-0- t0 close his work at ©1, from which he set
iy ] s u it
Having thus taken the circuit of this estate, the mea-Surveying.
surer must proceed to plot the same on paper, with some ' v——
convenient scale *. * Crocker's
r- he scale usually employed for this purpose is that '•-lcincnts-
called the plotting .scale, plane scale, or scale of equal^
parts, represented at fig. 11. and 12. Description
Ibis instrument contains different scales or dividedand use of
lines, on both sides. There are on one side a numbertlie P*ot'
of plane scales, or scales of equal divisions, each of a
different number to the inch, and also scales of chords and *12.’
for laying down angles, and sometimes the degrees of a
circle marked on one edge, answering to a centre marked
on the opposite edge, by which means it also answers
the purpose of a protractor. There are several diagonal
scales on the other side, of different sizes, or different
dimensions to the inch, serving to take off lines expressed
by numbers to three dimensions, as units, tens, hundreds,
as also a scale of divisions which are the 100th parts of a
foot. J he most useful of all the lines which can be laid
down on this instrument, though not always done, is a
plane scale on the two opposite edges, made thin for the
purpose. This line is very useful in surveying; for by
laying down the instrument on paper, with its divided
edge along a line whereon several distances are to be
laid off, tor the places of oflsets, &.c.; these distances
are all transferred at once from the instrument to the
line on the paper, by making small points or marks
against the respective divisions on the edge of the scale. ir
J he business of plotting or laying down a plan of an Directions
estate from the memoranda of a field hook, is a very im-for plotting
portant branch of the surveyor’s office. This will best0!" P^11'
be understood by an example, which we shall take alsonins‘
from Mr Crocker. It is adapted to the page of his
field book, .already alluded to; and the plan, when
completed, is seen at fig. 10.
The vellum or paper on which the plan is to be
drawn, being smoothly laid on a drawing board, the
magnetic meridian is to be represented by a line drawn
from the bottom to the top.
A point is to be made about the middle of this line,
on which is to be laid the centre of the circular pro¬
tractor, placing the straight edge in such a maimer as to
coincide with the said meridian line: draw a pencil line
around at the edge of the protractor.
The protractor being thus placed, and firmly fixed by
means of pins in that position, or by a lead weight, the
field book is to be inspected for the quantity of the an¬
gle at ©1, which, in the present case is stated at 69°
north-easterly. This degree is then to he looked for on
the circular edge of the protractor, and a mark made on
the paper with a fine plotting-pin, at that number, which
is to be marked 1, denoting ©1.
The field-book is then to be inspected for the at
©2, which in this case is 2530 io', where a mark is
to be made as before.
A similar process is to be followed with all the other
angles, till the surveyor comes to the close on ©1.
All the angles being thus marked oil', the protractor
is to be removed.
The place where the beginning of the work should
be placed is then to be considered, that the whole may
come within the compass ot the paper laid down; where
a mark is to be made, noting it as ©I, the beginning
of the plot.
The fore edge of the parallel ruler is then laid from
the
S U R
[
the central point where the protractor lay, to the mark
on the pencilled circle denoting © I. The lore edge ot
the parallel ruler is next moved till it touch the point
determined on for the beginning of the plot, from which
a pencil line in the direction from the north to the east¬
ward, is drawn, about the length of the whole line of
this ©=760. _ .
A feather-edge scale is applied to this pencil or ob¬
scure line, the o division of it at the beginning, marking
oft' everv progressive number where any oftsets have
been made, as at 300, 400, and 760.
The scale is then turned across the line, (by some cross
division), and the oftsets on each side of the station line
are pricked oft'. At o, or © 1, the field book shows
that on the left hand, at 10 links, is the boundary line
of that side, where there is likewise a small road branch¬
ing olf. The oftset on the right hand is 30, which,
with -j- 40, goes to the extent of a small corner, also
40 links in breadth. At 3<^l-> 011 ^ie there is an
offset of 20, and on the right another of 25, where
there is also a gate to be noticed. At 760 there is an
offset on the left of 15; and on the right, one of 35,
where a small roadway branches oft. AW these oftsets
are to be pricked off as the surveyor proceeds. The
boundary lines are drawn through these offset points,
and in this manner the first station is completed.
The parallel ruler is then laid from the centre to the
angular point of © 2 •, the limb of it is moved till it
touches the end of the last station line, from which ano¬
ther obscure line is drawn, from the north-easterly, as
noted in the field book.
The edge of the scale is then applied as before, and
the numbers 30, 200, and 265 are pricked off. There
is a toll gate at 30 links, and a lane ol 3^ links broad,
going off at an acute angle. At 263, the end of this
station, the offsets are 30 and 10.
The line from ©3 is then laid off, as before directed,
north-easterly, and the numbers 20 and 293 are pricked
oft'. Opposite to 20 is a hedge branching off to the left,
and at 293 the offsets are 35 and 5.
The line north-easterly is laid off from ©4, and the
numbers on that line are pricked off as they appear in
the field book, and the offsets are made as follows. At
120, 15 and 20 are set oil •, at 410 are 30 and 13,
where two hedges branch off nearly in the direction of
the side sketches. At 480 the. offsets are 25 and 5,
where there is a cross hedge on the left. At 730 on
the left, is 30-1-13 with across hedge, and on the right
10. At 1050 on the left, is 20 with a cross hedge,
and 20 on the right. At 1150 on the right, is 20+20,
where stands a house. At 1300 on the. left, is 5 with
a cross hedge •, on the right is 30, with a road branch¬
ing from it', 1330 completes this line.
At © 5 the work takes another direction, and goes
backward towards the west. The ruler is laid from the
centre to this station, and an obscure line drawn in the
direction mentioned. The distances and offsets are
pricked off as in the field book. Here are offsets on
one side only, not being in a road way.
At ©6 set off the line south-westerly, pricking oft'
the distances and offsets as in the field-book.
This specimen is sufficient to give a complete idea of
the practice of plotting 5 and more would be only a
tedious repetition. It must, however, be observed, that
120 ] S U R
the accuracy and facility of the work greatly depend on Sum;,
the judgment and care exercised in keeping a con ect1
and clear field-hook.
When a circuit is plotted off, the measurer must fill
up the interior, by separately completing the measure of
each field with the chain, so that they may he laid down
on the plan in their proper situations and dimensions.
The lines taken with the theodolite will here be of
great service, as the base lines of a number of interior
angles.
The surveyor having thus on paper, a representation
of the estate, must draw such measuring lines on it, as
will enable him to calculate the content of each field
separately. Having made out a fair plot of his woik,
another line must be drawn for the true meridian, to the
eastward of the former, according to the variation of
the magnetic needle, where the estate lies. On this true
meridian line may he placed any device whatever, as
a north point. A title must also be given to the map,
a scale drawn of the proportion used in the plotting, and i
a border to the whole *. _ Crarfal
Having thus explained the general practice of
veying according to the latest improvements, we shall
shew how a surveyor is to proceed in measuring and
planning counties and towns. Rj
To survey a County or large Tract of Land.— I. Chuse
two, three, or four eminent places for stations, such as^^j
the tops of high hills or mountains, towers, or church ^,^1
steeples, which may be seen from one another, and from
which most of the towns, and other places of note, may
also be seen. And let them be as far distant from each
other as possible. On these places raise beacons, or
long poles, with flags of different colours flying at them,
so as to be visible from all the other stations.
2. At all the places which are to be set down in the
map, plant long poles with flags at them of several co¬
lours, to distinguish the places from each other, fixing ■
them oil the tops of church steeples, or the tops of
houses, or in the centres of smaller towns.
It is not necessary to have these marks at many
places at once, as suppose ten at a time. lor when the
angles have been taken at the two stations, to all these
places, the. marks may be removed to new ones, and so
successively to all the places required. Ihe*e marks
being set up at a convenient number of places, and such
as may be seen from both stations, go to one ol these sta¬
tions, and with an instrument for taking angles, standing
at that station, take all the angles between the oilier
station, and each ot these marks, observing which is
blue, which red, &c. and on which hand they lie j and
set all down with their colours. Next go to the other
station, and take all the angles between the first sta- 1
tion, and each of the former marks, and set them down
with the rest, each against those corresponding with the
same colour. If practicable, the angles may also be
taken at some third station, which may serve to prove
the work, if the three lines intersect in that point where
any mark stands. The marks must be alloved to re¬
main till the observations are finished at both stations,
and then they must be taken down, and set up at fresh
places. The same operations must lie performed at
both stations, for these fresh places, and the like foi
others. The instrument for taking angles must be ex¬
ceedingly accurate, made on purpose with telescopic
sights,
; 1
S L11VEYING
PLATE DJXV11.
Fig. //
Fig./'Z.
F'/ g - / .
SUE [ j
S wing, sights, and of three, four, or five feet radius. A cir-
^ cumferentor is reckoned a good instrument for this pur¬
pose.
3. Though it be not absolutely necessary to measure
any distance $ because a stationary line being laid down
from any scale, all the other lines will be proportional
to it; yet it is better to measure some of the lines, to
ascertain the distances of places in miles : and to know
how many geometrical miles there are in any length $
and from thence to make a scale for measuring any di¬
stance in miles. In measuring any distance, it will not
be exact enough to go along the high roads, on account
of their turnings and windings, and scarcely ever lying
in a right line between the stations, which would cause
endless reductions, and create trouble to make it a right
line, for which reason it can never be exact. But a
better way is to measure in a right line with a chain,
between station and station, over hills and dales, or
level fields, and all obstacles. Only in cases of water,
woods, towns, rocks, banks, &c. where one cannot pass,
such parts of the line must be measured by the method
of inaccessible distances $ and besides, allowing for a-
scents and descents, when we meet with them. A good
compass that shews the bearing of two stations, will al¬
ways direct to go straight, when the two stations are
not seen; but when a straight progress can be made,
offsets may be taken to any remarkable places, likewise
noting the intersection of the stationary line, with all
•roads, rivers, &c.
4. From all the stations, and in the whole progress,
rare must be taken to observe sea coasts, the mouths of
rivers, towns, castles, houses, churches, windmills, wa¬
termills, trees, rocks, sands, roads, bridges,fords, ferries,
woods, hills, mountains, rills, brooks, parks, beacons,
sluices, floodgates, locks, &c. and in general every thing
remarkable.
5. When the first and main station lines are done,
which command the whole country, inner stations are
then to be taken at some places already determined,
which will divide the whole into several partitions, and
Irom these stations may be determined the places of as
many of the remaining towns as possible. If any re¬
main in that part, more stations may be taken at some
places already determined, from which the rest may be
determined. Proceeding thus through all parts of the
country, station may be taken after station, till all that
are required be determined. In general, the station
distances must always pass through such remarkable
points as have been formerly determined by the pre¬
ceding stations.
6. The position of the station line measured, or the
point of the compass on which it lies, must be deter¬
mined by astronomical observation. Hang up a thread
and plummet in the sun over some part in the station
line, observing when the shadow runs along that line,
and at that moment take the sun’s altitude ; then having
his declination, and the latitude, the azimuth will be
found by spherical trigonometry. The azimuth is the
angle which the station line makes with the meridian,
and therefore a meridian may easily be drawn through
the map*, or a meridian may be drawn through it by
hanging up two threads in a line with the pole star,
when due north, which may be known from astrono¬
mical tables. Or thus: Observe the star Alioth, or
Vol. XX. Part I. t
21 ] S U R
that in the rump of the Great Bear, being that next the Surveying,
square $ or else Cassiopeia’s hip j observing by a line ■ v
and plummet when either of these stars and the pole
star comes into a perpendicular j and at that time they
are due north. Therefore two perpendicular lines be¬
ing fixed at that moment, towards these two stars, will
give the position of the meridian. r,
A Town or City may be surveyed with any of the Method of
instruments for taking angles, but best of all with the surveying
plane table, where every minute part is drawn while
sight. It is also proper to have a chain of 50 feet long,
divided into 50 links, and an offset-staff of 10 teet long.
Begin at the meeting of two or more of the principal
streets through which the longest prospect may be had,
to get the longest station lines. Having there fixed the
instrument, draw lines ot direction along those streets,
using two men as marks, or poles set in wooden pe¬
destals, or perhaps some remarkable places in the bouses
at the farther ends, as windows, doors, corners, &c.
Measure these lines with the chain, taking offsets with
the staff, at all corners of streets, bendings, or windings,
and to all remarkable objects, as churches, markets,
halls, colleges, eminent houses, &c. Then remove the
instrument to another station along one of these lines,
and there repeat the same process as before, and so on
till the whole be completed.
Thus, in fig. 13. (part of the New Town of Edin¬
burgh) fix the instrument at A, and draw lines in the
direction of all the streets meeting in that place, and
measure AB, noting the street on the left at m. At
the second station B, draw the directions of the streets
meeting there, and measure CD. Do the same at D,
and measure DE, noting the place at the cross streets at
p. In this manner go through all the principal streets.
This being done, proceed to the smaller and intermedi-* See Uvl.
ate streets j and lastly to the lanes, alleys, courts, yards, Matlu
and every part which it may be deemed expedient to re- Surve ^i'
present *. ,
We shall conclude this article with a few practical Subierra-
remarks on subterraneous surveying or the method ofneo.u* S,UI‘"
surveying mines, and other works below ground, takenve)in“'
chiefly from Mr Fenwick’s work on subterraneous sur¬
veying, lately published.
The instruments employed in surveying under ground,
are the circumferentor, the chain (in coal mines) con¬
taining 100 links, and an instrument for taking the
angles of elevation or depression, to reduce the mea¬
surements to horizontal distances, where the lines are not
level. In lead mines, they sometimes employ a cox*d,
divided into 10 feet, instead of a chain.
In conducting a subterraneous survey, the instrument
used is placed where the survey is intended to commence,
and a person goes forward in the direction of the line to
be surveyed, holding a lighted candle in his hand, to
the remotest point at which his light can be seen through
the sights of the instrument*, its bearing is then taken by
the circumferentor, and noted down in"the survey hook.
The surveyor then proceeds to take the distance of the
light, or object, from the instrument, which is after¬
wards removed, and a person stands on the spot where it
stood, holding one end of the chain in his hand, while
another, going towards the object, holds the other end,
together with a lighted candle, in the same hand, and
being directed by the former, till the hand holding the
' Q candle
Surveying.
f Fenwick
on Subter¬
raneous
Surveying,
P-9.
S U R [ 122 ] SUE
candle and the chain is in a direct line with the object
or light whose bearing was taken. At that place, the
first chain is marked. The person who stood where the
instrument was placed then comes forward to the mark
at the end of the first chain, the other advancing for¬
ward another chain, with the chain and candle in the
same hand, as before directed : here the second chain
is to be marked. Proceeding in this manner till the di¬
stance of the object be determined, which being noted
down in chains and links in the survey book, opposite
to the bearing, the first bearing and distance is comple¬
ted. Fixing the instrument again where the light as an
object stood, or at the termination of the foregoing
bearing and distance, and taking the second bearing, by
directing the person to go forward as before, so far as
his light can be seen, or at any convenient distance,
the surveyor is to proceed as before, till the whole is
completed.
Such surveys would require five people to be employ¬
ed, that the work may be expeditiously performed $
viz. one to carry forward the survey, and make the re¬
quisite observations and remarks ; another to carry the
instruments employed j another to direct the chain j a
fourth person to lead it, and a fifth to go forward with
a light, as an object, from one station to another. Du¬
ring the time of making the survey, care must be taken
not to admit any iron or steel within four feet of the
instrument, for fear of attracting the needle, which lias
been known to be affected at nearly three times that
distance, by a massy piece of iron. If the glass of the
instrument should require cleaning, it must be rubbed
as gently as possible, and not with any silken substance,
by means of which electric matter may be excited, and
prevent the needle from traversing. Should such mat¬
ter be excited, it may be discharged by touching the
surface of the glass with a wet finger.
To render this system of surveying familiar to the
young miner, it would be necessary for him to put up a
number of marks on the surface, taking afterwards their
bearing and distance from each other, according to the
method before directed ; but to make a nearer approach
to the form of subterraneous surveying, it would be bet¬
ter to perform it at night, by the assistance of caudles ;
and many evenings might be found favourable for this
method of practising. Lanterns may be employed, if
the current of air should be too strong for the flame of
a candle f.
The method of surveying and recording bearings is
as follows.
Suppose the bearing of ABC (fig. 14.) is required.
Set the circumferentor on A (the north being represented
by N, and the south by S) *, then turning that part of
the instrument having dav jieur de lis, or other device,
from you, or towards B, turn the instrument till the
object B is seen through, and cut by the hair in the
sights ; and the angle NAB being the angle that the
sights and line AB make with the magnetic meridian,
NS will be the bearing of B from A, suppose 30° ;
which also being to the right side of the north meridian,
will be north 30° east. Then bring the instrument for¬
ward to B, fixing it there, and directing the same sight
at B towards C, as was directed at A, towards B $
then observe the angle that BC makes with the magne¬
tic met'idian, which suppose 25* NBC} and being to
the left of the meridian, will be north 250 west. To
prove the work, and try the accuracy of the instrument
when it is standing at B, apply the eye to that sight
which was next B when it stood at A ; then take the
bearing of A from B, which, if fpund to be the re¬
verse of B from A, shows the work to be so far true.
The bearing of B being taken in like manner from C,
will prove the truth of the survey. The degrees of each
bearing must always be taken by the same end of the
needle.
Suppose the bearing of B from A, C from B, and
D from C, (fig. 15.) be required. Fix the instrument
at A, with the Jisur de lis, or other arbitrary device,
towards B ; then take the bearing of B, as before de¬
scribed, which suppose to make an angle of 30° NAB
to the right with the magnetic meridian, or north 30°
east ; let the instrument be removed to B, and take the
bearing of C, which suppose =30° NBC to the left, or
north 30° west} then remove the instrument to C, and
take the bearing of D, which suppose =63° SCD to
the left, or south 65° east: Thus,
From A to B north 30° east.
  B to C north 30° west.
—— C to D south 65° east.
This survey may be proved in the same manner as
the preceding.
Suppose the subterraneous working ABCD A (fig. 16.)
to be surveyed, beginning at the pit A: Fix the instru¬
ment at the centre of the pit A} then let a person hold
a lighted candle at B (being the utmost distance at
which it can be seen through the sights of the instru¬
ment), the bearing of which being taken from A, sup¬
pose due south, or in the direction of the magnetic me¬
ridian of A, and its distance from A suppose 6 chains
57 links, which is placed in the survey book as under:
llemove the instrument to B, where the candle stood,
and direct the person to place the lighted candle at C }
then take its bearing from B, which suppose it to make
an angle CBS — 8o° with the magnetic meridian, or
to bear south 8o° west, and its distance being found 7
chains 10 links, remove the instrument to C, the candle
being removed to D } then take its bearing and di¬
stance as before, which suppose north io° west 5 chains}
remove the instrument to D, and direct the candle to
be placed at the centre of the pit A, where the survey
commenced ; then take its bearing from D, north 70°
east 8 chains 35 links, and the survey is finished.
Chains. Links.
AB south 6 57
BC south 80 west 7 10
CD north io° west 5 o
DA north 70° east 8 35
This survey may be proved by adding together the
degrees contained in the interior angles, which, if they
amount to 360^ the work will be right.
The proof may be made by finding the northing,
southing, easting and westing of all the bearings and di¬
stances. If the southings are equal to the northings,
and the westings equal to the eastings, then will the
work, be right..
Thu*,
Sireying.
C-y- I
S U R
[ 123 ]
S U R
Thus, S.
S. 8o° W
N. io° W
N. 70° E.
c.
6
7
6
8
L.
57
10
o
35
Northings.
C. L.
o o
O ' o
4 93
2 87
7 80
Southings.
<’. L.
6 57
1 23
o o
o o
7 80
Eastings.
C. L.
o o
o o
p o
7 85
7 85
JF^stings.
<’. L.
o o
6 98
o 87
7 85
Surveying.
The southings and northings therefore being equal,
as also the eastings and westings, the work is thus pro-
*t,p. jo.ved t0 be rig111*-.
Mr Fenwick gives the following directions for plan¬
ning subterraneous surveys, and for determining errors
that may arise in plotting, through inattention to the
magnetic variation.
As the magnetic meridian is always changing, the
bearings of the same object, taken by such a meridian
at different times, must also vary from each other, ex¬
cept reduced to bearings with the true meridian. Let
NS (fig. 17.) represent the meridian of a plan, which
is also supposed to be the true meridian ; and if a sub¬
terraneous excavation is to be plotted on it from the pit
A, and this excavation is found to form a bearing of
north 10° west 10 chains, by an instrument whose
needle had 20°of west variation ; now if the excavation
north 10° west 10 chains be plotted on the plan by its
meridian NS, which is the true meridian, it will be re¬
presented by AB ■, but the bearing being taken by a
needle having 20° of west variation, it should form a
bearing of north 30° west with the meridian NI, as re¬
presented by A £ ; then A b will be the true direction
of the excavation from the pit A, and b B will be the
magnitude of the error. Or, instead of reducing the
excavation to its bearing with the true meridian NT, it
will be equally as true if » s is drawn on the plan, and
made to represent the magnetic meridian of the needle
by which the bearing was taken, with which AB will
form a bearing of north io° west.
We shall add a few examples illustrative of the error
arising from plotting a subterraneous survey on a plan,
without attending to the variation of the magnetic me¬
ridian, and also how its magnitude can be ascertained.
Example I.—The following is a subterraneous sur¬
vey, commencing at a pit called the B pit, north 30°,
west 6 chains, north 70°, east 10 chains, north 30°, east
5 chains, and north 250, west 8 chains, which was sur¬
veyed by an instrument whose needle had 240 of west
variation; under what bearings must the survey be plot¬
ted on a plan v/hose delineated meridian has 150 of west
variation ?
Reduce the bearings, as taken by a meridian having
240 of west variation, to bearings with a meridian having
140 of west variation : thus,
.Bearings with a meridian
of 240 of west variation.
Chains.
North 30° west 6
North 70° east 10
North 30° east 5
North 250 west 8
Bearings with a meridian
of 150 of west variation.
Chains.
North 390 west 6
North 610 east 10
North 210 east 5
North 340 west 8
The survey must be plotted under bearings with a
magnetic meridian having 150 of west variation, as
above, commencing at the B pit.
Example II.—If the following subterraneous survey,
north 90 west 8 chains, north 30° east 7 chains, and
north 21° west 8 chains be made by an instrument
whose needle has 230 of west variation, and plotted on
a plan by a meridian having 50 of magnetic variation,
without being reduced thereto; what will be the mag¬
nitude of the error resulting from such neglect ?
Suppose A (fig. 18.) the point of commencement of
the survey on the plan, and let the meridian of the
plan be represented by N having 50 of west variation
with the true meridian NS; then the first bearing, north
90 west 8 chains, will be represented by AB ; the se¬
cond, north 30° east 7 chains, by BC ; and the third
bearing, north 21° west 8 chains, by CD ; then ABCD
will represent the survey plotted, without attending to
the magnetic variation : But as the survey was made
by an instrument whose needle had 230 of west varia¬
tion, therefore each bearing, when truly plotted, must
be set off from a meridian of that variation, which, let
n s represent; then, north 90 west 8 chains will be re¬
presented by A b, north 30° east 7 chains by b r, and
north 210 w'est 8 ciiains by c d; then Abed will re¬
present the survey truly plotted, and r/D will be the
magnitude of the error.
Or the survey may he plotted by reducing the bear¬
ings, as taken by a meridian of 23°of west variation, to
bearings with a meridian of 50 of variation, as repre¬
sented by N s, and plotted from it accordingly ; which
will exactly coincide with A b c d, before.
To discover, by calculation, the magnitude of the
error, reduce the bearings of the survey, as taken by a
magnetic meridian having 230 of west variation, to bear¬
ings with the true meridian; and also the same bearings,
as if taken by a meridian having 50 of west variation,
to bearings with the true meridian; then determine the
northing and easting of D from d: thus,
With a meridian of 230
of west variation.
Chains.
N. 90 W. 8
N. 30° Ed 7
N. 210 W, 8
With the true meridian.
' C.
N. 3 20 W. 8
N. 70 E. 7
N. 44* W. 8
With a meridian of f
west variation.
c.
N. 90 W. 8
N. 30° E. 7
N. 2x° W. 8
With the true meridian.
C.
N. 140 W. 8
N. 250 E. 7
N. 26° W. 8
Q2
N.
Surrey in g.
S U R
[ 124 ]
S U R
N. 3 20 W.
N. 70 E.
N. 440 W.
N. i4°\V.
N. 250 E.
N. 26° W.
Northing.
e. l.
6 78
6 94
5 75
19 47
C. I>.
76
34
*9
21 29
Southing.
C. L.
A a
C. L.
A e
Easting.
C. La.
O 85
C. L.
2 95
Westing.
C. L.
4 23
5 55
9 78
o 85
8 93 a cf.
C. L.
i 93
3 50
5 43
2 95
2 48 e D or a/.
a c? 8 chains 93 links—o f 2 chains 48 Hnks=y d 6 chains 45 links.
A e 21 chains 29 links—A a 19 chains 47 links=:a e or/D I chains 82 links.
Ssmyir j
Sai-Tivor,
Ik p. 155.
Then, as / d 6.45
Is to radius
So is/D 1.82
•8095595
10.0000000
.2600714
To tang, ^.d 1 50 45' 9.4505117
From 90°—150 45'=:740 15', N d D.
—2 —2
And t/ 6.454-1.82=6.7 <7D, or 6 chains 70 links.
Therefore, the amount of the error, or the bearing
and distance of D from d, will be north, 740 15' east
6 chains 70 links with the true meridian.
SURVEYOR, a person who has the oversight and
care of considerable works, lands, or the like.
Surveyor, likewise denotes a gauger j as also a per¬
son who surveys lands, and makes maps of them.
SURVIVOR, in Law, signifies thelongestliverofjoint
tenants,or of any two persons jointly interested in a thing.
SURVIVORSHIP, is that branch of mathematics
which treats of reversions payable provided one or more
particular persons survive certain others. By reversions
are meant payments not to take place till some future
period. Survivorship forms one of the most difficult
and complicated parts of the doctrine of reversions and
life-annuities. It has been very fully treated of by Mr
Thomas Simpson in his Select Exercises, and consider¬
ably improved by Hr Price and Mr Morgan, who have
bestowed a great deal of attention on this subject j though
some parts of their principles are erroneous.
The calculations are founded on the expectation of
lives at different ages, deduced from tables formed from
bills of mortality, of which see several examples under
the article Bills of Mortality. By the expectation of
life is meant the mean time that anysingle or joint lives
at a given age is found to continue $ that is, the tiuns»
ber of years which, taking one with another, they ac¬
tually enjoy, and may be considered as sure of enjoyingj
those who survive that period enjoying as much more
time in proportion to their number as those who fall
short of it enjoy less. Thus, supposing 46 persons alive
all 40 years of age, and that one will die every year till
they are all dead in 46 years, half 46 or 23 will be the
expectation of each of them. If M. de Moivre’s hypo¬
thesis were true, that men always decrease in an arith¬
metical progression, the expectation of a single life is al¬
ways half its complement (a), and the expectation of
two joint lives one-third of their common complement.
Thus, supposing a man 40, his expectation would be 23,
the half of 46, his complement; the expectation of two
joint lives, each 40, would be 15 years 4 months, or the
third part of 46.
The number expressing the expectation, multiplied
by the number of single or joint lives (of which it is the
expectation), added annually to a society, gives the whole
number living together, to which such an annual addi¬
tion would in time grow. Thus, since 19, or the third
of 57, is the expectation of two joint lives, whose com¬
mon age is 29, twenty marriages every year between
persons of this age would in 57 years grow to 20 times
I9»
(a) By the complement of a life is meant what it wants of 86, which M. de Moivre makes the boundary of
human life. Thus if a man be 30, the complement of his life is 56.
S U K [i
Silivor- 19* or 380 marriages, always existing together. And
ip. since the expectation of a single life is always half its
—Y“—' complement, in 57 years 20 single persons added an¬
nually to a town will increase to 20 times 28.5, or 570 j
and when arrived at this number, the deaths every year
will just equal the accessions, and no farther increase be
possible. It appears from hence, that the particular pro¬
portion that becomes extinct every year, out of the whole
number constantly existing together of single or joint
lives, must, wherever this number undergoes no varia¬
tion, be exactly the same with the expectation of those
lives, at the time when their existence commenced.
Thus, was it found that a 19th part of all the marriages
among any bodies of men, whose numbers do not vary,
are dissolved every year by the deaths of either the hus¬
band or wife, it would appear that 19 was, at the time
they were contracted, the expectation of these marriages.
In like manner, was it found in a society, limited to a
fixed number of members, that a 28th part dies annually
out of the whole number of members, it would appear
that 28 was their common expectation of life at the time
they entered. So likewise, were it found in any town
or district, where the number of births and burials are
equal, that a 20th or 30th part of the inhabitants die
annually, it would appear that 20 or 30 was the expecta¬
tion of a child just born in that town or district. These
expectations, therefore, for all single lives, are easily
found by a table of observations, showing the number
that die annually at all ages out of a given number alive
at those ages; and the general rule for this purpose is,
to divide the sum of all the living in the table, at the
age whose expectation is required, and at all greater
ages, by the sum of all that die annually at that age and
above it; or, which is the same, by the number (in the
Table) of the living at that age ; and half unity sub¬
tracted from the quotient will be the required expecta¬
tion. Thus, in Dr Halley’s table, given in the article
Annuity, the sum of all the living at 20 and upwards
is 20,724, which, divided by 598, the number living at
the age of 20, and half unity subtracted from the quo¬
tient, gives 34.15 for the expectation of 20.
In calculating the value or expectation of joint lives,
M. de Moivre had recourse to the hypothesis, that the
probabilities of life decrease in a geometrical progression j
believing that the values of joint lives, obtained by rules
derived from it, would not deviate much from the truth.
But in this he was greatly mistaken ; they generally give
results which are near a quarter of the true value too
great in finding the present value of one life after it has
survived another in a single payment, and about two-
fifths too gi’eat when the value is sought in annual pay¬
ments during the joint lives. They ought therefore to
be calculated on the hypothesis (if they are calculated
on hypothesis at all), that the probabilities of life de¬
crease in arithmetical progression, which is not very far
from the truth. Even this hypothesis never corresponds
with the fact in the first and last periods of life, and in
some situations not in any period of life. Dr Price and
Mr Morgan therefore have given tables of the value of
lives, not founded on any hypothesis, but deduced from
bills of mortality themselves. Some of these we shall
give at the end of this article. Mr Morgan has like¬
wise given rules for calculating values of lives in this
manner.
M. de Moivre has also fallen into mistakes in his rules
25 ] SUE
for calculating the value of reversions depending on sur¬
vivorship: these have been pointed out by Dr Price in
the third essay in the first volume of his Treatise on lie¬
versionary Payments j who has also given proper rules
for calculating these values, the most important of which
are comprehended in the following paragraphs.
Suppose a set of married men to enter into a society in
order to provide annuities for their widows, and that it is
limited to a certain number of members, and constantly
kept up to that number by the admission of new mem¬
bers as the old ones are lost; it is of importance, in the
first place, to know the number of annuitants that after
some time will come upon the establishment. Now, since
every marriage produces either a widow or widower; and
since all marriages taken together w ould produce as many
widows as widowers, w'ere every man and his wife of the
same age, and the chance equal which shall die first; it
is evident, that the number of widows that have ever
existed in the world, would in this case be equal to half
the number of marriages. And what would take place
in the world must also, on the same suppositions, take,
place in this society. In other words, every other per¬
son in such a society leaving a widow, there must arise
from it a number of widows equal to half its own num¬
ber. But this does not determine what number, all liv¬
ing at one and the same time, the society may expect
will come to be constantly on it. It is, therefore, ne¬
cessary to determine how long the duration of survivor¬
ship between persons of equal ages will be, compared with
the duration of marriage. And the truth is, that, sup¬
posing the probabilities of life to decrease uniformly, the
former is equal to the latter; and, consequently that the
number of survivors, or (which is the same, supposing
no second marriages) of widows and widowers alive to¬
gether, which will arise from any given set of such mar¬
riages constantly kept up, will be equal to the whole
number of marriages ; or half of them (the number of
widows in particular) equal to half the number of mar¬
riages. Now it appears that in most towns the decrease
in the probabilities of life is in fact nearly uniform. Ac¬
cording to the Breslaw Table of Observations (see An¬
nuity), almost the same numbers die every year from
20 years of age to 77. After this, indeed, fewer die,
and the rate of decrease in the probabilities of life is re¬
tarded. But this deviation from the hypothesis is incon¬
siderable ; and its effect, in the present case, is to render
the duration of survivorship longer than it would other¬
wise be. According to the London Table of Observa¬
tions, the numbers dying every year begin to grow less
at 50 years of age; and from hence to extreme old age
there is a constant retardation in the decrease of the pro¬
babilities of life. Upon the whole, therefore, it appears
that, according to the Breslaw Table, and supposing no
widows to marry, the number inquired after is somewhat
greater than half the number of the society : but, ac¬
cording to the London Table, a good deal greater.
This, however, has been determined on the supposition
that the husbands and wives are of equal ages, and that
then there is an equal chance who shall die first. Butin
reality husbands are generally older than wives, and
males have been found to die sooner than females, as
appears incontestably from several of the tables in Dr
Price’s Treatise on Reversions. It is therefore more
than an equal chance that the husband will die before
his wife. This will increase considerably the duration
of
Survivor¬
ship.
Method of
finding the
number of
annuitants
that will
come on a
society.
S U R
t i
Survivor- of survivorship on the part of the women, and conse-
ship. quentlythe number which we have been inquiring after.
' v ” 'l he marriage of widows will diminish this number, but
2 not so much as the other causes will increase it.
When the If the society comprehends in it from the first all the
number ot married people of all ages in anv town, or among any
class of people where the numbers always continue the
its maxi- same, the whole collective body of members will be at
mum. their greatest age at the time of the establishment of the
society; and the number of widows left every year will
at a medium be always the same. The number of wi¬
dows will increase continually on the society, till as
many die every year as are added. This will not he
till the whole collective body-of widows are at their
greatest age, or till there are among them the greatest
possible number of the oldest widows; and therefore not
till there has been time for an accession to the oldest
widows from the youngest part.
Let us, for the sake of greater precision, divide the
whole medium of widows that come on every year into
different classes according to their different ages, and
suppose some to be left at 56 years of age, some at 46,
some at 36, and some at 26. The widows, constantly
in life together, derived from the first class, will come
to their greatest age, and to a maximum, in 30 years,
supposing, with M. de Moivre, 86 to be the utmost ex¬
tent of hie. The same will happen to the second class
in 40 years, and to the third in 50 years. Rut the whole
body composed of these classes will not come to a maxi¬
mum till the same happens to the fourth or youngest
class ; that is, not till the end of 60 years. After this
the a flairs of the society will become stationary, and the
number of annuitants on it of all ages will keep al¬
ways nearly the same.
If a society begins with its complete number of mem¬
bers, but at the same time admits none above a parti¬
cular age : If, for instance, it begins with 200 mem¬
bers all under 50, and afterwards limits itself to this
number, and keeps it up by admitting every year, at all
ages between 26 and 50, new members as old ones drop
off ; in this case, the period necessary for bringing on
the maximum of annuitants will be just doubled.
To determine the sum that every individual ought to
tTpay iTa in a s'ng,e Present payment, in order to intitle his
single pay- w',1'ow to a certain annuity for her life, let us suppose
mentto the annuity 3I. per annum, and the rate of interest four
entitle his per cent. It is evident, that the value of such an ex-
widow to. a pectation is different, according to the different ages of
the purchasers, and the proportion of the age of the wife
to that of the husband. Let us then suppose that every
person in such a society is of the same age with his wife,
and that one with another all the members when they
enter may be reckoned 40 years of age, as many enter¬
ing above this age as below it. It has been demonstra¬
ted by M. de Moivre and Mr Simpson, that the value
of an annuity on the joint continuance of any two lives,
subtracted from the value of an annuity on the life in
expectation, gives the true present value of annuity on
what may happen to remain of the latter of the "two
lives after the other.
In the present case, the value of an annuity to be en¬
joyed during the joint continuance of two lives, each
40, is, by fable II. 9.826, according to the probabili¬
ties of life in the Table of Observations formed by Dr
Halley from the bills of mortality of JBreslaw in Silesia.
3
Wliat a
man ought
eertain an
nuity.
26 ] S U R
The value of a single life 40 years of age, as given by Surcbo,
M. de Moivre, agreeably to the same table, is 13.20; ship,
and the former subtracted from the latter, leaves 3.37, 'T“
or the true number of years purchase, which ought to
be paid for any given annuity, to be enjoyed by a per¬
son 40 years of age, provided he survives another person
of the same age, interest being reckoned at four per
cent, per annum. The annuity, therefore, being 30I.
the present value of it is 30 multiplied by 3.37, or
lOil. 2S. .
If, instead of a single present payment, it is thought What k
preferable to make annual payments daring the mar-0ll& .
riage ; what these annual payments ought to be is easily null U
determined by finding what annual payments duringments.
two joint lives of given ages are equivalent to the value
of the reversionary annuity in present money. Sup¬
pose, as before, that the joint lives are each 40, and the
reversionary annuity 30I. per annum. An annual pay¬
ment during the continuance of two such lives is worth
(according to Table II.) 9.82 years purchase. The an¬
nual payment ought to be such as, being multiplied by
9.82, will produce ioi.il. the present value of the an¬
nuity in one payment. Divide then 101.1 by 9.82, and
10.3 the quotient will he the annual payment. This
method of calculation supposes that the first annual pay¬
ment is not to be made till the end of a year. If it is
to be made immediately, the value of the joint lives will
be increased one year’s purchase; and therefore, in or¬
der to find the annual payments required, the value of
a present single payment must be divided by the value
of the joint lives increased by unity. If the society pre¬
fer paying part of the value in a present single payment
on admission, and the rest in annual payments; and if
they fix these annual payments at a particular sum, the
present single payment paid on admission is found by
subtracting the value of the annual payment during the
joint lives from the whole present value of the annuity
in one payment. Suppose, for instance, the annual pay¬
ments to be fixed at five guineas, the annuity to be 30I.
the rate of interest four per cent, and the joint lives each
40; the value ol the annuity in one’present single pay¬
ment is 101.1I. Hie value of five guineas or 5.25 per
annum, is (5.25 multiplied by 9.82 the value of the
joint lives) 51.55 j which, subtracted from 10i.il. give*
49.5I. the answer.
It a society takes in all the marriages among persons
of a particular profession within a given district, and
subjects them for perpetuity to a certain equal and com¬
mon tax or annual payment, in order to provide life
annuities for all the widows that shall result from these
marriages; since, at the commencement of such an esta¬
blishment, all the oldest, as well as the youngest, mar¬
riages are to be intitled equally to the proposed benefit,
a much greater number of annuitants will come imme¬
diately on it than would come on any similar esta¬
blishment which limited itself in the admission of mem¬
bers to persons not exceeding a given age. This will
check that accumulation of money which should take
place at first, in order to produce an income equal to
the disbursements at the time when the number of an¬
nuitants comes to a maximum; and therefore will be a
particular burden upon the establishment in its infancy,
lor this some compensation must be provided; and the
equitable method of providing it is, by levying fines at
the beginning of the establishment on every member ex¬
ceeding
fletjl.l of
indir: the
fifce va-
ie mm
nnw r to
eei yed
y on life
fte
don
her.
S U R [ I
ceeding a given age, proportioned to the number of
years which he has lived beyond that age. But if such
fines cannot be levied, and if every payment must be
equal and common, whatever disparity there may be
in the value of the expectations of different members,
the fines must be reduced to one common one, answer¬
ing as nearly as possible to the disadvantage, and pay¬
able by every member at the time when the establish¬
ment begins. After this, the establishment will be the
same with one that takes upon it all at the time they
marry j and the tax or annual payment of every mem¬
ber adequate to its support will be the annual payment
during marriage due from persons who marry at the
mean age at which, upon an average, all marriages may
be considered as commencing. The fines to be paid at
first are, for every particular member, the same with
the difl’erence between the value of the expectation to
him at his present age, and what would have been its
value to him had the scheme begun at the time he mar¬
ried. Or, they are, for the whole body of members,
the difl’erence between the value of the common expec¬
tation, to persons at the mean age of all married persons
taken together as they exist in the world, and to per¬
sons at that age which is to be deemed their mean age
when they marry.
Suppose we wish to know the present value of an an¬
nuity to be enjoyed by one life, for what may happen
to remain of it beyond another life, after a given term j
that is, provided both lives continue from the present
time to the end of a given term of years-, the method
of calculating is this : Find the value of the annuity for
two lives, greater by the given term of years than the
given lives; discount this value for the given term j
and then multiply by the probability, that the two gi¬
ven lives shall both continue the given term j and the
product will be the answer. Thus, let the two lives be
each 30, the term seven years, the annuity 10I. interest
four per cent. The given lives, increased by seven
years, become each 37. The value of two joint lives,
each 37, is (by Table II.) 10.25. The value of a
single life at 37 is (by the table under the article An¬
nuity) 13.67. The former subtracted from the latter
is 3.42, or the value of an annuity for the life of a per-
son 37 years of age, alter another of the same age, as
has been shown above. 3.42 discounted for seven years
(that is, multiplied by 0.76 the value of il. due at the
end of seven years) is 2-6. The probability that a
single life at 30 shall continue seven years is (b).
The probability, therefore, that two such lives shall
continue seven years, is -frTr* or in decimals 0.765
and 2.6 multiplied by 0.765 is 1.989, the number of
years purchase which ought to be given for an annuity
27 ] ^SUR
to be enjoyed by a life now 30 years of age, after a Survivor-
life of the same age, provided both continue seven ship,
years. The annuity then being 10I. its present value ' v
is 19.89I. 6
Suppose the value is required of an annuity to be en- ^j- oc^j)t
joyed for what may happen to remain of one life after
another,, provided the life in expectation continues a gi-annuity for
ven time. I. Find the present value of the annuity for what may
the remainder of the life in expectation after the givenllaPPfn t0
time, which is done in this manner: Multiply the
sent value of the life at the given time by the presenta(-ler ano^
value of il. to be received at that time, and multiply ther, pro-
the product again by the probability that the life in ex-vided the
pectation will continue so long. Let the given time ’n.e**
which the life in expectation is to continue be 1 5 years,Pcc^atlon
and let the person then be arrived at 50 years or age.a given
A life at fifty, according to M. de Moivre’s valuation time,
of lives, and reckoning interest at four per cent, is
worth 11.34 years purchase. The present value of il.
to be received at the end of 15 years, is 0,5553, ani^
the probability that a life at 35 will continue 15 years
is These three values multiplied into one another
give 4.441. for the present value of the life in expecta¬
tion. 2. Find the value of the reversion, provided both
lives continue the given time, by the rule given in
parag. 5th. 3. Add these values together, and the
sum will be the answer in a single present payment.
We shall now illustrate this rule by an example.
An annuity of 10I. for the life of a person now 30, is
to commence at the end of 11 years, if another person
now 40 should be then dead ; or, if this should not
happen at the end of any year beyond 11 years in which
the former shall happen to survive the latter : What is
the present value of such an annuity, reckoning interest
at four per cent, and taking the probabilities of life
as they are in Dr Halley’s table, given in the article
Mortality ?
The value of 10I. per annum, for the remainder of
the life of a person now 30, after 11 years is 69.43I.
The probability that a person 40 years of age shall live
II years, is, by Dr Halley’s table The probabi¬
lity, therefore, that he will die in it years, is sub¬
tracted from unity (c), or which multiplied by
69.431. gives 17.161.—The value of the reversion, pro¬
vided both live 11 years, is 17I. and this value added .
to the former, makes 34.161. the value required in a
single present payment; which payment divided by
11.431. the value of two joint lives, aged 30 and 40,
with unity added, gives 3I.; or the value required in
annual payments during the joint lives, the first pay¬
ment to be made immediately.
Table
(b) The probability that a given life shall continue any number of years, or reach a given age, is (as is well
known) the fraction, whose numerator is the number of the living in any table of observations opposite to the
given age, and denominator, the number opposite to the present age of the given life.
(c) For the difference between unity and the fraction expressing the probability that an event will happen, gives
the probability that it will not happen.
SUB.
SUB
t 328 ]
oiimver- 'j,ABL£ Showing the Present Values of an Annuity
- of il. on a Single Life, according to M. de Moivre's
Hypothesis.
Age,
' 8
9
10
11
12
*3
14
!5
16
18
*9
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
3°
31
32
33
34
35
36
.37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
3 per ct
I9-736
19.868
19.868
I9-736
19 604
19.469
,9-33I
19.192
19.050
18.go c
759
18.610
18458
18-305
18.148
17.990
17.827
17.664
17.497
17-327
I7*I54
16979
16.800
-^perct.
18.160
18.269
18.269
4 pejct
16 791
16.882
16.882
1 8.160 16.791
16.620
!6.436
16.248
16.057
15.864
15.666
15-465
15.260
r5-°53
15.842
14.626
I4-4°7
14.185
i3-958
13.728
I3-493
i3-254
13.012
12.764
12.511
12-255
11.994
11.729
II-457
11.183
10.902
10.616
10.325
10.029
9.727
9.419
9.107
8.787
8.462
18.049
I7-937
17.823
I7-7°7
17.588
17.467
I7-344
17 220
17 093
16.963
16.830
j 6.696
i6-559
16.419
16.277
16.133
15-985
15-83 5
1 ^.682
15-526
15-367
i5-2°4
15-039
14.871
14.699
14.524
‘4-345
14.163
i3-97'8
13-789
13-596
13-399
13-199
12.993
12.784
12.571
12.3541
12.131
11.904
n.673
n-437
11.195
10.950
10.698
10.443
10.181
9-9I3
9.64c
9.361
9.076
9.786
8.488
8.185
16.698
16.604
16.508
16.41c
16.311
16.209
16.105
15-999
15.89
15.781
1 ?.66g
15.554
‘5-437
15-318
15-I97
I5-073
14.946
14816
14.684
14-549
14.411
14.270
14.126
13-979
13.829
13.676
13-5191
13-359
13.196
13.028
12.858
12.683
12.504
12.322
12.135
11.944
1.748
11.548
ii-344
n-i35
10.921
10.702
10.478
10.248
10.014
9-773
9-527
9-275
9.017
8-753
8.482
8.205
7.921
4-§perct : per ct.
15-595
15.672
15.672
1 ?-595
i5-5‘7
‘5-437
‘5-356
‘5-273
15.189
I5-I02
14-544
14.607
14.607
15.015 14.047
14.923
14.831
14-737
14.641
14-543
14.442
14.340
14-235
14 128
14.018
13-905
13-791
I3-673
‘3-553
13-430
‘3-304
13-175
13.044
12.909
2.771
12.630
12.485
12-337
12.185
12.029
11.870
11.707
11.540
11.368
11.192
11.012
10.827
10.638
10.443
10.243
10.039
9.829
9.614
9-393
9.166
8-933
8.694
8.449
8.197
7-938
7.672
14.544
14.480
14.412
14.342
14.271
‘4-197
14.123
‘3-97°
13.891
13.810
13-727
13.642
13-555
13.466
‘3-375
13.282
13.186
13.088
12.988
12.855
12.780
12.673
12.562
12.449
12-333
12.214
12.091
11.966
11.837
11.705
11.570
n-43‘
11.288
11.142
10.992
10.837
10.679
i°-5I5
10.348
10.176
9.999
9.817
9 630
9-437
9-239
9.036
8.826
8.611
8.389
8.161
7.926
7.684
7-435,
6 per ot
1 2.790
12.839
12.839
12.790
12.741
12.691
‘ 2 639
12.586
12.532
12.476
12.419
12.361
12.301
I 2.239
12.177
I 2.11 2
12.04 C
II.978
II.908
II.837
I I.763
11.688
11.610
ii-53o
n-449
11-365
11.278
11.189
11.098
11.003
10.907
10.807
10.704
10.599
10.490
10.378
10.263
10.144
10.021
9-895
9-765
9.630
9.492
9-349
9.201
9.049
8.891
8.729
8.561
8.387
8.208
8.023
7-831
7-633
7428
7.216
6.997
Aa;e.
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
3 per ct
8.132
7-794
7-450
7.099
6-743
6.378
6.008
5-631
5.246
4-854
4-453
4.046
3-632
3.207
2.776
2-334
1.886
1.429
0.961
0.484
0.000
3^perct 4 perct
7-63 1
7-333
7.027
6.714
6-394
6.065
4^perct. 5 per ct
7-399
7-119
6 831
6-534
6.230
5-9; 8
5-596
5-265
4.926
4-576
4.217
3-847
3-467
3.076
2.673
2.259
1.832
1-394
o-943
0.479
0.000
7.179
6-9‘5
6.643
6.362
6.073
5-775
5468
5-I52
4.826
4.489
4 143
3-784
3-4‘5
3-°34
2.641
2-235
1.816
1.384
o-937
0.479
0.000
6 per ct.
6.770
6-535
6.292
6.O4O
5-779
5-508
5.228
4-937
4.636
4-324
4.000
3.664
3-315
2-953
2.578
2.188
1-783
1.362
0.925
0.472
0.000
Survlvj.
ship.
Table II. ShMmng the Value of an Annuity on the
Joint Continuance of Two Lives, according to M. de
Moivre's Hypothesis.
hJ >
O “S
10
‘5
20
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
15
20
25
30
35
4°
45
50
55
60
65
70
20
25
3°
35
40
45
50
Value at 5
per cent.
Value at
per cent
15.209
14.878
I4-503
14.074
I3-585
13-025
12.381
11.644
IO.796
9.822
8.704
7.417
5-936
3 Value at 4
per cent.
14-574
14.225
13.822
13-359
12.824
12.207
II.496
10.67 c
9.727
8.632
7-377
5-932
13.904
i3-53i
13.098
12.594
12.008
II-325
10.536
I3-342
13-093
12.808
12.480
12.102
11.665
11.156
10.564
9.871
9-°59
8.105
6.980
5-652
12.860
12.593
12.281
11.921
ii.501
11-013
10.440
9.767
8-975
8.041
6-934
5-623
11-855
11.661
11.430
11.182
10.884
10-537
10.128
9.646
9.074
8.391
7-572
6.585
5-39‘
12.341
12.051
11.711
11-314
10.847
10.297
9.648
11.478
11.266
11.022
10.736
10.403
10.008
9-54i
8985
8.318
7-5i5
6-544
5-364
11.067
10.840
10-565
10.278
9.870
9.420
8.880
Age
Su ivof-
'P-
SUE
[ 129 ]
SUE
25
3°
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
fsjl?
Value at
per cent.
55
60
65
70
25
3°
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
3°
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
73
40
45
5°
55
60
65
70
70
45
50
55
60
65
70
3 Value at 4
pe*- cent
9.617
8-549
7-3°8
5.868
13.192
12.794
12-333
11.770
n.130
10-374
9.488
8.452
7.241
5.826
12.434
12.010
11.502
10.898
10.183
9-338
8-338
7.161
5-777
11.632
11-I75
10.622
9-955
9-i56
8.202
7.066
5-7J8_
IO-777
IO.283
9.677
8.936
8.O38
6.95I
5.646
8.879
7.967
6.882
5-59°
50
55
60
65
70
55
60
65
7^
60
65
7°
65
70
70
9.863
9:33 1
8.662
7-831
6.807
5-556
8.892
8.312
7.568
6.623
5-442
7.849
7.220
6-379
5.201
6-737
6.043
5.081
5-547
4-7_73_
4.270
11.786
11.468
11.003
10-655
IO-I3I
9-509
8.766
7.880
6.826
5-?5i
11.182
10.838
10.428
9936
9-345
8.634
7-779
6.748
5-50?
10.530
IO-I57
9.702
9-I49
8.476
7.658
6.662
5 450
9.826
9418
8.911
8.283
7-510
6.556
5-383
9.063
8.619
8.044
7-332
6-435
5.300
Value at 5
per cent.
8.233
7.448
6-495
5-333
10.621
10.367
10.067
9.708
9.278
8.761
8.134
7-371
6.440
5-294
8-235
7-738
7.091
6.258
5-*93
7-332
6.781
6 036
5-° 5 3
6-35'
5-730
4.858
5-277
4-571
4.104
10.133
9-854
9-5J4
9.112
8.620
8.01 8
7.280
6-373
5-254
9.600
9.291
8-9i3
8.450
7.879
7.172
6.294
5-203
9.014
8.671
8.244
7.710
7-039
6.198
5I4I
8.370
7.987
7.500
6.875
6.080
5-063
7.660
7.230
6.664
5.926
4- 964
6.873
6,386
5- 724
4-833
6 001
5-444
4 653
5 °31
4-385
3-952
Table II. Showing the Values of Annuities on Single
Lives, among Mules and Females, according to the
Probabilities of the Duration of Life in the kingdom
of Sweden.
Males.
Ages. 4 per ct. 5 per cl.
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
*3
*4
*5
16
*7
18
*9
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
5'
52
53
54
55
16.503
*7-353
17-933
18.328
18.503
18.622
18.693
18.725
18.715
18.674
18.600
18.491
18.378
18.246
18.105
*7-958
17.802
*7-643
*7.492
1 7-335
17.192
17.042
16.887
16.742
16.592
16.436
16.274
16.105
*5-930
*5-75*
*5-575
*5-393
15.208
15.0*4
14.812
14.601
*4.382
*4-*54
*3-9i6
13.668
*3-426
13.196
1 2 984
12.763
12-53 5
12.297
1 2.051
**■795
11.528
11.267
11.030
10.785
*o-53*
10.269
9.998
14.05*
14.778
*5-279
15.624
*5.786
15.901
*5-977
16.021
16.03c
16.014
* 5-97c
15.896
15.819
*5-724'
15.624
*5-5*7
*5.404
*5-285
*5-*75
*5-059
*4-955
14.846
*4-732
14.627
*4-5 *7
14.402
14.282
14.156
14.024
13.889
*3-756
13.619
*3-477
*3-327
13.170
13.006
* 2-83
12.652
1246;
: 2.16
12.065
11.88c
11.710
**-53
**•347
* *-*33
10.951
10.738
10.516
10.298
10.100
9-895
9.682
9.460
9 229
Females.
4 per ct. 5perct.
1 6.820
17.719
*8-344
18.78
18 927
19.045
*9.131
19.162
*9-*5*
19.109
19.041
*8.952
18.840
18.707
18.568
18.424
18.290
*8.151
18.01 3
17.872
*7-725
*7-573
17.414
*7.252
17.087
16.011
*6.7 <1
16.588
16.427
16.261
16.104
*5-94*
*5-787
15.629
*5-465
15.278
*5-07
14.854
14.629
14.401
14.185
*3-994
13-798
'3-596
*3-383
13*51
12.894
12.620
*2-333
12.049
11.769
11.492
I 1 .2 20
*0-937
IO.642
Lives in general
4 per ct. 5 per ct.
14.271
*5-034
*5-57*
*5-95*
16.088
16.203
16.291
*6-335
*6-343
*6.325
16.286
16.229
l6i53
16.059
15.96c
15.856
*5.761
15.662
*5-563
*5.462
*5-356
*5-245
*5.129
*5.009
14.886
*4-757
14.636
*4-5* 5
14.396
14 272
*4-*56
'4-035
*3-9?3
13.806
*3 684
*3-542
*3-382
'3-213
*3-o36
12.856
1 2.687
12.538
*2.387
1 2.229
12.061
11.876
11.668
'*•443
11.205
10.97c
'o-737
10.507
10.28 c
10.042
9.792
16.661
»7-537
18.139
*8-554
18.715
*8833
18.912
*8-943
'8-933
18.891
18.82c
18.721
18.609
18.476
*8.336
18.191
18.046
17.897
*7-752
*7.603
*7-458
17.307
17.150
16.997
16.839
*6-675
16.512
16.246
16.178
16.006
'5-839
15.668
*5-497
i5-32i
15.138
'4-939
14.726
'4-504
14.272
14.034
*3-8
'3-595
*3 39'
*3-179
* 2-959
1 2.724
12.47
12.217
1 I.Q20
I I.658
1 *-399
.'.138
10.875
10.603
10.320
14.161
14.906
'5-425
i5-787
*5-937
16.052
16.134
16.178
16.186
16.169
16.128
16.062
*5.986
15.891
*5-792
15.686
*5-582
*5-473
*5-369
15.260
*5-*55
*5-045
*4-93c
14.818
14.701
*4-579
*4-459
*4-335
14.21c
14.08c
*3-956
13-827
13.70c
13*566
*3 427
*3-274
13.107
1 2 Q22
12.74c
12.555
12.376
12.201
I 2.048
11.88c
11.70/:
** 5*^
11.30c
11.09c
10.86c
10.63^
10.415
10.201
9981
9-75*
9 5,c
Survivor¬
ship.
Vol. XX. Fart i.
Li
Males.
S U R
S U R
[ '3° ]
Servlror-
slfip.
Males.
A'res. 4 pci ct. 5 per ct
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
7°
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
9'
92
93
94
95
96
9.717
9-4 2 5
9.140
8.845
8.540
8.241
7-950
7.669
7.382
7.090
6.792
6.489
6.201
5-933
5.670
5.418
5.180
4.940
4.724
4.487
4-253
4.024
3.768
3-512
^.260
3 017
2.792
2.600
2-473
2-3 71
2.281
2-154
I-955
1.698
I-4I7
II54
°-835
0.477
0.240
0.000
0-000
8.736
8.489
8.232
7-963
7.700
7.442
7-‘93
6.938
6.676
6.408
6.134
5-872
5.628
5-389
5-i58
4.940
4.719
4-521
4.302
4084
3-871
3-631
3.390
3-I52
2.921
2.706
2-523
2.403
2.306
2.222
2.103
1 912
1.664
I-392
x.136
0.824
0.471
0.238
0.000
0.000
Females.
4 per ct. 5 per et
IO"334
10.01 2
9.692
9-358
9-°39
8-739
8-453
8.166
7.870
7.566
7.252
6.930
6.596
6-253
5-897
5-564
5.261
4 998
4.792
4.582
4-367
4-,45
3-913
3.668
3.402
3-145
2.905
2.699
2-559
2-5^2
2.518
2.431
2.294
2.108
*•873
I.628
I-349
1.071
0.799
0-544
0.3 20
9-529
9-253
8.976
8.687
8.406
8.144
7-895
7-643
7.382
7.111
6.831
6.541
6.239
5.926
5-599
5-293
5-oi3
4.770
4.581
4.388
4.189
3-983
3-767
3-536
3-285
3.041
2.812
2.615
2.480
2.476
2.446
2.365
2.230
2.059
»-833
1-596
I-325
1.054
o 788
0-537
o-317
Lives in general
4 per ct. 5 per ct
10.025
9.718
9.416
9.IOI
8.789
8.490
8.201
7-917
7.626
7.328
7.022
6.709
6.398
6.093
5-783
5-491
5.220
4.969
4-758
4-534
4-310
4.084
3.840
3-590
3-33i
3.081
2.848
2.649
2.516
2.461
2-399
2.292
2.1 24
1.903
1.645
I-39I
1.: 9 2
0.774
0.519
9.258
8.994
8.732
8.458
8.184
7.922
7.668
7.418
7.160
6.893
6.619
6-337
6-055
5-777
5-494
5-225
4.976
4-744
4-551
4-345
4.136
3-927
3-699
3-463
3-218
2.981
2-759
2.569
2.441
2.391
2-334
2-338
2.074
1.861
1.612
1.366
1.074
0.762
°-5I3
Table IV. Showing the Value of Annuities on Two
Joint Lives, according to the Probabilities of the Du
ration of Human Life, among Males and Females
collectively, reckoning interest at 4 per cent.
Interest 4 per cent.
Difference of o, 6, 12, and 18 years.
Ages.
1- l
2- 2
3- 3
4' 4
5- 5
6- 6
Values.
12.252
,3-583
r4-558
15.267
15-577
15.82c
Ages.
1- 7
2- 8
3- 9
4 10
5- n
6- 1 2
Values
13 989
14.780
15-323
15685
15.817
15.887
Ages.
2- 14
3- 15
4- 16
5- 17
6- 18
Values.
13 894
'4-?57
14.988
15-259
15.326
'5-3 '4
Ige-.
1- .9
2- 20
3- 2'
4- 22
5- 23
624
Values.
'3-389
14.008
!4-4i7
14.671
'4-7 2 5
14.74c
Interest 4 per cent.
Ages.
7- 7
8-
8 16.
9- 9
10- 10
11- 11
1212
14-1
15*1
16- 16
17- 17
18- 18
19- 19
20- 20
21- 21
22- 22
23 23
24- 24
25- 25
26- 26
27- 27
28- 28
29- 29
30- 30
31- 3i
32- 32
33- 33
34- 34
35- 35
36- 36
37- 37
38- 38
39- 39
40- 40
41 4'
42 42
43*43
44 44
45- 45
46- 46
47- 47
48- 48
49*49
50.50
51- 5i
52- 52
53- 53
54- 54
55 55
56-56
57*57
58-58
'9-5 9
60 60
61-61
62 62
63 63
64 64
6 5 65
66-66
Values.
16.CO3
109
16.152
16.141
16.087
15.982
I 5-855
415.701
5 15-535
15-361
15.196
i5-° 23
14.854
14.682
i4-525
14.36c
14.194
14.020
13.849
13.67!
13-495
13*323
13.'48
12.965
12 795
12.624
1 2.456
12.286
12.109
11.904
11683
11.452
• 1.209
10.964
10.732
io 531
10.346
io/'54
9 9 54
9-736
9-497
9.236
8.966
8.707
823
7 904
7 748
7 49'
7 229
6.924
6.678
6 388
6 104
Ages
7- 13
8- 14
9"I5
10- 16
11- 17
1218
13- 19
14- 20
15- 21
16- 22
17- 23
18 24
19- 25
20- 26
21- 27
22- 28
23- 29
24- 30
25 31
26- 32
27- 33'
28- 34
29 3
130 36
,3i-37
j32-38
133-39
34 40
35-41
36 42
37 43
38-44
39 45
40 46
41- 47
42- 48
43 49
44 50
45-5*
;6 52
47- 53
48- 54
49- 55
50- 56
S'2
8 469 |51-; 7
C2-58
53-
54 60
55 61
56 62
57 63
58 64
59- 65
60- 66
5 844 61 67
5 60c 62 68
5.367J63-69
5.128
4.881
4626
04-70
65- 71
66- 7 1
Values
15-914
15.888
15.824
15*729
15-6I7
15*477
15-327
15 164
15.OOI
14.832
14.665
14*49T
14.320
14.144
13.976
13.807
13 635
13*455
13.284
13.108
12*935
12.763
586
12.390
12.192
11.988
ri.779
11.568
11.361
11.156
i°-953;
10.741!
10 519;
10.286:
10.049
9-8i3
9*581
9-351
9.129 45-57
Ages.
8 897
8.658
8.402
8.139
7 874
7.6.3
7-35i
7.083
6814
6-555
6.299
6.'45
5.788
5-55 9
5.249
4 984
4.729
4 48'
4-23 1
3.982
3*75°
Values.
7- 19
8- 20
9-21
10-22
II-23
I 2-24
1.3-25
14- 26
15- 27
16- 28
17- 29
'8-30
19- 31
20- 32
21- 33
22- 34
23- 35
24 36
25-37
26 38
2/-39
28- 40
29- 41
30- 42
3i 43
32- 44
33- 45
34- 46
3^-47
36-48
37*49
38-50
39 51
40- 52
41- 53
42- 54
43- 55
44 56
46-58
47 59
48 60
49- 61
50- 62
51- 63
32 64
33 6s
54-66
3 5 67
56-68
57 69
38-70
9-71
60-72
61 73
62- 74
63- 75
64- 76
65- 77
66- 78
i5*35i
i5*3IC
15*244
,5*I49
15-033,
14 889
14-736
14.566
‘4-392
14.216
14.042
13.860
13.687
'3*512
13*345
•3-173
12.997
12.8
12.599
12.387
12.170
n-953
11.742
11*543
1 T*3 59
11.170
10.978
10.77 5
10.357
10.314
10.059
9.80 s*
9.538
9.308
9.066
8.83 c
8-597
8 354
8.10]
7.84'
7*563
7.281
7.028
6.749
6.305
6.256
6.004
5*743
5*474
5.204
4.036
4.66t,
4*39
4*I4(
3-927
3*74 7
3 563
3*370
3.18
2.
Ages.
7- 25
8- 26
9.27
10-28
11- 29
12- 30
‘3-31
14- 32
15- 33
16- 34
17- 35
18- 36
'9-37
20- 38
21- 39
22 4c
23-41
24 4
25- 43
26- 4
27- 45
28 46
29-47
30 48
31 *49
32- 50
33- 51
34- 52
35 53
36 *4
37 55
38- 56
39- 51
40 58
41- 59
42- 60
43- 61
44 62
4 > 63
46 64
47 65
48 66
49- 67
50- 68
51- 69
52- 70
53- 71
54- 72
5 5- 73
:6-74
7-7
58 76
; 59*77
160*78
61 79
62 8c
63- 8:
64- 82
6c 83
974 66- 8 d
Values
14.727
14-673
14.590
14.484
‘4*357
14.202
14.045
i3-874
13.700
13*520
'3*340
13.141
13*934
12.720
12.505
12.286
12.073
11.873
! 1 .683
fl*485
I I.284
! I.O72
IO.847
IO.606
IO.365
TO. 128
9*9°5
9.679
9-452
9 207
8 95’
8.685
8.404
8.124
7*839
7 569
7*3i8
7 °75
6.8 ;6
6 ;86
6.323
6.048
5*764
5.487
5.221
4*953
4694
4 455
4*231
4043
3-844
3-637
3-430
3.210
2.974
2.744
2-557
2.396
2.252
2.123
Sunii,
Interest
S U R
L I3I ]
S
U R
iunu'i-
shi
Interest 4 per cent.
Interest 4 per cent.
Survivor¬
ship.
Ages. Values. Ages.
67- 67
68- 68
69- 69
70- 70
71'71
72- 72
73- 73
74- 74
75- 75
76- 76
77- 77
78- 78
79- 79
80- 80
81- 81
82- 82
83- 83
84- 84
85- 85
86- 86
87- 87
88- 88
89- 89
90- 90
91- 9i
92- 92
93*93
94- 94
95- 95
4.362
4.103
3-851
3*593
3*345
3*128
2,935
2.797
2.648
2.490
2.340
2.170
1.967
I*758
1.600
1.472
1.364
1.276
1.212
1.172
1.127
1.071
0.949
0.718
0.516
0.326
0.236
0.190
0.024
67- 73
68- 74
69- 75
70- 76
71- 77
72- 78
73- 79
74- 80
75- 8i
76- 82
77- 83
78- 84
79- 85
80- 86
81- 87
82 88
83- 89
84- 90
85- 91
86- 92
87- 93
88- 94
89- 95
Values.
3*527
3*34°
3*147
2.946
2.752
2.558
2*355
2.172
2.017
1.877
i*756
1.639
1.524
1.416
1.320
1.22c
1.095
0.902
0.725
o*556
o*459
0.396
0.364
Ages.
67- 79
68- 80
69- 81
70- 82
71- 83
72- 84
73- 85
74- 86
75- 87
76- 88
77- 89
78- 90
79- 91
80- 92
81- 93
82- 94
83- 95
Values.
2*743
2.514
2.324
2*155
2.004
1*875
1.768
1.692
1.605
1.497
i*339
1.097
0.863
0.638
0.511
0.427
o*379
67- 85
68- 86
69- 87
70- 88
71- 89
72- 90
7391
74- 92
75- 93
76- 94
77- 95
Ages
Values.
2.010
I.9IO
I.798
1.66l
I.464
1.1 89
o*937
0.708
°*575
0.481
0.421
Table V. Shelving the Values of two Joint Lives, ac¬
cording to the Probabilities of the Duration of Human
TJfe among Males and Females collectively.
Interest 4 per cent.
Difference of age 24, 30, 36, and 42 years.
Age*.
1- 25
2- 26
3- 27
4- 28
5- 29
6- 30
7- 31
8- 32
9- 33
10- 34
11- 35
12- 36
f3-37
14-38
I539
16-40
Values.
12.832
13.409
i3*778
14.003
14*037
14*033
14.006
13*944
!3*855
i3*74i
13.604
13.428
13*234
13.023
12.798
12.570
Ages. Values.
i-31
2 32
333
434
5- 35
6- 36
7- 37
8- 28
9- 39
10- 40
11- 4
12- 42
13- 43
14- 44
15- 45
16- 46
12.196
12*73
13.066
13.264
13*277
13.242
13.170
13-059
12.912
12-743
12.562
12.379
12.196
11.997
11.787
11.562
Ages. Values.
1- 37
2- 38
339
4- 40
5- 4i
6- 42
7- 43
8- 44
9 45
10-46
11.465
11.913
12.164
12.284
12.242
12.185
12.112
12.004
11.865
11.694
n-47 H*493
12- 48 11.259
13- 49'i 1.011
14- 5010.759
15- 5i
16- 52
10.514
10.264
Ages.
1- 43
2- 44
3- 45
4- 46
5- 47
6- 48
7- 49
8- 50
9- 5i
10- 52
11- 53
12- 54
13- 55
14- 56
15- 57
16- 58
Values.
IO.546
IO.946
I 1.168
11.260
II.183
11.064
10.915
10*743
IO.560
fo.357
10.140
9.898
9.644
9*371
9.087
8.799
Ages. Values.
17- 41
18- 42
19 43
20- 44
21- 45
22- 46
23- 47
24- 48
25- 49
26- 50
27- 51
28- 52
29- 53
30- 54
31- 55
32- 56
33- 57
34- 58
35- 59
36- 60
37- 61
38- 62
39'63
40- 64
41- 65
42- 66
43- 67
44- 68
45- 69
46- 70
47- 7i
48- 72
49- 73
50- 74
51- 75
52- 76
53- 77
54- 78
55- 79
56- 80
57- 81
58- 82
59- 83
60- 84
61- 85
62- 86
63- 87
64- 88
65- 89
66- 90
67- 91
68- 92
69- 93
70- 94
71- 95
12.351
12.146
11*951
11*751
11.550
ii*335
11.107
10.862
10.612
10.364
10.130
9.894
9*659
9*4i3
9.167
8.912
8.651
8.389
8.114
7*833
7*56i
7.296
7*033
6.763
6.492
6.22c
5*957
5.689
5.426
5*153
4.884
4*633
4*398
4.205
4.008
3*803
3*605
3*389
3*15°
2.909
2.710
2*539
2.385
2.248
2*135
2.037
1.916
1.790
1-585
1.290
1.017
0.764
0.617
0.514
0.411
Ages. Values.
17- 47
18- 48
19- 49
20- 50
21- 51
22- 52
23- 53
24- 54
25- 55
26- 56
27- 57
28- 58
29- 59
30- 60
31- 61
32- 62
33- 63
34- 64
35- 65
36- 66
37- 67
38- 68
39- 69
40- 70
41- 71
42- 72
43- 73
44"74
45- 75
46- 76
47- 77
48- 78
49- 79
50- 80
ci-81
52- 82
53- 83
54- 84
55- 85
56 86
57- 87
58- S8
59- 89
60- 90
61 91
62- 92
63- 93
64- 94
65- 95
11.328
11.076
10.819
10.567
10.332
ic.092
9.852
9.602
9*347
9.080
8.807
8*534
8.250
7.967
7.702
7.446
7.196
6.942
6.679
6.402
6.11 c
5.828
5*543
5*254
4*977
4*73°
4*507
4.322
4.128
3.921
3*7i5
3*489
3*238
2.990
2.792
2.622
2*475
2*344
2.232
2.130
2.010
1.864
1.644
i*333
1.050
0.789
0.639
0*533
0.456
Ages.
17- 53
18- 54
19- 55
20- 56
21- 57
22- 58
23- 59
24- 60
25.61
26- 62
27- 63
28- 64
29- 65
30 66
31-67
32 68
33- 69
34- 7°
35- 7i
36- 72
37*73
38- 74
39- 75
40 76
41- 77
42- 78
43- 79
44- 80
45- 81
46 82
47- 83
48- 84
49 85
50- 86
51- 87
52- 88
53- 89
54- 9°
55 91
56- 92
57- 93
58- 94
59 95
Values.
IO.Ol8
9.761
9*500,
9.228j
8*953
8*675!
8.385'
8.C97
7*823
7*557
7.297
7.032
6.761
6.481
6.197
5*947
5.642
5*364
5*093
4.840
4*603
4*405
4*195
3*975
3.762
3*539
3*295
3*052
2.854
2.684
2*533
2.396
2.277
2.171
2.050
1.901
1.681
1.366
1.078
0.810
0*655
0.546
0.464
Ages
17- 59
18- 62
19- 61
20- 62
21*63
22 64
23-65
24 66
25- 67
26- 68
27- 69
28- 70
29 7i
30- 72
31- 73
32- 74
33 75
34 76
35-77
36 78
37-79
38 80
39-81
40 82
41- 83
42- 84
43- 85
44- 86
45- 87
46- 88
47- 89
48 90
49- 91
50- 92
51 93
52- 94
53- 95
Values.
8*5°3
8.208
7.928
7.658
7*396
7.127
6.851
6.566
6.275
5.986
5.702
5-415
5-136
4.881
4.646
4*453
4*251
4.040
3*833
3*605
3*352
3*c98
2.889
2.710
2*553
2.41S
2-3°5
2.20
2.083
i*933
1.708
■■385
1.090
0.818
0.662
0*551
0.468
Ti 2
TIi«
Survivor-
skip.
S U R [ 132 ] S U R
The values of joint lives in these tables have been
computed for only one rate of interest; and of single
lives in Table III. for only two rates of interest. The
following rules will show, that it would be a needless
labour to compute these values (in strict conformity to
the observations) for any other rates of interest.
Account of a method of deducing, from the correct va¬
lues {according to any observations') of any single or
joint Lives at one rate of Interest, the same values
at other rates of Interest.
Preliminary Problems.
Pros. I. The expectation given of a single life by
any table of observations, to find its value, supposing
the decrements of life equal, at any given rate of in¬
terest.
Solution. Find the value of an annuity certain for
a number of years equal to twice the expectation. Mul¬
tiply this value by the perpetuity increased by unity,
and divide the product by twice the expectation : The
quotient subtracted from the perpetuity will be the va¬
lue required.
Example. The expectation of a male life aged 10,
by the Sweden observations, is 43.94. Twice this ex¬
pectation is 87.88. The value of an annuity certain
for 87.88 years is (reckoning interest at 4 per cent.)
24.200. The product of 24.200 into 26 (the perpe¬
tuity increased by unity) is 629.2, which, divided by
87.88, gives 7<Ii9- And this quotient subtracted from
25 (the perpetuity) gives 17.84 years purchase, the va¬
lue ot a life aged ten, deduced from the expectation of
life at that age, according to the Sweden observations.
(See the Tables in Dr Price on Reversions, vol. ii.).
Prob. II. Having the expectations given of any two
lives by any table of observations, to deduce from thence
the value of the joint lives at any rate of interest, sup¬
posing an equal decrement of life.
Solution, find the difference between twice the ex¬
pectation of the youngest life and twice the expectation
of the oldest life increased by unity and twice the per¬
petuity. Multiply this difference by the value of an
annuity certain for a time equal to twice the expecta¬
tion of the oldest life 5 and by twice the same expecta¬
tion divide the product, reserving the quotient.
From twice the perpetuity subtract the reserved
quotient, and multiply the remainder by the perpetuity
increased by unity. This last product divided by twice
the expectation of the youngest life, and then subtract¬
ed from the perpetuity, will be the required value.
When twice the expectation of the youngest life is
greater than twice the expectation of the oldest life in¬
creased by unity and twice the perpetuity, the reserved
quotient, instead of being subtracted from twice the
perpetuity, must be added to it, and the sum, not the
difference, multiplied by the perpetuity increased by
unity. 1
Example. Let the joint lives proposed be a female
life aged 10, and a male life aged 15 5 and let the table
of observations be the Sweden table for lives in general,
and the rate of interest 4 per cent. Twice the expec¬
tations of the two lives are 90.14 and 83.28.
I wice the expectation of the oldest life, increased by
unity and twice the perpetuity, is 134.28, which lessened
by 90.14 (twice the expectation of the youngest life),
leaves 44.14 for the reserved remainder. This remain¬
der multiplied by 24.045 (the value of an annuity cer¬
tain for 83.28 years, and the product divided by 83.28
(twice the expectation of the oldest life), gives 12.744,
the quotient to be reserved j which subtracted from
double the perpetuity, and the remainder (or 37.255)
multiplied by the perpetuity increased by unity (or by
26) gives 968.630, which divided by 90.14 (twice the
expectation of the youngest life) and the quotient sub¬
tracted from the perpetuity, we have 14.254 for the re¬
quired value.
The value of an annuity certain, when the number
of years is a whole number with a fraction added (as
will be commonly the case) may be best computed in
the following manner. In this example the number of
years is 83.28. The value of an annuity certain for 83
years is 24.035. The same value for 84 years is 24.072.
The difference between these two values is 0.375 which
difference multiplied by .28 (the fractional part of the
number of years), and the product (.0103) added to the
least of the two values, will give 24.045 the value for
83.28 years.
General Rule. Call the correct value (supposed to be
computed for any rate of interest) the first value. Cali
the value deduced (by the preceding problems) from
the expectations at the same rate of interest, the second
value. Call the value deduced from the expectations
for any other rate of interest the third value.
Then the difference between the first and second va¬
lues added to or subtracted from the third value, just as
the first is greater or less than the second, will be tbs
value at the rate of interest for which the third value
Survlvoi
has been deduced from the expectations.
The following examples will make this perfectly plain.
Example I. In the twm last tables the correct values
are given of two joint lives among mankind at large*
without distinguishing betw-een males and females, ac¬
cording to the Sweden observations, reckoning interest
at 4 per cent. Let it be required to find from these
values the values at 3 per cent, and let the ages of the
joint lives be supposed 10 and 10.
1 he correct value by rI able IV. (reckoning interest
at 4 per cent.) is 16.141. The expectation of a life
aged 10 is 45.07. I he.value deduced from this expec¬
tation at 4 per cent, by Prob. II. is 14.539. ^ ^ie va*
lue deduced by the same problem from the same expec¬
tation at 3 percent, is 16.808. The difference between
the first and second values is 1.602, which, added to the
third value (the first being greater than the second),
makes 18.410, the value required.
Example II. Let the value be required of a single
male life aged 10, at 3 [>er cent, interest, from the cor¬
rect value at 4 per cent, according to the Sweden ob¬
servations.
First, or correct value at 4 percent, (by Table III.)
is 18.674. "H*6 expectation of a male life aged 10 is
43-94-
I he second value (or the value deduced from this ex¬
pectation by Prob. I.) is 17.838.
1 he third value (or the value deduced from the same
expectation at 3 per cent.) is 21.277.
The difference between the first and second is .836;
which (since the first is greater than the second) must
be added to the third 5 and the sum (that is, 22.113)
will be the value required.
The
SUE [ i
The third value at 5 per cent, is 15.286$ and the
difference added to 15.286 makes 16.122 the value of
a male life aged 10 at 5 per cent, according to the
Sweden observations. The exact value at 5 per cent, is
(by Table III.) 16.014.
Again : the difference between 16 014 (the correct
value at 5 per cent.), and 15.286 (the value at the
same interest deduced from the expectation), is .728 $.
which, added (because the first value is greater than the
second) to 13.335 (^ie value deduced at 6 per cent,
from the expectation) gives 14.063, the value of the
same life, reckoning interest at 6 per cent.
These deductions, in the case of single lives particu¬
larly, are so easy, and give the true values so nearly,
that it will be scarcely ever necessary to calculate the
exact values (according to any given observations) for
more than one rate of interest.
If, for instance, the correct values are computed at 4
per cent, according to any observations, the values at 3,
34-, 4^5 5? 6, 7, or 8 per cent, may be deduced irom
them by the preceding rules as occasion may require,
without much labour or any danger of considerable er¬
rors. The values thus deduced will seldom difler from
the true values so much as a tenth of a year’s purchase.
They will not generally differ more than a 20th or 3ot^
of a year’s purchase. In joint lives they will differ less
than in single lives, and they will come equally near to
one another whatever the rates of interest are.
The preceding tables furnish the means of determining
the exact differences between the values ol annuities, as
they are made to depend on the survivorship of any
male or female lives; which hitherto has been a r/c-
suleratum of considerable consequence in the doctrine
of life annuities. What has made this of consequence is
chiefly the multitude of societies lately established in
this and foreign countries for providing annuities for
widows. The general rule for calculating from these
tables the value of such annuites is the following.
Rule* “ Find in Table ILL. the value of a female life
at the age of the wife. 1'rom this value substract the
value in Table IV. of the joint continuance of two lives
at the ages of the husband and wife. The remainder
will he the value in a single present payment of an an¬
nuity for the life of the wife,‘should she be left a widow.
And this last value divided by the value of the joint
lives increased by unity, will be the value of the same
annuity in annual paymerwts during the joint lives, and
to commence immediately.”
Example. Let the age of the wife he 24, and of the
husband 30. The value in Table III. (reckoning in¬
terest at 4 per cet.) of a female life aged 24, is 17.252.
The value iu Table IV. of two joint lives aged 24 and
30, is 13.455, which substracted from 17.252 leaves
*3^797-, the value in a single present payment of an an¬
nuity of il. for the life of the wife after the husband $
that is, for the life of the widow. The annuity, there¬
fore, being supposed 20I. its value in a single payment is
23 multiplied by 3.797» 's> 75 94^* And this last
value divided by 14.455 (*;hat is, by the value of the
joint lives increased by unity), gives 5-25> ^ie vsdue in
annual payments beginning immediately, and to be
continued during the joint lives of an annuity of 20I. to
a wife aged 24 for her life, after her husband aged 30.
SURYA, the orb of the sun personified and adored
33 ] . s u s
by a sect of Hindoos as a god. He seems to be the
same divinity with the Phoebus of Greece and Rome $
and the sect who pay him particular adoration are call¬
ed Sauras. Their poets and painters describe his car as
drawn by seven green horses, preceded by Arun, or the
Dawn, who acts as his charioteer, and followed by
thousands of genii worshipping him and modulating his
praises. He has a multitude of names, and among them Asiatic Re-
twelve epithets which denote his distinct powers in each *e«rches,
of the twelve months $ and he is believed to have de-^®-1^
scended frequently from his car in a human shape, and
to have left a race on earth, who are equally renown¬
ed in the Indian stories with the Heliadai of Greece : it
is singular, that his two sons called Aswinau or As-
winicumarau, in the dual, should be considered as twin-
brothers, and painted like Castor and Pollux..
SUS, the Hog, a genus of quadrupeds. See Mam¬
malia Index.
SUSA, the ancient royal residence of the kings of
Persia, built by Darius Hystaspis, according to Pliny;
though he probably only restored it, being a very an¬
cient city, founded by Tithonus father of Memnon. Its
compass was said by ancient authors to be 1 20 stadia ;
but the ruins give us the idea of a still greater extent.
They are situated on the east side of the river Kerah,
in the latitude of 32°, stretching not less than twelve
miles from one extremity to the other. These ruins
consist of hillocks of earth and rubbish, covered with
broken pieces of brick and coloured tile. One of these
hillocks is a mile in circumference, and 100 feet high..
Another, though not quite so high, has double the cir¬
cuit. Large blocks of marble covered with hierogly¬
phics are frequently discovered by the Arabs. There
is a building, apparently modern, called the tomb of
Daniel. The whole place is now a gloomy wilderness,.,
inhabited by beasts of prey. See ivinncir’s Geographi¬
cal Memoir of Persia.
SUSPENSION, in Scots Law. See Law, N°
elxxxv. 5, 6, and 7.
SUSSEX, a county of England, deriving its name
from its situation in respect of the other Saxons, and
called Sussex, i. e. the country of the South Saxons, has
Hampshire on the west, the British channel on the
south, Surrey on the north, and Kent on the east. Its
length is 65 miles, its breadth 33, and its circumfer-
ence 170. It is divided into 6 rapes, and these ‘nto edition
65 hundreds, in which are 342 parishes, of which ^ Camden s
are vicarages, one city, 16 market towns, 1,140,000 Britannia,
acres, and in 181X it contained 190,083 inhabitants. It vol. i. p.
has few good ports, though it lies along the channel I9J*
for 65 miles, the coast being encumbered in many
places with rocks ; and where it is more open, such
quantities of sand are thrown upon it by the south-west
winds, and the harbours so choked up, that they will
not admit vessels of any great draught or burden. The
county is well watered by the rivers Arun, Adar, Ouse,
Bother, Lavant, Cuckmeer, Ashburn, and Aften, by
which it is well supplied with fish, as well as from the
sea. Hence different places of the county are famed
for different sorts of fish, as the Arun for mullets, which
enter it from the sea in summer in shoals, and by feeding
upon a particular kind of herb become extremely deli¬
cious : Chichester for lobsters, Selsey for cockles, Am-
berly for trout, Pulborough for eels, Rye for herrings,
a ml
S U T [• 13+ ] S U T
Sussex an^ the county in general for carp. It is remarkable,
Sutherland, that all the rivers above mentioned rise and fall into the
' v 1 sea, within the county.
The air, as well as the soil, is various in different
parts of the county. Upon the coast the air is aguish,
upon the hills and downs pleasant and wholesome ; but
somewhat moist and foggy in the valleys, the soil being
deep and rich, and the vegetation in summer very vigo¬
rous. The downs in some places are very fertile in corn
and grass ; in others they feed great flocks of sheep,
whose flesh and wool are very fine ; but of the latter no
inconsiderable quantity is clandestinely exported to
France. In the Weald and the valleys the roads are
Very deep, especially in winter. In the north quarter
are many woods, and some forests in other places 5
whence the king’s yards are supplied with the largest
and best timber in England, beside what is made into
charcoal and consumed in the iron-works; for on the
east side is plenty of iron ore, with furnaces, forges, and
mills for manufacturing it. Those delicious birds called
wheat-ears are bred in this shire ; they are not bigger
than a lark, but very fat. That part now called the
Wild or Weald of Sussex, was anciently a mere desert
for hogs and deer, of great extent, taking in a part of
Kent and Surry ; and was called Anderida Silva, Coid
Andred, and Andradswald, from Anderida an adjoin¬
ing city. This county is in the home circuit and di¬
ocese of Chichester, giving the title of 'earl to the fa¬
mily of Yelverton, and sends 28 members to parliament,
viz. two for the county, two for the city of Chichester,
and two for each of the following towns, Horsham,
Lewes, Bramber, East-Grinstead, Midhurst, Shoreham,
Staining, Arundel, Hastings, Ivye, Winchelsea, and
Seaford ; of which the four last are cinque ports. See
Sussex, Supplement.
SUTHERLAND, one of the most northerly coun¬
ties of Scotland, bordering on Caithness to the east, and
bounded by the ocean on the north, the country of As-
synt on the west, Ross-shire on the south, and by the
German sea on the south-east. It stretches about 70
miles in length, and 40 in breadth ; it is generally hilly,
though in many parts arable ; well watered with small
rivers and streams replete with fish, and containing about
60 lakes, the habitation of various fish, swans, ducks,
geese, &c. One of the largest of these is Lochshin,
extending 18 miles in length. Some of them are in¬
terspersed with small verdant islands, which in summer
yield a very agreeable prospect. On the coast are many
commodious harbours, and all the bays swarm with fish.
Sutherland affords iron-stone, freestone, limestone, mar¬
ble and slate, in abundance. Turf and peat are the
common fuel. Lead ore, and some copper ore, have
been met with in some parts of the county.
The air is so temperate, and the soif so good, that
saffron has here been brought to perfection. Many parts
of the country are remarkably fruitful in corn, and the
pasturage is everywhere excellent. Deer and some other
game are abundant in Sutherland. On the hills are
fed numerous flocks of sheep and black cattle. The
northern part, called Strathnaver, and separated from
the rest by a ridge of mountains, is bounded on the
north by the Deucaledonian sea, on the west by the
channel called the Minch, on the east by Caithness, and
on the south by Assynt. The length from east to west,
is 34 imlea; but the breadth from north to south does
not exceed 12 in some places. It is very hilly; and the Sutherlais
mountains are so high, that the snow remains on the tops I!
of them till midsummer. It is watered by the Naver,, ^lltton
from whence it derives its name : this district gives a
title to the eldest son of the earl of Sutherland. Strath¬
naver has many fresh-water lakes or lochs; the chief of
which are Loch Naver and Loch Lyel: there are seve¬
ral islands on the northern coast. In various parts of
the country there are monuments of victories obtained
over the Danes or other foreign invaders. The inhabi¬
tants are hardy, bold, and enterprising; courteous to
strangers ; cheerful, open, frugal, and industrious. The
salmon-fishery in this county is considerable, as well as
the trade in black cattle, sheep, and horses, at the
neighbouring fairs ; corn, barley, salmon, butter, cheese,
wool, hides, and tallow, are exported. Dornoch is the
capital of the county. The population of Sutherland in
1811 amounted to 23,629. The following table shews ^
the population at two different periods
Ifisf. Y0l.
Parishes.
Assynt
Clyne
Creich
D urness
5 Dornoch
Edderachyllis
Farr
Golspie
Kildonan
10 Lairg
Loth
Rogart
13 Tongue
See Sutherland,
Population
in 1755-
I934
1406
1000
2780
869
2800
1790
J433
1010
1J93
1761
1093
2°,774
Population iu
179c—179S.
3000
1660
I73°
1182
2541
1024
2600
1700
>365
*350
1370
2000
J439
22,961
Supplement.
SUTLER, in War, one who follows the army, and
furnishes the troops with provision. Sutlers pitch their
tents, or build their huts, in the rear of each regiment,
and about head-quarters. *
SUIRIUM, in Ancient Geography, a famous city,
and an ancient colony of the Romans, the key of Etru¬
ria ; founded about seven years after the taking of Rome
by the Gauls (Velleius). Now Sutriin St Peter’s patri¬
mony, on the river Pozzolo ; surrounded on every side
with rocks, 24 miles to the north-west of Rome. *
SUI ION, Samuel, was born at Alfreton in Der¬
byshire, and going into the army served under the duke
01 Marlborough in Queen Anne’s wars with great cre¬
dit. He afterwards came to London,, commenced brew¬
er, and kept a coffee-house in Aldersgate street, which
was well frequented by the learned men of that time,
by whom Mr Sutton was much respected, as a man of
strong natural parts and uncultivated genius. About
the year 1740 he schemed a very simple and natural me¬
thod for extracting the foul air from the wells of ships,
by pipes communicating with the fire-places of the cop¬
pers ; which operated as long as any fire was kept burn¬
ing for the ship’s use. He took out a patent in 1744, to
secure the profits of his invention ; and died about the
year 1752.
SUTURE,
SWA [ <35 ] S W E
SUTURE, in Anatormj, a kind of articulation pecu¬
liar to the cranium or &kul!. See Anatomy, Part f.
Sect. ii. passim.
Suture, in Surgery, a method of uniting the lips of
wounds together. See Surgery.
SWABBER, an inferior officer on board ships of
war, whose employment it is to see that the decks are
kept clean and neat.
SWABIA. See Suajjia.
SWALLOW, a genus of birds. See Hirundo,
Ornithology Index. See also Migration.
SwALLow-Wort. See Asclepias, Botany Index.
SW AMMERDA M, John, a celebrated and learned
natural philosopher, was the son of John James Swam¬
merdam, an apothecary and famous naturalist of Am¬
sterdam, and was born in 1637. ^‘s father intended
him for the church, and with this view had him in¬
structed in Latin and Greek j but he, thinking himself
unequal to so important a task, prevailed with his father
to consent to his applying himself to physic. As he was
kept at home till he should be properly qualified to en¬
gage in that study, he was frequently employed in clean¬
ing ins father’s curiosities, and putting every thing in its
proper place. i his inspired our author with an early
taste for natural history 5 so that, not content with the
survey of the curiosities which his father had purchased,
he soon began to make a collection of his own, which
he compared with the accounts given of them by the
best writers. When grown up, be seriously attended
to bis anatomical and medical studies ; yet spent part of
the day and the night in discovering, catching, and ex¬
amining the flsing insects proper to those times, not on¬
ly in the province of Holland, but in those of Guelder-
land and Utrecht. Thus initiated in natural history,
he went to the university of Leyden in 16; I ; and in
1653 was admitted a candidate of physic in that imi-
ver-ity. His attention being now engaged by anato
my, he began to consider bow the parts of the body,
prepared by dissection, could be, preserved, and kept in
constant order for anatomical demonstration ; and here¬
in he succeeded, as he had done before in bis nice con¬
trivances for dissecting and managing the minutest in¬
sects, Our author afterwards made a journey into
France, where he spent some time at Saumur, and
where he became acquainted with several learned men. Swamiacr-
Jn 1667 !;e returned to Leyden, and took his degree of ^ani
Doctor of Physic. The next vear the grand duke of r.
I uscany being in Holland in order to see the curiosities ■ ^ -■
of the country, came to view those of our author and
his father j and on this occasion Swammerdam made
some anatomical dissections of insects in the presence of
that prince, who was struck with admiration at our au¬
thor’s great skill in managing them, especially at his
proving that the future butterfiv lay with all its parts
neatly folded up in a caterpillar, by actually removing
the integuments that covered the former, and extricat¬
ing and exhibiting all its parts, however minute, with
incredible ingenuity, by means of instruments of incon¬
ceivable fineness. On this occasion the duke offered
our author 12,000 florins for his share of the collec¬
tion, on condition of his removing them himself into
Tuscany, and coming to live at the court of Florence j
but Swammerdam, who hated a court life, declined his
highness’s proposal. In 1663, lle published a General
History of Insects. About this time, bis father began
to take offence at his inconsiderately neglecting the
practice of physic, which might have supported him in
affluence; and would neither supply him with money
nor clothes. This reduced him to some difficulties.
In 167516 published his History of the Ephemeras j
and Ins father dying the same year, left him a fortune
sufficient for his support j but he did not long survive
him, for he died in 1682. Gaubius gave a translation
of all his works from the original Dutch into Latin,
from which they were translated into English, in folio’
in 1758. The celebrated Boerhaave wrote his life.
SWAN. See Anas, Ornithology Index.
SWANPAN, or Chinese Abacus j an instrument
for performing arithmetical operations. See Abacus.
SWANEMOIE, Swainmote, or Sweinmote.
See Forest-Courts.
SW EARING. See Oath.
SW LA r, a sensible moisture issuing from the pores
of the skins of living animals. See Physiology N°
286. ’
SWEATING sickness, a disorder which appeared
in England about die year 1481, and was by foreigners
called the English sweat. See Medicine, N° 51.
SWEDEN,
1
nation
extent.
^NNE of the northern states of Europe, now occu¬
pies the whole of the north-western corner of that
portion of the globe, lying between the gulf of Bothnia
and the Atlantic. Before the Ueaty concluded in
1809, between Sweden and Russia, the Swedish terri¬
tory extended over a considerable tract of country on
the east of the gmlf oi Bothnia ; but by that treaty the
whole of these provinces were ceded to Russia. But on
the other hand, Sweden, by a treaty signed at Kiel in
January 1814, compelled Denmark to cede Norway to
her j in return for which Denmark received Pomerania,
xhus enlarged, Sweden possesses nearly the whole Scan¬
dinavian peninsula. Her territories are bounded on all
3
sides by the sea, except the north-east, where they are
bounded by the rivers Tornea and Tana. They ex¬
tend from 550 20' to 710 of North latitude, and from 50
to 310 of East longitude. Their greatest length is
1180 English miles, their greatest breadth 500, and
they embrace an area of 340,000 square miles, which is
about one-tenth of the surface of Europe. She has now
also the greatest extent of sea coast of any European
power. But Sweden proper, apart from Norway, in¬
cludes only an area of 195,000 square miles ; and as
the lattei country is described in a separate article, our
observations here shall be confined to the former. The
following shows the present divisions of Sweden.
Stockholm,
136
Sweden.
2
Division.
S W E D
Stockholm, (city)
Stockholm, (prov.)
Upsala,
Sudermanland,
East Gothland
Gothland,
Calmar,
Blekings,
Jonkopings,
Cronoberg,
Christianstad,
Malmohus,
Holland,
Gotheborg,
Elfsbord,
Skaraborg,
Orebro,
Carlstad,
Westmanland,
Kopparberg,
Geffleborg,
West Norland,
West Bothnia
Lakes,
Extent in Ger¬
man sq. miles.
123,
106.5
I35>3
205,
49,2
196.8
57>2
200.9
164,
102.5
82,
92.9
86,1
241.9
i55>8
i76>3
299,3
J3L2
59°>4
565»8
1,148
4059
8,963
180
E N.
Arable Land
in Tunnas,
4OO
71,016
82,564
54.°11
104,061
30,°44
66,121
21,715
53.684
37.695
89.344
222,609
43.983
42,458
73,808
143,192
46,223
82,473
55,5I5
5I>547
28,872
35,500
20,560
1,445,395
Population
in 1805.
72,651
99,377
84,141
98,761
162,859
32,988
136,296
67,200
H7,38l
89,631
120,547
149,892
73,594
156,271
138,410
100,428
140,100
84,808
124,816
89,083
89,974
76,151
2,424,874
(a) 9,143 equal to 195,000 square English miles.
Population in 1818 - - - - 2,615,400
Population of Norway (in 1803) - - 910,000
The only colonial territory belonging to Sweden is
3 the island of St Bartholomew, in the West Indies.
Face of Sweden is diversified in a most picturesque manner,
the conn- extensive lakes, large rivers, winding streams, ca-
try’ taracts, gloomy forests, fertile vales, and stupendous
rocks. But the most striking feature in the appearance
of the country is the vast forests that cover its surface.
* Travels “ If the reader, says Dr Clarke *, cast his eyes upon
in Scandi- the map of Sweden, and imagine the gulf of Bothnia to
^islrd *>Ub~ surrount'ell hy one unbroken forest, as ancient as the
iSip. m world, consisting principally of pine trees, with a few
mingling birch and juniper trees, he will have a general
and tolerably correct idea of the real appearance of the
country. The population is yet small, because the whole
country is covered with wood. The only region with
which Sweden can properly be compared is North Ame¬
rica ; a land of wood and iron, with very few inhabi¬
tants.”
4 Sweden is by no means remarkable for the fertility
of its soil, as appears from the above table. The land
capable of tillage, it will be seen, amounts only to about
1,800,000 acres, or one acre in sixty of the whole sur¬
face of the country. But a great extent of land besides
this ministers to the support of man, by affording pas-
3,525,4^
turage for cattle and sheep ; and probably much of what
is now covered with wood is capable of cultivation if
cleared. 5 I
The principal mountains belonging to Sweden are Mom*811
those of the elevated chain which divides it from Nor¬
way, and which branch off in a south-easterly direction.
One of the highest of these Swucku. 6
The chief rivers are the Gotha connecting Lake We-Rivers,
ner with the Categat; the Mot ala, forming the outlet
of Lake Weter *, the Dahl rising in the Norwegian
mountains, and flowing through Dalecarlia into the gulf
of Bothnia, and the Tornea forming the north-eastern
boundary, and empting itself into the gulf of Bothnia
at the town of the same name. 7
There are a vast number of lakes in all the provincesLake'’
of Swe den. I he most remarkable are Wener, Weter,
and Maela, on the banks of which last stands the city
of Stockholm. S
The climate and seasons of Sweden nearly resemble
those of the same latitudes in Russia. The winters are rt"d
in most places extremely severe, and the summers short
and sudden. The gulf of Bothnia is generally frozen
over during winter, so as to admit of travellers passing
over into Finland, and East Bothnia. The summer,
though
(a) The map of Sweden is united with that of Denmark and Nomay, in Plate CLXX. The square German
nrile used in this table is equal to 2iTL- square English miles. The tunna of land is equal English acres near¬
ly. The table is taken from Crome’s View of the Powers of Europe, published in German at Leipzig, in 1818.
SWEDE N.
NTa' ial
H;s .7.
trli,
though short, is generally hot, anti seldom cloudy or in-
' constant. In the higher latitudes the sun of’course is seen
in the middle of summer for several days together, and the
nighls of winter are proportionally long. See Lapland.
Much of the natural history of Sweden has been al¬
ready given under the article Lapland. In the more
southern provinces there are found in the forests the
bear, lynx, wolf, beaver, otter, glutton, and flying squir¬
rel. The Swedish horses are commonly small, but spi¬
rited, and are considered as superior to those of Ger¬
many for cavalry. The cattle and sheep are also small ;
goats are scarce, but swine are very numerous. Seals
are found in the gulf of Bothnia; and the lakes and
rivers of Sweden produce pike that are remarkably
large, and which are salted and pickled for exportation.
The forests produce a great variety of game, especially
the large black cock, called in Scotland the cock of the
forest. Among the reptiles the rana bombina, and the
coluber chersea, are considered as almost peculiar to
Sweden.
The chief vegetable productions of Sweden are its
immense forests of pine and fir trees, though the coun¬
try is not destitute of a great variety of shrubs and plants
common to it with Denmark and Russia.
The principal riches of the natural history of Sweden
are to be found in the mineral kingdom. It produces
crystals, amethysts, topazes, porphyry, lapis lazuli,
agate, cornelian, marble, and other fossils. The wealth
of the country, however, arises chiefly from her mines
of silver, copper, lead, and iron. According to Dr
Thomson, who travelled in 1812, there were in Sweden
176 iron mines, which yielded annually about 1,200,000
hundred weights of metal. The annual produce of cop¬
per is about 1000 tons. The mines employ about 50,000
persons, exclusive of the artists who afterwards work up
the metal into various manufactured articles.
There are likewise in Sweden some silver mines, of
which that of Sahlberg is the richest, as well as the
most ancient. It existed so early as 11S8, and during
the whole of the 14th century, it yielded 24,000 marks
of silver per annum. In the 15th century the quantity
was diminished to 20,,000. In the reign of Charles X.
it gave only 2000 ; and it furnishes at present still less,
the ore yielding only one ounce of pure metal per quin¬
tal. The chief gallery, where the purest silver was ob¬
tained, having fallen in, is not yet cleared, notwith¬
standing their incessant labour. They are also digging
pits in a perpendicular direction, in order to arrive at
the principal vein, which extends itself from the north
to the south-east. Formerly lead employed in separating
the metal was imported from England ; but the mine
furnishes at present a sufficient quantity for the purpose.
Hie most remarkable mineral waters in Sweden are
those ofMedewi in East Gothland,
us-' The early history of Sweden is not less involved in
jcer- fable than that of most other nations. Some historians
have pretended to give regular catalogues of the princes
who reigned in Sweden in very early times ; but they
differ so much that no credit can be given to them.
All indeed agree that ancient Scandinavia was first go¬
verned by judges elected for a certain time by the voice
of the people. Among these temporary princes the
country was divided, until, in the year of the world
2054, according to some, or 1951, according to others,
Eric, or, if we believe Piiffendorf, Sueno, was raised to
Vol. XX. Part I. ' f
the supreme power, with the prerogatives of all the
temporary magistrates united in his person for life, or
until his conduct should merit deposition.
From this very early period till the year 1366 of the An. 1366,
Christian era, the histories of Sweden present us with
nothing but what is common to all nations in their ear¬
ly periods, viz. the endless combats of barbarians, tend¬
ing to no other purpose than the effusion of blood. At rt
the time just mentioned, however, Albert of Mecklen-Albert of
burg, having concluded a peace between Sweden and lViec^leo-
Denmark, which had been at violent war for some time 1 ,8-^ec‘al'
ri'i etl tUll'J,
before, was proclaimed king of Sweden. The peace
was of short duration, being broken in 1368 ; on which
Albert entered into an offensive and defensive league
with the earl of Holstein, the Jutland nobility, the dukes
of Sleswick, Mecklenburg, and the Hanse-towns, against j2
the kings of Denmark and Norway. Albert proved War with
very successful against Waldemar king of Denmark at^enma,'k
that time, driving him entirely out of his dominions;5"^ Nor"‘
but he himself was defeated by the king of Norway,' ^*
who laid siege to his capital. Soon after this, a new
treaty was concluded, by which Albert was allowed to
enjoy the crown of Sweden in peace. Having formed
a design however of rendering himself absolute, he so
displeased his subjects that Margaret of Norway was ^
proclaimed queen of Sweden by the malecontents. A Is defeated
war immediately ensued, in which Albert was defeated an.^ taken
and taken prisoner ; but as the princes of Mecklenburg, ^j1ai’0Uel ^
the earls of Holstein, and the Hanse-towns, entered in- 0f NorwaV
to a league in his favour, the war raged with more fury
than ever. ^
At length, in 1394, the contending parties were ie-Set ai ib
conciled. Albert was set at liberty, on condition thatberty.
he should in three years give up to Margaret all pre-^n‘ I394*
tensions to the city of Stockholm ; and the Hanse-towns
engaged to pay the sum of 60,COO marks of silver if Al¬
bert should break that treaty. Not long after this,
Eric the son of Albert died ; and he, having no other
child, did not think it worth his while to contend for
the kingdom of Sweden : he therefore acquiesced in the
pretensions of Margaret, and passed the remainder of
his days at Mecklenburg.
Ma rgaret died in 1415, and was succeeded by Eric Margaret
of Pomerania. This prince’s reign was cruel and op-Is sllcceed-
pressive. The consequence of this was a revolt; and a^nicH*1’
Charles Canutson, grand mareschal of Sweden and go-rant'16 ^
vernor of Finland, having joined the malecontents, was An. 1415.
declared commander in chief of their army. Eric was
now formally deposed : Canutson was chosen regent; but
beginning to oppress the people, and aspiring openly to
the crown, the Swedes and Danes revolted ; in conse¬
quence of which a revolution took place, and Christo¬
pher duke of Bavaria, nephew to Eric, was chosen king
of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, in 1442. ^
On the accession of the new prince, complaints against Charles
Canutson were brought from all quarters ; but through Canutson.
the interest of his friends, he escaped punishment ; and Aa- 144s*
in 1448, Christopher having died after a tyrannical
reign of about five years, he was raised to the throne to
which he had so long aspired. The kingdoms of Den¬
mark and Norway however refused allegiance to him ;
on which a war immediately commenced. In 1454
peace was concluded, and Denmark for the present freed
from the Swedish yoke. Nor did Canutson long enjoy
even the crown of Sweden. .Having quarrelled with the
S magistrates
An. 1510.
'1
Cliristiern
king of
Denmark
invades
Sweden,
but is de-
S W E
magistrates and the archbishop ofUpsal,the latter form¬
ed such a strong party that the king could not resist him.
Canutson died in 1470 after a long and turbulent reign.
The Swedish affairs continued to be involved in dread¬
ful confusion till the year 1520, when a great revolution
was effected by Gustavus Ericson, a nobleman of the
first rank, who restored the kingdom to its liberty, and
laid the foundation of its future grandeur. The occa¬
sion of this great revolution was as follows : In 1518,
Christiern king of Denmark invaded Sweden, with a
design to subdue the, whole country •, but being defeated
with great loss by young Steen Sture, at that time re¬
gent, he set sail for Denmark. But meeting with con-
feated and trary winds, he made several descents on the Swedish
driven out. coast, which he ravaged with all the fury of an incensed
barbarian. The inhabitants, however, bravely defend¬
ed themselves, and Christiern was reduced to the utmost
distress j one half of his forces having perished with
hunger, and the rest being in the most imminent danger
by the approach of a rigorous winter. He then thought
of a stratagem, which had almost proved fatal to the
regent; for having invited him to a conference, at
which he designed either to assassinate or take him pri¬
soner, Sture was about to comply, had not the senate,
who suspected the plot, interposed and prevented him.
Christiern then offered to go in person to Stockholm in
order to confer with Sture, on condition that six host¬
ages should be sent in bis room. This was accordingly
done ; but the wind happening then to prove favour¬
able, lie set sail for Denmark with the hostages, of
whom Gustavus Ericson was one. Next year he re¬
turned ; and having drawn Sture into an ambush, the
regent received a wound of which be died some time af¬
ter. The kingdom being thus left without a head, mat-
whoi'nGus- ters soon came to the most desperate crisis. The army
tavus Eric-disbanded itself; and the senate, instead of taking pro¬
per measures to oppose the enemy, spent their time in
idle debates. Christiern in the mean time advanced in¬
to the heart of the kingdom, destroying every thing
with fire and sword ; but on his arrival at Stragnez, be
granted a suspension of arms, on condition that they
would elect him king. This they accordingly did ;
and Christiern proved one of the most bloody tyrants
that ever sat on the throne of any kingdom. Immedi-
want °0< ^ ate'y after h'8 coronation, he gave grand entertainments
for three days ; during which time he projected the
diabolical design of extirpating at once all the Swedish
nobility, and thus for ever preventing the people, from
revolting, by depriving them of their proper leaders.
As the tyrant had signed articles, by which he promised
indemnity to all who had borne arms against him, it be¬
came necessary to invent some cause of offence against
those whom he intended to destroy. To accomplish his
purpose, Gustavus Troile, formerly archbishop of Upsal,
but who had been degraded from that dignity, in an ora¬
tion before his majesty, lamented the demolition of Stec-
ka, his place of residence, and the losses sustained by
the see of Upsal, amounting to near a million of money.
He then proceeded in a bitter accusation against the
widow arid the son-in-law of Sture the late regent, com¬
prehending in the same accusation about 15 of the prin¬
cipal nobility, the whole senate, and the burghers of
Stockholm. Jn consequence of this, about 60 of the
principal nobility and people of first rank in Sweden
were hanged as traitors. Innumerable other cruelties
D E N.
is
He trea¬
cherously
carries off
si* luist-
a^e*, of
son is one.
Au 1519.
T9
Is chosen
kins, and
proves a
Sweden
were committed ; part of which are owned by the Da¬
nish historians, and minutely related by those of Sweden.
At last he departed for Denmark, ordering gibbets to VaSj°c
he erected, and causing the peasants to be hanged on l(je
them for the slightest oftences. ty, and
This monstrous cruelty, instead of securing him on the caiutij*
throne, exasperated the whole nation against him. It bets to«
has already been mentioned, that Gustavus Ericson, or, ^ected4
as he is commonly called, Gustavus Vasa, was among
the number of the hostages whom Christiern had perfi- u
diously carried to Denmark in 1519. Large promises Advents
had been made in order to reconcile him to Christiern, ^ustii,j
Vasa or 1
and all means had been employed, but in vain. Secret Erjcso-
orders were given to strangle him in prison ; hut the
officer to whom the assassination was committed remon¬
strated to the king about the consequences of it, and
prevailed on him to change the sentence of death into
close confinement in the castle of Copenhagen. Some
of the hostages perished in consequence of the rigorous
treatment they met with ; hut Gustavus withstood all
hardships. At last one Banner, a Danish nobleman,
prevailed on the king to put him into his hands, in or¬
der to try whether or not he could prevail on him to
change his sentiments. The king, however, told Ban¬
ner, that he must pay 6000 crowns if the prisoner should
make his escape. Banner generously consented ; and
having brought the noble prisoner to his fortress of Calo
in Jutland, soon allowed him all the liberty he could
desire, and otherwise heaped favours on him. All this,
however, could not extinguish his remembrance of the
cruelties of Christiern, and the desire he had of being fl
serviceable to his country. He therefore determined tOjjeeJ|
make his escape ; and the liberty he enjoyed soon put from 1)1
him in a capacity of effecting it. Having one day mark. |
mounted his horse, under pretence of hunting as usual
in the forest, when he got at a proper distance, he
changed his dress to the habit of a peasant : and quit¬
ting his horse, travelled for two days on foot through
by-paths, and over mountains almost impassable, arriv¬
ing on the third at Flensburgh. Here.no one was ad¬
mitted without a passport : and Gustavus dreaded pre¬
senting himself to the governor or the officer on guard,
for fear of being discovered. Gustavus hired himself
to a cattle merchant; and in this disguise escaped out
of the Danish territories, and arrived at Lubec. LKbe«
Banner was no sooner acquainted with his escape,
than he set. out after him with the utmost diligence,
found him at Lubec, and reproached him with great
warmth as ungrateful and treacherous ; but he was soon
appeased by the arguments urged by Gustavus, and
especially by a promise of indemnifying him in the loss
oi his ransom. On this Banner returned, giving out
that he could not find his prisoner. Christiern was en¬
raged at his escape, apprehending that he might reverse
all his designs in Sweden ; and gave orders to Otho his
general to make the strictest search, and leave no means
untried to arrest him. Gustavus applied to the regency
for a ship to convey him to Sweden, where he hoped h®
should he able to form a party against the Danes. He
likewise endeavoured to draw the regency of Lubec in-^11*11
in «>
to his measures; and reasoned with so much zeal and^y,
ability, that Nicholas Gemins, first consul, was entirely r€gti
gained ; hut the regency could never be prevailed on Lultf
to declare for a party without friends, arms, money, orts^
credit. Before his departure, however, the consul g»va
* him
0
llerives
it (! mar,
)uUi?ets
n u
able
:cci!.ion,
£
•ends
tfu to
iwi aim.
il;i 1
rden. I1*111 assurances, that if he coulil raise a force- sufficient to
—^ make head against the enemy in the field, he might de¬
pend on the services of the republic, and that the re¬
gency would immediately declare for him. Gustavus
desired to be landed at Stockholm ; but the captain of
the ship, either having secret orders to the contrary, or
business elsewhere, steered a different course, and put
him on shore near Calmar ; a city then garrisoned by
the troops ot Christiana widow of the regent. In fact,
the governor held this place for his own purposes, and
only waited to make the best terms he could with the
Danes, ^hen Gustavos arrived, he made himself
known to him and the principal officers ot the garrison,
who were mostly Germans, and his fellow-soldiers in
avi Ible *-he late administrator’s army j but the mercenary band,
seeing him without troops and without attendants, re¬
garded him as a desperate person devoted to destruc¬
tion, refused to embrace his proposals, and even threat¬
ened to kill or betray him, if he did not instantly quit
the city.
Disappointed in his expectations, Gustavus departed •
and his arrival being now publicly known, be was
again forced to have recourse to bis peasant’s disguise to
conceal bun from the Danish emissaries dispersed over
tiie country to search tor him. In a waggon loaded
with bay be passed through the Danish army, and at
last repaired to an old family castle m Sudermania.
Hence he wrote to his friends, intimating his return
to Sweden, and beseeching them to assemble all their
forego in order to break through the enemy’s ar¬
my into Stockholm, at that time besieged 5 hut they
refused to embark in so hazardous and desperate an at¬
tempt.
in Gustavus next applied himself to the peasants ; but
the they answered, that they enjoyed salt and herrings un-
*• der the government of the king of Denmark ; and that
any attempts to bring about a revolution would be at¬
tended with certain ruin, without the prospect of bet¬
tering their condition; for peasants they were, and pea¬
sants they should remain, whoever was king. At length,
after several attempts to throw himself into Stockholm,
after that city was surrendered to the king, after the
horrid massacre of the senate, and after running a thou¬
sand dangers, and undergoing hardships and fatigues
scarcely to be supported by human nature, he formed
the resolution of trying the courage and affection of
the Dalecarlians. While he was in the deepest obscu¬
rity, and plunged in almost insurmountable adversity, be
never relinquished his designs nor his hopes. The news
‘d the massacre had, however, nearly sunk him into de¬
spondency, as by it he lost alHiis friends, relations, and
connections, and indeed almost every prospect of safety
to himself or deliverance to his country. This suggested
the thought of going to Dalecarlia, where he might
lve 'v’t^ more security in the high mountains and thick
woods of that country, if he should fail in the attempt
of exciting the inhabitants to revolt.
Da! v ttcoded by a peasant, to whom he was known, he
isr kJ'’ xu''* ' ^ 'n disguise through Sudermania, Neric a, and
tyt estermaiiia, and, after a laborious and painful jour-
H?*and ”py> arrived in the mountains of Dalecarlia. Scarcely
°Vo| uj M< !e finished his journey, when he found himself’de-
miii " 1 hy his companion and guide, who carried off
wit 1 him all the money which he had provided for his
suosistence. Thus forlorn and destitute, he entered
SWEDEN.
139
tPp
rail
pea ,1*.
S
Arr • K
among the miners, without relinquishing his hopes Sweden,
of one day ascending the throne of Sweden. His whole —y—
object for the present was to live concealed, and gain a
maintenance, till fortune should effect something in his ^
favour: nor was it long before this happened. A wo-Is discover,
man in the mines perceived, under the habit of a pea-ed andre-
sant, that the collar of his shirt was embroidered. Thisfieve^‘
circumstance excited curiosity; and the graces of his
person and conversation, which had something in them
to attract the notice of the meanest of the vulgar, af¬
forded room for suspicion that he was some person of
quality in disguise, forced by the tyranny of the govern¬
ment to seek shelter in these remote parts. The story
came to the ears of a neighbouring gentleman, who im¬
mediately went to the mines to offer his protection to
the unfortunate stranger ; and was astonished on recog¬
nizing the features of Gustavus, to whom he had been
knovyn at toe university of Upsal. Touched with com¬
passion at the deplorable situation of so distinguished a
nobleman, lie could scarcely refrain' from tears. At
night he sent for Gustavus, made him an offer of his
house, and gave him the strongest assurances of his
friendship and protection. He told him, he would there
meet with better accommodations, and as much security
as in the mines; and that, should he chance to be dis¬
covered, he would, with all his friends and vassals, take
arms in his defence.
I Ins offer was embraced by Gustavus with joy, and
he remained for some time at his friend’s house ; but
finding it impossible to induce him to take part in his
designs, he quitted him, and fled to one Peterson, a
gentleman whom he had formerly known in the ser¬
vice. This man received Gustavus with all the ap¬
pearance of kindness ; and on the very first proposal,
offered to raise his vassals. He even named the lords
and peasants whom he pretended to have engaged in his
service ; hut in a tew days, he went secretly to a Da¬
nish officer, and gave him information of what had pas¬
sed. The officer immediately caused the house to be
surrounded with soldiers, in such a manner that it seem¬
ed impossible for Gustavus to escape. Being warned, Has a^very
by Peterson’s wife of the treachery of her husband, lie,narrow e-
by her direction, contrived to flee to the house of aKCaPefrMI1
clergyman, her friend, by whom he was received withthe Danes'
all the respect due to his birth and merit; and lest
tlie domestic who conducted him should follow the trea¬
cherous example of his master, he removed him to the
church, and conducted him to a small closet, of
which he kept the key. Having lived for some tSie
in this manner, Gustavus began to consult with his
friend concerning the most proper method of putting
their schemes in execution. The priest advised him
to apply directly to the peasants themselves; told him
that it would he proper to spread a report, that the
Danes wei e to enter Dalecailia in order to establish new
taxes by force of arms ; and as the annual feast of all
the neighbouring villages was to be held in a few days,
he could not have a more favourable opportunity : he
also promised to engage the principal persons of the dio¬
cese in his interest.
In compliance with this advice, Gustavus set out for n;g oiLe
^Foia, 'vhei e the feast was to be held. He found the espoused by
peasants already informed of his designs, and impatienttue Pea"
to see him. Being already prepossessed in his favour, ol
they were soon excited to an enthusiasm in his cause’ 1li'ai‘lecai>
Sa and
I40 S W E
Sweden, and instantly resolved to throw off the Danish yoke.
 v—- In this design they were more confirmed by their su¬
perstition ; some of their old men having observed
that the wind had blown from the north while Gusta¬
vos was speaking-, which among them was reckoned an
infallible omen of success. Gustavus did not allow
their ardour to cool, but instantly led them against
the governor’s castle : which he took by assault, and
put the garrison to the sword. This inconsiderable en¬
terprise was attended with the most happy consequences.
Great numbers of the peasants flocked to his standard;
some of the gentry openly espoused his cause, and others
supplied him with money. Christiern was soon inform¬
ed of what had passed ; but despising such an inconsi¬
derable enemy, he sent only a slender detachment to
assist his adherents in Dalecarlia. Gustavus advanced
D E N.
32
The Danes wjth jooo men, and defeated a body of Danes ; but
defeated. jJe was strenuously opposed by the archbishop of Upsal,
3.3
Horrid
ilt
who raised numerous forces lor Christiern. The foi’-
tune of Gustavus, however, still prevailed, and the
archbishop was defeated with great loss. Gustavus
then laid siege to Stockholm ; but his foi'ce being un¬
equal to such an undertaking, he was forced to abandon
it with loss.
This check did not prove in any considerable de¬
gree detrimental to the affairs of pustavus; the pea¬
sants from all parts of the kingdom flocked to his
camp, and he was joined by a reinforcement from
Lubec. Christiern, unable to suppress the revolt,
wreaked his- vengeance on the mother and sisters of
Kuer^Chri Gustavus, whom he put to death. His barbarities ser-
stiern. ved only to make his enemies more resolute. Gustavus
having assembled the states at Wadstena, he was unani¬
mously chosen regent, the diet taking an oath of fide¬
lity to him, and promising to assist him to the utmost.
Having thus obtained the sanction of legal authority,
he pursued his advantages against the Danes. A body
of troops appointed to throw succours into Stockholm
34 were cut in pieces ; and the x'egent sending some troops
Success of jnt0 Finland, struck the Danes there with such terror,
CusUvus. j.|ie arcl]bish0p of Upsal, together with the Danish
governors, fled to Denmark. Christiern then sent ex-
px-ess orders to all his governors and officers in Finland
and Sweden to massacre the Swedish gentx-y without
distinction. The Swedes made reprisals by massacring
all the Danes they could find ; so that the whole coun-
txy was filled with slaughter.
In the mean time Gustavus had laid siege to the
toxyns of Calmai’, Abo, and Stockholm ; hut Norby
found means to oblige him to raise them with loss.
Gustavus, in revenge, laid siege to the capital a third
time, and applied to the regency ol Lubec for a squa¬
dron of ships and other succoux-s for carrying on the
siege. This was granted on condition that Gustavus
should oblige himself, in the name of the states, to pav
60,000 merks of silver as the expence of the armament;
that, until the kingdom should be in a condition to pay
that sum, the Lubec merchants trading to Sweden should
be exempted from all duties on imports or exports; that
all other nations should be prohibited from trading with
Sweden, and that sucii traffic should be deemed illicit ;
that Gustavus should neither conclude a peace, nor even
[agree to a truce, with Denmark, without the concur¬
rence of the regency of Lubec ; and that if the repub¬
lic should be attacked by Christiern, he should enter
Denmark at the head of 20,000 men. On these hard
terms Gustavus obtained assistance from the regency of
Lubec ; nor did his dear-bought allies px-ove very faith¬
ful. They did not indeed go over to the enemy ; but
in a sea-fight, whex-e the Danes were entirely in the
poxver of their enemies, they suffered them to escape,
when their whole force might have been entii-ely de¬
stroyed. This treachery had nearly ruined the affairs
of Gustavus ; for Norby was now making preparations
effectually to relieve Stockholm ; in which he would
probably have succeeded : but at this critical period
news arrived that the Danes had unanimously revolted,
and driven Christiern from the throne ; and that the
king had retired into Germany, in hopes of being re¬
stored by the arms of his brother-in-law the empeioi’.
On hearing this news, Norby retired with his whole
fleet to the island of Gothland, leaving but a slender
garrison in Calmar. Gustavus did not fail to improve
this opportunity to his own advantage, and quickly made
himself master of Calmar. Mean time Stockholm con¬
tinued closely invested ; but Gustavus thought proper
to px’otract the siege till he should get himself elected
king. Having for this purpose called a general diet,
he fix-st filled up the vacancy in the senate occasioned by
the massacres of Christiern. Gustavus had the addi-ess
to get such nominated as were in his interest. The as¬
sembly was no sooner met, than a speech was made,
containing the highest encomiums on Gustavus, setting„
forth in the strongest light the many eminent services hesen|
had done for his country, and concluded that the states Swa
would show themselves equally ungrateful and blind to An
their own interest if they did not immediately elect him
king. This proposal was acceded to by such tumultuous
acclamations that it was impossible to collect the votes;
so that Gustavus himself acknowledged, that their af¬
fection exceeded his merit, and was more agreeable to him
than the effects of their gratitude. He was ui-ged to
have the ceremony of his coronation immediately per¬
formed : but this he delayed, in consequence of some
designs which he had formed to reduce the exorbitant
power of the clergy. Gustavus had himself embraced
the doctrines of the reformed x eligion, and did all in his
power to establish the reformation in his new kingdom.
His design could not fail to raise against him the enmitv
of the clergy, and of all the more supertitious part of
his subjects. Accordingly, the first years of his reign
were, embittered by internal disturbances and revolts,
which were aided and fomented by the deposed Chris¬
tiern, who was at one time very near regaining posses¬
sion of the Swedish dominions. I|
Christiern having established a poxverful interest in Unsiitjfc
Norway, once more made an attempt to recover hisfulatll
kingdoms, and was joined by the Dalecarlians ; but be-ofCllf[#
ing defeated by the Swedish forces, he was forced toein‘
return to Norway, whei’e, being obliged to capitulate
with the Danish genei'als, he was kept prisoner all his
life. J|
In 1542, Gustavus having happily exti icated himselfUnsw|
out ol all his troubles, prevailed on the states to makeful
the crown hereditary in his family; after which he ap-
tiatioi
a mar
plied himself to the encouragement of learning and com-^jti,(|
merce. A tx eaty was set on foot for a marriage between alizM
his eldest son Erie and Elizabeth queen of England ; An. m
but this negotiation failed of success.
Gustavus Vasa died in 1560, and was succeeded by
his
;8
l?US
den.
;5c.
bro-
ohn,
id
wn
leu,
90.
S W E
Ills son Eric XIV. The new king was possessed of all
the exterior ornaments which gave an air of dignity to
the person ; but. he had neither the prudence nor the pe¬
netration of his father. He created the first nobility that
were ever known in Sweden 5 hut this he had no sooner
done than he quarrelled with them, by passing some act,
which they thought derogatory to their honour and dig¬
nity. The whole course of his reign was disturbed by
wars with Denmark, and disputes with his own subjects.
In the former he rvas unfortunate, and towards the latter
he behaved with the greatest cruelty. At last, he is said
to have become mad. He afterwards recovered his sen-
and ses, but was soon dethroned by his brothers : of whom
ded Duke John succeeded him in the kingdom.
This revolution took place in the year 1568, but
with no great advantage to Sweden. Disputes about
religion between the king and his brothers, and wars
with Russia, threw matters into the utmost confusion.
Si- At last Prince Sigismund, the king’s son, was chosen
king of Poland, which proved the source of much trouble
Jj^to the kingdom. In 1590 King John died ; and as Si-
6?. gismund was at a distance, every thing fell into the ut¬
most confusion : the treasury rvas plundered, and the
dstoroyal wardrobe quite spoiled, before even Duke Charles
could come to Stockholm to take on himself the admi¬
nistration until King Sigismund should return. This,
however, was far from being the greatest disaster which
befel the nation at this tiqie. It w7as known that the
king had embraced the Popish religion, and it was with
good reason suspected that he would attempt to restore it
upon his arrival in Sweden. Sigismund was also obliged,
on leaving Poland, to promise that he would stay no
longer in Sweden than was necessary to regulate his
affairs. These circumstances served to alienate the minds
of the Swedes from their sovereign even before they
saw him ; and the universal dissatisfaction was increased,
by seeing him attended on his arrival in Sweden in 1593,
by the pope’s nuncio, to whom he made a present of
30,000 ducats to defray the expences of his journey to
Sweden.
What the people had foreseen was too well verified :
the king refused to confirm the Protestants in their reli¬
gious privileges, and showed such partiality on all occa¬
sions to the Papists, that a party was formed against him j
at the head of which was Duke Charles his uncle. Re¬
monstrances, accompanied with threats, took place on
both sides. Sigismund was apparently reconciled to his
brother, and promised to comply with the inclinations of
the people, though without any inclination to perform
what he had promised. The agreement, indeed, was
scarcely made, before Sigismund conceived the horrid
de-design of murdering his uncle at the Italian comedy
' acted the night after his coronation. The duke, how¬
ever, having notice of the plot, found means to avoid it.
Th is enraged the king so much, that he had resolved to
accomplish his designs hy force ; and therefore com¬
manded a Polish army to march towards the frontiers
ol Sweden, where they committed all the ravages that
could be expected from an enraged and cruel enemy.
Complaints were made by the Protestant clergy to the
senate: but no other reply was made them, than that
they should abstain from those bitter invectives and re¬
proaches, which had provoked the Catholics, till the
king’s departure j at which time they would be at more
liberty.
DEN. 141
In 1595 Sigismund set sail for Dantzic, leaving the Swcdcu.
administration in the hands of Duke Charles. The con-'- y 1
sequence of this was, that the dissensions which had al¬
ready taken place being continually increased by the ob¬
stinacy of the king, Duke Charles assumed the sovereign
power j audio 1604 Sigismund was formally deposed, sigisnmnd
and bis uncle Charles IX. raised to the throne. He pro- deposed,
ved a wise and brave prince, restoring the tranquillity ofanc* issl|c-
the kingdom, and carrying on a war with vigour against
Poland and Denmark. He died in 1611, leaving the Ann, 1604."
kingdom to his son, the celebrated Gustavus Adolphus. ^
Though Charles IX. by his wise and vigorous con-State of
duct had in a great measure retrieved the affairs of Swe-Svveden on
den, they werestill in a very bad situation. The fin an- t!le acces-
ces of the kingdom were entirely drained by a series of c^t^-us
wars and revolutions-, powerful armies were preparing in Adolphus.
Denmark, Poland, and Russia, while not only the Swe-An. i6ix.
dish troops were inferior in number to their enemies,
but the government W'as destitute of resources for their
payment.
Though the Swedish laws required that the prince
should have attained his 18th year before be was of age, 46
yet such striking marks of the great qualities of Gusta- He >s al-
vus appeared, that he was allowed by the states to takelovvei*to,
on him the administration even before this early period,
His first act was to resume all the crown-grants, that hetion while
might be the better able to carry on the wars in which yet a mi-
he was engaged; and to fill all places, both civil and1101’-
military, with persons of merit. At the head of domes¬
tic and foreign affairs was placed Chancellor Oxenstiern,
a person every way equal to the important trust, and the
choosing of whom impressed Europe with the highest
opinion of the young monarch’s penetration and capa-
city.
Soon after his accession, Gustavus received an embassy
from James I. of Britain, exhorting him to make peace
with his neighbours. This was seconded by another
from Holland. But as the king perceived that the Da¬
nish monarch intended to take every opportunity of
crushing him, he resolved to act with such vigour, as '
might convince him that he was not easily to be over- 47
come. Accordingly he invaded Denmark with three dif-He invades
ferent armies at once ; and though the enemy’s superi- Denmark
ority at sea gave them great advantages, and the num-
ber of the king’s enemies distracted bis attention, he car- conclude a
ried on the war with such spirit, that in 1613 a peacepeace.
was concluded on good terms. This war being finished,
the king applied himself to civil polity, and made some
reformation in the laws of Sweden. In 1615, hostilities
were commenced against Russia, on account of the lefu-
sal of that court to restore some money which had been
formerly lent them. The king entered Ingria, took Russia i»-
Kexholm by storm, and was laying siege to Plescov, vac*ed with
when, by the mediation of James 1. peace was conclu-success*
ded, on condition of the Russians repaying the money,
and yielding to Sweden some part of their territory. In
this and the former war, notwithstanding the shortness
of their duration, Gustavus learned the rudiments of the Extl^9mi 5
military art for which he soon became so famous. He muy
is said, indeed, to have taken every opportunity of im-tarv genius-
provement with a quickness of understanding seeming-ot the king,
ly more than human. In one campaign, he not only
learned, but improved all the military maxims of La
Gardie, a celebrated general, brought the Swedish army
to a more steady and regular disciple, and formed an
invincible.
S W E
invincible body of Finlanders, who had afterwards a
very considerable share in the victories of Sweden.
Peace was no sooner concluded with Russia, than
Gustavus was crowned with great solemnity at Upsal.
Soon after this he ordered his general Fa Gardie to ac¬
quaint the Polish commander Codekowitz, that as the
truce between the two kingdoms, which had been con¬
cluded for two years, was now expired, he desired to be
certainly informed whether he was to expect peace or
war from his master. In the mean time, having bor-
witli the
king of
Denmark,
and pre¬
pares for
war with
Poland.
5°
Has a
ter view U1 vowed money of the Dutch for the redemption of a town
from Denmark, he had an interview on the frontiers
with Christiern the king of that country. At this in¬
terview, the two monarchs conceived the utmost esteem
and friendship for each other*, and Gustavus obtained a
promise, that Christiern would not assist Sigismund in
any design he might have against Sweden. In the mean
time, receiving no satisfactory answer from Poland, Gu¬
stavus began to prepare for war. Sigismund entered
into a negociation, and made some pretended concessions,
Avith a view to seize Gustavus by treachery, but the lat¬
ter having intimation of his design, the whole negocia¬
tion was changed into reproaches and threats on the part
of Gustayus.
Immediately after this, Gustavus made a tour in dis-
dau-dner’offfu’se through Germany, and married Eleonora the
the elector daughter of the elector of Brandenburg. He then re-
of Bramlen-solved to enter heartily into a war with Poland j and
with this view set sail for Riga with a great fleet, which
carried 20,000 men. The place was well fortified, and
52 defended by a body of veterans enthusiastically attached
to Sigismund j but after a vigorous siege, the garrison
51
Marries
.Eleonora,
Riga bc-
tSui! and being veduced to extremity, were obliged to capitulate,
and were treated with great clemency.
After the reduction oi Riga, the Swedish monarch
entered Courland, where he reduced Mittauj but ceded
it again on the conclusion of a truce for one year. Si-
gismund, however, no sooner had time to recover him¬
self, than he began to form new enterprises against the
Swedes in Prussia ; but Gustavos setting sail with bis
whole fleet for Dantzic, where the king of Poland then
resided, so defeated his measures, that he was obliged
to prolong the truce for another year. Sigismund, how¬
ever, was not yet apprised of his danger, and refused to
53
The Poles listen to any terms of accommodation : on which Gusta
and'several VUS enter*nS Livonia, defeated the Polish general, and
places
taken.
54
The Poles
again de¬
towns re¬
duced by
.flustavus.
DEN.
a cannon-shot. TIis States of Holland sent ambassadors Swer,; i«
to mediate a peace between the two crowns 5 but Sigis- 1
mund, depending on the assistance of the emperor of 5.
Germany and king of Spain, determined to hearken to
no terms, and resolved to make a winter campaign,
Gustavus, however, was so well intrenched, and all his An. :
forts were so strongly garrisoned, that the utmost efforts
of the Poles were to no purpose. The city of Dantzic
in the mean time made such a desperate resistance as jf j
greatly irritated Gustavus. In a sea engagement the The h!
Swedish fleet defeated that of the enemy *, alter which ^tiea '
Gustavus, having blocked up the harbour with his
pushed his advances on the land side with incredible vi-iavc,te;
gour. He made a surprising march over a morass 15
miles broad, assisted by bridges of a peculiar construc¬
tion, over which lie carried a species of light cannon in¬
vented by himself. By this unexpected manoeuvre he
got the command of the city in such a manner, that the
garrison were on the point of surrendering, when, by a „
sudden swell of the Vistula, the Swedish works were The Vi
ruined, and the king was obliged to raise the siege. Lyhliged
other respects, however, the affairs of Gustavus went on'.
r ’ ’ tion of
with their usual good fortune. His general Wrangel vjsy,
defeated the Poles before Brodnitz. At Stum the king raise ti
gained another and more considerable victory in person, siege.
The emperor had sent 5000 foot and 2000 horse under^
Arnheim, who joined the main army commanded byan(j q !
the Polish general Coniecspolski, in order to attack the maim
Swedish army encamped at Quidzin. The enemy were 1’eated
so much superior in number, that the friends of Gusta-Sreat jL
vus warmly dissuaded him from attacking them. But
the king being determined, the engagement began, ®
The Swedish cavalry charged with such impetuosity,
took Derpt, Hockenhausen, and several other places of
less importance; after which, entering Lithuania, he
took the city of Birsen.
Not withstanding this success, Gustavus proposed peace
on the same equitable terms as before; but Sigismund
was still imatnated with the hopes that, by means of the
emperor of Germany, he should he able to conquer
Sweden. Gustavus finding him inflexible, resolved to
push his good fortune. His generals Horn and Thurn
feated and tle/eatel1 tllf; li<)les Semigallia. Gustavus himself
a^great*11'1 I-5° S^'PS set sa‘' ^or Prussia, where he landed at
number of ^ illaw. I ins place was immediately delivered up to
him ; as were several other places. Sigismund, alarmed
at the great progress, of Gustavus, sent a body of forces
to oppose him, and to prevent Dantzic from falling in¬
to his hands. In this he was attended with as little suc¬
cess as before; and in May 1627, Gustavus arrived with
fresh forces before Dantzic, which he would probably
diave carried, had he not been wounded in the belly by
4
contrary to their sovereign’s express order, that they
were almost surrounded by the enemy ; but Gustavus,
coming up to their assistance, pushed vhe enemy’s infan¬
try with so much vigour, that they gave way, and re¬
treated to a bridge that had been thrown over the Wer- (ill
der. But here they were disappointed ; for the Swedes w
had already taken possession of the bridge. On this a
new action ensued more bloody than the former, in Lk
which the king was exposed to great danger, and thrice |Uj
narrowly escaped being taken prisoner; but at last the ^
Poles were totally defeated, with immense loss. The
slaughter of the German auxiliaries was so great, that
Arnheim scarcely carried oft one hall of the troops
which he brought into the field. This defeat did not
hinder the Polish general from attempting the siege of
Stum; but here again he was attended by his usual bad t.
fortune. Arnheim was recalled, and succeeded by They s'
Henry of Saxe Lawenburg and Philip Count M a nsf V1 d t. again iff
1 he change of general officers, however, produced no*eale^w
good consequences to the Poles ; a famine and plague oi)se^
raged in their camp, so that they were at last obliged auUc( J'tl
to consent to a truce for six years, to expire in the six ^
month of June 1635. Gustavus kept the port and ci- ^
tadel of Memel, the harbour of Pillau, the town of El-
bing, Brunsberg, and all that he had conquered in Li¬
vonia. <0
Gustavus having thus brought the war with PolandGusf‘(^
to an honourable conclusion, began to think of resenting1^0.
the conduct of the emperor in assisting his enemies andt|je
oppressing the Protestant states. Before embarking inror.
such an important undertaking, it was necessary that he
should consult the diet. In this the propriety of enga-
ging
S W E
S^iJen. sing in a war with Germany was warmly debated j but,
r—^ after much altercation, Gustavus in a very noble speech
determined the matter, and set forth in such strong
terms the virtuous motives by which he was actuated,
that the whole assembly wept, and every thing was
granted which he could require.
It was not difficult for Gustavus to begin his expedi¬
tion. His troops amounted to 60,000 men, hardened
bv a succession of severe campaigns in Russia, Finland,
Livonia, and Prussia. His fleet exceeded 70 sail, car¬
rying from 20 to 40 guns, and manned with 6000 sea¬
men. Embarking his troops, he landed at Usedom on
1 the 24th of June 1630, the Imperialists having evacua-
re<les ted all the fortresses which they possessed there j and the
te* &c °f ^uSen had been before reduced by General Lesly,
tiatjjo. iu order to secure a retreat if fortune should prove un¬
favourable. Passing the frith, Gustavus stormed Wol-
gast and another strong fortress in the neighbourhood,
leaving a garrison for the defence of these conquests.
He then proceeded to Stetin ; which consented to re¬
ceive a Swedish garrison, and the king persuaded the
duke of Ponrerania to enter into an alliance with him.
In consequence of this the Swedish troops were received
into several towns of Pomerania j and the most bitter
enmity took place between the Imperialists and Pome¬
ranians.
These successes of Gustavus struck the empire with
consternation j for being already overwhelmed with ci-
vil dissensions, they were in no condition to resist so im-
ounTil- petuous an enemy. At last Count Tilly was invested
cllen with the dignity of veldt marischal. In the mean
en".l by tjme t|,e king being reinforced by a considerable body
“fPe' 0f troops in Finland and Livonia under the conduct of
Gustavus Horn, defeated the Imperialists before Grif-
fenhagen ; taking the place soon after by assault. By
this and some other conquests he opened a passage into
Lusatia and Silesia ; but in the mean time Count Tilly
uts f cut off 2000 Swedes at New Brandenburg. This ad-
3oc vantage, however, was soon overbalanced by the con-
W( - quest of Franckfort on the Oder, which Gustavus took
wfort ^ assailIC making the whole garrison prisoners. Thus
id. nd Jie commanded the rivers Elbe and Oder on both sides,
:rg ken and had a fair passage not only to the countries already
'Qka- mentioned, but also to Saxony and the hereditary domi¬
nions of the house of Austria. Soon after this, Gusta¬
vus laid siege to Landsberg, which he took by as¬
sault.
About this time the Protestant princes held a diet at
Leipsic •, to which Gustavus sent deputies, and conduct¬
ed his negociations with such address, as tended greatly
1^ to promote his interests. Immediately after this he re-
am'^i^duced Gripswald, and with it all Pomerania. Then
id 1 ’ marching to Gustrow, he restored the dukes of Meck-
0,e he lenhurg to their dominions.
All this time Count Tilly was employed in the siege
of Magdeburg ; but now, being alarmed at the repeat¬
ed successes of the Swedes, he left Pappenheim with
part of the army before that city, while he marched
jn with the rest into Thuringia, to attack the landgrave of
agi iurg Hesse Cassel and the elector of Saxony. After a most
^ y obstinate defence, Magdeburg fell into the bands of
^ ^ Pappenheim, who committed there all imaginable cruel-
e-ii ibi- t‘es* Gustavus formed a plan of recovering the city j
»ts ud.but was obliged to abandon it, by Pappenbeim’s tbrovv-
*M ing himself into the place with his whole army, and by
D E N. 143
the progress which Tilly was making in Thuringia. Sweden.
Relinquising this enterprise, therefore, he ordered an v
attack on Havelsburg; which was done with such reso- 67
lution, that the place was forced in a few hours, and an(i \ycv.
all the garrison made prisoners. Werben was next obli-i,en re-
ged to submit after an obstinate conflict, in which manyduced, and
fell on both sides.—These successes obliged Count Tilly t^e cavaky
to attempt in person to check the prostress of the Swedes.
A 1 A ” nenaiists
He detached the vanguard of bis army, composed of the 4efealetj
flower of the Imperial cavalry, within a few miles of by the
the Swedish camp. An action ensued, in which Bern-Swede«.
stein the Imperial general Was defeated and killed, with
1500 of his men. Gustavus, after this advantage, pla¬
ced himself ill a situation so much superior to his ene¬
mies, that Count Tilly was fired with indignation, and
marched up to the Swedish lines to give him battle.
Gustavus kept within his works, and Tilly attacked bis
camp,' though almost impregnably fortified, keeping up
a most terrible fire from a battery of 32 pieces of can¬
non ; which, however, produced no other effect, than
obliging the Swedish monarch to draw up his army be- ^
hind the walls of Werben. Tilly had placed his chiefc01]nt xil-
hopes in being able to spike the enemy’s cannon, or set ly defeated
fire to their camp; after which he proposed making his by Gusta-
grand attack. With this view he bribed some prison-vus‘
ers •, but they betrayed him, and told his design to Gu¬
stavus. The king ordered fires to be lighted in differ¬
ent parts of his camp, and his soldiers to imitate the
noise of a tumultuous disorderly rabble. This had the
desired effect. The count led bis army to the breach
made by the cannon ; where he was received with such
a volley of grape shot as cut off the first line, and put
the whole body in disorder, so that they could never'be
brought back to the charge. In this confusion the Im¬
perial army was attacked, and after an obstinate con¬
flict obliged to quit the field.
Soon after this action the queen arrived at the camp
with a reinforcement of 8000 men ; at the same time a
treaty was concluded with Charles I. of England, by ^ body »f
which that monarch allowed the marquis of Hamilton to British sol-
raise 6000 men for the service of Gusta vus'. These auxi- diers comcs-
liaries were to be conducted to the main army by a body t^’e a*"
of 4000 Swedes •, and were in every thing to obey thetl^*
king while he was personally present, but in his absence Swedes,
were to be subject to tbe orders of the marquis. With
these troops the king had resolved to make a diversion
in Bremen : but tbe marquis finding it impossible to ef¬
fect a junction with the Swedish army, resolved, with¬
out debarking his troops, to steer bis course for the
Oder, and land at Usedom. Gustavos was very much
displeased at finding his project thus disconcerted j but,
making the best of the present circumstances, he com¬
manded the British troops to act on the Oder instead of
the Weser. The number of this little army was mag¬
nified exceedingly by report, insomuch that Count Tilly
had some thoughts of marching against them with his
whole force ; but on tbe departure of tbe marquis for
Silesia, he reinforced the army in that country with a
large detachment, which was thought to contribute not
a little to the defeat he soon after received.
Since the late action Gustavus had kept within his
intrenchments, where his army was Avell provided with
every thing. Tilly made several attempts to surprise or
draw him to an engagement ; but finding all his endea¬
vours fruitless, he marched into Saxony, and* laid siege
te
144
S W E
Sweden, to Leipslc. This precipitate measure proved highly ad-
1 —~ yantageous to the Swedish monarch. A treaty oll’ensive
and defensive was immediately concluded with Gustavos:
70 and the elector willingly promised every thing that was
Saxony ra- required of him. Tilly, in the mean time, carried fire
Count Til an^ sword into the electorate. At the head of an army
]y who °f 44,000 veterans, he summoned the city of Leipsic to
takes Lcip- surrender ; denouncing the same vengeance against it as
71
Battle of
ILeipsic.
An. 1631
7*
great
slaughter.
73
say.
DEN,
his reputation
S’.VL'i -
Wallestein, an old experienced officer,
was selected *, but as he had formerly been disgraced, it
was apprehended that he would not accept of the com¬
mand of which he had once been deprived. This objec-^, a"c-
tion, however, was got ever ; and Wallestein not only ]lei.aj",
accepted of the command, but, at his own ex pence, emperu
augmented the army to 40,000 men
had been executed on Madgebnrg, in case of a refusal.
Ey this the governor was so much intimidated, that he
instantly submitted ; and also surrendered the castle of
Passenberg, which was in a condition to have stood out
till the arrival of the Swedish army. The elector, en¬
raged at the loss of these valuable places, ordered his
army to join the-Swedes with all expedition, and pressed
the king so warmly to engage, that at last he yielded to
his desire. On the 7th of September 1631, Gustavos
led out his army in the finest order, the Swedes forming
one column on the right,-and the Saxons another on the
left} each amounting to 15,000 men. Tilly drew up
his men in one vast column, probably with a view of
surrounding the flanks of the king’s army. Gustavus
led on his troops against that wing of the Imperialists
commanded by Pappenheim, whom he drove back to
a considerable distance. General Bannier in the mean
time cut in pieces the troops of Holstein, and mortally
wounded the duke who commanded them. Pappenheim
led on his troops seven times to the charge, but was as
often repulsed by the Swedes. Tilly all this while was
engaged with the Saxons j- but having at last driven them
oft'the field, the whole strength of the Imperial army
was turned against the Svvedish left wing. The Swedes
sustained the attack with the greatest firmness, until the
king detached the centre to assist them. The imperial¬
ists then were no longer able to stand their ground ; but
gave way everywhere except in the centre, which was
composed of 18 regiments of veterans accustomed to vic-
The lmpe- tory, and deemed invincible. They made incredible
rialist de- efforts to maintain their reputation j and, though swept
feated with 0ff In great numbers by the Swedish artillery, never
shrunk or fell into confusion. Pour regiments, after
their officers had been killed, formed themselves, and
retired to the skirt of a wood. Tilly retired at the head
of 600 men, and escaped by the coming on of the night.
Seven thousand Imperialists lay dead on the field of bat¬
tle; 4000 were taken prisoners ; a fine train of artillery
was lost, with upwards of Too standards, ensigns, and
other military trophies.
Gustavus now determined to penetrate into Fran¬
conia, where he reduced several places, especially the
fortress of Workburg. Tilly having collected his scat-
The Swedes tered troops, which formed an army still superior in
take a nuin-numj3ei. to t|iat 0jp Gustavus, marched to the relief of
towns and P^ace > came too late. He, then directed his
cut off four march towards Ilottenberg, where four regiments were
regiments cut in pieces by a Swedish detachment. After this the
of the ene-reduced Hanau, Frankfort on the Maine, and
During the whole winter the Swedish army kept the ^
. tlie Swd
76
Mentz ; destroying a body of Spaniards, who had at¬
tempted to obstruct his passage.
The court of Vienna was now thrown into the utmost
confusion ; and sent everywhere begging assistance, and
soliciting the Catholic princes to arm in defence of their
religion. The emperor was most embarrassed in finding
out a general capable of opposing Gustavus in the field;
for the late misfortunes of Count Tilly had entirely sunk
field ; and before the approach of summer had reduced numbe"
a great number of places, while the landgrave William towns
made great progress in Westphalia. Gustavus Horn was ta*iCn .
yepulsed before Bamberg ; but soon had his revenge, by
entirely destroying two regiments of Imperialists. To
prevent the troops from being affected by the loss before
Bamberg the king resolved to give battle to Tilly,
who was marching into Bavaria to prevent the Swedes
frdm gaining a footing in that electorate. He pursued
the Imperial general through a vast tract of country,
defeated his rear-guard, and, having reduced a variety
of towns and fortresses on the Danube, penetrated as far
as Ulm. Advancing to the river Leek, Count Tilly Count if
posted himself in a wood on the opposite side, to disputed defeat
his passage. Gustavus endeavoured to dislodge him byandkil
a regular fire from 70 pieces of cannon. The slaughter
was dreadful ; and 'filly himself, being wounded by a
cannon ball in the knee, died a few days before he was
to have been superseded by Wallestein. The following
night the Imperial army evacuated the post. Gustavus
immediately crossed the river, and seized the towns of
Rain and Newbufg, which the enemy had abandoned,
and Augsburg next submitted.
From Augsburg the Swedes advanced towards Ratis-
bon ; but were disappointed in their design of getting
possession ol that city, as the Bavarians had thrown a
numerous garrison into the place.—In the mean time,
ambassadors arrived from Denmark, offering the media¬
tion ol that crown for obtaining a lasting peace between
the contending parties. This negociation, however,
failed of success, as the ambassadors had not been instruc- m j
ted to offer terms favourable to the Protestants. Gusta- Three I
vus now resolving to retort on themselves the cruelties towns 1<
which the Bavarians had inflicted on the Protestants,in ashts!
laid the towns of Morzbourg, Friesengen, and Land-^10®*!
shut, in ashes. I he inhabitants of Munich saved them¬
selves by submission ; Gustavus also defeated the forces
of the elector, who had been joined by a considerable
body of militia.
While Gustavus was thus employed, Wallestein had
assembled a vast army. He was strongly solicited by
the elector of Bavaria to come to his assistance ; but, in
revenge of the elector’s having formerly obtained the
command lor Count Tilly in preference to himself, he
drew off towards Bohemia to encounter the Saxons.
Arnheim, who commanded the Saxon forces in that
place, was an enemy to Gustavus, who had formerly
rallied him for his cowardice. He therefore permitted TheW \
Wallestein to gain an easy victory, in hopes that his troops<i( %
7S
master, the elector of Saxony, a prince entirely devotedl
to his pleasures, might be induced to relinquish the
friendship of such a restless and warlike ally as Gustavus;
and indeed he used all the eloquence of which he was
master to detach him from the Swedish cause. Several
advantages in the mean time, were gained by the Im¬
perialists. Pappenheim defeated the archbishop of Bre¬
men’s cavalry at Werden ; and three Swedish regiments
were
79
i.avus
Lks his
I), and
pulsed
• loss.
So
Hsie of
Li:n,
s;
S W E
reden. were cut olY near Ivadingen. Pappenheim, however,
-V ' was forced to retire, and withdraw his forces from Stade;
of which the Swedes took possession. Wallestein and
the elector of Bavaria, who had now joined their forces,
threatened Gustavus with greatly superior numbers. At
last, however, the king, being reinforced with 15,000
men, no longer declined the engagement; but Walles¬
tein was too wise to trust the fate of the empire to a
single battle against such an enemy as the king of Swe- .
den. Gustavus attacked his camp, but was repulsed
with the loss of 2000 men. Several other misfortunes
happened to the Swedes ; and at last, after various
manoeuvres, Wallestein bent his course towards Misnia,
in order to oblige the elector of Saxony to declare against
the Swedes, and to draw them out of Bavaria. Gusta¬
vus, notwithstanding the inconstancy of Augustus, im¬
mediately set out to assist him. With incredible dili¬
gence he marched to Misnia, where the Imperialists
were assembling their whole strength. Hearing that
the enemy were encamped at Wesenfells, and that Pap¬
penheim had been detached with a strong corps, Gusta¬
vus resolved to engage them before they could elfect a
junction. With this view he marched to Lutzen, where
he attacked Wallestein with incredible fury. The Swe¬
dish infantry broke the Imperialists in spite of their ut¬
most efforts, and took all their artillery. The cavalry
not being able to pass the river so expeditiously as the
king thought necessary, he led the way, attended only
by a single regiment and the duke of Saxe Lauwenburg,
Here, after charging impetuously, he was killed. The
news of his death was in an instant spread over both ar¬
mies. The courage of the Imperialists revived, and they
now made themselves sure of victory. But the Swedes,
eager to revenge the death of their beloved monarch,
charged with such fury that nothing could resist them.
The Imperialists were defeated a second time, just as
Pappenheim, with his fresh corps, came up to their as¬
sistance. On this the battle was renewed, but the
Swedes were still irresistible. Pappenheim was mortal¬
ly wounded, and his army finally routed, with the loss
ol 9000 killed in the field and in the pursuit.
This victory proved more unfortunate to Sweden than
the greatest defeat. The crown devolved on Christina
the daughter of Gustavus, an infant of six years old ;
the nation was engaged in an expensive foreign war,
without any person equal to the arduous task of com¬
manding the armies, or regulating domestic affairs, as
Gustavus had done. Christina was immediately pro¬
claimed queen. The regency devolved on the grand
bailiff, the marischal, the high admiral, the chancellor,
and the treasurer of the crown. Oxenstiern was inves¬
ted with the chief management of affairs, and conducted
himself with the greatest prudence. The reign and
character of Christina have been fully detailed under the
article Christina, to which we may refer our readers.
from the treaty of Westphalia, Sweden enjoyed some
years of repose. Charles Gustavus, Count Palatine,
having gained the favour of Christina, was appointed
generalissimo of the forces, and heir-apparent to the
crown. A marriage was proposed between them ; but
tbe queen would never listen to this or any other propo¬
sal of the kind. In 16 50, the ceremony of the queen’s
i4 coronation was performed ; but in four years after, siie
resigned the crown in favour of Gustavus. (See the
article Christina),
^ ol. XX. Part I. f
h
57: npe-
ria s to¬
tal Je-
lea :|,
;3
Chi ina,
in ant,
hoi imed
lue of
>WI ;a.
'ha: s
2as .ns
lPP' ted
ieu|«i the
HOI ot
Swi n.
In.
D E N. 145
The new king found himself involved in considerable Sweden,
difficulties on his accession to the throne. The treasury ' sr- •
was quite exhaused $ great part of the revenue was ap- state of
pointed for the support of Christina’s household 3 the Sweden on
people were oppressed with taxes; and the nation having the aeces-
been disarmed for several years, began to lose its reputa-^'1 ,ot ^
tion among foreigners. To remedy these evils, Charles
proposed to resume all the crown lands which had been
alienated by grants to favourites during the late reign 3
to repeal a duty which had been laid on salt; to put the
kingdom in a posture of defence 3 and to enter on a war S6
with some neighbouring state. Under a pretence thatWarw,t}l
— - - - - - — Poland re
solved on,
Casimir king of Poland had questioned bis title to the ^ oialld 1C~
throne, he prepared to invade that kingdom. Several
embassies were sent from Poland to Stockholm 3 but
some point of ceremony always disappointed them of an
audience of the king ; so that they were obliged to re¬
turn without their errand. As soon as matters were in
readiness, General Wittemberg made an irrnption into
Poland f rom the side of Pomerania. The Poles opposed
him with an army of 15,000 men ; but instead of fight¬
ing, they began to negociate, and in a short time en¬
tirely dispersed. Charles himself soon followed with a
powerful army, and pursued his march without obstruc¬
tion, all the cities throwing open their gates to him as
he approached. As he advanced to Cracow, Casimir
resolved to make one effort to save his capital. His^,
army amounted only to 10,000 men 3 and these were defeated,
unfortunately such as had never stood fire. After a and the’
feeble resistance, they fled with precipitation, having lost
1000 men killed and taken prisoners. A few days after re(*aced‘
this Charles defeated the Poles a second time, about
eight leagues from Cracow 3 on which Casimir fled with
his family to Oppelen in Silesia. The capital was then,
invested 3 and though defended with the utmost v?dour,
was in a short time obliged to capitulate. Thus in less
than three months Charles apparently became master
of Poland 3 but it was soon evident that the Poles had
no intention of abandoning their former sovereign. ^
In 1656, a war took place with the elector of Bran-War with
denhurg. While Charles was employed in the con-the elector
quest of Poland, that prince had invaded Royal and Du- ot Bl'an-
cal Prussia, and reduced the most considerable towns
with little opposition. The king of Sweden took urn- " 5 *
brage at his progress 3 and having marched against
him, defeated his forces in several slight encounters, and
obliged him to acknowledge himself a vassal of Sweden.
These rapid conquests alarmed all Europe ; and the
different powers sought for means of driving the Swedes
out of Poland, which they bad so unexpectedly and un¬
justly seized. The Poles were no sooner assured that s9
they should be assisted, than they every where revolted T*'e.*J°,es*
and massacred the Swedes. Casimir returned from Sile-lCV° '
sia ; and those very troops and generals who had before
submitted to Charles without, opposition, now ranged 9o
themselves under the banners of his antagonist. Charles Charles
immediately marched from Prussia to chastise the inso-gains a v!c*
lence of the Poles, and totally defeated a body of ^'I'.ed to*
12,000 men. This did not hinder all the Poles incor-retire.
porated with his troops to desert 3 which considerably
reduced his army 3 and the campaign being performed
in the depth of winter, he was at last obliged to retreat
to Prussia. In his march he was harassed by the Poles;
and a body of 4000 Swedes was surprised and defeated
by them at Warka. This loss, however, was soon alter
1' recompensed
146
Sweden
SWEDE N.
91
Concludes
a treaty
•with the
with great
slaughter.
recompensed by a complete victory gained by Adolphus
the king’s brother and General Wrangel. In the mean
time the king was taking measures for laying siege to
Dantzic j but was prevented by the Dutch, who threat¬
ened to oppose him, unless a proper regard was paid to
their interest, Charles accordingly granted them ad¬
vantageous terms ; and afterwards gained over the
Dutch and elect°r c'l Brandenburg, by ceding to him the sovereign-
t,he elector ty of Prussia, that he might be at liberty to turn his
of Bran den- whole strength against Poland.
kl,l£* By the treaty just concluded with the elector, the
latter was to assist Charles in his war with Poland 5 but
the elector had so procrastinated matters, that the Poles,
having obtained assistance from the Tartars,had reduced
the city of Warsaw. The two princes, however, now
marched in concert against their enemies, who were en¬
camped in a strong situation in the neighbourhood of
the city above mentioned, their camp being fronted by
'j2 the Vistula. The Poles were driven from their en-
The Foies trenchments with prodigious slaughter. The Poles and
and Tartars Tartars then laboured to break the alliance j with
defeated which view they entered Ducal Prussia, and defeated
the. electoral army, taking many prisoners. The Swedes
soon had their revenge. General Steinboek attacked
the same Polish army at Philippowa, and overthrew it
with such slaughter as obliged the Poles for that season
to quit the field. A more formidable enemy than the
Poles now began to make their appearance. The Rus¬
sians invaded the provinces of Carelia, Ingermania, and
Livonia ; while the elector of Brandenburg, began to
waver in his fidelity. To preserve this only ally at such
a critical juncture, Charles was obliged to give him
more advantageous terms than those already mention¬
ed ; while the Russians were repulsed in the provinces
of Carelia and Ingermania. But in Livonia they had
better success. See Russia. For seven months, how¬
ever, tiiey battered the walls of Riga, without venturing
to pass the ditch dr^torm the practicable breaches.
Charles, notwithstanding the number of his enemies,
was now become so formidable by the valour and disci¬
pline of his troops, that whole armies often fled on his
approach. At last, in 1657, the Poles, finding they
could not resist him in the field, contented themselves
with harassing the Swedes on their march, and cutting
Charles cn- oil’the foragers and convoys. This proved much more
te« into destructive to the Swedes than their former method j so
Tvitii that Charles was obliged to enter into an alliance with
gotski Ragotski prince of Transylvania, by assigning him cer-
prince of tain provinces in his neighbourhood, in order to furnish
Trans-viva- himself with irregular troops, who might fight the Poles
in their own way. This, however, proved of no real
advantage 5 for the confederates, after wasting a whole
campaign in Lithuania, were obliged to return without
accomplishing more than the reduction of a single for¬
tress 5 on which Charles returned with the Swedish ar¬
my to Prussia.
Leopold, the young king of Hungary, having long
beheld the Swedes with a jealous eye, now resolved to
declare for Poland. The more effectually to curb the
ambition of the Swedish monarch, lie solicited the king
of Denmark to come to a rupture with him. This was
instantly complied with, and the Danes invaded Bre¬
men. Charles hastened to oppose this new enemy ;
which gave such offence to Ragotski, that he neglected
to take the proper measures for his own defence in the
4
The Rus¬
sians in¬
vade the
Swedish do¬
minions.
Ae. 1657.
94
95
Leopold
king of
Hungary
declares
against
Sweden.
P6 _
Itagotski’s
army de¬
stroyed by
the Toles
and Tar¬
tars.
absence of tbe Swedes, and suffered his army to be de- .
stroyed by the Poles and Tartars. At tbe same time^N
tbe Turks invaded Transylvania, under pretence that i
Ragotski, being a vassal of the Grand Signior, had no 5
right to invade Poland without his leave. Ragotski 1Te*:<
opposed them in the field; where he was defeated and^1*
killed, leaving Charles destitute of the only ally onthE
whom he could depend.
The king, however, not dismayed by this misfortune,
traversed Pomerania and the duchy of Mecklenburg;
after which he attacked Holstein, while General Wran¬
gel rvith another corps entered the duchy of Bremen, j
The latter executed his measures with the utmost vi- $
gour. In 15 days he retook all the tOAvns Avhich the Bnw
enemy had reduced; defeated and drove the Danish
army out of the country, killing 3000 of their best sol-^lr
diers. In Holstein tbe king reduced several fortresses,
laid Itzehoe in ashes, defeated a body of Danes, and
laid siege to Frederic Udda, into which the Danes had
tbroAvn a strong garrison. The conduct of this siege lie
left to Wrangel, he himself retiring to Wismar in order
to observe the situation of affairs in Poland ; but no
sooner rvas he gone than Wrangel attaked the place
Avith such fury, that he became master of it in Iavo
hours. In the province of Halland tbe SAvedes Avere
defeated ; but the enemy derived no advantage from
their victory : at sea the fleets met, and maintained an
engagement for Iavo days, without any considerable ad- „
vantage on either side. In Poland affairs Avere notThek
better conducted. The house of Austria had hoav de-ofA»®
dared for Casimir; a German army entered Poland,^!”
and reduced Cracow, though not without great loss toivve^
themselves.
The king of SAveden v/as noAV surrounded by enemies.
The elector of Brandenburg had declared against him;
and lie had besides to engage the armies of Austria, JCC
Poland, Russia, and Denmark. In this dangerous situa-chariniS
tion he resolved to attack Denmark, so as to oblige that vadeil*
poAver to come to a speedy accommodation. His de-j^j
signs were forwarded by a very early frost, Avhich enabled °ess
him to transport his troops Avithout shipping. Hav ing
passed over on the ice to the island of Funen, he cut in
pieces a body of 4000 Danish soldiers and 500 peasants.
The Avhole island was reduced in a finv days; alter
Avhich he passed to Langland, then to Laaland, alter
that to Falstie, and lastly to Zealand. The Danes were
terrified at this unexpected invasion, and Avere giving
themselves up to despair, when Charles offered to con- Itl
elude a peace on equitable terms. The king of Den-peseei1
mark gladly consented ; intending to renew the AAar ascludei
soon as he thought it could be done Avith safety. Al1,1’ .
Charles Avas no sooner retired, than the king of Den¬
mark began to act secretly against him; on Avhich, re¬
solving to anticipate him in his designs, he appeared Kli
unexpectedly Avith a fleet before Copenhagen. The Tlie*■'
Swedish monarch laid siege to the capital, but Avith soreIJ^
little prudence that he made no progress, and Avas atj^j,
length compelled to turn the siege into a blockade,^4
which continued to the end of the war. Charles X.
died of an epidemic fever, and was succeeded by Ins
son Charles XL ioj
The ucav king Charles XI. Avas a minor at the timeeba^1
of his father’s death ; and as the kingdom was involved Ad 11
in a dangerous war Avith so many enemies, the regency
determined to conclude a peace, if it could be obtained
on
SWEDEN.
. ori reasonable terms. A treaty was accordingly con¬
cluded at Olivia ; by which Casimir renounced his pre¬
tensions to the crown of Poland, and that republic gave
up all pretensions to Livonia. Bornholm and Dron-
theim were ceded to Denmark j and an equivalent in
Schonen remained with Sweden. During the minority
of the king, nothing remarkable occurs in the history of
Sweden. In 1672 he entered into alliance with Louis
XIV. which two years after involved him in a war with
the elector of Brandenburg. At first the Swedes car¬
ried all before them. Almost all the towns in Bran-
u denburg were reduced, when the elector, arrived with
Ii)yan army to the relief of his distressed subjects. Pie re-
’ took several towns, defeated the Swedes in a general
engagement, and soon after forced them to abandon all
their conquests. In conjunction with the Danes, he
then invaded the Swedish dominions : many places of
importance were reduced ; and, in 1676, Sweden re¬
ceived a most destructive blow by the defeat of her fleet
in an engagement with the combined fleets of Denmark
and Holland. Soon after this the king took the go¬
vernment into his own hands, and in some degree re¬
stored the fortune of Sweden ; but though matters went
on in a more prosperous way where the king command¬
ed in person, the same losses and disgrace attended the
tr Swedish arms in every other quarter. In 1678, the
^ Swedish fleet was defeated in two engagements. At
Landscroon a most obstinate battle was fought from ten
in the morning till six at night 5 when both parties were
obliged, by fatigue, to retire to their respective camps.
At Oldeval in Norway, the Swedes were defeated j
and the Danes laid desolate the islands of Odand, Smaa-
land, Unno, and Kuno ; while the electoral troops and
Imperialists reduced Count Konigsmark to the utmost
distress in the neighbourhood of Straisund.
In this deplorable situation of affairs Count Konigs¬
mark found an opportunity of attacking his enemies to
such advantage, that he obtained a complete victory 5
after which he ravaged the duchy of Mecklenburg.
Notwithstanding this success, he could not prevent the
elector from reducing Straisund ; after which he was
obliged to evacuate Pomerania 5 and, to complete his
distress, the fleet which transported the Swedish army
from Pomerania was wrecked on the coast of Born¬
holm.
In this unpiosperous situation of affairs a peace was
concluded at St Germain’s between France and hei:ene¬
mies, by which the Swedes and Danes were left to de¬
cide their quarrel by themselves. Denmark was by no
means a match for Sweden, even in the distressed situa-
-tion to which she was reduced ; and therefore a treaty
was concluded, on terms much more favourable to Swe¬
den than could have been expected ; and the peace was
confirmed by a mairiage between Charles and Ulrica
Lleonora, daughter to the king of Denmark. From
tnis time the Swedish monarch applied himself to the
reformation ol the state j and by artfully managing
. the disputes between the nobility and peasants, he ob-
,_tamed a decree empowering him to alter the constitu-
* tion as he pleased. The proceedings ol the king after
this decree were such as to exasperate the nobility, and
produce violent commotions. See Patkul.
, the 15th of April 1697, died Charles XI. leav¬
ing Ills crown to his son, the celebrated Charles XII. at
T47
that time a minor. On his accession he found himself Sweden.
under the tuition of his grandmother Eleonora, who had “*~'v 1
governed the kingdom during the minority of the late I tc
king. Though Charles was at that time only 15 years
of age, he showed a desire of taking the government succeeded
into bis own hands. His counsellors, Count Piper and by bis sou
Axel Sparre, signified his desire to the queen-regent.
They were by her referred to the states j and there allXIf‘
were unanimous : so that the queen, finding that oppo-He lakes
sition would be vain, resigned her power with a good the govern-
grace; and Charles was invested with absolute authority,™cnt into
in three days after be bad expressed bis desire of reigning
alone. He was scarcely seated on the throne when a
powerful combination was formed against him. Augu-15.
stus king of Poland formed designs on Livonia j the kino- ni
of Denmark revived the disputes be had with the dukeAPovyer,ul
of Holstein, as a prelude to a war with Sweden; and t^n'romi
Peter the Great of Ilussia began to form designs on In-ed against
gria, formerly a province of liussia. In 1699 ^‘ie king him.
of Denmark marched an army into Holstein. Charle's
sent a considerable body of troops to the duke’s assist-
ance; but before their arrival the Danes had ravaged Holstein
the country, taken the castle of Gottorp, and laid closerav!‘bred by
siege to Tonningen. Here the king of Denmark com-1^1^^®'
manded in person ; and was assisted by the troops of ” 1
Saxony, Brandenburg, Wolfenhuttle, and Hesse Cassel.
Ungland and Holland, as guarantees of the last treaty
with Denmark, in concert with Sweden, joined Charles
against this confederacy, and sent fleets to the Baltic.
'I hey proposed a termination of the war on equitable
terms; but these were haughtily refused by the Danish
monarch, who despised the youth and inexperience of
Charles, and relied too much on the alliance he had
formed with Saxony, Brandenburg, Poland, and Russia. IT
Tonningen, however, resisted all his efforts; and when They are
he ordered the place to be stormed, he had the mortifi-repulsed at
cation to see his troops driven heatlloqg from the walls ToilIlinSeu>
by a handful of Swedes. II5
In the year 1700, Charles, having entrusted the af*. Charles set*
fairs of the nation with a council chosen out of the se °ut fi'"m
nate, set out on the 8th May from his capital, to which and dcfeSs
lie never afterwards returned. He embarked at Carls-the fleet of
croon, and defeated the fleet of the allies. Having made allies,
a descent on the island of Zealand, he defeated a body of An* D0®*
cavalry that opposed I.is march, and then proceeded to
invest Copenhagen by sea and land. The king of Den¬
mark then saw the necessity of either having his capital
destroyed, or of doing justice to the duke of Holstein. nt>
He chose the latter; and a treaty was concluded on Qb%es
much the same terms as formerly. Charles, being thusDam’s td
at liberty to turn his arms against the other princes who'^6
had conspired his destruction, resolved to lead his army ^ 1%
against Augustus king of Poland. On the road, how'- Marches
ever, he received intelligence that the tzar of Russia was aSah,st the
on his march to oppose him, and had laid siege to NarvailuSflaa‘s
with an army of 100,000 men. The contest that ensued
between Charles and Peter, with the celebrated battles
of Narva and Pultava, have been already related under
Russia, so that W'e shall here confine ourselves chiefly
to those events in which Peter the Great was not im¬
mediately concerned.
The tzar Peter was the chief support of Augustus, and
lie took the most active measures to oppose the progress of
the S wedish monarch. His want of success, and the sub-
2 sequent
S W E
frequent contests between him aiul Charles, til! the deci¬
sive battle of Pultava, are related in the article Rus¬
sia.
In 1701, as early as the season permitted, Charles,
   having received a reinforcement from Sweden, took the
a‘>8.111 st the fjei(|5 aru[ appeared suddenly on the banks of the Duna,
—--o, along which the Saxon army was posted to receive him.
1 n> l701- fjqie 0p p0]ail(i being at that time sick, the army
was commanded by Ferdinand duke of Corn-land, Ma-
rischal Stenau, and General Paykel, all oflicers of va¬
lour and experience. They had fortified certain islands
in the mouth of the river, and taken every other pre¬
caution against an attack ; the soldiers were hardy, well
II9 disciplined, and nearly equal to the Swedes in number j
and on- y<'t Charles, having passed the river in boats with high
tireiy de- sides, to screen the men from the fire of the enemy, at-
feats them. tac^t,(| t|iem with such fury, that they were entirely de¬
feated with great loss.
This victory was followed by the surrender of all the
towns and fortresses in the duchy of Courland. Charles
then passed into Lithuania, where every town opened its
crates to him. At Birsen, an army of 20,000 Russians re-
T2° tired wit!) the utmost precipitation on the news of hisap-
fdam ^tor proach. Here Charles, perceiving that the kingdom of
dethroning Poland was greatly disaffected to Augustus, began topro-
Augustue. ject the scheme of dethroning him by means of his own
subjects. This scheme he executed with more policy
than he ever showed on any other occasion.
Makes a se- Augustus, in the mean time, finding his scheme of
cond appli-peace frustrated, had recourse to the senate; but met
cation to no with such a rough answer irom them, that he determin-
jaupose. e(j to appiv to Charles. To him therefore he sent his
122 chamberlain ; but a passport being forgotten, the ambas-
Warsawta- ...... • n • 1 , -t-sr
ken.
123
s fn
D E N.
diet at Warsaw ; and while the two assemblies disputed $
concerning their rights and privileges, lie recovered from -
his wound, received a strong reinforcement from Pome- L
rania, and utterly defeated and dispersed the remains ofjj^®
the Saxon army, amiyj
The ill fortune of Augustus continued still to prevail. uici»:,n
In 1704 he was formally deposed by the diet, and the le^Lwl)
An. 1
crown conferred by Charles on Stanislaus JLecsinsky pa-
latine of Posnania. Augustus, however, did not yet
tamely give up his kingdom. His adherents daily skir-i<)rras
mished with the Swedes; and Augustus himself, being dtp®
reinforced by pcoo Russians, retook Warsaw, and was^L
Jam ri
pile
sador was arrested. Charles continued his march to War¬
saw, which surrendered on the first summons : but the
citadel held out for some days. Augustus, finding at last
that no dependence was to lie placed on the Poles, deter¬
mined to trust his fortune wholly to the Saxon army and
the nobility of the palatinate of Cracow, who offered to
support him to the utmost of their power. The Saxon
army was now advanced to the frontiers, and Augustus
immediately put himself at its head. Being joined by
the nobility of Cracow, lie found his forces to amount
to 30,000 men, all brave and well disciplined. With
these lie marched in quest of his enemy; who did not
xorsdecline the combat, though he had with him only 12,000
einliel?de-men. Though the Saxons were strongly posted, haying
ieuted. their front covered by a morass, besides being fortified
124 with pallisadoes and chevaux de frise, they were attack-
Cracovv ta- e(| with irresistible impetuosity, and entirely defeated,
ken. victory was followed by the loss of Cracow : after
which Charles set out in pursuit of the flying army,
with a design of preventing them from re-assembling;
but his horse falling under him, he had the misfortune
to break his thigh, by which he was confined six weeks ;
and thus Augustus obtained some respite. He improved
this interval. Having convoked a diet first at Marien-
burg, and then at Lublin, he obtained the following re¬
solutions ; that an army of 50,000 men should be raised
by the republic for the service of the prince ; that six
weeks should be allowed the Swedes to determine whe¬
ther thev were for war or peace ; and that the same time
should be granted to the turbulent and discontented nobles
of Poland to make their concessions. To counteract the
effects of these resolutions, Charles assembled another
near surprising the new king, who lived in perfect se-^^
curity in the city while Charles fought in his cause,
Count Horn, with ijoo Swedes, vigorously defended 1
the citadel; but at last, finding it no longer tenable, lie
was obliged to surrender at discretion. 1 he reduction taken
of Warsaw was among the last advantages gained byAuge
Augustus in tbe course of this war. His troops were
now composed of Saxon recruits and undisciplined Poles,
who had no attachment to his person, and were ready
on all occasions to forsake him. Charles and Stanislaus
advanced with the victorious army; the Saxons fled be¬
fore them, and the towns several miles round sent him
their submissions. The Poles and Saxons were under
the command of Schullemfcerg, a most sagacious and ex- j,is
perienced general, who used every expedient to check Set
the progress of the Swedes. With all his conduct and berg
caution he found himself outwitted, and Charles in the
neighbourhood of his camp ready to fail on him, while ,
he thought hirn at 50 leagues distance. The Swedish Hi*
monarch attacked him with a superior army, but en-ga?{
tireiy composed of horse. Schullemberg had posted hisf^
men in such a manner as rendered it impossible to sur¬
round them. His first rank being armed with pikes and
fusees, presented a kind of rampart of bayonets; the se¬
cond line stooping over the first who kneeled, fired over
their heads, white the third rank, who stood upon their
feet, kept up an incessant fire, by which the Swedish horse
were exceedingly galled and put in disorder. Charles
lost tbe opportunity of cutting off the whole Saxon
army, by omitting to order his men to dismount. This
was almost the first time that infantry bad been regu¬
larly opposed to cavalry, and the superiority of the for¬
mer was evident. After the engagement had continued gjsi
about three hours, the Saxons retreated in good order;treat
which no enemy had ever done before in any engage¬
ment with Charles. The Swedes pursued their enemies
towards tbe Oder, and forced them to retreat through
thick woods, almost impervious even to infantry. The
Swedish horse, however, pushed their way, and at last
inclosed Schullemberg between a wood and the river,
where Charles had no doubt of obliging him to surren¬
der at discretion, or die sword in hand, as having neither
boats nor bridges; but the genius of Schullemberg sup¬
plied every defect. In the night he ordered planks and
floats of trees to be fastened together; on which he car¬
ried over his troops, while the Swedes were employed
in dislodging 300 men, whom he had placed in a wind- ,
mill, for the purpose of defending his flank and keep¬
ing the enemy in play. Charles spoke of this retreat
with admiration, and said he had been conquered by
Schullemberg. Ag“
No material advantage, however, resulted from this toiea?
Augustus; who was again obliged to leave Poland, and
fortify
S Vvr
Jc“ fortify tiie capita! or his hereditary dominions, \v!ii
■33:
i&M
licc s
ar ]
st
lie:
en
d
d 1
vt
l3a!
les' -
s S'j:
136'
istu.
toil
■e o
ter
E
ch he
expected every moment to see invested. In the mean
time the Russians having recovered their spirits, attack¬
ed the Swedes in Livonia with the utmost fury. Narva,
Dorpt, and several other towns, were taken, and the in¬
habitants and garrisons treated with great barbarity.
Soon after, an army of 100,003 Russians entered Po¬
land. Sixty thousand Cossacks under Mazeppa entered
the country at the same time, and ravaged every thing
with the fury of barbarians. Schullemberg, too, per¬
haps more formidable than either, advanced with 14,000
Saxons and 7000 Russians, disciplined in Germany, and
reputed excellent soldiers. Could numbers have deter¬
mined the event of war, the Swedes must certainly have
been at this time overpowered. Instead of this, how¬
ever, Charles seemed to triumph over his enemies with
more ease the more numerous they were. The Russians
were defeated so fast, that they were all dispersed before
one party had notice of the misfortunes of another. The
defeating an army of 40,000 men scarcely obstructed the
march ot the Swedes, while their astonished enemies
looked on these actions as the effects of witchcraft, and
imagined that the king of Sweden had dealings with in¬
fernal spirits. With these apprehensions they iTed be¬
yond the Dniepr, leaving the unhappy Augustus to his
fate. Schullemberg, with all his skill and experience,
succeeded no better. The Swedish general Renschild
engaged and defeated him in half an hour, though the
Swedes were vastly inferior in number, and their ene¬
mies posted in a most advantageous situation. Nothing
could be more complete than this victory. This extra¬
ordinary victory, indeed, is said to have been owing to
a panic which seized the troops of Schullemberg : but it
was regarded with admiration, and thought to make the
renown of Renschild equal to that of his sovereign.
Charles himself was jealous, and could not help ex¬
claiming, “ Surely Renschild will not compare himself
with me !”
Soon after this victory, which was gained on the 12th
-of February, 1706, Charles entered Saxony at the head
of 24,200 men. The diet at Ratisbon declared him an
enemy to the empire if he crossed the Oder. But to
this declaration no regard was paid. Charles pursued
Ms march; while Augustus was reduced to the condi¬
tion of a vagrant in Poland, where he possessed not a
single town except Cracow. Into this city he threw
himself with a few Saxon, Polish, and Russian regiments,
and began to erect some fortifications for its defence ;
but the approach of the Swedish general Meyerleldt,
and the news of the invasion of Saxony, disconcerted all
Ms measures, and threw him into despair. The Russians
indeed were his faithful allies ; but he dreaded them al¬
most as much as the Swedes: so that he was reduced to
the necessity of writing a letter to Charles with his own
hand, begging for peace on whatever terms he thought
proper to grant. However, as he was then at the mer¬
cy of the. R ussians, this transaction was concealed with
the greatest care. His emissaries were introduced to the
Swedish court in the night-time ; and being presented
to Charles, received the following answer: That King
Augustus should for ever renounce the crown of Poland,
acknowledge Stanislaus, and promise never to reascend
the throne, should an opportunity offer ; that he should
lelease the princes Sobieski, and alt the Swedisli pri¬
soners made in the course of the war j surrender Palkul,
D E N. 1
at that time resident at his court as ambassador for the Sweden,
tzar of Russia, and stop proceedings against all who had *•"—v-~"-J
passed from his into the Swedish service. These articles,
Charles wrote with his own hand, and delivered to
Count Piper, ordering him to finish them with the Saxon
ambassadors.
After his defeat at Pultava by the Russians, Charles
fled in a mean calash, attended by a little troop in¬
violably attached to his person, some on foot, and some
on horseback. They were obliged to cross a sandy de¬
sert, tv lie re neither herb nor tree was to be seen, and
where the burning heat and want of water were more
intolerable than the extremities of cold they liad lor- j.g
merly suffered. The whole had almost perished for Charles ar-
want of water, when a spring was fortunately discover-jivt s
ed; after which they reached Otchakoff, a town in the^^^
Turkish dominions, the bashaw of which supplied the afe
king with every necessary. It was some time, however, Pultava,
before boats could be got ready for transporting the
whole of the king’s attendants ; by which accident ijoo
Swedes and Cossacks fell into the hands of the enemy.
This loss affected him snore than all his other misfor¬
tunes. lie shed tears at seeing, across the river Bog,
the greater part of his few remaining friends carried into
captivity, without having it in his power to assist them.
The bashaw waited on him to apologise for the delay,
and was severely reprimanded by Charles, as if he had
been his own subject.
The king remained but a few days at Otchakuff,
when the serasquier of Bender sent an aga to compli¬
ment him on his arrival in the Turkish dominions, and
to invite him to that city. Here he was treated with Is kindly
hospitality : the Turks practised to its full extent theirreee*Tf^»
generous maxim of regarding as sacred the persons of'un- \
fortunate princes who had taken shelter in their domi-conquering
nions : and perhaps regarded him, notwithstanding his Russia be-
misfortunes, as an ally that might be useful to them-Rjn t0 re-
selves againsttheRussians. Everyone, indeed, regarded'*'6*
him in his distress. The French king offered him a safe
passage from the Levant to Marseilles, from whence he
might easily return to his own dominions. But Charles
was too obstinate to receive advice. Puffed up with the
notion of imitating Alexander the Great, he disdained
to return except at the head of a numerous army ; and
he yet expected, by means of the Turks, to dethrone
his adversary the tzar. Negociations for this purpose
were carried on in the Turkish divan ; and it was pro¬
posed to escort Charles with a numerous army to the
frontiers of Poland : but the revolution which took r4o
place there, put an end to all such projects. Augustus Augustus
thought himself no longer bound to observe the treatyr<!cove,'slh?
which he had made, than while Charles was at hand tOp"]^m0i
compel him. After the battle of Pultava, he entered ° ^ ‘
Poland, and took every measure, in concert with the
tzar, for the recovery of his kingdom. Stanislaus was
not able to stand before such enemies, but was obliged
to leave his dominions and fly to Bender, in the disguise
of a Swedish officer, in order to share the fortune of
Charles.— It was not in Poland alone that the Swedish
affairs began to suffer in consequence of the defeat at 141
Pultava. The Danes invaded the province of SchonenThe Danes
with an army of 13,000 foot and 2500 horse. OnlyillvadeSwe'
13,000 Swedish forces remained to defend all the terri-de“’
tories possessed by Charles in Germany j and of these
only a small part was allotted for the defence of Scho-
nen.
i4«
bet are ut
tarly de¬
feated.
ITse
H.3
S W E'
nen. The regency of Sweden, however, exerted them¬
selves to the utmost to repel this ungenerous invasion ;
and having collected an army of 12,000 militia and
8000 regulars, dispatched them under General Steen-
boek into Schonen. Some Saxon troops were incorpo¬
rated in this army j and among these a prodigious de¬
sertion took place, which the general found it impossible
to prevent j and thus the Danes gained several advan¬
tages, and at last took Christianstadt. Their insolence
on this success was so great, that the Swedes demanded
to be instantly led against them. Here the good for¬
tune of Sweden seemed once more to revive. The
Danes were driven from a very strong situation, with
the loss of 8000 killed and taken prisoners, besides a
vast number wounded. The king received the intelli¬
gence of this victory with the greatest exultation ; and
could not help exclaiming, “ My brave Swedes, should
it please God that I once more join you, we shall con¬
quer them all !”
In the mean time, Charles, by means of bis agents
the count Poniatoflski and the sieur Neugebar, used bis
utmost efforts to procure a rupture between the Porte
and Russia. For a long time the money bestowed by
Turks petei. on tlie vizirs and janisaries prevailed ; but at last,
declare war ^ j-jt the grand signior, influenced by bis mother,
fUmaiis. who was strongly in the interest ot Charles, and had
1 been used to call him her lion, determined to support
his quarrel with Peter. He therefore gave orders to
the vizir to fall on the Russians with an army of 200,coo
men. The vizir promised obedience ; but at the same
time professed his ignorance in the art of war, and dislike
to the present expedition. The khan of Crim Tartary,
who had been gained over by tire reputation and pre¬
sents of the king of Sweden, had orders to take the
field with 40,000 of his men, and had the liberty of
assembling his army at Bender, that Charles might see
that the war was undertaken on his account. See
Russia, N° 119.
The treaty of the Pruth wras most violently opposed
by Count Poniatoftski and the khan of Tartary. The
former had made the king acquainted with the situation
of both armies 5 on which he instantly set out from Ben¬
der, filled with the hopes of fighting the Russians, and
taking ample vengeance. Having ridden 50 leagues
post, he arrived at the camp just as the tzar was draw¬
ing off his half-famished troops. He alighted at Ponia-
toiffski’s tent; and being informed of particulars, in¬
stantly flew in a rage to the vizir, whom he loaded with
reproaches, and accused of treachery. Recollecting
himself, however, he proposed a method by which the
fault might be remedied ; but finding his proposal re¬
jected, be posted back to Bender, after having by the
grossest insults showed his contempt of the vizir.
The violent behaviour of Charles did not promote his
interest. The vizir perceived that his stay in Turkey
might prove fatal to himself; and therefore determined
to get him out of the country as soon as possible. Suc¬
ceeding vizirs adopted the same plan ; and at last the
•“ , • errand sismior himself wrote a letter to Charles, in which
epart. he desired him to depart by next winter, promising to
supply him with a sufficient guard, with money, and
den.
144
L’he grand
sianior de-
every thing else necessary for his journey. Charles gave
an evasive answer, and determined to procrastinate his^--vr*
journey, as well to gratify his own stubborn temper, as
because he discovered a correspondence between.Au-
gustus and the khan of Tartary, the object of which,
he had reason to believe, was to betray him to the
Saxons. When he was again pressed to fix the day of
his departure, he replied, that he could not think of
going before his debts were paid. Being asked how
much was necessary for this purpose, he replied loco g
pu rses (a). Twelve hundred purses were instantly sent^™
to the serasquier at Bender, with orders to deliver them
to the king of Sweden, but not before he should liave^),^
begun his journey. By fair promises, Charles persuaded
him to part with the money ; after which, instead of
setting out, he squandered away his treasure in presents
and gratifications, and then demanded 1000 purses more
before he would set out. The serasquier was astonished
at this behaviour. He shed tears ; and turning to the
king, told him, that his head would be the forfeit of
having obliged him with the money. The grand sig¬
nior, on being acquainted with the shameful behaviour
ot Charles, flew into a rage, and called an extraordi¬
nary divan, where he himself spoke, a thing very un¬
usual for the Turkish monarchs. It was unanimously
agreed that such a troublesome guest ought to be re- 1
moved by force, should other means fail. Positive or-^'
ders were therefore sent to Charles to depart; and, inj-()rce
case of refusal, to attack him in his quarters. Nothingtodei
could equal his obstinacy on this occasion : in spite of
tbe menaces of his enemies, in spite of the intreaties of iJ
his friends, he persisted in his resolution ; and at last His dj
determined to resist, with 300 Swedes, being all ther®te”
attendants he had, an army of 20,cco janisaries well^ 1
armed and furnished with cannon. At length he was
attacked in good earnest ; though it must be owned,
that even in this extremity, the Turks showed their re¬
gard to him, and were tender of his life, which the king
did not return at all in a similar manner. Most of the
Swedes surrendered at once, perhaps as thinking it the
only method of saving the king’s life. This misconduct,
however, had a quite contrary effect. Charles became
the more obstinate, the more desperate his affairs seemed Is
to be. With 40 menial servants only, and the genen ilsnedbI
Hord and Dardorff, he determined to defend Himself to
ers eic
the last extremity. Seeing his soldiers lay down their^0i
arms, he told the generals, “ We must now defend the
house. Come, (adds he with a smile), let us fig lit pro
tins et focis.” The house had been already forced by
the lartars, all hut a hall which was near the door, and
where liis domestics had assembled. Charles forced his
way through the janisaries, attended by the generals
Hord and DardorlF, joined his people, and then barri¬
caded the door. The moment he entered, the enemy
who were in the house, threw down their booty, and
endeavoured to escape at tbe windows. Charles pur¬
sued them from room to room with much bloodshed,
and cleared the house in a few minutes. He then firedFigliiu
furiously from the windows, killed 200 of the Turks inaniad®
a quarter of an hour, so that the bashaw who command-l)Ut‘s 11
ed them was at length forced to set the house on fire.1'1:'5011
ThiSjoUowe
(a) Each purse contained 30 sequins.
S W E
ed . This was done by arrows with lighted matches shot into
■\—’the roof; but Charles, instead of quitting it, gave orders
for extinguishing the fire, in which he himself assisted
with great diligence. All efforts, however, were vain :
the roof fell in ; and Charles, with his few faithful com¬
panions, was ready to he buried in the ruins. In this
extremity one called out, that there was a necessity for
surrendering. “ What a strange fellow ! (cries the
king), who would rather be a prisoner with the Turks
than mix his ashes with those of his sovereign.” An¬
other had the presence of mind to cry out, that the
chancery was but 50 paces off, had a stone roof, and
was proof against fire. Pleased with the thoughts of
again coming to blows, the king exclaimed, “ A true
Swede ! Let us take all the powder and ball we can
carry.” He then put himself at the head of his troops,
and sallied out with such fury, that the Turks retreated
50 paces ; but falling down in the hurry, they rushed
in upon him, and carried him by the legs and arms to
the bashaw’s tent.
This extraordinary adventure, which savours not a
little of insanity, happened on the 12th of February
I7,3* was now kept prisoner with all his retinue j
and in this situation he was visited by the unfortunate
.Q Stanislaus.
ns Charles at last seemed inclined to submit to his fate,
io and began seriously to think of returning to his king-
W* dom, now reduced to the most deplorable situation. His
>ns. Imitation was now fixed at Demotica, a small town
| about six leagues from Adrianople. Here he was al-
J lowed provisions for his own table and those of his reti-
| nue ; but only 25 crowns a-day in money, instead of
500 which he had received at Bender. During his re¬
sidence here he received a deputation from Hesse Cassel,
I soliciting his consent to the marriage of the landgrave
I with Eleonora, princess royal of Sweden ; to which he
j readily agreed : a deputation was also sent him by the
regency ot Sweden, requesting that he would prepare
! for returning to his own dominions, which were ready
1° sink under a ruinous wrar in his absence,
oul.r O11 the 14th ot October I7T4’ Charles set out for
!en. Sweden. Ail the princes through whose territories he
I71 was to pass, had given orders for his entertainment in
the most magnificent manner 5 but the king, perceiving
5* that these compliments only rendered his imprisonment
and other misfortunes more conspicuous, suddenly dis-
.JS’ missed his lurkish attendants, and assembling his own
iwi Peop!e> hid them take no care about him, hut make the
0IU best of their way to Stralsund. After this he set out
dai post, in the habit of a German officer, attended only by
Colonel During. Keeping the bye-roads through Hun-
| £ary> Moravia, Austria, Bavaria, Wirtemberg, the Pa¬
latinate, Westphalia, and Mecklenburgh, be arrived on
,3 the 21 st of November at midnight before the gates of
es i Stralsund. Being unknown, be was admitted with dif-
wnf Acuity ; hut being soon recognised by the governor, the
d w ) Jreatest tokens ot joy were shown all over the town,
itiin ^ie m*dst of the tumult Charles went to bed.
Sweden was now in the greatest distress. On the
'4 ne"Ts of the defeat at Pultava, the Danes had invaded
tioi kf'pC|^°ne.n’ ^U*' "ere defeated by General Steenboek.
ien 1 m v‘st017, however, did not put an end to the war.
j n the contrary, the kings of Denmark and Poland,
>uth the tzar of Russia, entered into stricter bonds of
DEN.
151
amity than ever. They dreaded the return of Charles Sweden,
to his own dominions, and apprehended that numberless '
victories would soon efface the remembrance of Pultava.
They determined, therefore, to make the best use of
their time ; and perhaps Charles never took a more im¬
prudent resolution than obstinately to remain so long in
the Turkish dominions. The return of Charles seemed
to give new life to the whole nation. Though the num¬
ber of inhabitants was visibly diminished, the levies he
had ordered were completed in a few weeks : but the
hands left to cultivate the earth consisted of the infirm,
aged, and decrepid 5 so that a famine was threatened
in consequence of the military rage which had seized
all the youth of the kingdom.
The presence of Charles did not now produce those The kfnr i*
consequences which the allies had feared. The king-unable to
dom was too much reduced to furnish the necessary sup-retr*eve ‘ka
plies of men and money j and though the king’s cou-^'^*s^ af*
rage and military skill were not in the least diminished, in iti.-
the efforts he made, instead of restoring Sweden to its
splendour, served more completely to ruin it. In 1715,
Prussia declared against him, on account of his demand¬
ing back the town of Stetin, which that monarch had
seized. To complete his embarrassment, the elector of
Hanover, George I. of Britain, also became bis enemy. j.a-
The forces of Denmark, Prussia, Saxony, and Hanover, Is encon¬
joined to invest Wismar, while a body of 36,000 menl)assetl OB
formed the siege of Stralsund j at the same time thatali sid<is 1,7
the tzar, with a fleet of 20 large ships of war, and J5oeUtm t
transports, carrying 30,000 men, threw every part of
the Swedish coast into the greatest consternation. The
heroism of Charles could not prevail against so many
enemies j yet he was still so much dreaded, that the I:j
prince of Anhalt, with 12,000 brave troops, did notHis desp«-
think himself a match for this furious enemy when atrate Yal°ur>
the head of only 2000, till he had entrenched his army
behind a ditch, defended by. chevaux de frize. It ap¬
peared, indeed, that his precaution was not unnecessary :
for in the night Charles with his men clambered up the
ditch, and attacked the enemy in his usual manner.
Numbers, however, at last prevailed ; and Charles was
obliged to retire, after having seen his favourite Grot-
Imsen, General Dardorff and During, the companions
of his exile, killed by bis side, he himself being wounded
in the breast. *
lins rash attempt was made in order to save Rugen,Stralsund'
whence the town of Stralsund was supplied with pro-f)esfeSe4,
visions. The place was well fortified, and garrisoned
with 9000 men, with Charles himself at their head ;
but nothing could resist the efforts of the enemy. By
the 17th of December it was proposed to give the
assault. The attack on the horn-work was desperate :
the enemy was twice repulsed j but at last, by dint of
numbers, effected a lodgment. The next day, Charles i
headed a>sally, in which he dealt terrible destruction
among the besiegers, hut was at length overpowered
and obliged to retreat into the town. At last his offi¬
cers, apprehending that he must either fall into the
hands of the enemy, or he buried in the ruins of the
place, intreated him to retire. A retreat, however, was 750
now almost as dangerous as to remain in the town, on and taken,
account of the fleets of the enemy with which the seaia sPile o1'
was covered 5 and it is thought that this very circum-lle utmo.'t
stance induced the king to .consent to it. Setting out, t\°Tint.
therefore,
x6i
A treaty
with the
tzar of
Muscovy
projected.
S W E
therefore, in a small boat with sails and oars, be passed
all the enemy’s ships and batteries, and arrived safe at
Ystedt in Schonen.
To revenge himself for these losses, Charles invaded
Norway with an army of 25,000 men. The Danes
were everywhere defeated and pursued with that vigour
for which the king of Sweden was so remarkable ; but
strong reinforcements arriving from Denmark, and pro¬
visions failing, he was at last obliged to retire. Soon
after this the Swedes lost Wismar; but when every
thing seemed hopeless, Baron Goertz, the chief minister
and favourite of Charles contrived to set on loot a
treaty with the tzar of Russia, by which the most for¬
midable of all Charles’s enemies was taken off. The
minister found means to work on the inflexible temper
of Charles, by representing to him that the cession of
certain provinces to Peterwould induce him to assist him
in his projects of again dethroning Augustus, and of
D E N.
replacing James on the throne cf Britain j which last
scheme he had projected out of revenge for the elector
of Hanover having seized cn the duchies of Bremen and
Verden. In consequence of the conferences between
the tzar and Goertz, the former engaged to send into
Poland an army of 80,000 men, in order to dethrone
that prince whom he had so long defended. He enga¬
ged also to furnish ships for transporting 30,000 Swedes
to Germany and 10,000 into Denmark. This treaty,
however, was not ratified , and the king’s death, which
happened in 1718, put a final stop to all the great pro-
spects of Sweden.
Charles m- The king had resolved on the conquest of Norway
vades Nor- before he dethroned Augustus •, and as no difficulties
way again, ever deterred him, he marched his army into that cold
sierre tc>S ani^ barren country in the month of October, when the
Fredericks-groun(l was covered with frost and snow. With 18,000
hall.
163
His ex-
uess, in
eonse
quence of
Chas. XII.
to the year
1771.
1
men he formed the siege of Frederickshall, though the
severity of the frost rendered it almost impossible to
break ground. Charles resolved to form trenches j and
his soldiers cheerfully obeyed, digging into the ground
with the same labour as if they had been piercing a
k rock. On the nth of December the king visited the
're,Re.1'QSl1'trenches in the midst of a terrible fire from the enemy,
imagining that his men might be animated by his pre-
sence. He took his post in the most dangerous station
which he is jie could choose, standing on a gabion and leaning with
^An^i iS arm over ^ie ParaPef» while the enemy were firing
■ " I^1 ’ chain shot at the very spot where he stood. He was
intreated to change his station ; but he remained obsti¬
nate. At last he was seen to fall on the parapet with
a deep groan, and soon afterwards expired, having been
mortally wounded, as is supposed, by a cannon ball.
See Charles XII.
Account of Charles XII. was succeeded by his sister the princess
the Swedish Ulrica Eleonora, wife to the hereditary prince of Hesse,
affairs from Qh this occasion the states took care to make a previous
the death^of stipulation for the preservation of their liberties, and
obliged the princess to sign a paper to this purpose be¬
fore entering on the government. Their first care was
to make a peace with Great Britain, which the late
king intended to have invaded. The Swedes then, to
prevent their farther losses by the progress of the Rus¬
sian, the Danish, the Saxon, and other arms, made many
great sacrifices to obtain peace from those powers. The
French, however, about the year 1738, formed a dan¬
gerous party in the kingdom, which not only broke its
internal quiet, hut led it into a ruinous war with Russia,
by which it lost the province of Finland. Their Swe- —
dish majesties having hq children, it was necessary to
settle the succession •, especially as the duke of Holstein
was descended from the queen’s eldest sister, and was, at
the same time, the presumptive heir to the empire of
Russia. Four competitors appeared ; the duke of Hol¬
stein Gottorp, Prince Frederic of Hesse-Cassel nephew
to the king, the prince of Denmark, and the duke of
Deux-Fonts. The duke of Holstein would have car¬
ried the election, had he not embraced the Greek re¬
ligion, that he might mount the throne of Russia. The
tzarina interposed, and offered to restore all the con¬
quests she had made from Sweden, excepting a small
district in Finland, if the Swedes would receive the
duke cf Holstein’s uncle, Adolphus Frederic bishop of
Fubec, as their hereditary prince and successor to their
crown. This was agi’eed to 5 and a peace concluded at
Abo, under the mediation of his Britannic majesty.
This peace was so firmly adhered to by the empress of
Russia, that his Danish majesty thought proper to drop
all resentment for the indignity done his son. The
prince-successor married the princess Ulrica, third sister
to the king of Prussia; and in 1751 entered into the At
possession of his new dignity, which proved to him a
crown of thorns. The French had acquired vast i n-^
fluence in all the deliberations of the Swedish senate, pw
who of late had been little better than pensioners to
that crown. The intrigues of the senators forced A-
dolpbus to take part in the war against Prussia : but as
that war was disagreeable not only to the people, but
also to the king of Sweden, the nation never made so
mean an appearance ; and on Russia’s making peace
with the king of Prussia, the Swedes likewise madeGnJ
peace. Adolphus died dispirited in 1771, after a tur-,I,J
bulent reign of twenty years ; and was succeeded by his
son Gustavus. The most remarkable transaction of this
reign is the revolution which took place in the govern¬
ment in the year 1772, by which the king, from be¬
ing the most limited became one of the most despotic
nmnarchs in Europe. Ever since the death of Charles
XII. the whole power of the kingdom had been lodged
in the states ; and this power they had much abused. t
Gustavus therefore determined either to seize on that An
power of which they made such a bad use, or perish
the attempt. The revolution was effected in the fol-tl0.B.
lowing manner. On the morning of the ipth of
gust 1772, a considerable number of officers, as well askc>5
other persons known to be attached to the royal cause,sp1*
had been summoned to attend his majesty. Before ten
he was on horseback, and visited the regiment of artil¬
lery. As he passed through the streets he was more
than usually courteous to all he met, bowing familiarly
to the lowest of the people. On the king’s return to
his palace, the detachment which was to mount guard
that day being drawn up together with that which was
to be relieved, his majesty retired with the officers into
the guard-room. He then addressed them with all
that eloquence of which be is said to have been a per¬
fect master; and after insinuating to them that his life
was in danger, he exposed to them in the strongest
colours the wretched state of the kingdom, the shackles
in which it was held by means of foreign gold, and the
dissensions and troubles arising from the same cause
which had distracted the diet during the course of four¬
teen
S W E
n< teen months. He assured them that his only design was
— to put an end to these disorders $ to banish corruption,
restore true liberty, and revive the ancient lustre of the
Swedish name, which had been long tarnished by a ve¬
nality as notorious as it was disgraceful. Then assur¬
ing them in the strongest terms that he disclaimed for
ever all absolute power, or what the Swedes call sove¬
reignty, he concluded with these words : “ I am obli¬
ged to defend my own liberty and that of the kingdom,
against the aristocracy which reigns. Will you be
faithful to me, as your forefathers were to Gustavus
Vasa and Gnstavus Adolphus ? I will then risk my life
for your welfare and that of my country.”
The officers, most of them young men, of whose at¬
tachment the king had been long secure, who did not
thoroughly perhaps see into nature of his majesty’s
I request, were allowed no time to reflect, immediately
consented to every thing, and took an oath of fidelity
to him.
til* Only three refused. One of these, Frederic Ceder-
•e- strom, captain of a company of the guards, alleged he
iceahad already, and very lately, taken an oath to be faith¬
ful to the states, and consequently could not take that
which his majesty then exacted of him. The king,
looking at him sternly, answered, “ Think of what
you are doing.” “ I do, (replied Cederstrom) j and
' what I think to day, I shall think to-morrow: and
I were I capable of breaking the oath by which I am al¬
ready hound to the states, I should be likewise capable
I of breaking that which your majesty now requires me
to take.”
The king then ordered Cederstrom to deliver up his
| sword, and put him in arrest.
His majesty, however, apprehensive of the impres-
I sion which the proper and resolute conduct of Ceder-
I strom might make on the minds of the other officers,
shortly afterwards softened his tone } and again addres¬
sing himself to Cederstrom, told him, that as a proof of
the opinion he entertained of him, and the confidence he
placed in him, he would return him his sw’ord without
insisting on his taking the oath, and would only desire
his attendance that day. Cederstrom continued firm ;
he answered, that his majesty could place no confidence
in him that day, and that he begged to be excused from
Ijithe service.
While the king was shut up with the officers, Sena¬
tor Railing, to whom the command of the troops in the
town had been given two days before, came to the door
of the guard-room, and was told that he could not be ad¬
mitted. The senator insisted on being present at the
distribution of the orders, and sent to the king to desire
Jit; but was answered, he must go to the senate, where
his majesty would speak to him.
The officers then received their orders from the king ;
the first of which was, that the two regiments of guards
and of artillery should be immediately assembled, and
that a detachment of 36 grenadiers should be posted at
the door of the council-chamber to prevent any of the
senators from coming out.
But before the orders could be carried into execu¬
tion, it was necessary that the king should address him-
selt to the soldiers ; men wholly unacquainted with his
designs, and accustomed to pay obedience only to the
orders of the senate, whom they had been taught to hold
in the highest reverence.
Vol. XX. Part I. f
DEN.
As his majesty, followed by the officers, was advan¬
cing from the guard room to the parade for this pur¬
pose, some of them more cautious, or perhaps more l6?
timid than the rest, became, on a short reflection, ap-
prehensive of the consequences of the measure in which £}ie soldiers,
they were engaged : they began to express their fears
to the king, that unless some persons of greater weight
and influence than themselves were to take a part in
the same cause, he could scarcely hope to succeed in his
enterprise. The king stopped a while, and appeared to
hesitate. A serjeant of the guards overheard their dis¬
course, and cried aloud,—“ It shall succeed—Long live
Gustavus !” His majesty immediately said, “ Then I
will venture;”—and stepping forward to the soldiers,
he addressed them in terms nearly similar to those
which he had expressed to the officers, and with the
same success. They answered him with loud acclama¬
tions : one voice only said, No; but it was not attended
to.
In the mean time some of the king’s emissaries had
spread a report about tbe town that the king was ar¬
rested. This drew the populace to the palace in great
numbers, where they arrived as his majesty had con¬
cluded his harangue to the guards. They testified by
reiterated shouts their joy at seeing him safe; a joy
which promised the happiest conclusion to the business
of the day. - I70
The senators wrere now immediately secured. They Secures the
had from the window of the council-chamber beheld seiiators.
what was going forward on the parade before the pa- *”^6^
lace; and, at a loss to know the meaning of the shouts ster 0f t],e
they heard, were coming down to inquire into the cause whole
of them, when 30 grenadiers, with their bayonets fix- power in
ed, informed them it was his majesty’s pleasure they
should continue where they were. They began totalkt0m*
in a high tone, but were answered only by having the
door shut and locked on them.
The moment the secret committee heard that the se¬
nate was arrested, they separated of themselves, each in¬
dividual providing for his own safety. The king then
mounting his horse, followed by his offieex-s with their
swords drawn, a large body of soldiers, and numbers
of tbe populace, went to the other quarters of the town
where the soldiers he had ordered to be assembled were
posted. He found them all equally willing to support
his cause, and to take to him an oath of fidelity. As
be passed through the streets, he declared to the people,
that he only meant to defend them, and save his coun¬
try ; and that if they would not confide in him, he
would lay down his sceptre, and surrender up his king¬
dom. So much was the king beloved, that the people
(some of whom even fell down on their knees) with
tears in their eyes implored his majesty not to abandon
them.
The king proceeded in his course, and in less than an summons
hour made himself master of jrll the military force*inan as.em-
Stockholm. In the mean time the heralds, by prod a- 01 'lie
mation in the several quarters of the city, summoned anitates;
assembly of the States for the ensuing morning, and de¬
clared all members traitors to their country who should
not appear. Thither his majesty repaired in all the
pomp of royalty, surrounded by his guards, and holding
in his hand the silver sceptre of Gustavus Adolphus. In
a very forcible speech, he lamented the unhappy state to
which the country was reduced by the conduct of a
^ party
154
S W E
Sweden.
form of go¬
vernment.
173
The king
makes a
party ready to sacrifice every thing to its ambition, and
Vi y -1 reproached the states with adapting their actions to the
views of foreign courts, from which they received the
wages of perfidy. “ If any one dare contradict this,
let him rise and speak.”—Conviction, or fear, kept the
assembly silent, and the secretary read the new form of
government, which the king submitted to the approba¬
tion of the states. It consisted of fifty-seven articles j
^2 of which the five following were the chief,
which ac- I. The king has the entire power of convoking and
cepts a new dissolving the assembly of the states as often as he thinks
proper. 2. His majesty alone has the command of the
army, fleet, and finances, and the disposal of all offices
civil and military. 3. In case of an invasion, or of any
pressing necessity, the king may impose taxes, without
waiting for the assembly of the states. 4. The diet can
deliberate on no other subjects than those proposed by
the king. 5. The king shall not carry on an ofl'ensive
war without the consent of the states. When all the
articles were gone through, the king demanded if the
states approved of them, and was answered by a general
acclamation. He then dismissed all the senators from
their employments, adding, that in a few days he tvould
appoint others; and concluded this extraordinary scene
bv drawing out of his pocket a small book of psalms,
from which, after taking off the crown, he gave out
Te Deum. All the members very devoutly added their
voices to his, and the hall resounded with thanksgiving.
The power thus obtained was employed by the king
for the good of his subjects. He took care that the law
good use of s,lou]d j;e ad
ministered with impartiality to the richest
is po«er. nojJ]e and t|ie p00rest peasant, making a severe example
of such judges as were proved to have made justice ve¬
nal. He gave particular attention and encouragement
to commerce, was a liberal and enlightened patron of
learning and science, and laboured strenuously to intro¬
duce into his kingdom the most valuable improvements
in agriculture that had been made in foreign countries.
But while thus active in promoting the arts of peace,
he was not inattentive to those of war. The fleet,
which he found decayed and feeble, he in a few years
restored to a respectable footing, and, besides changing
the regulations of the navy, he raised a new corps of
sailors, and formed them to the service by continual ex¬
ercise. The army, which, as well as the navy, had
been neglected during the aristocracy, was next to be
reformed. The king began by giving cloaks, tents,
and new arms to all the regiments. Afterwards, under
the direction of Field Marshal Count de Hessenstein, a
new exercise was introduced, and several camps were
formed, in which the soldiery were maneeuvred by the
king himself. The sale of military offices, which had
been permitted for many years, was entirely suppressed ;
and the king provided not only for the re-establishment
of discipline and good order in the army, but for the
future welfare of the individuals which composed it.
These warlike preparations were necessary to a plan
which he had formed for entirely abolishing the power
of the aristocracy, and freeing Sweden from the factions
which had long been formed in it by the court of St
Petersburgh. The change which he had introduced
was very inimical to the intrigues of that court ; and
the Russian ambassador exerted himself openly to bring
about a rupture between the king and the discontented
nobles. Gustavus ordered him to quit the kingdom in
i74
Reforms
till army
aad naw.
DEN.
eight days, and immediately prepared for war with t
Russia. To this apparently rash enterprise be was in¬
cited by the Ottoman Porte, at that time unable to op¬
pose the armies of the two empires ; and his own ambi¬
tion, together with the internal state of his kingdom,
powerfully concurred to make him lend every assistance
to bis ancient ally. It is needless for us to enter into a
detail of the particulars of that war, the principal cir-His
cumstances of which have already been noticed under1**'-
Russia, N° 157. Suffice it to say, that neither Gusta-";’7
vus Adolphus nor Charles XII. gave greater proofs of
undaunted courage and military conduct in their long
and bloody wars than were given by Gustavus the IH.
from the end of the year 178710 I79°» when peace
was restored between the courts of St Petersbnrgh and
Stockholm. When the court of Copenhagen was com¬
pelled, by the means of England and Prussia, to with¬
draw its troops from the territories of Sweden, the king
attacked Russia with such vigour both by sea and land,
displayed such address in retrieving his affairs when ap¬
parently reduced to the last extremity, and renewed his
attacks with such pertinacious courage, that the empress
lowered the haughtiness of her tone, and was glad to treat
with Gustavus as an equal and independent sovereign.
Sweden now enjoyed peace, but the nobles conti-Pnc
nued discontented, and a conspiracy was planned a-«*-
gainst Gustavus under his own roof. He bad
tered into the alliance that was formed against the
revolutionary government of France ; and to raise an
army, which he was to lead in person to co-operate
with the emperor and the king of Prussia, he was ob¬
liged to negociate large loans, and to impose on his
subjects heavy taxes. The nobles took advantage of
that circumstance to prejudice the minds of man\ of the
people against the sovereign who had laboured so long
for their good. On the 16th of March 1792 he recei¬
ved an anonymous letter, warning him of bis immediate
danger from a plot that was laid to take away his life,
requesting him to remain at home, and avoid balls fora
year ; and assuring him that, if be should go to the
masquerade for which he was preparing, he would be as¬
sassinated that verv night. The king read the note with
contempt, and at a late hour entered the ball room.
After some time he sat down in a box with the compte
d’Essen, and observed that he was not deceived in his
contempt for the letter, since, had there been any design
against his life, no time could be more favourable than
that moment. He then mingled, without apprehension,
among the crowd ; and just as he was preparing to re¬
tire in company with the Prussian ambassador, he was
surrounded by several persons in masks, one of whom
fired a pistol at the back of the king, and lodged the -
contents in his body. A scene of dreadful confusionTi'
immediately ensued. The conspirators, amidst the gene-j^-
ral tumult and alarm, had time to retire to other
of the room ; but one of them had previously dropped
his pistols and a dagger close by the wounded king. A
general order was given to all the company to unmask,
and the doors were immediately closed ; but no person
appeared with any particular distinguishing marks of
guilt. The king was immediately conveved to hi$
apartment ; and the surgeon, after extracting a ball and
some slugs, gave favourable hopes of bis recovery. Dot
I he favourable reports of his medical attendants sooni -
appeared to be fallacious, and on the 28th of March a-
mortification
I-
•1
,
S W E
'ecle* niortlficatlon was fouinl to have taken place. He expi-
-y—J red on the following day, and on opening his body there
were found within the ribs a square piece of lead and
two rusty nails.
The king had by his will appointed a council of re¬
gency ; but convinced by recent experience how little
dependence was to be placed on the attachment of his
nobles, and aware of the necessity of a vigorous govern¬
ment in times of such difficulty and danger, he appointed
his brother, the duke of Sudermania, sole regent, till
his son, then a minor, should attain the age of 18 years.
In his dying moments be desired that all the conspira¬
tors, except the perpetrator of his murder, might be
jyp pardoned.
essio- The young king, who was about 14 at his father’s
;usta s death, was proclaimed by the name of GustavusIV. The
regent soon took the most vigorous and active measures
to apprehend and punish the projectors and perpetrators
of the murder of bis brother. A nobleman of the name
of Ankerstrom confessed himself the assassin, and gloried
in tim action, which he called liberating his country
from a monster and a tyrant. He was executed in a most
cruel manner on the 17th of May. Two other noble¬
men, and two officers, also suffered death j but the rest
of the conspirators were either pardoned, or punished
only by fine and imprisonment.
From the accession of Gustavus IV. till the revolu-
; i tion which has been recently effected in Sweden, few
transactions of any importance have occurx-ed. Soon af-
I ter the king had taken on himself the administration of
aftairs, he engaged warmly in the war against France,
and till the time of his deposition, continued a most faith-
; ful ally of Britain. The efforts of the Swedish monarch
towards humbling the power of Bonaparte, have been al-
I ready noticed under the articles Britain and France j
and the war with Russia, in which his alliance with
Britain had involved him, has been sufficiently touched
in the article Russia. This prince seems to have been
endowed with great and amiable qualities, but he was
certainly rash and imprudent, and perhaps in some de¬
gree tinctured with insanity. He thus materially in¬
jured his kingdom, and alienated the affections of his
! principal nobles, especially of his uncle the duke of
tSa Sudermania.
olutio , In the beginning of March 1809, the plan which ap-
ie0(IuU^earS ^ave keen collcerted between the duke of Su-
jojT dermania and the principal nobility, was carried intoef-
j feet. The king was arrested j the duke assumed the reins
1SDp. ,of government, and issued a proclamation, announcing
that under existing circumstances, the king was incap¬
able oi conducting the affairs of the nation.
Gustavus, nowinclosecustody, was easily prevailed up-
3ii to abdicate the government. The diet was assembled^
the duke of Suder mania was declared king of Sweden,
Jnder the title of Charles XIII.; Prince Augustenberg
>vas chosen crown prince ; and various changes were
ntroduced into the constitution, confirming the powers
the diet, and doing away what the prevailing party
reld to be incroachments of the crown, during the late
ind preceding reigns. The people, wearied or disgust¬
'd by the late king’s folly and rashness, readily acquies-
ed in all the alterations. Peace wTas then made with
vussia, a measure become absolutely necessary, as the
mlitary lorce of the kingdom was completely broken,
iid no means existed to check the progress of the eoe-
D E N. i55
my. By this peace Sweden lost Finland, a country of Sweden.
peculiar importance to her on account of the supplies 1 v J
of grain she was accustomed to draw from it; but in
the treaty she reserved the right of importing a certain
quantity of grain yearly, duty free. Swedish Finland
with Lapmark, now annexed to Russia, was estimated
to contain about 120,000 square English miles, with
895,000 inhabitants. Peace was also concluded with
France (6th January 1810), who gave up Pomerania.
Sweden was new enjoying tranquillity, when the sudden
and unexpected death of the crown prince (Augusten¬
berg) in April 1810, became a new source of perplex¬
ity. The duke of Sudermania was old and in a feeble
state of health, and as there was no person within the
kingdom who had any title by blood to the throne, it
was necessary for the security of the new order of
things to choose a successor. The threatening position
which the acquisition of Finland gave to Russia, indu¬
ced the noblemen who in concert with the court took a
lead in this business, to look out for some man of milir
tary talents. It so happened that Bernadette, prince
of Ponte Corvo, who had lately commanded in the north
of Germany, had gained the peculiar esteem of the
Swedish officers and soldiers he had made prisoners in
Gustavus’s ill concerted operations in Pomerania, by
his liberal and kind treatment. He was besides highly
respected for his military skill ; and had been still far¬
ther raised in general estimation, in consequence of
Napoleon having removed him from bis command for
his lenity and humanity in exercising his power. Some
of the Swedish officers, to whom his character was
known, first conceived the idea of offering him the suc¬
cession to the crown. The scheme was for some time
kept extremely private; but received so much coun¬
tenance from the most considerable men, that it was at
length opened to Bernadette himself in Paris. He re¬
ceived it as might he expected; and his friends re¬
doubled their intrigues. The prince of Denmark had
been proposed, but the ancient enmity against that
country was an invincible obstacle to his success. At
length, when every thing was prepared, the diet w'as
called, and Bernadette was elected crown prince, with
acclamations, by all the four orders, on the 2ist of July.
Of all the changes in the fortune and station of indi¬
viduals which arose out of the French revolution, this
is perhaps the most singular. Bonaparte seized the
royal power and dignity for himself, and by force of
arms he compelled some of the weaker states to accept
his relations and followers as kings. But it does not
appear that he was ever consulted as to Bernadotte^s
elevation, or had the smallest influence in it, except that
the example given in bis own person and that of his fol¬
lowers, had contributed to destroy some of the old il¬
lusions as to birth and hereditary honours, and had
prepared meu’s minds for great innovations* It. was
thus that the son of a French peasant was raised to
the Swedish throne, by the spontaneous choice of a
body of nobles, proud of their birth and ancestry.
The appearance of Bernadotte in the Swedish capi¬
tal was followed by numerous feasts and spectacles.
He received congratulations from all the public bodies;
and though not immediately called to the throne, was, from
the king’s infirmities,entrusted with the entire conduct
of the government. One of his first acts was to re¬
commend to the diet the introduction of a conscription
U 2 law
156
SWEDEN.
Sweden, law like that of Franco, a measure which certainly ha¬
zarded his popularity. It passed however } and on this
181
Govern¬
ment.
occasion he prevailed with the nobles, to make a volun¬
tary surrender of their ancient privilege of exemption
from military service, and from taxation. Pressed by
France and Russia, Sweden in November 1810, profes¬
sed her adherence to the continental system, and de¬
clared war against Britain. The war, however, was
only nominal, and the British cruisers returned in most
cases their captures untouched. This state of things
continued till Bonaparte was preparing for his great
Russian campaign, when the Swedish government, so¬
licited by both parties, and tempted by great offers, at
length signed treaties of alliance with Russia and Bri¬
tain in 1812 and 1813. By these treaties, the two
powers mentioned engaged to assist the king in conquer¬
ing Norway from Denmark. The French, for the pur¬
pose of intimidation, had previously seized Pomerania.
Bernadotte carried over an army of 30,000 Swedes to
Germany in 1813, and being joined by several large
bodies of Prussian and German troops, he was encoun¬
tered by Marshal Ney between Berlin and Leipsic on
the 6th September, and after an obstinate engagement,
drove back the French army with the loss of 16,000
men. In the battle of Leipzic also, fought the 18th
October, he bore a conspicuous share. After the vic¬
tory, he continued to act against Marshal Davoust’s
corps, and against the Danes, till he made the latter
to capitulate. He lost no time in improving this ad¬
vantage ; and by a treaty concluded at Kiel on the 14th
January 1814, compelled Denmark to cede Norway,
giving her the trifling possession of Pomerania in re¬
turn. He now advanced to the Rhine j but satisfied
with reducing Napoleon’s power, and, from views of
interest, most probably adverse to ruining him, he was
thought to be rather dilatory in pushing his advanta-
tages. The success of the allies at length left him at
liberty to secure Norway, the prize for which he had
fought. As the Norwegians announced their intention
to resist, he crossed the frontier with an army in July,
and, by judicious manoeuvres, which placed the Nor¬
wegian force in his power, he obliged them to capitu¬
late, and obtained possession of the country almost
without bloodshed •, Norway preserving its ancient con¬
stitution, and having states of its own. On the death
of Charles XIII. in 18x8, Bernadotte mounted the
throne j and, being on good terms with most of the
surrounding powers, has every chance to preserve his
situation, and transmit the crown to his posterity.
We have seen, that from the reign of Charles XII.
to the revolution under Gustavus III. in 1772, the go¬
vernment of Sweden was a limited monarchy, and that
since that time, till the accession of the present king
(Charles XIII.) the power of the monarchs was ab¬
solute. In 1811, however, the power of the diet was
re-established by new regulations. The four estates
of nobles, clergy, burghers, and peasants, sit in sepa¬
rate houses, and meet necessarily at the end of five
years, or oftener, if convoked by the king. The con¬
sent of three of these houses, with that of the king, gives
a proposition the form of law. No taxes can be raised
without the authority of the diet j and the persons of
the members are inviolable during the session. The
session lasts three months or longer. The law declares
the press to be free j but this provision has not been
enforced. The nobles consist of about 1200 families, $W(,
the heads of which sit in the diet. (See James’s Tra-^—>•
vels, 1817.).
The revenue of Sweden and Norway united, is esti-IttTtnj
mated at no more than 1,500,000!. sterling since the
peace in 1815. The debt of Sweden in 1816 was
10,209,611 dollars banco, or about 1,480,00014 and
Norway also owes a considerable sum. ,. j
The army, which amounted to 53,560 men in 1817,Milito
is chiefly supported by lands which are assigned to thestRnp
soldiers to cultivate. The navy is stated to consist of
20 ships of the line, and 16 frigates. The conscrip¬
tion places all the young men from 20 to 25, who are
estimated to amount to 80,000, at the disposal of the
government for military duty.
Christianity was introduced into Sweden in the pthRelij:
century. Their religion is Lutheran, which was pro¬
pagated among them by Gustavus Vasa about the year
1523. The Swedes are surprisingly uniform and unre¬
mitting in religious matters j and have such an aversion
to Popery, that if a Roman Catholic priest be discovered
in the country, he is treated with the greatest indignity.
The archbishop of Upsal had a revenue of 400I. a-year,
and had under him 13 suffragans with moderate stipends.
No clergyman had the least direction in the affairs of
state. Their morals, and the sanctity of their lives,
were such as to endear them to the people. Their
churches are neat, and often ornamented. A b#dy of
ecclesiastical laws and canons direct their religious eco¬
nomy^ A conversion to Popery, or a long continuance
under excommunication, which cannot pass without the
king’s permission, was punishment and exile.
The language of Sweden is a dialect of the Gothic, LseH
and nearly allied to those of Denmark, Norway, andan(l
Iceland. In the two grand divisions of the Gothic,turt
consisting of the German and Scandinavian dialects, the
latter is distinguished by greater brevity and force of
expression. In the south of Sweden, which contains
the chief mass of population, some German and French
words have been adopted ; while the Dalecarlian, in the
north-west, is esteemed a peculiar dialect, perhaps only
because it contains more of the ancient terms and idiom.
In the antiquity of literature, Sweden cannot pre¬
tend to vie with Denmark, Norway, or Iceland ; the
most nearly native chronicle, or perhaps literary com¬
position, being not more ancient than the 14th century.
In return, while the Danes seem occupied with inter- j
nal policy and public regulation, the Swedes have, in
modern times, borne the palm of genius in many de- '
partments of literature and philosophy.
But Swedish literature can scarcely be said to have
dawned till the middle of the 17th century, when Queen
Christina, finding the country immersed in ignorance,
invited Grotius, Descartes, and other celebrated men,
who though they did not reside long in the kingdom,
sowed the seed of letters, which gradually began to
prosper in the wise and beneficent reign of Charles XI.
In the succeeding or 18th century, the name of Linne
alone might distinguish the national literature ; and it is
joined in natural history with those of Scheele, Bergman,
Tilas, Wallerius, Quist, Cronstedt, and others. In his¬
tory, Dalin and Lagerbring have distinguished them*
selves by a precision and force, which the Danes seem to
sacrifice to antiquarian discussions. Sweden also boasts
of native poets and orators } and the progress of the sci¬
ences
S W E
g.iV|en. ences is supported by the institution of numerous acatle-
Yod
nd afi-
ulttt.
It
[anuc-
:res' :d
amuce.
The Swedes, since the days of Charles XII. have
been at incredible pains to correct the barrenness of their
country, by encouraging agriculture. Wheat is raised
only in the southern provinces ; rye, oats, barley, and
potatoes, are raised in the rest of the kingdom. The
whole annual produce of grain, however, was estimated
to amount only to 5,700,000 spans, or 1,482,000 quar¬
ters in 1810 ; a quantity not sufficient for the consump¬
tion of the country. Potatoes are in general use. The
farms are commonly small, and the return of the crops
is computed to be 5 for 1. For some years previous to
1812, there had been a progressive rise of prices, and
agriculture had considerably improved. But since this
period a revulsion seems to have taken place. The
common people knorv, as yet, little of the cultivation
of apricots, peaches, nectarines, pine-apples, and other
high-flavoured fruits 5 but melons are brought to the
greatest perfection in dry seasons.
The Swedish commonalty subsists by agriculture,
mining, hunting, grazing, and fishing. Their mate¬
rials for traffic are the bulky and useful commodities of
masts, beams, and other kinds of timber for shipping ;
tar, pitch, bark of trees, potash, wooden utensils, hides,
flax, hemp, peltry, furs, copper, lead, iron, cordage,
and fish.
Even the manufacturing of iron was introduced into
Sweden so late as the 16th century j for till then they
sold their own crude ore to the Hanse towns, and bought
it back again manufactured into utensils. About the
middle of the 17th century they set up some manu¬
factures of glass, starch, tin, woollen, silk, soap, leather¬
dressing, and saw mills. Bookselling was at that time
nnknown in Sweden. They have since had sugar mak¬
ing, tobacco plantations, and manufactures of sail cloth,
cotton, fustian, and other stuffs ; also of linen, alum,
brimstone, paper-mills, and gunpowder-mills. The iron
mine of Dannemora is said to yield 6olbs. of metal in
loolbs. of ore, and others about 3olbs. The iron ex¬
tracted from this is known in Europe by the name of
Oregi'und, which name is derived from a seaport on the
DEN. 157
Baltic. A large portion cf it is employed by different Sweden.,
nations for making the best steel. The wood of Sweden —'v J
is highly valued for some purposes j and Norway has
a very considerable trade in timber of various kinds.
The Swedes have also founderies for cannon, manufac¬
tories for fire-arms and anchors, armories, wire and flat¬
ting mills, also millsfor fulling, and for boring and stamp¬
ing ; and of late they have built many ships for sale.
According to the tables drawn up by Mr Coxe, the
Swedish exports amounted, about 30 years ago, to
1,368,830!. while the imports amounted to 1,008,391!.
In 1816 the exports were stated to be about seven mil¬
lions of dollars (exclusive of Norway), and the imports
twenty millions. This real or supposed inequality, ac¬
companied by considerable commercial distress, created
a great alarm in the country, and led the government
to issue edicts of the nature of sumptuary laws. Wine,
rum, and various manufactured articles were prohibited
to he imported j and injunctions w'ere issued to the people
to lay aside the use of costlr articles and every thing
considered a luxury. We know not what the result has
been, but the indubitable tendency of such measures is
to increase the evils they are meant to cure. The im¬
ports are chiefly corn, hemp, tobacco, sugar, coffee, drugs,
silk, wine, and brandy. lS2
The Swedish peasants seem to he a heavy plodding Character
race of men, strong and hardy, but without any other oft^e
ambition than that of subsisting themselves and theirSvvedes*
families as well as they can : they are honest, simple,
and hospitable ; and the mercantile classes are much of
the same cast j hut great application and perseverance is
discovered among them all. The principal nobility
and gentry of Sweden are naturally brave, polite, and
hospitable ; they have high and warm notions of hon¬
our, and are jealous of their national interests. The
dress of the common people is almost the same with that
of Denmark : the better sort are infatuated with French
modes and fashions. The common diversions of the Swedes
areskating,runningraces insledges,and sailing in yachts
upon the ice. The women go to plough, thresh out the
corn, row upon the water, serve the bricklayers, carry
burdens, and do all the common drudgeries in husbandry.
( f
t
r
S W E
SWEDENBORG, Emanuel, was born at Stock¬
holm in Sweden, in January 1689. His father was
bishop of West Gothland ; member of a society for the
propagation of the gospel, formed on the plan of that
of England ; and president of the Swedish church in
Pennsylvania and London. To this last office he was
appointed by Charles XII. who seems to have had a
great regard for the bishop, and to have continued that
regard to his son.
Of the course of young Swedenborg’s education we
nave procured no account; hut from the character of
the father, it may be supposed to have been pious j and
by his appearing with reputation as an author, when but
20 years of age, it is proved to have been successful.
His first work was published in 1709 5 and the year
following he sent into the world a collection of pieces
on different subjects, in Latin verse, under the title of
-LuauS' tlelicomus, site Carmina ^Miscellanea quee variis
in locis cecinit. The same year he began his travels,
3
S W E
first into England, aftenvards into Holland, France, and Swedeu-
Germany ; and returning to Stockholm in 1714, he borg-
was two years afterwards appointed to the office of as- 'V'—“
sessor in the Metallic College by Charles XII. who ho¬
noured him with frequent conversations, and bestowed
upon him a large share of his favour. At this period
of his life Swedenborg devoted his attention principally
to physic and mathematical studies; and in 1718 he
accompanied the king to the siege of Frederickshall,
where he gave an eminent proof that he had not studied
in vain. Charles could not send his heavy artillery to
Frederickshall from the badness of the roads, which
were then rendered much worse than usual by being
deeply covered with snow. In this extremity Sweden¬
borg brought the sciences to the aid of valour. By the
help of proper instruments he cut through the moun¬
tains, and raised the valleys which separated Sweden
from Norway, and then sent to his master two galleys,
five large boats, and a sloop, loaded with battering
pieces,,
S W E
T 15B ]
S W E
Sweden¬
borg.
pieces, to be employed in tlie siege. The length of this
canal was about two miles and a half. The execution
of this great work, however, did not occupy all his
time. In 1716 he had begun to publish essays and ob¬
servations on the mathematical and physical sciences,
under the title of Dcedalus Hyperborean ; and he found
leisure during the siege to complete his intended collec¬
tion, and also in the same year to publish an introduc
In the year 1729 he was enrolled among the members Sw;
of the. Society of Sciences at Upsal, and was, probably twj
about the same time, made a Fellow of the Royal Aca¬
demy of Sciences at Stockholm \ nor were strangers less
willing than his own countrymen to acknowledge the
greatness of his merit. Wolfius, with many other
learned foreigners, Was eager to court his correspond¬
ence. The Academy of St Petersburg sent him, on
tion to algebra, under the whimsical title of The Art of the 17th of December I734> a diploma of association
European
Magazine
17S7, July,
the Rules.
At the siege of Frederickshall he lost his patron
Charles ; but found another in Ulrica Eleonora, the
sister and successor of that hero, by whom in 1719 he
was ennobled, and took of course his-seat among the
senators of the equestrian order in the triennial assem¬
blies of the states. His promotion did not lessen his
ardour for the sciences ; for he published in the same
^year A Method to fix the Value of Money, and to de¬
termine the Swedish Measures in such a way as to sup¬
press all the Fractions and facilitate the Calculations.
About the same time he gave the -public a treatise on
the Position and Course of the Planets $ with another
on the Height of the Tides, and Fhix and Reflux of
the Sea ; which, from information gathered in different
parts of Sweden, appeared to have been greater former¬
ly than when he wrote.
As Swedenborg continued, under the new sovereign,
to hold the office of assessor to the Metallic College, he
thought-it necessary, for the discharge of his duty, to
make a second journey into foreign countries, that he
4Tiight himself /examine their mines, particularly those
of Saxony and Harts. ■ During these travels, which were
undertaken for the improvement of the manufactures of
his native country, he printed at Amsterdam, 1. Pro-
dromus principiorum Haturalium, sive novorutn tenta-
minum, Chemiam et Physteam experimentalem geome¬
tric e explicandi. 2. Nova observata et inventa circa
Ferrum et Ignern, preecipue naturam Ignis Flementa-
rum, vna cum nova Camini inventione. 3. Methodus
nova inveniendi Longitudines locorum terree marique
ope' Lurue. 4. Modus construendi receptacula navalia,
rulgo en Suedois, Hockybynaddtr. 5. Nova construe-
tio aggeris aquatici. 6. Modus explorandi virtutes
Navigiorum. And at Leipsic and Hamburg, 7. Mis¬
cellanea observata circa res nalurales, preesertim Mi-
neralia, Ignem, et Montium strata.
This journey was made, and these tracts published, in
the compass of a year and a half; and perhaps there
has not been another man, Linnaeus excepted, who has
done so much in so short a time. After his return in 1722,
Swedenborg divided his time so equally between the du¬
ties of his office and his private studies, that in 1733 he
finished his grand work, entitled Opera Philosophica et
Mineralia, and had it printed under his own direction
in 1734, part at Dresden and part at Leipsic ; in which
year he also went to inspect the mines of Austria and
Hungary. This work is divided into three volumes fo¬
lio ; the title of the first is Principia rerum Naturalivm
sive novorum tentaminum, Phcmomena Mundi elemen-
t ar is philosophic e explicandi. The second, Regnvm Sub-
terraneum sive Mineralc de Ferro ; and the third, Reg-
num Subterraneum sive Minerale de Cupro, et Ori-
chalco; all of them Written with great strength of
judgment, and ornamented with plates, to facilitate the
comprehension of the text.
as a correspondent member j and soon afterwards the
editors of the Acta Eruditorum at Leipsic found in
his works a valuable supplement to their own collection.
By many persons the approbation ot learned acade¬
mies would have been highly valued j but by Baron
'Swedenborg it was considered as of very little impor¬
tance. “ Whatever of worldly honour and advantage
may appear to be in the things before mentioned, I^0^
hold them (says he) but as matters of low estimation,^,;
■when compared to the honour of that holy office tonournl:
which the Lord himself hath called me, who was gra--E. Sv,
ciously pleased to manifest himself to me, his unworthy*'*'*
servant, in a personal appearance, in the year 1743* to
open in me a sight of the spiritual world, and to enable
me to converse with spirits and angels $ and this privilege
has continued with me to this day. Irom that time I
began to print and publish various unknown Arcana,
which have been either seen by me or revealed to me,
concerning heaven and hell, the state of men alter death,
the true worship of God, the spiritual sense of the Scrip¬
tures, and many other important truths tending to sal¬
vation and true wisdom.”
We shall not affront the understandings of our readers
by making upon this account of the Baron’s call such
reflections as every person of a sound mind will make
for himself j but it is rather remarkable, that a man
who had devoted the better part of his life to the study
of such sciences as generally fortify the mind against the
delusions of fanaticism, and who had even excelled in
these sciences, should have fallen into such a reverie as
this. After this extraordinary call, the Baron dedicat¬
ed himself wholy to the great work which, he suppos¬
ed, was assigned him, studying diligently the word of
God, and from time to time publishing to his fellow-
creatures such important information as was made known
to him concerning another world. Among his various
discoveries concerning the spiritual world, one is, that it
exists not in space. “ Of this (says he) I was convin-
ced, because I could there see Africans and Indians very
near me, although they are so many miles distant heremW
on earth ; nay, that I could be made present with the Thcolotf'
inhabitants of other planets in our system, and also with'®'11 ^
the inhabitants of planets that are in other worlds, and '
revolve about other suns. By virtue of such presence
(i. e. without real space), not of place, 1 have conversed
with apostles, departed popes, emperors, and kings;
with the late reformers of the church, Luther, Calvin,
and Melancthon, and with others from distant coun¬
tries.”
Notwithstanding the want of space in the spiritual
world, he tells us, “ that after death a man is so little
changed that he even does not know but he is living in
the present world ; that he eats and drinks, and even
enjoys conjugal delight as in this world ; that the re-Ibd.
semblance between the two worlds is so great, that in N ^
the spiritual world there are cities, with palaces and
houses,
S W E
hortt Ic-
vjnt,"~c.
ti.
id JK-
y’s l, -
ice t\\ he
'real on
nflua:
Swe :i- houses, and also writings and books, employments and
be . merchandises j that there is gold, silver, and precious
stones there. In a word (he says), there is in the spi¬
ritual world all and every thing that there is in the na¬
tural world, hut that in heaven such things are in an in¬
finitely more perfect state.”
Such was his zeal in the propagation of these whimsi¬
cal and sometimes sensual doctrines, that he frequently
left his native country to visit distant cities, particularly,
London and Amsterdam, where all his theological
works were printed at a great expence, and with little
prospect or probability of a reimbursement. “ Where-
ever he resided when on his travels, he was (says one of
his admirers) a mere solitary, and almost inaccessible,
though in his own country of a free and open beha¬
viour. He affected no honour, but declined it j pur¬
sued no worldly interest, hut spent his time in travelling
and printing, in order to communicate instruction and
benefit to mankind. He had nothing of the precise in
his manner, nothing of melancholy in his temper, and
nothing in the least bordering on enthusiasm in his con¬
versation or writings.” This is too much. We believe
he was an inotfensive visionary j of his conversation we
cannot judge; hut the specimens that we have given of
his writings are frantic enthusiasm. He died at Lon¬
don, March 29th, in the year 17725 and after lying in
state, his remains were deposited in a vault at the Swe¬
dish church, near Radcliff-Highway.
1 hough Baron Svyedenborg’s followers appear not to
have been numerous during his life, they have increased
since his death 5 and a sect subsists>at present in England
which derives its origin from him, and is called t/ie New
Jerusalem Church. The discriminating tenets of this
sect seem to be the following: “ Holding the doctrine
of one God, they maintain that this one God is no other
than Jesus Christ, and that he always existed in a human
form5 that for the sake of redeeming the world, he took
upon himself a proper human or material body, but not
a human soul; that this redemption consists in bringing
the hells or evil spirits into subjection, and the heavens
into order and regulation, and thereby preparing the
way for a new spiritual church 5 that without such re¬
demption no man could be saved, nor could the angels
retain their state of integrity; that their redemption
was effected by means of-tnals, temptations, or conflicts
with evil spirits 5 and that the last of them, by which
Christ glorified his humanity, perfecting the union of
his divine with his human nature, was the passion of
the cross. Though they maintain that there is hut one
' to b God, and one divine person, they hold that in this per-
ottohj son ^ere is a real Trinity ; consisting of the divinity,
■ 'nvrch the humanity, and the operation of them both in the
Lord Jesus ; a Trinity which did not exist from all
eternity, hut commenced at the incarnation. They be¬
lieve that the Scriptures are to be interpreted not only
m a literal but in a spiritual sense, not known to the
world till it was revealed to B. Swedenborg; and that
this spiritual sense extends to every part of Scripture,
except the Acts of the Apostles. They believe that
there are angels attending upon men, residing, as B.
Swedenborg says, in their affections ; that temptation
consists in a struggle between good and bad angels
vithin men; and that by this means God assists men
m these temptations, since of themselves they could do
nothing. Indeed B. Swedenborg maintains, that there
C 159 ]
S W I
n'estl,
4. &
n
Swift.
is an universal influx from God into the souls of men, Sweden,
inspiring them especially with the belief of the divine borg
unity. This efflux of divine light on the spiritual world
he compares to the efflux of the light from the sun in
the natural world.
“ There are (says B. Swedenborg) two worlds, the
natural and the spiritual, entirely distinct, though per-'
fectly corresponding to each other; that at death a
man enters into the spiritual world, when his soul is
clothed with a body, which he terms substantial, in op¬
position to the present material body, which, he says, is
never to rise out of the grave.”
SWEEP, in the sea-language, is that part of the;
mould of a ship where she begins to compass in the
rung-heads ; also when the hauser is dragged along the
bottom of the sea to recover-any thing that is sunk,
they call this action sweeping for it*
SWEET, in the wine trade, denotes any vegetable-
juice, whether obtained by means of sugar, raisins, or-
other foreign or domestic fruit, which is added to wines-
with a design to improve them.
SWEIN-mot. See Forest Courts.
SWE RITA, Marsh Gentian, a genus of plants
belonging to the class pentandria, and in the natural sy¬
stem ranging under the 20th order, rotacece. See Bo¬
tany Index.
SWIETENIA, Mahogany, a genus of plants be-
longing to the class decandria, and in the natural system
arranged under the 54th order, miscellanece. See Bo¬
tany and Materia Medi-ca Index.
I he first use to which mahogany was applied in Eng¬
land, was to make a box for holding candles. Hr Gib¬
bons, an eminent physician in the latter end of the 17th
and beginning of the 18th century, had a brother, a
West India captain, who brought over some planks of
this Wood as ballast. As the Doctor was then building
a house in King-street, Covent Garden, his brother
thought they might be of service to him. But the car¬
penters, finding the wood too hard for their tools, they
were laid aside for a time as useless. Soon after, Mrs
Gibbons, wanting a candle-box, the Doctor called on
his cabinet-maker to make him One of some wood that
lay in his garden. Wollaston, the cabinet-maker alsa
complained that it was too hard. The Doctor said he
must get stronger tools. The candle-box was made and
approved ; insomuch, that the Doeter then insisted on
having a bureau made of the same wood, which wa&
accordingly done; and the fine colour, polish, &c. were
so pleasing, that he invited all his friends to come and
see it. Among them was the duchess of Buckingham.
Her Grace begged some of the same wood of Dr Gib¬
bons, and employed Wollaston to make her a bureau
also ; on which the fame of mahogany and Mr Wol¬
laston was much raised, and things of this sort became
general.
SW1F F, Dr Jonathan, so universally admired as a
wit and classical writer of the English language, was
born in Dublin on November 30th 1667. £lis father
was an attorney, and of a good family ; hut dying
poor, the expence of his son’s education was defrayed
by his friends. At the age of six young Swift was sent
to the school of Kilkenny, whence he was removed in
his 15th year to Trinity College, Dublin.
In his academical studies (says Dr Johnson) he was
either not diligent or not happy. The truth appears tar
be.
S W I [ 160 ] S w I
Le, tliat lie despised them as intricate and useless. He
told Mr Sheridan, his last biographer, that he had made
many efforts, upon his entering the college, to read
some of the old treatises on logic writ by Smeglesius,
Tveckermannus, Burgersdicius, &c. and that he never
had patience to go through three pages of any of them,
he was so disgusted at the stupidity of the work. When
he was urged by his tutor to make himself master of
this branch, then in high estimation, and held essentially
necessary to the taking of a degree, Swift asked him,
What it was he was to learn from those books ? His
tutor told him, The art of reasoning. Swift said, That
he found no want of any such art; that he could reason
very well without it; and that, as far as he could ob¬
serve, they who had made the greatest proficiency in
logic had, instead of the art of reasoning, acquired the
art of wrangling ; and instead of clearing up obscuri¬
ties, had learned how to perplex matters that were cleljir
enough before. For his own part, he was contenhjd
with that portion of reason which God had given him }
and he would leave it to time and experience to strength¬
en and direct it properly •, nor would he run the risk of
having it warped or falsely biassed by any system of rules
laid down by such stupid writers, of the bad effects of
which he had but too many examples before his eyes in
those reckoned the most acute logicians. Accordingly,
he made a firm resolution, that he never would read any
of those books ; which he so pertinaciously adhered to,
that though his degree was refused him the first time of
sitting for it, on account of his not answering in that
branch, he went into the ball a second time as ill pro-
pared as before j and would also have been stopped a
second time, on the same account, if the interest of his
friends, who well knew the inflexibility of his temper,
had not stepped in, and obtained it for him 5 though in
a manner little to his credit, as it was inserted in the
College Registry, that he obtained it speciali gratia,
“ by special favour j” where it remains upon record.
But this circumstance is explained by others, that the
favour was in consequence of Swift’s distinguished ta¬
lents.
“ He remained in the college near three years after
this, not through choice, but necessity, little known or
regarded. By scholars he was reckoned a blockhead $
and as the lowmess of his circumstances would not per¬
mit him to keep company with persons of an equal rank
with himself, upon an equal footing, lie scorned to take
up with those of a lower class, or be obliged to those
of a higher. He lived therefore much alone, and his
time was employed in pursuing his course of reading in
history and poetry, then very unfashionable studies for
an academic or in gloomy meditations on his unhappy
circumstances. Yet, under this heavy pressure, the
force of his genius broke out, in the first rude diaught of
the Tale, of a Tub, written by him at the age of 19,
though communicated to nobody but his chamber-fel¬
low Mr Waryng} who, after the publication of the
book, made no scruple to declare, that he had read the
first sketch of it in Swift’s hand-writing when he was of
that age.”
In 1688, being, by the death of Godwin Swift his
uncle, who had chiefly supported him, left without sub¬
sistence, he went to consult his mother, who then lived
at Leicester, about the future course of his lifej and, by
her direction, solicited the advice and patronage of Sir
William Temple, whose father had lived in great friend- Swifi
ship with Godwin Swift. Temple received him with
great kindness, and -was so much pleased with his con¬
versation, that he detained him two years in his house,
and recommended him to King William, who offered
to make him a captain of horse. This not suiting his
disposition, and Temple not having it quickly in his
power to provide for him otherwise, Swift left his pa¬
tron (1694) in discontent; having previously taken his
master’s degree at Oxford, by means of a testimonial
from Dublin, in which the words of disgrace were omit¬
ted. He was resolved to enter into the church, where
his first preferment was only rook a-year, being the
prebend of Kilrvot in Conner ; which some time after¬
wards, upon Sir William Temple’s earnestly inviting
him back to his house at Moorpark, he resigned in
favour of a clergyman far advanced in years and bur¬
dened with a numerous family. For this man he soli¬
cited the prebend, to which he himself inducted him.
In 1699 Swift lost his patron Sir William Temple,
who left him a legacy in money', with the property of
his manuscripts ; and, on his death-bed, obtained for
him a promise from the king of the first prebend that
should become vacant at Westminster or Canterbury.
That this promise might not be forgotten, Swift dedi¬
cated to the king the posthumous works with which he
was entrusted, and for a while attended the court; but
soon found his solicitations hopeless. He was then in¬
vited by the earl of Berkeley to accompany him into
Ireland, where, after sufl’ering some cruel disappoint¬
ments, he obtained the livings of Laracor and Rath-
beggin in the diocese of Meath ; and soon afterwards
invited over the unfortunate Stella, a young woman of
the name of Johnson, whose life he contrived to embit¬
ter, and whose days, though he certainly loved her, we
may confidently affirm, he shortened by his caprice.
This lady is generally believed to have been the
daughter of Sir William Temple’s steward ; but her
niece, a Mrs Hearn, assured Mr Berkeley, the editor
of a volume of letters intitled Literary Relics, that her
father was a merchant, and the youngest brother of a
good family in Nottingham-shire ; that her mother was
the intimate friend of Lady Gifford, Sir William’s sis¬
ter; and that she herself was educated in the family
with his niece, the late Mr Temple of Moorpark by
Farnham *. This story would be intitled to the fullest* See;
credit, had not Mrs Hearn affirmed, in the same letter,
that before the death of Sir William Temple, Mrs
Johnson’s little fortune had been greatly injured by the
Soutii sea bubbles, which are known to have injured nofxti^
person till the year 1720: (*See Company, II. 1.).^;!
When one part of a narrative is so palpably false, the
remainder will always be received with hesitation. Butfor£lli:
whether Miss Johnson w7as the daughter of Temple’s and k
steward or of the friend of Lady Gifford, it is certain
that Sir William left her 1000I. ; and that, accom¬
panied by Mrs Dingley, whose whole fortune amounted
to an annuity of 27I. for life, she went, in consequence
of Swift’s invitation, to Laracor. With these two ladies
he passed his hours of relaxation, and to them he opened
his bosom ; but they never resided in the same house,
nor did he see either without a witness.
In 1701, Swift published A Discourse of the Contests
and Dissensions in Athens and Rome. It was his first
work, and indeed the only which he ever expressly ac¬
knowledged.
S W I
C 161 ]
S W I
knowledgeil. According to hid constant practice lie
had concealed his name ; but after its appearance, pay¬
ing a visit to some Irish bishop, he was asked by him if
he had read that pamphlet, and what its reputation was
in London. Upon his replying that he believed it was
very well liked in London ; “ Very well liked !” said
the bishop with some emotion. “ Yes, Sir, it is one of
the finest tracts that ever was written, and Bishop Bur¬
net is one of the best writers in the world.” Swift, who
always hated Burnet with something more than politi¬
cal rancour, immediately questioned his right to the
work when he was told by the bishop that he rvas “ a
young man5” and still persisting to doubt of the justice
of Burnet’s claim on account of the dissimilarity of the
style of the pamphlet from that of his other works, he
was told that he was “ a very positive young man,” as
no person in England but Bishop Burnet was capable
of writing it. Upon which Swift replied, with some in¬
dignation, I am to assure your lordship, however, that
Bishop Burnet did tiot write the pamphlet, for I wrote
it myself. And thus was he forced in the heat of ar¬
gument to avow what otherwise he would have for ever
concealed.
Early in the ensuing spring King William died 5 and
Swift, on his next visit to London, found Queen Anne
upon the throne. It was generally thought, upon this
event, that the Tory party would have had the ascend¬
ant ; but, contrary to all expectation, the Whigs had
managed matters so well as to get entirely into the
queen’s confidence, and to have the whole administra¬
tion of affairs in their hands. Swift’s friends were now
in power ; and the Whigs in general, knowing him to
be the author of the Discourse on the Contests, &c.
which was written in defence of King William and his
ministers against the violent proceedings of the house of
commons, considered themselves as much obliged to him,
and looked upon him as fast to their party. But Swift
thought with the Whigs only in the state ; for with re¬
spect to the church his principles w'ere always those of
a Tory. He therefore declined any intimate connection
with the leaders of the party, who at that time professed
time such tracts as he thought might be useful. In the Swift,
year 1704 he published the Ta/e oj a Tub, which, con- ——v~—
sidered merely as a work of genius, is unquestionably the
greatest which he ever produced j but the levity with
which religion was thought to be there treated, raised
up enemies to him among all parties, and eventually pre¬
cluded him from a bishopric. From that period till the
year 1708, he seems to have employed himself in soli¬
tary study ; but he then gave successively to the public
The Sentiments of a Church of England man, the ridi¬
cule of astrology under the name of Bicker staff, the
Argument against abolishing Christianity, and ihe de¬
fence of the Sacramental Test.
Soon after began the busy and important part of
Swift’s life. He was employed (1710) by the primate
of Ireland to solicit the queen for a remission of the first
fruits and twentieth parts to the Irish clergy. This in¬
troduced him to Mr Harley, afterwards earl of Oxford,
who, though a Whig himself, was at the head of the
Tory ministry, and in great need of an auxiliary so able
as Swift, by whose pen he and the other ministers might
be supported in pamphlets, poems, and periodical papers.
In the year 1710 was commenced the Examiner; of
which Swift wrote 33 papers, beginning his first part of
it on the 10th of November 171 £. The next year he
published the Conduct of the Allies ten days before the
parliament assembled ; and soon afterwards, Reflections
on the Barrier Treaty. The purpose of these pamph¬
lets was to persuade the nation to a peace, by showing
that “ mines had been exhausted and millions destroyed”
to secure the Dutch and aggrandize the emperor, with¬
out any advantage whatever to Great Britain. Though
these two publications, together with his Remarks on the
Bishop of Sarwii’s Introduction to the third Volume of
his History of the Reformation, certainly turned the tide
of popular opinion, and effectually promoted the designs
of the ministry, the best preferment which his friends
could venture to give him was the deanery of St Pa¬
trick’s, which he accepted in 1713. In the midst of
his power and his politics he kept a journal of his visits,
his walks, his interviews with ministers, and quarx-els
what was calledchurch principles. But what above , with his servant, and transmitted to Mrs Johnson and
all shocked him, says Mr Sheridan, was their invitingJ Mrs Dingley, to whom he knew that whatever befel
Deists, Freethinkers, Atheists, Jews, and Infidels, to be him was interesting : but in 1714 an end was put to
of their party, under pretence of moderation, and allow-k his power by the death of the queen, which broke down
ing a general liberty of conscience. As Swift was in ^at once the whole system of Tory politics, and nothing
remained for him but to withdraw from persecution to
ing a general liberty
his heart a man of true religion, he could not have borne,
even in his private character, to have mixed with such
a motley crew. But when we consider his principles in
his political capacity, that he looked upon the church
of England, as by law established, to be the main pillar
of our newly erected constitution, he could not, consist¬
ently with the character of a good citizen, join with
those who considered it more as an ornament than a
support to the edifice 4and could therefore look on with
composure while it was undermining, or could even open
the gate to a blind multitude, to try, like Sampson, their
strength against it, and consider it only as sport. With
such a party, neither his religious nor political principles
Would suffer him to join; and with regard to the Tories,
as is usual in the violence of factions, thev had run into
opposite extremes, equally dangerous to the state. He
was therefore during the earlier part of the queen’s reign
of no party, but employed himself in discharging the
duties of his function, and in publishing from time to
Vol. XX. Part I.
his deanery.
In the triumph of the Whigs, Swift met with every
mortification that a spirit like his could possibly he ex¬
posed to. The people of Ireland were irritated against
him beyond measure ; and every indignitv was offered
him as he walked ihe streets of Dublin. Nor was he
insulted by the rabble only ; for persons of distinguished
rank and character forgot the decorum of common ci¬
vility to give him a personal affront. While his pride
was hurt by such indignities, his more tender leelings
were also often wounded by base ingratitude. In such
a situation he found it in vain to struggle against the tide
that opposed him. He silently yielded to it, and retired
from the world to discharge his duties as a clergyman,
and attend to the care of his deanery. That no part of
his time might lie heavy on his hands, he employed his
leisure hours on some historical attempts relating to the
change ol the ministers and the conduct of the ministry ;
f X and
S W I [ 162 ] S W I
and completed the history of the four last years of the
queen, which had been begun in her lifetime, but which
he never published. Of the work which bears that title,
and is said to be his, Dr Johnson doubts the genuine¬
ness } and it certainly is not such as we should have ex¬
pected from a man of Swift’s sagacity and opportuni¬
ties of information.
In the year 1716 he was privately married to Mrs
Johnson bv Dr Ashe bishop of Clogher ; but the mar¬
riage made no change in their situation, and it would
be difficult to prove (says Lord Orrery) that they were
ever afterwards together but in the presence of a third
person. The dean of St Patrick’s lived in a private
manner, known and regarded only by his triends, till
about the year 1720 that he published his first poli¬
tical pamphlet relative to Ireland, intitled A Proposal
for the Universal Use of Irish Manufactures; which so
roused the indignation of the ministry that they com¬
menced a prosecution against the printer, and thus drew
the attention of the public to the pamphlet, and at once
made its author popular.
Whilst he was enjoying the laurels which this work
had wreathed for him, his felicity, as well as that ol his
wife, was interrupted by the death of Mrs Van Homrigh,
and the publication of his poem called Cadenus and Va¬
nessa, which brought upon him much merited obloquy.
With Mrs Van Homrigh he became acquainted in Lon¬
don during his attendance at court *, and finding her
possessed of genius and fond of literature, he took delight
in directing her studies, till he got insensibly possession
of her heart. From being proud of his praise, she grew
fond of his person •, and despising vulgar restraints, she
made him sensible that she was ready to receive him as
a husband She had wit, youth, beauty, and a compe¬
tent fortune to recommend her; and lor a while Swift
seems to have been undetermined whether or not he
should comply with her wish. She had followed him
to Ireland, where she lived in a house about twelve miles
distant from Dublin ; and he continued to visit her oc¬
casionally, and to direct her studies as he had done in
London ; but with these attentions she was not sati.-fied,
and at last sent to him a letter written with great ardour
and tenderness, insisting that he should immediately ac¬
cept or refuse her as a wife. His answer, which pro¬
bably contained the secret of his marriage, he carried
himself; and having indignantly thrown it on the lady’s
table, instantly quitted the house, we believe without
speaking to her, and returned to Dublin to reflect on
the consequences of his own conduct. rI hese were
dreadful. Mrs Van Homrigh survived her disappoint-
ment but a few weeks ; during which time she cancelled
a will that she had made in his favour, and ordered the
poem to be published in which Cadenus had proclaimed
her excellence and confessed his love.
His patriotism again burst forth in 1724 to obstruct
the cunenev of Wood’s halfpence ; and Ins zeal was
crowned with success. Wood had obtained a patent to
coin i8o,ocol. in halfpence and farthings for the king¬
dom of Ireland; and was about to turn his brass into
gold, when Swift, finding that the metal was debased to
an enormous degree, wrote letters under the name of
M. B. Drapier to show the folly of giving gold and
silver for coin not worth a third part of its nominal va-
jue. A prosecution was carried on against the printer;
and Lord Carteret, then lord-lieutenant, issued a pro- Suit
clamation, offering 300I. for discovering the author of1—V*
the fourth letter. The day after it was published there
was a full levee at the castle. The lord-lieutenant was
going round the circle, when Swift abruptly entered the
chamber, and pushing his way through the crowd, ne¬
ver stopped till he got within the circle; where, with
marks of the highest indignation in his countenance, he
addressed the lord-lieutenant with the voice of a Sten-
tor, that re-echoed through the room, “ So, my lord-
lieutenant, this is a glorious exploit that you performed
yesterday, in issuing a proclamation against a poor shop¬
keeper, whose only crime is an honest endeavour to save
his country from ruin. You have given a noble speci¬
men of what this devoted nation is to hope for from your
government. I suppose you expect a statue of copper
will be erected to you for this service done to Wood.”
He then went on for a long time, inveighing in the bit¬
terest terms against the patent, and displaying in the
strongest colours all the fatal consequencesof introducing
that execrable coin. The whole assembly were struck
mute with wonder at this unprecedented scene. For
some time a profound silence ensued. When Lord Car¬
teret, who had listened with great compo-ure to the
whole speech, made this fine reply, in a line of Virgil’s :
lies dura, et regni novitus me talia cogunt
Moliri. ■
.. I
From this time Swift was known by the name of the
Dean, and was acknowledged by the populace as the
champion', patron, and instructor of Ireland.
In 1727 he returned to England; wiiere, in con¬
junction with Pope, he collected three volumes of mis¬
cellanies ; and the same year he sent into the world his
Gui/ivcr's Travels, a production which was read by the
high and the low, and filled every reader with a mingled
emotion of merriment and amazement. Whilst he was
enjoying the reputation of this work, he was suddenly
called to a home of sorrow. Poor Stella rvas sinking
into the grave ; and after a langui-diing decay of about
two months, died in her 44th year, on January 28. 1728.
How much he wished her life is shown by his papers;
nor can it be doubted that he dreaded the death of her
whom he loved most, aggravated by the consciousness
that himself had hastened it. With her vanished all hi*
domestic enjoyments, and of course he turned his
thoughts more to public affairs ; in the contemplation of
which he could see nothing but what served to increase
the malady. The advances of old age, with all its at¬
tendant infirmities ; the death of almost all his old
friends ; the frequent returns of his most dispiriting ma-
.ladies, deafness and giddiness; and, above all, the
dreadful apprehensions that he should outlive his under¬
standing, made life such a burden to him, that he had
no hope left but a speedy dissolution, which was the ob¬
ject of his daily praver to the Almighty.
The severity of his temper increasing, he drove his
acquaintance from his table, and wondered why he was
deserted. In 1732, he complains, in a letter to Mr Cay,
that “ he had a large house, and should hardly find one
visitor if he Was not able to hire him with a bottle of
wrine and, in another to Mr Pope, “ that he was in
danger of dying poor and friendless, even his female
friends having forsaken him ; which,” as he says, “ vex¬
ed
S W I [ I
Swif ed him most.” These complaints were afterwards re-
—v™-' peated in a strain of yet greater sensibility : “ All my
friends have forsaken me.
“ Vertiginosus, inops, surdus, male grains amtcis.
“ Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone,
“ To all my friends a burden grown.”
The fits of giddiness and deafness to which he had
been subjected from his boyish years, and for which he
thought walking or riding the best remedy, became
more frequent and violent as he grew old ; and the pre¬
sentiment which he had long entertained of that wretch¬
edness which would inevitably overtake him towards the
close of life, clouded his mind with melancholy and
tinged every object around him. Ilow miserable he was
rendered by that gloomy prospect, we may learn from
the following remarkable anecdote mentioned by Mr
Faulkner in his letter to Lord Chesterfield. “ One
time, in a journey from Drogheda to Navan, the dean
rode before thecompany,made a sudden stop, dismounted
from his horse, fell on his knees, lifted up his hands, and
prayed in the most devout manner. When his friends
came up, he desired and pnsisted on their alighting j
which they did, and asked him the meaning. “ Gentle¬
men,” sa.d he, “ pray join your hearts in fervent prayers
with mine, that L may never he like this oak-tree, which
is decayed and withered at top, while the other parts are
sound.” In 1736, while he was writing a satire called
the Legion Club against the Irish parliament, he was seiz¬
ed with so dreadful a fit of his malady, that he left the
j poem unfinished 5 and never after attempted a composi-
] tion that required a course of thinking. From this time
his memory gradually declined, his passions perverted
his understanding, and, in 1741, lie became utterly incap¬
able of conversation ; and it was found necessary to ap¬
point legal guardians to his person and his fortune. He
I now lost all sense of distinction. H is meat was brought
! to him cut into mouthfuls; and he would never touch
it while the servant staid ; and at last, after it stood per-
I haps an hour, would eat it walking; for he continued
! his old habit, and was on his feet ten hours a day. Dur-
; ing next year a short interval of reason ensuing, gave
hopes of his recovery; but in a few (lavs he sunk into
lethargic stupidity, motionless, heedless, and speechless.
Alter a year of total silence, however, when his house¬
keeper told him that the u*ual illuminations were pre¬
paring to celebrate his birth, he answered, “ It is all
folly ; they had better let it alone.” He at last sunk
into a pel iect silence, which continued till the 29VI1 of
\ October J745> "’ben be expired without a struggle, in
bis 78th year. The behaviour of the citizens on this
occasion gave the strongest proof of the deep impression
1 he had made on their minds. Though lie had been so
many years to all intents and purposes dead to the world,
and his departure from that state seemed a thing rather
to be wished than deplored, yet no sooner was his death
announced, than they gathered from all quarters, and
forced their way in crowds into the house, to pay the
last tribute ol grief to their departed benefactor. No¬
thing but lamentations were heard all around the quar¬
ter where lie lived, as if he had been cut off in the vi¬
gour of his years. Happy were they who first got into
the chamber where he lay, to procure, by bribes to the
servants, locks ot his hair, to he handed down as sacred
relics to their posterity; and so eager were numbers to
63 ] S W I
obtain at any price this precious memorial, that in less Swift,
than an hour, his venerable head was entirely stripped —y—
of all its silver ornaments, so that not a hair remained.
By his will, which was dated in May 1740, just before
he ceased to be a reasonable being, he left about 1200!.
in specific legacies ; and the rest of his fortune, which
amounted to about n,ocol. to erect and endow an hos¬
pital for lunatics and idiots. He was buried in the most
private manner, according to directions in his will, in
the great aisle of St Patrick’s cathedral, and, by way of
monument, a slab of black marble was placed against
the wall, on which was engraved the following Latin
epitaph, written by himself:
Hie depositum est corpus
Jonathan Swift, S. T. P.
Ilujus Fcclesiae Cathedralis
Decani :
Ubi saeva indignatio
Ulterius cor lacerare nequit..
Alii, viator,
Ft imitare, si poteris,
Strenuum pro virili libertatis vindicem.
Obiit anno ( 1 745)
Mensis (Oetobris) die (29.)
^F.tatis anno 78.
Swift undoubtedly was a man of native genius. His
fancy was inexhaustible ; his conceptions were lively and
comprehensive ; ai d he had the peculiar felicity of con¬
veying them in language equally correct, free, and per¬
spicuous. His penetration was as quick as intuition ; he
was indeed the critic of nature ; and no man ever wrote
so much and borrowed so little.
As his genius was of the first class, so were some of
his virtues. 'The following anecdote will illustrate his
filial piety. His mother died in 1710, as appears bv a
memorandum in one of the account-books which Dr
Swift always made up yearly, and on each page entered
minutely all his receipts and expences in every month,
beginning his year from November 1. He observe d the
same method all his lifetime till his last illness. At the
foot of that page which includes his expences of the
mont b of May 17 1 O, at the glebe house of Laracor in
the. county of Meath, where he was then resident, are
these remarkable words, which show at the same time
his filial piety, and the religious use which he thought it
his duty to make of that melanc holy event. “ Mem. On
Wednesday, between seven and eight in the evening,
May 10. 1710. I received a letter in my chamber at
Laracor (Mr Percival and Jo. Beaumont being by)
from Mrs F—, dated May 9, with one inclosed, sent
by Mrs Worral at Leicester to MrsF—, giving an ac¬
count that my dear mother, Mrs Abigail Swift, died
that morning, Monday April 24. 1710, about ten o’¬
clock, after a long sickness : being ill all winter, and
lame ; and extremely ill about a month or six weeks be¬
fore her death. I have now lost my barrier between me
and death. God grant I may live to be as well prepar¬
ed for it as I confidently believe her to have been ! If
the way to heaven be through piety, truth, justice, and
charity, she is there. J. S.” He always treated his mo¬
ther, during her life, with the utmost doty and affec¬
tion ; and she sometimes came to Ireland to’visit him af¬
ter his settlement at Laracor.
The liberality of the dean hath been a topic of just
X 2 encomium
Swift.
t
S W I
encomium with all his admirers; nor could hi* enemies
deny him this praise. In his domestic aflairs, he al«-y
aot/d with strict economy. He kept the most re^lar
accounts ; and he seems to have done this
view to increase his power of being usefu .
come, which was little more than 700I. per Je
endeavoured to divide into three parts for the folio g
Durnoses. First, to live upon one-third of it. bccon y,
to give another third in pensions and charities according
to the manner in which persons who received them had
lived : and the other third he laid by, to
tal for the reception of idiots and lunatics. .
remarkable in this generous man, is tins (says Mr t .J,
that when he lent money upon bond or mortgage, he
would not take the legal interest, but one per cent, be-
^'llis charity appears to have been a settled principle
of duty more than an instinctive effort of good nature .
but as it was thus founded and supported, it had extia-
ordinary merit, and seldom failed to exert itself in a
manner that contributed most to render it beneficial. Me
did not lavish his money on the idle and the vvoith t. s.
He nicely discriminated characters, and was •eldom the
Jmnnsition. Hence his generosity always turned
dupe of imposition. Hence his generosity always
to an useful account •, while it relieved distress, it en¬
couraged industry, and rewarded virtue, dwel
with great pleasure on this truly excellent and distin¬
guishing part of the dean’s character : and lor the sake
164. ] S w I
Mr Kettesworth, that I am not the author of these ^
'""swift has been accused of irreligion and misanthropy, !
on account of his Tale of a Tub, and his Yahoos in
Gulliver’s Travels; but both charges seem to be ill-
founded, or at least not supported by that evidence.
The Tale of a Tub holds up to ridicule superstitious and
fanatical absurdities ; but it never attacks the essentials
of religion : and in the story of the laAoos, disgusting
we confess, there appears to us as little evidence that
the author hated his own species, as in the poems ot
Strephon andChloe, and the Ladies Dressing room, that
he approved of grossness and tilth in the female sex. We
do not indeed, with his fondest admirers, perceive the
moral tendency of the Voyage to the Houyhnhnms or
consider it as a satire admirably calculated to retorm
mankind ; but neither do we think that it can possibly
corrupt them, or lead them to think meanly of their
rational nature. According to Sheridan, “ the cesign
of this apologue is to place before the eyes of man a
picture of the two different parts of his frame, detached
from each other, in order that he may the better esti¬
mate the true value of each, and see the necessity there
is that the one should have an absolute command over
the other. In your merely animal capacity, says he to
man, without reason to guide you, and actuated only by
a blind instinct, I will show you that you would be de¬
graded below the beasts of the field, lhat very form,
guishing part of the dean 9 c krsLVfties and almost that very body, you are now so proud of, as giving you
forgive his faults. He was a very peculiar
every respect. Some have said, “What a man he
would have been, had he been without those whims and
infirmities which shaded both his genius and his cha¬
racter !” But perhaps the peculiarities complained ot
were inseparable from his genius. The vigour and fer¬
tility of the root could not fail now and then ot throw¬
ing out superfluous suckers. What produced these, pro¬
duced also the more beautiful branches, and gave the'
-fruit all its richness. , , , . ,
It must be acknowledged, that the dean s fancy hur¬
ried him into great absurdities and inconsistencies, tor
which nothing but his extraordinary talents and noble
virtues, discovered in other instances, could have atoned.
The rancour he discovered on all occasions towards the
dissenters is totally unjustifiable. No sect could have
merited it in the degree in which he always showed it to
them ; for, in some instances, it bordered on downright
persecution. He doubtless had his reasons for exposing
their principles to ridicule, and might perhaps have
sufficient grounds for some of his accusations against
their principal leaders in Ireland but nothing could
justify his virulence against the whole body. In a short
poem on one class of dissenters he bestowed a stricture
upon Bettesworth, a lawyer eminent for his insolence
to the clergy, which, from a very considerable reputa¬
tion, brought him into immediate and universal con¬
tempt. Bettesworth, enraged at his disgrace and loss,
went to the dean, and demanded whether he was the
author of that poem ? “ Mr Bettesworth (answered he),
1 was in my youth acquainted with great lawyers, who,
knowing my disposition to satire, advised me, il any
scoundrel or blockhead whom I had lampooned should
ask, ’ Are you the author of this paper ?, to tell him
that I was not the author; and therefore, I tell you,
„ superiority .
you, owe all their beauty, and all their greatest powers,
to their being actuated by a rational soul. Let that be
withdrawn, let the body be inhabited by the mind of a
brute, let it be prone as theirs are, and suffered like
theirs to take its natural course, without any assistance
from art, you would in that case be the most deformed,
as to your external appearance, the most detestable of all
creatures. And with regard to your internal frame,
filled with all the evil dispositions and malignant passions
of mankind, you would be the most miserable of beings,
living in a continued state of internal vexation, and ot
hatred and warfare with each other.
“ On the other hand, I will show another picture ot
an animal endowed with a rational soul, and acting uni¬
formly up to the dictates of right reason. Here you
may see collected all the virtues, all the great qualities,
which dignify man’s nature and constitute the happi¬
ness of his life. What is the natural inference to be
drawn from these two different representations ? Is it not
evidently a lesson to mankind, warning them not to sut-
fer the animal part to be predominant in them, lest they
resemble the vile Yahoo, and fall into vice and miseiy ;
but to emulate the noble and generous Houyhnhnm, by
cultivating the rational laculty to the utmost; winch
will lead them to a life of virtue and happiness.”
Such may have been the author’s intention ; but it is
not sufficiently obvious to produce the proper effect, an
is indeed hardly consistent with that incapability undei
which be represents the Yahoos of ever acquiring, by
any culture, the virtues of the noble Houyhnhnms.
With respect to his religon, it is a fact unquestion¬
able, that while the power of speech remained, he conti¬
nued constant in the perlormance of his private d«vo
tions ; and in proportion as his memory failed, they
’ r r were
.j
S W I [ 165 ] S W 1
Were gradually shortened, till at last he could only re¬
peat the Lord’s prayer, which he continued to do till
the power of utterance for ever ceased. Such a habit as
this could not have been formed but by a man deeply
impressed with a conviction of the truth and importance
of revelation.
The most inexcusable part of Ssvift’s conduct is his
treatment of Stella and Vanessa, for which no proper
apology can be made, and which the vain attempts of
his friends have only tended to aggravate. One attri¬
butes his singular conduct to a peculiarity in his consti¬
tution’, but if he knew that he was incapable of fulfill¬
ing the duties of the married state, how came he to tie one
of the ladies to himself by the marriage ceremony, and
in the most explicit terms to declare his passion to the
other? And what are we to think of the sensibility of a
man who, strongly attached as he seems to have been
to both, could, without speaking, fling a paper on the
table of the one, which “ proved (as our author expres¬
ses it) her death-warrant,” and could throw the other,
his beloved Stella, in her last illness, into unspeakable
agonies, and “ never see her more, for only adjuring
him, by their friendship, to let her have the satisfaction
of dying at least, though she had not lived, his acknow¬
ledged wife?” Another apologist insinuates, upon some¬
thing like evidence, that Stella bore a son to Swift, and
yet labours to excuse him for not declaring her his wife,
because she had agreed at the marriage that it should re¬
main a secret from all the world unless the discovery
should be called for by urgent necessity; but what could
be meant by the term urgent necessity, unless it alluded
to the birth of children, he confesses that it would be
hard to say. The truth we believe to be what has been
said by Johnson, that the man whom Stella had the mis¬
fortune to love was fond of singularity, and desirous to
make a mode of happiness for himself different from the
general course of things and the order of Providence }
he wished for all the pleasuresof perfectfriendship, with¬
out the uneasiness of conjugal restraint. But with this
state poor Stella was not satisfied \ she never was treated
as a wife, and to the world she had the appearance of a
mistress. She lived sullenly on, hoping that in time he
would own and receive her. This, we believe, he of¬
fered at last to do, but not till the change of his man¬
ners and the depravation of his mind made her tell him,
that “ it was too late.”
The natural acrimony of Swift’s temper had been in¬
creased by repeated disappointments. This gave a sple¬
netic tincture to his writings, and amidst the duties of
'private aiad domestic life it too frequently appeared to
shade the lustre of his more eminent virtues.—The
dean hath been accused of avarice, but with the same
truth as he hath been accused of infidelity. In detached
views, no man was more liable to be mistaken. Even
his genius and good sense might be questioned, if we
were only to read some passages of his writings. To
judge fairly and pronounce justly of him as a man and
as an author, we should examine the uniform tenor of
his disposition and conduct, and the general nature and
design of his productions. In the latter he will appear
great, and in the former good ; notwithstanding the
puns and puerilities of the one, and the absurdities and
inconsistencies of the other.
SwiFr, a species of swallow. See IlniuNDO, Orni¬
thology Index,
SWIMMING, the art of suspending one’s solf on Swimitilttg.
water, and at the same time making a progressive mo- -y—
tion through it. 1
As swimming is not natural to man, it is evident that Swimming
at some period it must have been unknown among the
human race. Nevertheless there are no accounts of its
origin to be found in the history of any nation} nor are
there any nations so barbarous but that the art of swim¬
ming is known among them, and that in greater perfec¬
tion than among civilized people. It is probable, there¬
fore, that the art, though not absolutely natural, will al¬
ways be acquired by people in a savage state from imita¬
ting the brute animals, most of whom swim naturally.
Indeed so much does this appear to be the case, that very
expert swimmers have recommended it to those who wish¬
ed to learn the art, to keep some frogs in a tub of water
constantly beside them, and to imitate the motions by
which they move through that element. 2
The theory of swimming depends upon one very sim- Depends
pie principle j namely, that if a force be applied to any on. a s‘“1lnC
body, it will always move towards that side where there 1
is the least resistance. Thus, if a person standing in a
boat pushes with a pole against the side or any other
part of the vessel in which he stands, no motion will en¬
sue j for as much as he presses in one direction with the
pole, just so much does the action of bis feet, on which
the pressure of the pole must ultimately rest, push the
vessel the other way : but if, instead of the side of the
vessel, he pushes the pole against the shore, then only
one force acts upon it, namely, that of the feet; which
being resisted only by the fluid water, the boat begins to
move from the shore. Now the very same thing takes
place in swimming, whether the animal be man, qua-
ruped, bird, or fish. If we consider the matter simply,
we may suppose an animal in such a situation that it
could not possibly swim : thus, if we cut off the fins and
tail of a fish, it will indeed float in consequence of be¬
ing specifically lighter than the water, but cannot make
any progressive motion, or at least but very little, in
consequence of wriggling its body *, but if we allow it
to keep any of its fins, by striking them against the wa¬
ter in any direction, the body moves the contrary way,
just as a boat moves the contrary way to that in which
the oars strike the water. It is true, that as the boat is
but partly immerged in the water, the resistance is com¬
paratively less than when a frog or even any other qua¬
druped swims ; but a boat could certainly be rowed with
oars though it was totally immerged in water, only with
less velocity than when it is not. When a man swims,
he in like manner strikes the water with his hands, arms,
and feet; in consequence of which the body moves in a
direction contrary to the stroke. Upon this principle, and
on this only, a man may either ascend, descend, or move
obliquely in any possible direction, in the water. One
would think, indeed, that as the strength of a man’s
arms and legs is but small, he could make but very
little way by any stroke he could give the water, consi¬
dering the fluidity of that element. Nevertheless it is
incredible what expert swimmers will perform in this
way ’, of which Mr Forster gives a most remarkable in¬
stance in the inhabitants of Otaheite; whose agility, he
tells us, was such, that when a nail was thrown over¬
board, they would jump after it into the sea, and never
fail to catch it before it reached to the bottom.
As to the practice of swimming, there are but few
directions
s W I [ 166 ] S W I
Swinvning directions which can be given. The great obstacle is
' v the natural dread which people have ol being drowned ;
and this it is impossible to overcome by any thing but
accustoming ourselves to go into the water. With re¬
gard to the real danger of being drowned, it is but
little ; and on innumerable occasions arises entirely from
the terror above mentioned, as will appear from the fol¬
lowing observations by Dr Franklin.
OSserva- “ 1st, That though the legs, arms, and head, of a
tions by human body, being solid parts, are specifically some-
Ur Frank- what heavier than fresh water, yet the trunk, particu-
1***« larly the upper part, from its hollowness, is so much
lighter than water, as that the whole of the body, taken
together, is too light to sink wholly under water, but
some part will remain above until the lungs become
filled with water j which happens from drawing water
into them instead of air, when a person in the fright at¬
tempts breathing while the mouth and nostrils are under
water.
“ 2dly, That the legs and arms are specifically lighter
than salt water, and will be supported by it j so that a
human body would not sink in salt water though the
lungs were filled as above, but from the greater specific
gravity of the bead.
“ 3<lly, That therefore a person throwing himself on
his back in salt water, and extending bis aims, may
easily lie so as to keep bis mouth and nostrils fre§ from
breathing •, and by a small motion of bis hands may pre¬
vent turning, if he should perceive any tendencj to it.
“ gtbly, That in fresh water, if a man throws himself
on Ins back near the surface, he cannot long continue in
that situation, but by a proper action of bis hands on
the water. If he uses no such action, the legs and
lower part of the body will gradually sink till be comes
into an upright position ; in which he will continue sus¬
pended, the hollow of the breast keeping the head up¬
permost.
“ 5lhly, But if in this erect position the head is kept
upright above the shoulders, as when we stand on the
ground, the immersion will, by the weight of that part
ot the head that is out ol the water, reach above the
mouth and nostrils, perhaps a little above the eyes ; so
that a man cannot long remain suspended in water with
his head in that position.
“ 6tbly, The body continued suspended as before,
and upright, if the head be leaned quite back, so that
the face looks upwards, all the back part of the head
being then under water, and its weight consequently
in a great measure supported by it, the face will re¬
main above water quite free for breathing, will rise an
inch higher every inspiration, and sink as much every
expiration, but never so low as that the water may come
over the mouth.
“ yilily, If therefore a person unacquainted with
swimming, and falling accidentally into the water, could
have presence of mind sufficient to avoid struggling and
plunging, and let the body take this natural position,
lie might continue long safe from drowning, till perhaps
help would come; for as to the clothes, their additional
H fight while immersed is very inconsiderable, the wa¬
ter supporting it; though when becomes out of the wa-
4 ter, he would find them very heavy indeed.”
His method The method of learning to swim is as follows : The
of learning person must walk into water so deep that it will reach
tt> »wim, to the breast. He is then to lie down gently on the
belly, keeping the head and neck perfectly upright, the Swim
breast advancing forward, the thorax inflated, and the
back bent ; then withdrawing the legs from the bottom,
and stretching them out, strike the aims forwards in uni¬
son with the legs. Swimming on the back is somewhat
similar to that on the belly ; but with this difference,
that although the legs are employed to move the body
forwards, the arms are generally unemployed, and the
progressive motion is derived from the movement of the
legs. In diving, a person must close his bands together,
and, pressing his c hin upon his breast, make an exertion
to bend with force forwards. While in that position, lie
must continue to move with rapidity under the surface ;
and whenever he chooses to return to his former situa¬
tion, be lias nothing to do but bend back his head, and
he will immediately return to the surface.
It is very common lor novices in the art of swimming
to make use of corks or bladders to assist in keeping the
body above water.'* Some have utterly condemned the
use of these; however, Dr Franklin allows that they
may be of service for supporting the body while one is
learning what is called the stroke, or that manner of
drawing in and striking out the hands and feet that is
necessary to produce progressive motion. “ But (says
he) you will be no swin mer till you can place confi¬
dence in the power of the water to support you : I
would therefore advise the acquiring that confidence in
the first place, especially as I. have known several who,
by a little of the practice necessary for that purpose,
have insensibly acquired the stroke, taught as it were
by nature.
“ The practice I mean is this: Choosing a place and <
where the water deepens gradually, walk coolly into it q™
till it is up to your breast : then turn lound your faceconil
to the shore, and throw an egg into the water, be¬
tween you and the shore ; it will sink to the bottom, |
and be easily seen there, if the water is clear. It must
lie in the water so deep as that you cannot reach it to
take it up but by diving for it. To encourage yourself
in order to do this, reflect that your progn ss will be
from deeper to shallower water; and that at any time
you may, by bringing your leys under you, and -land¬
ing on the bottom, raise your head farabove the water:
then plunge under it with your eyes open, throwing i
yourself towards the egg, and endeavouring, by theac- <
tion of your hands and feet against the water, to get
forward till within reach ol it. In this attempt you
will find that the water buoys you up against your incli¬
nation ; and it is not so easy a thing to sink as you ima¬
gined ; that you cannot but by active force get down to
the egg. 'i bus you teel the power of the water to sup¬
port you, and learn to confide in that power; while
your endeavours to overcome it, and to reach the egg,
teach you the manner of acting on the water with your
feet and hands; which action is afterwards used in swim¬
ming to support your head higher above water, or logo
forward through it.” ^ 6
As swimming is a healthy exercise and a pleasantSwi®*1
amusement, and as a dexterity m it may frequently put
it in a man s power to save his own life and the lives
his f< llow-creatures, perhaps of his dearest friends, it
can neither be uselessnor uninteresting to consider a few
of the evolutions which a swimmer must lie master of,
that he move in any direction without difficulty, with¬
out danger, and without being unnecessarily fatigued.
There
s W I [ If57
pjr. There are several different ways of turning one’s self
(-—'in swimming. You may do it in this way: Turn the
palm of the right hand outwards, extend the arm in the
same manner, and make a contrary movement with the
left hand and left arm ; then, by a gradual motion, in¬
cline your head and whole body to the left side, and the
evolution will be finished. There is another way which
is easier still : Bend your head and body toward that
side to which you are going to turn. If you wish to
turn to the left, incline the thumb and the right hand
toward the bottom, bend the fingers of the right hand,
stretch it out, and use it for driving aw'ay the water side-
wise, or, which is the same thing, for pushing yourself
the contrary way. At the same time, with your left
hand, the fingers being close, push the water behind
you, and all at once turn your body and your face to the
left, and the manoeuvre will be accomplished. If you
]
S W I
swim with great rapidity, you may use your arms as well Swimmim
as your feet $ and you will find this the easiest way of , 
breaking the force of the waves. j,
In swimming on the back, one may advance forward and ad-
as well as backward. For this purpose the body must Valu t tur-
be kept straight and extended ; the breast inflated, so'vaiJ'
that the hollow of the back may assume a semicircular
form. The hands must recline over the upper parts of
the thighs. It is also necessary to raise the legs one
after another, and draw them in strongly towards the
hams, and then leave them suspended in the water.
This way of swimming is not only pleasant, hut may
serve to rest you when fatigued. I2
When you are tired with swimming on your back and to
belly, you mav swim on one side. When you wish tosvvim orl
do this, sink a little your left side and raise your right j°ne SI^e>
you will immediately find yourself on your left side.
wish to turn to the right, you must do with your right Move then vour left hand without either raising or sink
liunrl \\T It *1 f Tf rk II i /I until 1 a n »-w! I,.IV Y_ I 1 . I • . it • ^ •
;c
•ci
1: .0
-C'i
hand what you did with your left, and with your left
what you did with your right. You must be careful
when turning your-elf never to stretch out your legs,
and he sure that the water be so deep that you he in no
danger of hurting your-elf.
When you are swimming on your belly, and wish to
turn on your back, draw your feet in quickly, and
throw them before you ; stretch out your hands behind
you, and keep your body firm and steady. When you
wish to turn from swimming on your hack, fold your
feet at once under your body as if you were throwing
them to the bottom, and at the same instant dart your
body forwards, that you may fall upon your belly.
In swimming, the eyes ought to he turned towards
heaven. This is a most important rule, and to the ne¬
glect of it many of the accidents which befal swimmers
are owing. For when they bend their eyes down wards,
they insensib’y bend their head too, and thus the mouth
being too deep in the water, may admit a quantity of it
in breaking; besides, the more the body is stretched, it
covers a greater pan of the surface of the water, and con¬
sequently its specific gravity is less. Any pi rson who
will make the experiment will find it impossible to dive
while he keeps his head erect and his eyes fixed on the
heavens (a).
I he easiest posture in swimming is lying on the back.
M hen you wish to swim in this posture, lay yourself
softly on your back, and raise vour breast to the surface
ot the water, keeping your body extended in the same
line. Put your hands easily over the uppt r part of your
thighs, and throw out your legs and draw them in alter¬
nately keeping them within two feet of the surface. In
this way you may advance in any direction you please,
^ou may perhaps not like having so much of your head
under water ; there is, however, no way of swimming
so easy, so safe, and so little fatiguing. If you wisli to
mg it; you have only to stretch it. and draw it back, as
in a straight line, on the surface of the water. Indepen¬
dent of the pleasure which this kind of motion will give
you, you will have the satisfaction of seeing both sides
of the river.
It is possible to swim on the belly without the assist-How to
ance of the hands. For this purpose you must keep yours"*in OBt
breast erect, your neck straight, and fix your hands be-
hind your head, or upon your bac k, while you move the assist-
forward by employing your feet. This way is not with-ance of th*
out its advantages. It is an excellent resource when the^ulIlt^i’
arms are seized with a cramp, or with any indisposition
which makes it painful to exert them. 'Phis in some
cases may he preferable to swimming on the back; for
while in that attitude, one cannot see before them with¬
out turning every instant. If one of your legs he seized
with a cramp, take hold of ii with the hand opposite to
it, and use the other hand and leg to advance or support
yourself.
A very ancient and gracefiil mode of swimming, is How u»
that of swimming with the hands joined. When you s'viin witk
wish to put this in practice, join your hands, keeping}*1.6 lian'**
the thumbs and fingers towards heaven, so that they'3°iUe^‘
may appear above the water; then draw them hack and
push them forwards alternately from your breast. This
method of swimming may he useful in several circum¬
stances, hut above all if you are entangled with grass
or weeds. A our hands will then open a passage for
y°11- .
As a person may sometimes have occasion to carry with W
something in his hand in swimming, which he is anxious hands ek-
to preserve from the water, he mav swim easily with vaUd.
one hand and hold a parcel in the other, as Caesar swam
with his Commentaries at Alexandria; or one may swim
with both hands elevated. To perform this well, the
swimmer must raise his breast, and keep it as much inflated
(a) An interesting question occurs here, which deserves to be considered. Since the body, when spread upon
the surface, can be supported with so little exertion, and frequently without any at all, as in swimming on the
’ack, how comes it to pass that a person when drowned sinks and frequently rises again some time afterwards? The
reason is this : In the act ol drowning, the lungs are filled with water, and consequently the body, being speiili-
ea y heavier, sinks. It is well known that the human body contains a great quantity of air: this air is at first
compressed by the water ; and while this is the case the body remains at the bottom : but as soon as the air by
us e asticity endeavours to disengage itself (rom the compression, they body is swelled and expanded, becomes
8peeitically lighter than the water, and consequently rises to the lop.
Swimming
i5
How to rise
to the sur¬
face after
diving.
Situation.
S W I [
as he can, at the same time that he supports the arms
above the water. It must not be concealed, that this
method of swimming is attended with some danger
to one who is not dexterous at the art $ for if one
should imprudently draw in his breast, when his arms
are raised, he would immediately sink to the bottom.
When a man plunges into the water, and has reached
the bottom, he has only to give a small stroke which his
foot against the ground, in order to rise *, but an expe¬
rienced swimmer, if he misses the ground, has recourse
to another expedient, which is very pretty, and which
has not been much considered. Suppose him at a con¬
siderable depth, when he perceives that he cannot reach
the bottom. In such a case, he first puts his hands be¬
fore his face, at the height of his forehead, with the
palms turned outwardly $ then holding the fore part of
his arm vertically, he makes them move backwards and
forwards from right to left •, that is to say, these two
parts of his arms, having the elbow as a kind of pivot,
describe very quickly, both the hands being open, and
the fingers joined, two small portions of a circle before
the forehead, as if he would make the water retire,
which he in fact does ; and from these strokes given to
the water, there results an oblique force, one part of
which carries the swimmer upwards.
There are many artificial methods of supporting one’s
self in water, but we have not room to describe them.—
Those who wish to see a full account of them may con¬
sult the Encyclopedic Methodique.
Swimming of 1'ish. A great proportion of the in¬
habitants of the waters have an air-bladder, by which
they poise themselves. Their movements chiefly depend
upon their tail. See Anatomy, Part II. j and Ich¬
thyology.
SWINDLER, a word which has been lately adopted
into the English language, derived from the German
word schwindel, “ to cheat.” Swindling has now be¬
come so common in several of the great towns of this
country, that it is unfortunately too well known to re¬
quire any description.
SWINE. See Sus, Mammalia Index.
SwiNE-Stone. See Mineralogy Index.
SWINGING, a kind of exercise strongly recom¬
mended to persons in consumption by some physicians,
and disapproved of by others. See Medicine Index.
SWING-TREE of a waggon, is the bar fastened a-
cross the fore-guide, to which the traces oi the horses
are fastened.
SwiNG-Wheel, in a royal pendulum, that wheel
which drives the pendulum. In a watch or balance
clock it is called the crown-wheel.
SWINGLE, in the fireworks in England, the wood¬
en spoke which is fixed to the barrel that draws the
wire, and which, by its being forced back by the cogs
of the wheel, is the occasion of the force with which the
barrel is pulled.
SWITZ, or Schweits, the capital of one of the
cantons of Switzerland, to which it gives name, seated
on the east side of the lake Lucerne, in N. Lat. 46. 55.
E. Long. 8. 30.
SWISSERLAND, or Switzerland, a mountain¬
ous district of the south of Europe, forming a republic
composed of several independent states or cantons, each
governed by its own council and laws, but united into
cne body by a federal constitution.
I
168 ] S W I
Switzerland is bounded on the north and east by Ger-
many, on the south by Italy, and on the west by the lam.
Boui’isr
ec:
departments of the Higher and Lower Alps, and the '•
mouths of the Rhone. Its extent from east to west is
computed at about 200 British miles, and its breadth ""J
from north to south at about 130 British miles. Its
area in square English miles is estimated at 23*000.
Before the French revolution, Switzerland contained
13 independent cantons, and a number of small dis¬
tricts, which were dependent on the cantons. The in¬
dependent cantons were, 1. Berne, including the Pays
de Vaud; 2. Friburg ; 3. Basil 5 4. Soleure j
5. Schaffhausen j 6. Zurich-, 7. Appenzel ; 8.
Lucerne j 9. Zug j 10. Schweitz $ 11. Under-
WALDEN 12. UrI I3- CLARIS.
After the conquest of the country by the French, it
was divided into 21 cantons, which were reduced to 19
by the annexation of some districts to France and
since the peace in 1815 they have been increased to
22 by the restitution of the ceded districts, and the ad¬
dition of Geneva to the number. The following table,
from Crowe’s View of the Powers of Europe (1818),
shews the extent and population of each.
Extent in square
German miles.
Zurich,
Berne,
Lucern,
Uri,
Schwitz,
Underwald,
Claris,
Zug,
Friburg,
Soleure,
Basil,
Schaffhausen
Appenzel,
St Gall,
Grisons,
Argau,
Thurgau,
Tessin,
Vaud,
Valais,
Neufchatel,
Geneva,
51
184
41
39
18
21
18
6
42
J9
13
10
11
58
39
23
82
86
119
20
6
Population.
182,080
291,600
99,972
14.600
28,900
21,200
24,000
141750
89.600
48.600
49,200
30,000
55’00°
130,000
73>o°0
143,000
77,091
88,793
141,676
62,809
50,000
40,000
I079
I>757>°31
In English miles 23,000
Switzerland is the most mountainous country in Eu¬
rope. Both on the mountains and in the valleys the air
is extremely cold in winter ; but in summer it is very
pleasant, cool, and refreshing in the former, but exces¬
sively hot in the latter. Prodigious masses ol ice and
snow often fall from the mountains in winter, and do a
great deal of damage and most of the streams and ri¬
vers take their ri-e from the thawing of the ice aud
snow on their sides and tops.
The lower parts of Switzerland are very pleasant
and fertile, being diversified with vineyards, corn-fields,
meadows, and pasture-grounds.
Many petrifactions are
found
th
tU
ij \
Sw?er-
id.
S W I [ 169 ]
found both among these and the others, with a variety humane
,ang -e,
digit
lanuf .
ad*.8
liaraci
i'the
"iss.
of fossils. The sands of the rivers yield gold dust, par
^ ticularly those of the llhine, the Emmet, and the Aar,
the Reuss, the Arv«, and the Inn.
The metals of this country being generally found to
be brittle, the only mines that are worked are a few
of iron. In the lower parts of Switzerland they sow
rye, oats, barley, spelt, flax, hemp. Wines of various
sorts are also produced by some of them, with a variety
of fruits. Of wood for fuel and other uses there is ge¬
nerally plenty; in some places, however, they are
obliged to burn sheep’s dung, and in others a kind of
heath and small shrubs. In the valleys they cultivate
saffron with success. The Swiss derive their principal
subsistence from their flocks and herds of cattle, which
in summer graze on the mountains. Their cheese is
much esteemed, especially that of Eerne and Griers in
the canton of Friburg. Great numbers of horses are
also bred here, and bought up for the French cavalry.
Besides the above-mentioned rivers, the Rhone and the
Tesin have their sources in this countrv. The lakes are
very numerous ; but the chief are those of Geneva,
Neufcbatel, Biel, Zurich, Thun, Brien, Constance, and
Lucerne. Both rivers and lakes abound with fish, and
ailord a cheap water-carriage. Switzerland is not so
populous as many countries in Europe, but is more so
than Spain, Sweden, or Denmark, and is really w’ell
peopled considering the great proportion of useless soil
it contains.
The language generally spoken here is the German,
in which also public affairs are transacted ; but in those
parts of the country that border on Italy or France, a
corrupt I rench or Italian prevails. The two predo¬
minant religions are Calvinism and Popery. Of the for¬
mer are the cantons of Zurich and Berne, the towns of
St Gal, Geneva, Muhlhau«en, and Biel, the principality
of Neufcbatel, the greater part of Basle, Schaffhausen,
the country of the Grisons, the Thurgau, Toggen-
burg, Glaris, and the Rhine valley ; the frontiers of Ap-
penzel, with a small part of Solotlmrn, and some places
m the mountains of Baden and Sargans. The rest of
the Swiss cantons, allies, and dependents, are Popish.
For the education of youth there is an university at
Basle, and academies at Zurich, Berne, Lausanne, and
Geneva •, besides gymnasiums and scholae illustres, both
m the Popish and Protestant cantons. There are also
societies among them for the improvement of the Ger¬
man language, and the sciences.
Ihe principal manufactures are snuff and tobacco,
linen of several sorts, lace, thread, silk, and worsted
stockings, neckcloths, cotton stuffs, gloves, handker¬
chiefs, silks of several sorts, gold and silver brocades, a
variety ot woollen manufactures, hats, paper, leather of
all sorts, earthen wares, porcelain, toys, watches, clocks,
and other hardwares, &c. The trade of Switzerland is
generally promoted by many navigable lakes and rivers,
tn some ot the above manufactures, and in cheese, but¬
ter, sheep, horses, black cattle, hides, and skins, the ex¬
ports are considerable j and as the imports are chiefly
grain and salt, with some American ami Asiatic goods,
tuere is probably a large balance in tiieir favour. In
some parts of Switzerland dress is restrained by sump¬
tuary laws.
Ihe Swiss are a brave, honest, hospitable, hardy
S W I
In short, there is not a people in Europe Switzer-
whose national character is better. In their persons they land
are generally tall, robust, and well-made j but their ’ v—-
complexions are none of the best, and those that live in
the neighbourhood of the mountains are subject to wens.
Ihe women are said to he generally handsome and well¬
shaped, sensible and modest 5 yet frank, easy, and agree¬
able in conversation. Few of the peasants are miser¬
ably poor; many of them are rich, especially in the
Protestant cantons, and that of Berne in particular. ^
In the very confined limits to winch we are now re-Outline ot'
duced, we cannot give more than a faint outline of thelIie ^tory
history of Switzerland. In the first century before tIie.of S,'vilz',~
Christian era, we find the natives involved in frequent^
wars with the Romans, by whom the Helvetii and the
Rhajtn, two ol the most powerful tribes, were entirely
subjugated. In the beginning of tbe 4th century of the
Christian era, the Allemanni, a German tribe, made an
irruption into Switzerland, occupied the country, and,
as is supposed, extirpated the Helvetii. Soon after we
find the western part of Switzerland, as far as the Reuss,
occupied by the Franks, by whom it was annexed to'
Burgundy, while the eastern part, or the Grisons, was
subject to Theodoric the Goth, and other Italian
princes. In the beginning of the 7 th century, Christi¬
anity was introduced, chiefly by two Irish monks, Co-
lumbanus and Gallus. In the beginning of the lotli
century, that part of Switzerland which wras occupied
by the Allemanni, was invaded by the Huns or Ugurs,
who in particular ravaged the abbey of St Gal, at that
time famous for its power and its literature. The
Huns were defeated by Conrad king of Burgundy,
about the year 928. Soon after the commencement of
the nth century, the districts of Switzerland began to
be regarded as a part of tbe German empire, and in the
two following centuries they gradually became subject
to the house of Hapsburgh. In 1307 commenced the
struggles of the Swiss with the house of Austria, those
glorious struggles which finally terminated in the com¬
plete emancipation of that brave people, and in the
formation of a confederacy which continued to he the
admiration of Europe for nearly five centuries. The
transactions which mark this contest between the inha¬
bitants of a small district and a mighty monarch, and
in particular the heroism of their great champion Wil¬
liam Tell, are familiar to most of our readers. We
shall therefore only give a short account of the govern¬
ment and institutions of the Swiss cantons, as they exist¬
ed previous to the late revolution, and shall conclude
this article with a brief narrative of the proceedings of
the French, when they entered Switzerland in 1797. 10
W ith respect to tbe government and constitution ofConstitn-
the Swiss cantons, it must be remarked that some oftio1.1 of tlic
them wrere aristocracies and some democracies. In the^1*8^"*
former, both the legislative and executive power were iheVie rc-
lodged in the burghers or citizens of the capital of each volution,
canton ; and of those there were seven, viz. Zurich,
Berne, Basle, Friburg, Soleure,anffSchaffhausen ; an ac¬
count of tbe most important of which may be seen under
their respective names. In the others, the legislative
power was lodged in the whole body of the people, and
every male above 16, whether master or servant, bad a
vote in making laws and in the choice of magistrates.
For what concerned the whole Helvetic body, there
people ; very true to their engagements, friendly and were diets ordinary and extraordinary ; the former were
V ol. XX. Part I. t Y ' held
S W I [ 17
Switzer- held annually, and the others on particular eniergen-
land. cies; and both were summoned by the city of Zurich,
““"V ' -which appointed the time and place of their meetings.
Besides the general diets, since the Reformation there
were particular diets of the two religions, at which all
public affairs of consequence that regarded the two
parties were treated separately ; for though a sense of
their common interest obliged them to study the main¬
taining the league and union, yet it is certain that the
mutual confidence between the cantons was in some
measure lost through the zeal of each party lor their
particular opinions, especially of the Roman Catholics.
The annual general diets were held always at Frauen-
field or Baden, principally to regulate the affairs of the
common baillages. Lucerne took the lead of the Ro¬
man Catholic cantons, being the most powerful of that
denomination ; hut Zurich, though less powerful than
that of Berne, took the precedence of all the other can¬
tons, both Protestant and Popish. These cantons did
not make one commonwealth, but were so many inde¬
pendent slates, united together by strict alliances for
their mutual defence. The extraordinary diets or con¬
gresses were held at Aldorf. Each canton usually deputed
two envoys, both to the ordinary and extraordinary,
to which also the abbot and the town of St Gal, and
the town of Biel, sent representatives. To the 13 can¬
tons belonged in common 21 baillages, 2 towns, and
2 lordships. The allies, as they were called, were the
abbot and town of St Gal, the three Grison leagues,
the republic of the Valais, the towns of Muhlhausen and
Biel, the principality of Neuenburgh, Geneva, and the
bishop of Basle. Of these, the abbot and town of St
Gal, and the town of Biel, were regarded as members
of the Helvetic body, but the rest only as allies.
The public revenues were in general very incon¬
siderable, and since the peace in 1815 have been com¬
puted at 430,000! sterling, arising chiefly from the usual
regalia, appropriated every where to the sovereign, the
demesnes, and public granaries, voluntary contributions,
the sale of salt, and a land-tax ; in the Protestant can¬
tons, from the church lands also that were seized at the
reformation. Except in Zurich, Bern, Basle, and
Schaflhausen, where the people are more industrious,
have a greater trade, and are richer than in the others,
they defrayed only the ordinary charges.
The cantons never kept any standing troops except
for a few garrisons ; but their militia was reckoned to
be the best regulated of any in Europe. Every male
from 16 to 60 was enrolled, and about one-third of
them formed into regiments. They were all obliged to
provide themselves with arms, clothing, accoutrements,
and to appear on the stated days for exercise ; and the
several cantons and districts were obliged to furnish
themselves with a sufficient train of artillery, and all the
other implements of war. The Swiss of the several
cantons were allowed to engage in the service of such
foreign princes and states as were in alliance with those
cantons, or with whom they had made a previous agree •
ment. Such states paying an annual subsidy to the re¬
spective cantons, were allowed to make, levies. Every
man enlisted voluntarily, for what number of years he
pleased, at the expiration of which he was at liberty to
return home. Many thus always returning from foreign
service, Switzerland was never unprovided with able
and experienced officers and soldiers.
2
> ] S W I
It was scarcely to be expected that a country so long Switis
and so intimately connected with I ranee, by its position, M
by perpetual alliance, by commerce, and partly by j
language, should escape the influence of the principles
of its revolution, when states far more remote and di-thedbg
stinct were strongly imbued with their spirit. Butlietvt-
previous to the epoch of the French revolution, various
parts of the Swiss confederation had been the seat 0f{rrt[UJ
civil discord, and popular murmurs. In some cantonspUyit
the indignant spirit of the subject had led him to revolt
against what he deemed the oppresive administration
of the ruler $ in others, the distinctions which exist in
society, and which form the different classes of privi¬
leged and unprivileged individuals, were strangely and
inversely distributed. The French revolution, declar¬
ing the principle of equality, found a wide predisposi¬
tion among the subjects of the Swiss confederacy to
embrace the cause, and as strong a resistance on the
part of the governors, who were deeply interested in
opposing the progress of opinions so immediately sub¬
versive of authority. Conscious that with such a system
no brotherhood could be cherished, many of the lead¬
ing cantons kept themselves in a state of watchfulness,
bordering on hostility, against the principles established
by the French national assembly. But with so power¬
ful a sanction, the frowns of powder were ineffectual to
calm the murmurs of discontent j and claims, which tear j|
or policy had hitherto shut up in silence, were now pro¬
duced, with confidence that they would be admitted
from the sentiment of fear, il not of justice.
Among those who were most active in demanding a
review of their grievances were the inhabitants of the
French part of the canton of Berne, known by the name
of the Eays-de-Vaud. rI he nobles and the higher
classes of this province had long transmitted to their
children a hereditary hatred of the government of
Berne. This disaffection was not concealed j nor is
it singular that the desire of change should operate on
the titled and the rich, while they saw their political
existence depending cn the will ol a self-elected sove¬
reign, and their provinces subjected to the administra¬
tion of an emissary of these whom they considered as
usurpers of their rights. 1
But however strongly the sensibility of the subject in¬
habitants of the Pays-deA and was excited by this poli¬
tical degradation, they were compelled to submit, or
brood over their grievances in silence. rI hey were in¬
capable of procuring redress by force ; and the sovereign
burghers of Berne were too firmly seated to regard the
remonstrances of impotent claimants, or to listen to the
murmurs of discontent. Partial insurrections against the
governments of certain cantons had often taken place in
Switzerland. These disorders had sometimes been sup¬
pressed and punished with the interposition of the neigh*
homing cantons, where the danger was not excessive;
but when these insurrections wore the serious characters
of rebellion or revolt, the whole confederation marched
against the conspirators. France before the revolution
had even lent its aid to the suppression of those domestic
quarrels, and had become the instrument of vengeance
to the insulted sovereign so that, whatever was the de¬
gree of oppression, or whatever the desire of resistance,
redress was become hopeless, and change impossible.
It was chiefly among the classes of burghers and arti*
zans who inhabited the towns, that discontent against
the
s w I t 171 ] S W I
the ruling power prevailed. The peasants, less oppres¬
sed, because more ignorant of their rights and privileges,
not only did not themselves oppose the aggressions of the
chief men in power, but even assisted them in quelling
insurrections which arose among their rival classes.
All writers agree in the existence of vexatious and
oppressive abuses among all the governments of the Swiss
cantons, at the time of which we are now writing. The
despotism of their institutions ; the abuses of election to
sovereign councils ; the daily and encroaching spirit of
authority ; the overgrown influence of patrician fami¬
lies 5 the striking inequality which prevailed, even on
this basis, of aristocrat ical power; the monopoly of places
of profit to the exclusion of worth and talent; the unde¬
fined limits of proconsular administration ; the want of
encouragement to the arts and sciences ; the neglect of
education among those who were destined to rule, the
void of which was filled up by idlenefss, arrogance, igno¬
rance, and dissipation,—are so many features presented
by writers of diflerent characters and discordant senti¬
ments, to fill up the picture of this vaunted region of
happiness and liberty.
rI he severity exercised by the government of Berne
over those inhabitants of the Pavs-de-Vaud who had as¬
sembled on the 14th of July 1791, to commemorate the
taking of the Bastile at Paris, and express their appro¬
bation of the French revolution, had created in the
minds of the French people sensations of jealousy to¬
wards their Swiss neighbours ; while the disbanding
and dismissal of the Swiss regiments in the service of
France, had contributed to exasperate the government
of the cantons against the new republic.
All the cantons, except that ot Berne, appeared for a
long time disposed to preserve a neutrality towards re¬
volutionary France ; but that canton, under pretence of
supporting the people of Geneva against the aggressions
•of the French, first displayed an avowed hostility, and
marched a body of 15,000 troops towards the frontiers
of the French republic. The true cause of this move¬
ment in the canton of Berne, has been by others stated
to be the hopes entertained by some individuals of that
government, of sharing in the plans of emolument and
preferment which were expected to arise on the re-esta¬
blishment of monarchy in France. The mutual jealousy
subsisting between the Swiss cantons and the ruling
power in France, was heightened by the protection
given by some of the cantons to the French emigrants,
and by the correspondence which others of the cantons
had held with the bloody tribunal of Robespierre. Af¬
ter the retreat of the allied armies from the frontiers of
France, the Swiss found it politic to make at least a
show of amity towards the victorious republic ; and ac¬
cordingly recognised the existing government of the
republic, and openly received M. Barthelemy as its
charge d'affaires. Still, however, the sincerity of the
cantons was justly doubted by the French directory,
who appear to have long formed designs against the in¬
dependence of Switzerland.
Jhe directory, confirmed in power, and relieved from
the controul of a popular legislature, hastened, towards
the dose ot the year I797i to put in force their pro¬
ject of subjugating the Swiss republics. The first hos¬
tile movement on the part of the French, was to take
possession ol the Helvetic part of the bishopric of Basle,
under some frivolous pretence, and contrary to an ex¬
press treaty concluded with the Swiss in the year 1792.
Either too weak or too prudent to resent this infraction
of their rights, the Helvetic body still flattered them¬
selves with an amicable termination of their difference
with France ; when an insurrection, which broke out
in the Pays de-Vaud, probably through French instiga¬
tion, or at least through the influence of French piin-
ciples, afforded a fuller pretext for the overthrow of the
government. In the month of December, the French
directory thought proper to interfere in this domestic
dispute, and demanded from the government of Berne,
what they termed the restoration of the rights of that
people, and the assembling of the states of the Pays-de-
Vaud in their ancient form. This demand they imme¬
diately prepared to enforce by arms ; and General Me¬
nard was ordered to march, with a body of 15,000
men, to support the claims of the petitioning party in
the Pays-de vaud. The designs of the French were
foi the moment irustrated by the timidity or generosity
ot the supreme council of Berne. On the 5th of Janua¬
ry» I79^> they issued a proclamation, enjoining the ci¬
tizens ot the Pays-de-Vaud to assemble in arms, to re¬
new the oath of allegiance, to proceed immediately to
the reform of every abuse in the government, and to
assert and re-establish all their ancient rights. Acorn-
mission had been previously appointed at Lausanne, for
determining on the claims of the petitioners, and for
reinstating the country in its former tranquillity. From
what causes it happened, we have not as yet been cor¬
rectly informed, but the proceedings of the commission
seemed involved altogether in embarrassment and delay.
The people became impatient, and the insurrection at
once broke out into actual hostility. The castle of
ChilIon was seized by the insurgents’; and the commo¬
tions which took place in the southern districts of the
province appeared no less formidable. The government
of Berne now determined to reduce the insurgents by
force ; and a body of 20,000 troops, under the com¬
mand of Colonel Weiss, was dispatched to disperse
them. Whether the lenient measures pursued by this
general, were consistent with sound policy or not, it is
impossible, from the materials which have hitherto fal¬
len under our inspection, to determine, Suffice it to
say, that though it is not certain that more precipitate
movements would have saved the country, yet his inac¬
tivity undoubtedly served to increase at once the power
and the audacity of the insurgents. Thus situated, the
approach of the French decided the contest. On pas¬
sing the boundary, Menard dispatched an aide-de-camp,
attended by two hussars, to General Weiss,at Yverdun;
on their return, a fatal affray took place at the village
of Thierens, in which one of the hussars was killed.
Y ho were the aggressors in this unfortunate business is
not correctly ascertained, but it was regarded by Me¬
nard as a declaration of war. His troops immediately
advanced, while those of Weiss retreated, and the
whole of the Pays-de-Vaud was, by the beginning of
February, in the possession of the French.
The government of Berne still hoped, it appears, to
avert the destruction which now seemed to await them ;
the centinels who had killed the hussar at Thierens
were delivered up, and fresh negotiations were entered
on. In the mean time, however, new insurrections
were planned in different parts, and the revolutionary
mania appeared to increase. In .the seditious assemblages
Ya
I?
13
"Piepara-
tions tor
war on the
part of the
cantons.
S w I [
on these occasions, the French envoy, Mengaud, jas
observed to take a decided part 5 and, on the 2d 0
Jannaiy he formally reclaimed some persons who ha
been arrested for treasonable practices by the govern
ment of Berne, as the friends and allies of t ,e 1
republic. To this reclamation the government of Be ne
paid little attention 5 and the standard of revolt havmg
been erected at Aran, they determined on effective
measures for its suppression and their own defence.
The Argovian militia marched to Arau * the town and
province were immediately reduced, and the leaders of
the insurrection were taken into custody.
War now appeared inevitable, lo conciliate tl
minds of the people, and induce them more freely to
lend their assistance, the government of Berne decieed,
that 152 deputies from the principal towns and communes
should be added to the supreme council ; and, on the
2d of February, these new deputies took their seats.
A general reform of all the abuses of the government
was the first resolution agreed on in their deliberations •,
and the example of Berne was followed by the cantons
of Lucerne, Fribourg, Soleure, Schaflhausen, and Lw-
While, in this state of things, fresh negotiations were
commenced with the French directory, a defensive force
of about 20,000 men was collected. The other Swiss
cantons dispatched their quotas to the defence of Berne,
which amounted to about 5500 men. A truce had
been concluded with the French general in the I ays-
de-Vaud, where an officer of the name of Brune had
succeeded Menard in the command. The truce was to
have expired on the 1st of March ; hut Genera d Lr-
hch> fearful lest the spirit of his troops should slacken,
demanded, on the 26th of February, positive orders to
nut his army in motion, and the council immediately
made a decree to that effect. The plan of the campaign
was now arranged by M. d’Erlach, and notice hac
been given to the posts that hostilities were to com¬
mence on the evening of the 1st of March 5 when the
movements of the Swiss general were frustrated by the
repeal of the decree which had been so hastily passed,
and the negotiation was renewed with the French com¬
mander.
M. Mallet du Pan asserts, that the French general
Brune, had agreed to prolong the truce for 30 hours-,
but, on the 2d March, the castle of Dornach, at the
northern extremity of the canton of Soleure, was at¬
tacked and carried by the French -, and at the same
time, 13,000 men were marched under the walls of So¬
leure, which capitulated to General Schawenbourg on
the first summons. Friburg was immediately after re¬
duced by General Brune, and the Swiss army was forced
to retreat.
While disaffection prevailed in the army of General
d’Erlach, the inhabitants of Berne saw the rapid ap¬
proach of the victorious army. On the 3d of March,
the levy of the Lundsthurm, or the rising of the people
in a mass, was proclaimed. The expedient did not suc¬
ceed in favour of the magistrates 5 the people were no
sooner assembled in arms, than they of themselves dis¬
solved the government; a provisional regency was elect¬
ed for the occasion the event was notified to General
Bruue $ and to facilitate a pacification, an order was
issued to dismiss the army, on condition that the French
would keep the posts they at present occupied.
2 ]
S \V I
Unsatisfied with this concession, the French general s*lt2tt
insisted on the town receiving a French garrison. In land,
the mean time all was confusion, both in Berne and in1—y-*,
the army the left division of which had mutinied, de¬
serted their posts, and put to death some of their offi¬
cers By desertion, the Swiss army was now reduced
to 14 000, to which might be added the undisciplined
rabble which the Landsthurm had called forth. About
8oco of the regular forces were stationed at Neweneg,
and 6400 held the position of Frauenbrun, against which
General Scbawenbourg advanced from Soletire, at the
head of 18,000 men On the morning of the 3th
March, both posts were attacked by the French, and a
momentary success seemed to crown the valorous ef¬
forts of the division at Neweneg ; but those stationed at
Frauenbrun were, after a vigorous resistance, obliged to
retreat M. d’Erlach rallied his men at Uteren, where
a second engagement took place, but with no better
success on the part of the Swiss. At Grouholtz, how¬
ever, they again made a stand, whence they were driven
to the gates of the capital, where they were completely
routed. The Swiss, in this engagement, lost 2000 in
killed and wounded j while the loss ot the liench was
about 1800. . j
On the evening of the jjth. General Brune entered Bernee
the city of Berne by capitulation. The divisions of theteredb
Swiss army stationed at Newenegand Guminen retreat-I'm
ed -, the soldiers of this last column, in despair, put
their officers to death ; and the unfortunate d’Erlach,
in flying from the field of battle, was murdered by his
countrymen and soldiers. .
The submission of nearly the whole of Switzerland
followed the defeat of the Bernese. The democratic
republics, however, still made a glorious stand, defeat¬
ed General Schawenbourg, and forced him to retire with
the loss of 3000 men. t 15
The Swiss confederacy, after this revolution, changedHelnii |
^ its constitution, and even its name. Provisional govern-rep* |
ments, under the direction of the French generals, were
established in the different districts, and the whole as¬
sumed the name of the Helvetic republic. Contribu¬
tions were levied as usual, by the French commission¬
ers } and some shocking enormities are reported to have*See) j
been committed, chiefly by the army of the Rhine*,
the divisions which belonged to the army of Italy arefarI.J
said to have conducted themselves with superior liuma-^ ^ ^
nity and justice *. .
In the beginning of 1802, a new constitution was Const,
framed for the Helvetic republic, under the direction
of Bonaparte. Its leading features are as follows.
The Helvetic republic is one. Every citizen has a
right of settling in any canton of the republic, and of
exercising all tbe civil and political rights in the same
manner as the citizens ot the canton.
Berne is the capital of Helvetia. The Helvetic ter-
ritorv is divided into 21 cantons. 1 he ecclesiastical
property, in general, can he employed only for esta¬
blishments of religious instruction, or ot charity.
There is a central administration ol the republic tor-
the exercise of the national sovereignty, and an admi¬
nistration of the cantons. The administration of the
cantons is composed of a diet and a senate. The diet
is formed by the union of representatives from all the
cantons, in the following proportions,—Berne, six ; Zu¬
rich, two ; Lucerne, five ; Uri, one j Scbweitz, three-,
Underwaldqn,
s w o
.1 _ Untlenvalilen, 096 •, Zap, one ; Claris, one •, Solcure,
ki' two j Fribourg, three*, Basle, two; Schaffhausen, one;
I Appeniel, one; St Gal, four; Turgovia, two ; Ar-
5wt govia, two ; Baden, two ; Vaud, four ; Grisons, one ;
Tessin, three; Valais, two. The members of the diet
remain five years in office. The diet is to assemble re¬
gularly every year on the 1st of March. It shall be ex¬
traordinarily convoked by the senate when the majority
of the cantons require it, or when itself shall judge that
measure necessary. The president of the diet shall be
the landamtman who is not in office. He has a casting
vote, in case the votes shall be equally divided. A de¬
putation of four members from the senate shall assist at
the diet, but without having a right to vote.
The senate is composed of two landamtmaus, two
stadtholders or lieutenants, and 26 counsellors. Each
canton must have at least one member in it. The se¬
nate forms the projects of laws and regulations, and sub¬
mits them to the sanction of the cantons. The two
landamtmans and their lieutenants have the direction
of foreign affairs. The senate names and recalls diplo¬
matic agents, on a proposition from the landamtmans.
Though France had not formally abolished the inde¬
pendent government of Switzerland, she exercised an
influence in the affairs of the cantons, which left the
diet little substantial power. From this influence Swit¬
zerland rvas delivered on the overthrow of the French
power in 1814. The territories fox*ced from her were
restored, and Geneva was added to the list of can¬
tons. Whether any change has subsequently been
made in the internal or federative government we have
not yet learned.
SWIVELS, a kind of ring made to turn round in a
staple, or other ring. These are used when a ship lies
at her moorings ; also in tedders for cattle, that they
may turn round without unwarping the tedder.
SwiVEL-Cannon, is a small piece ot artillery be¬
longing to a ship of war, which carries a shot of half a
pound, and is fixed in a socket on the top ot the ship’s
side, stern, or bow, and also in her tops. 1 lie trun¬
nions of this piece are contained in a sort of iron crotch,
of which the lower end terminates in a cylindrical pivot
resting in the socket, so as to support the weight of the
cannon. The socket is bored in a strong piece of oak,
reinforced with iron hoops, in order to enable it to sus¬
tain the recoil. By rn^ans ot this frame, which is cal¬
led the swivel^ and an iron handle on its cascable, the
gun may he directed by the hand to any object. It is
therefore very necessary in the tops, particularly when
loaded with musket-halls, to fire down on the upper
decks of the adversary in action.
SWOONING. See Medicine, N° 274.
SWORD, an offensive weapon worn at the side, and
serving either to cut or stab. Its parts are, the handle,
guard, and blade ; to which may be added the bow,
scabbard, pummel, &c.
Sword of State, which is borne before the king,
lords, and governors of counties, cities, or boroughs,
&c. For or before the king, it ought to be carried up¬
right; the hilt as low as the bearer’s waist, the blade
up between his eyes. For or before a duke, the blade
must decline from the head, and be carried between
the neck and the right shoulder. For or before an
earl, the blade is to be carried between the point ol the
shoulder and the elbow; and for or before a baron, the
s y 1;
blade is to be borne in the bend of the arm. I bis ce- Sword
remonial form no less denotes the dignity of a governor (1
than the coronet set on his coat of arms. ^Syene.
SwORD-Fisk. See Xiphias, Ichthyology Index. T
SWORN BROTHERS (frutres juruti), persons who,
by mutual oath, covenanted to share each other’s for¬
tune. Formerly, in any notable expedition to invade
and conquer an enemy’s country, it was the custom fop
the more eminent soldiers to engage themselves by re¬
ciprocal oaths to share the rewards of their service.
This practice gave occasion to the proverb of stvorn
brothers or brethren in iniquity, because of their divid¬
ing plunder and spoil.
SYCAMORF-tree. See Acer, Botany Index.
SYCOPHANT, an appellation given by the an¬
cient Athenians to those who informed of the expor¬
tation of figs contrary to law ; and hence it is still
used in general for all informers, parasites, flatterers,
cheats, &c.
SYDENHAM, Dr Thomas, an excellent English
physician, was the son of William Sydenham of W in-
ford Eagle in Dorsetshire, and was horn there about
the year 1624. He studied at Magdalen-hall, Oxford}
but left that university when Oxford was garrisoned for
King Charles I. and went to London : where, becom¬
ing acquainted with Dr Thomas Cox, an eminent phy¬
sician, that gentleman persuaded him to apply himself
to the study of physic ; accordingly, after the garrison
was delivered up to the parliament, he retired again to
Magdalene-hall, entered on the study of medicine, and
in 1648 was created bachelor of physic. Soon after,
he was made a fellow of All-Souls college, and conti¬
nued there several years : when leaving the university,
he settled at Westminster, became doctor of his faculty
at Cambridge ; grew famous for his practice ; and was
the chief physician in London from the year 1660 to
1670 ; at which period he began to be disabled by the
gout. He died in 1689. His works are highly esteem¬
ed both at home and abroad. He was famous for his
cool regimen in the small po£ ; for giving the bark af¬
ter the paroxysm in agues; and for his use of laudanum.
He regulated his practice more by his own observations
and inquiries, than by the method either of his prede¬
cessors or contemporaries.
SYENE, an ancient city of Egypt, situated, accord¬
ing to Mr Bruce, in north latitude 240 o' 45". Pliny
and Strabo both say, that it lay directly under the tropic
of Cancer. Whether Mr Bruce’s authority be suffi¬
cient to overturn the evidence of Pliny and Strabo, we
shall leave to others to determine.
Syene is remarkable for being the place where the
first attempt was made to measure the circumference
of the earth. This was done by Eratosthenes, whom
Ptolemy Eoergetes had invited from Athens to Alex¬
andria. In this attempt two positions were assumed,
viz. that Alexandria and Syene were exactly 5000 sta¬
dia distant from each other, and that they were precise¬
ly under the same meridian; but both these are denied
by Mr Bruce, who has made many observations on the
subject which our limits will not allow us to take notice
of at present. He tells us, that there is at Asum an
obelisk erected by Ptolemy Euergetes, the patron of
Eratosthenes, without hieroglyphics, directly facing
the south, with its top first cut into a narrow neck,
then spread out like a fan into a semicircular form,
withu
[ >73 ]
S Y L f
\vitli pavements curiously levelled to receive the shade,
and make the separation of the true shadow from the
penumbra as distinct as possible. This is supposed by
Mr Bruce to have been constructed with a design to
vary the experiment of Eratosthenes with a larger ra¬
dius j and the inquiry concerning the dimensions of the
earth, in our author’s opinion, was the occasion of many
obelisks being erected in this kingdom j a demonstration
of which is, that the figure of the top is varied ; being
sometimes very sharp, and sometimes a portion of a cir¬
cle, in order to get rid of the great impediment arising
from the penumbra, which makes it difficult to deter¬
mine the length of the shadow with precision. It is
now called Assouan.
SYLLA, Lucius Cornelius, was descended from
the illustrious family of the Scipios. His behaviour in
his younger years by no means corresponded with the
■excellent education which he had received. But de¬
bauchery, instead of bringing along with it infamy and
ruin, its usual attendants, served only to increase the
Wealth of this fortunate Homan ; for Nicopolis, a rich
courtezan, whose affections he had gained, left him heir
to her great estate.—He learned the art of war under
Marius, whom he attended to Numidia in quality of
questor. Though hitherto unaccustomed to aims, he
became in a short time the most skilful soldier in the ar¬
my, while by his polite and obliging behaviour he gain¬
ed the love and esteem of every body. His courage and
dexterity contributed a great deal towards the success
of the war; it was his eloquence in particular that per¬
suaded Bocchus to deliver up Jugurtha. He served af¬
terwards in the Social war, where his actions entirely
eclipsed those of every other commander. As a re¬
ward for this conduct he was raised to the pnetorship.
It is pretended by some that Sylla purchased this digni¬
ty ; and that when he threatened one day to make use
of the powers of his office against Strabo the father of
Pompey, that Roman replied with a smile, “You are
in the right to say so ; your office is certainly yours,
since you purchased it.” Be this as it may, after the
•conclusion of the Social war he wras made consul, and
soon after declared general of the army which was to
be sent against MitbridateS king of Pontus. Marius, at
that time the most renowned of the Roman generals, ex¬
pected that the management of this war would have
been committed to him, and wras therefore much exas¬
perated at the disappointment. The people were per¬
suaded by his intrigues to reverse the former decree, and
substitute him in place of Sylla. Upon this he sent
down officers to take the command of the army ; but
Svlla bv this time had gained over the soldiers ; who,
instead of obeying the decree of the people, slew Ma¬
rius’s officers, and intreated Sylla to lead them instantly
to Rome. Accordingly he entered the city sword in
-hand, slew Sulpicius the consul, obliged Marius to flee,
new-modelled the laws, and afterwards marched into the
East, and immediately laid siege to Athens ; for that
citv, together with the rest of Greece, had fallen into
the power of Mithridates. He wrote to the Amphic-
tyons, who were assembled at Delphi, to send him all
the gold which was deposited in the temple of Apollo,
because he stood in need of money ; promising, at the
same time, to restore it again at the end of the war.
When he received this treasure, he observed, with an
nir of raillery, that he now no longer despaired of vic-
4 ] S ’Y L
tory, since the gods themselves furnished him with mo¬
ney to pay his troops. Famine soon obliged the Athe¬
nians to think of a surrender. Their ambassadors wait¬
ed on Sylla, and began to harangue about Theseus and
Codrus, and Marathon and Salami's,—when he inter¬
rupted them, and exclaimed, “ Go, repeat these fine
orations in your schools ; I have come hither, not to
learn your history, but to chastise rebels.” Athens
was at last taken by assault, and Sylla was upon the
point of destroying it, when he recollected its ancient
glory, and spared (as he said) the living for the sake
of the dead. After burning the Piraeus, be gained two
decisive victories over the generals of Mithridates. In
the second battle, which was fought at Orchomenus, he
was almost defeated ; his troops began to flee, when,
leaping from his horse, he snatched up a standard, and
advanced against the enemy, crying out, “ I will die
here gloriously; and, soldiers, when you are asked
‘where you abandoned your general, answer, At Orcho¬
menus.” This reproach recalled the courage of the
Romans; they followed him to the charge, and gain¬
ed a complete victory. Mithridates, humbled by thes«
disasters, sent ambassadors to sue for peace.
M can time Cinna had declared against Sylla in Italy;
and Marius returning from banishment, had taken the
most severe vengeance on all his enemies. Syila w'as
declared a traitor; his laws were reversed, his friends
murdered, and the government new’-modelied. The
news of these transactions induced Sylla te conclude a
treaty with Mithridates, and march directly to Rome.
His approach terrified tire Romans. Marius and Cinna
were both dead ; but the consuls made vigorous prepa¬
rations to oppose him. A.civil war was begun ; but
Sylla in the end subdued all his enemies, and entirely
ruined the Marian faction. He entered Rome at the
head of his victorious army, and publicly assumed the
surname of Happy. Happy, indeed, had he ceased to
live when he ceased to conquer. The remainder of his
life contains nothing else but a catalogue of the most
abominable cruelties. He declared that every one who
expected a pardon for their late offences, must gain it by
destroying the enemies of the state. The sword of the
as'assin was thus unsheathed, and murder encouraged as
the path to power and distinction. The noblest of the
Romans were everywhere massacred ; slaves were re¬
warded for cutting off their masters ; children weie
seen dragging their parents to execution ; and brother*
claiming a recompense for the murder of brothers. Syl¬
la ordered 8oco wretches, who had thrown themselves
upon his clemency, to be butchered in the Campus
Martius. In the mean time he entered the senate-house,
and began to talk with great coolness about bis exploits.
The senate, alarmed at the horrid outcries of the suf¬
ferers, at first thought that the city was given up to be
plundered; but Sylla informed them, with an unembar¬
rassed air, that it was only some criminals punishing by
his orders, and that they needed not be apprehensive
about their own fate.
To carry on these cruelties with the appearance of
justice, he commanded the people to elect him dictator.
He kept this office for more than two years; and then,
to the amazement of all, laid it down, and offered to
stand his trial before the people. Soon afterwards he
retired into the country, and plunged headlong iot°
every kind of debauchery. Nor did he relinquish hi*
cruelty
s Y L [i
cruelty together with his power : His wife falling ill
in the midst of a sumptuous feast, he divorced her im¬
mediately 5 and ordered her to be carried away, lest
her death should interrupt the festivity of his house.
He died of the morbus pedicularis, in the 6oth year
of h is age. His body, according to his orders, was
burnt. A little before his death he wrote his epitaph 5
the tenor of which was, that no man had ever exceed¬
ed him in doing good to his friends or injury to his ene¬
mies.
His person was elegant, his air noble, his manners
easy and apparently sincere. He was fond of pleasure,
but fonder of glory $ indulging without scruple in sen¬
sual delights, but never suffering them to interrupt his
serious business : He was eloquent, liberal, crafty, insi¬
nuating ; a profound master of dissimulation 5 he spoke
of lnmsell with modesty, while he lavished praises on
every other person : he stooped even to an acquaintance
with the meanest soldier, and constantly adapted him¬
self to the humours, pursuits, and opinions, of those
with whom he conversed. Such was his character du¬
ring the earlier part of his life ; but when success had
raised him above the necessity of dissimulation, he dis¬
played a hideous train of vices, which his ambition had
formerly taught him to conceal.'—It was S)lla who re¬
covered the works of Aristotle at the taking of Athens.
SYLLABLE, in Grammar, one or more letters
pronounced by a single impulse of the voice, forming a
complete sound, and constituting a word or a part of a
word. No single letter can form a syllable except a
vowel. The longest syllable in the English language
is the word strength.
The most natural way of dividing words into sylla¬
bles is, to separate all the simple sounds of which any
xvord consists, so as not to divide those letters which are
joined close together according to the most accurate pro¬
nunciation.
SILLABUB, a kind of compound drink, most used
in the summer season ; ordinarily made of white wine,
sugar, and nutmeg, into which is milked a quantity of
new milk from the cow. Sometimes it is made of ca¬
nary in place of white wine j in which case the sugar
is spared, and a little lemon and nutmeg are added in¬
stead of it. rI o prepare it the best way, the wine and
other ingredients, except the milk, are to be mixed
over night, and the milk or cream added in the morn¬
ing. Ihe proportion, is a pint of wine to three of
milk. For
Syllabub, JFhipt. To half a pint of white wine or
Bhenish is put a pint of cream, with the whites of three
eggs. rihis they season with sugar, and heat with bir¬
ehen rods, or work with a syringe. The froth is taken
eu as it rises, and put into a pot ; where, after stand¬
ing to settle two or three hours, it is fit to eat.
SYL ABUS, in matters of literature, denotes a
table of contents, or an index of the chief heads of a
book or discourse.
SYLLOGISM, in Logic, an argument or term of
reasoning, consisting of three propositions ; the two
first of which are called premises; the last, the con¬
clusion. See Logic, Part ILL
SA L\ 1A, a genus of-birds, belonging to the order
cf passeres, formed by Dr Latham by limiting the mo-
taeilia to the wagtail, and arranging the other species,
onnerlyclassed under that genus, under the sylvia. He
75 ] S Y M
making 13 species of the motacilla, and 175 species of Sylvia
the sylvia. See Motacilla, Ornithology Index. |j
SYMBOL, a sign or representation of something Sympathy,
moral, by the figures or properties of natural things. v_'W
Hence symbols are of various kinds j as hieroglyphics,
types, enigmas, parables, fables, &c.
SYMMACHUS, a citizen and senator of ancient
Home, and consul in the year 391, has left us ten books
of epistles j from which, as well as from other things,
we collect, that he was a warm opposerof the Christian
religion. He was banished from Home by Valentinian
on some account or other, but afterwards recalled and
received into favour by Theodosius. Ammianus Mar-
ceilinus speaks of him as a man of great learning and
modesty. Scioppius, Pareus, and other learned men,
have written notes upon the epistles of Symmachus :
we know of no later edition of them than that of Frank¬
fort, 1642, 8vo. Ambrose bishop of Milan wrote a-
gainst Symmachus, and so did the Christian poet Pru¬
dent! us.
SYMMETRY, the just proportion of the several
parts of anything, so as to compose a beautiful whole.
Symmetry, in Painting. See Painting, Part I.
Sect. HI.
SYMONDSBOROUGH, a remarkable large bar-
row of flints, near Wellington in Devonshire, in the
northern extremity of Hemyock. The common people
have a notion that a king called Symon was buried here.
The tradition of the country plainly shows that it was
tne burial-place of some person or persons of eminence.
SYMPATHETIC, something that acts or is acted
upon by sympathy. Thus we say, sympathetic dis¬
eases, inks, &c. '
SYMPA TiiETic Inks. See Sympathetic Ink.
SYMPATHY^, an agreement of affections and in¬
clinations, or a conformity of natural qualities, hu¬
mours, temperaments, which make two persons de¬
lighted and pleased with each other.
Sympathy, also denotes the quality of being affec¬
ted by the affection of another ; and may subsist either
between different persons or bodies, or between differ¬
ent parts of the same body. It is either similar or dis¬
similar ; similar, when the affection or action in the
sympathiser is similar to the affection or action in the
sympathantj and dissimilar, when those are different.
—Sympathy too, is often an imitative faculty, some¬
times involuntarily, frequently without consciousness :
thus we yawn when we see others yawn, and are made:
to laugh by the laughing of anot her.
Sympathy, according to Dr Jackson *, relates to the * Trent'k
operations of the affections of the mind, to the opera-Sympa-
tions of the imagination, and to the affections of the^’
external senses.
1. The passions and affections of the mind produce in
the body different sensations and impressions, and, as
sympathies of consciousness, determine in general the
spirits to those parts which labour most, or are most apt
to he affected. I bus fear and anger determine to the
heart ; lust to the eyes, &c. ; joy, pity, wonder, and
the like to the head. See Passion, page 14.
rIhe affections of the mind of one person will often
work upon the spirits of many. Thus whole companies
are sometimes disposed to be sad and melancholy, or
merry and jovial, when anyone is present much inclin¬
ed to eithei- of those states of mind j and it has been
observed, *
S Y M [17
Sympathy, observed, that old people, who have loved the company
< 0f t[ie young, and have been conversant continually with
them, have generally lived long. But young people
must not conclude from this, that the company and con¬
versation of the grave and old will operate upon the liv¬
ing and sensitive principle, through the affections ot
their mind, and dispose them to be short-lived. On the
contrary, by thus improving their understanding, they
will be more enabled to fortify their constitution and
resist the ravages of youthful indulgence.
It may also be further observed, that those tender
sympathetic affections which lay hold of the mind, at
the representation of theatrical performances, originate
from the same principle, while they are to be considered
as the surest test of just execution in the actor, and of
the expressive language of the author. Indeed all
stage effect depends on sympathy.
It has been said, that the passions of the mind are
occasionally infectious, particularly some of them. Thus
fear and shame are sometimes very suddenly so. We
frequently may have occasion to see, that the starting of
one will make another ready to start. Again, when
one man is out of countenance in company, others rvill
often blush in his behalf. However, the serious passions
may surely be so under the controul of reason as to re¬
sist infection, whatever may be the case of temporary,
muscular, or nervous attraction.
2. Our author is inclined to think, that a connection
between the affections and sensations of the female mind
and uterus, is very materially concerned in the process
of generation, and probably can alone give efficacy to
those actions and impressions subservient to conception,
through the sympathizing affections of the mind. But
this is a subject of which we know so little, that the
speculations of even the most distinguished philosophers
respecting it have been nothing but the wild ravings of
imagination.
With respect to the depravity and force of the ima¬
gination in the production of sympathies, they always
operate most upon “ w'eak minds and spirits, and there¬
fore most on women, superstitious and fearful persons,
sick people, children, and young creatures.” Their ef¬
fects, however, sometimes fail to appear, because they
are encountered and overcome by the mind and spirit
befox-e they work any manifest effects.
Such effects are obviated upon the same principle
which establishes the prevention of bodily disease : “ for
in infection and contagion from body to body (as, for
example, during tbe plague), the miasma may be re¬
ceived ; but from the strength and good disposition of
the body, it is expelled and wrought out before it has
had sufficient time to form the disease.”
It has been said, and many are of the opinion, that
the force of imagination doth often forward the end
proposed. Thus, for instance, it has been put as a
question, “ Whether a man, when he constantly and
strongly believes that such a thing shall be (as that such
a one will love him, and the like), helps any thing to
the effecting the thing desired ?” Certainly not in the
manner which has been advanced, namely, “ by a se¬
cret operation on the spirit of another.” If he succeeds,
it is either because he persevered, or because bis perse¬
verance and earnestness (and not any occult operation)
makes him at length be attended to.
There is not a doubt but the force of imagination of-
3
6 ] S Y M
ten gives energy to our actions. It may, however, un¬
less we are much on our guard, easily delude us aside
from reason. It has been the tree which has yielded
the fruits of superstition in former times, and which has
often fed the human mind with the most extravagant
notions of svmpathy. Sympathies of this kind, such as
the power of charms, and the like, are now pretty ge¬
nerally exploded.
3. The live senses, hearing, tasting, smelling, feeling,
and seeing, are conscious of a sympathetic impression
from odious objects. “ 1. A disagreeable sound will
set the teeth on edge, and make all the body shiver.
2. The swallowing of a nauseous medicine will be at¬
tended with a shaking of the head and neck. 3. Dis¬
agreeable smells produce nearly the same effect, which
are less perceived, because there is a remedy at band by
stopping the nose. 4. If you come suddenly out of
the sun into the shade, the sense of feeling is distur¬
bed by a chillness or shivering of the whole body.
5. And even sudden darkness produces a propensity to
shivering.
There is a very apparent reason why a sympathy
should take place between the eyes. Hence their mo¬
tions are synchronous. It may he said, that custom and
habit dispose tbe eyes to move one and the same way;
“ for when one moveth towards the nose, the other eye
moveth from the nose.”
Though the eyes are by nature prone to move in
concert, custom will, however, destroy this natural con¬
cert, and produce the contrary effect. Thus some peo¬
ple can squint when they will. Our author therefore
gives this caution to mothers and nurses : “ Let tbeni
not suffer infants to sit with a candle placed behind
them j for both their eyes will be disposed to move out¬
wards, as affecting to see the light of the candle, which
may bring on the habit of squinting.
It appears as a quality in the senses of bearing and
seeing, “ that the instrument of each separate sense
has a sympathy and similitude to that which giveth the
reflection.” Thus it has been observed, “ that the eye
will sympathize with a crystal glass or water, and the
ear with caves and such hollow’ places as are suited to
report echo.”
Sympathies have been compared to unisons of sound
in music. Unisons of sound produce agreeable sym¬
pathetic feelings ; the reverse produce disagreeable
feelings. “ All concords and discords of music are (no
doubt) sympathies and antipathies of sound.” More¬
over, “they are said to work as w’ell by report of sound
as by motion.”
The most agreeable as wrell as odious objects operate
in a secondary way, in producing those sympathetic im¬
pressions and actions which they commonly give rise to.
An increased secretion of saliva often takes place at the
sight of a favourite dish ; and the running of water from
a bottle, or otherwise, will sometimes affect individuals
of a particular temperature, with an involuntary pro¬
pensity to void urine.
Many have attempted to account for the remarkable
sympathy which takes place between parts of the body
seemingly unconnected with each other 5 but as these
attempts are merely conjectures, without any solid prin¬
ciples to rest on, we pass them over as the dreams of in¬
genious men. It would be fortunate for science, if men
would confine themselves to those subjects which can be
known,
S Y N
[
known, ami never draw conclusions till they have esta¬
blished principles. See Physiology, chap. ii.
• SYMPHONIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of monadelphia. See Botany Index.
SYMPHONY, in Music, properly denotes a conso¬
nance or concert of several sounds agreeable to the ear,
whether vocal or instrumental, called also harmony.
See Harmony.
SA M PH A SIS, in Anatomy, one of the kinds of
junctures or articulations of the bones. See Anatomy,
N° 2.
Cutting the Symphysis of the Pubes. See Mid¬
wifery, N° 136.
SYMPHYTUM, Comfrey, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the class pentandria j and in the natural sy¬
stem ranging under the 41st order, asperifolice. See
Botany Index.
SA MPLOCE, (tv/httXoxyi, in Rhetoric, a figure,
where the same word is repeated several times in the
beginning and end of a sentence, including the ANA¬
PHORA and epitrophe : thus, Quis legem tulit $
Rullus. Quis major cm popidi partem sujfragiis priva-
vit .2 Rullus. Quis comitiis prcefuit V Idem Rullus.
SA MPLOCOS, a genus of plants belonging to the
class polydelphia. See Botany Index.
SYMPOSIARCH, in antiquity, the director or ma¬
nager of an entertainment. This office was sometimes
performed by the person at whose charge the entertain¬
ment was provided 5 sometimes by another named by
him ; and at other times, especially in entertainments
provided at the common expence, he was elected by lot,
or by the suffrages of the guests.
SYMP I'OM, in Medicine, any circumstance which
indicates the existence, nature, or stage of a disease.
Pain, waking, drowsiness, convulsions, suppression of
urine, difficulty of breathing and swallowing, coughs,
distastes, nauseas, thirsts, swoonings, faintings, loose¬
ness, costiveness, dryness and blackness of the tongue,
are the principal symptoms of diseases. See Medicine,
N° 41. and 58.
SYMPTOMATICAL, in Medicine, is a term of¬
ten used to denote the difference between the primary
and secondary causes in diseases : thus a fever from
pain is said to be symptomatical, because it rises from
pain only.
SYNyERESIS, Contraction, in Grammar, a fi¬
gure whereby two syllables are united in one 5 as vemens
for vehemens.
SYNAGOGUE, among the Jews, is a place where
that people met to worship God. Authors are not
agreed about the time when the Jews first began to have
synagogues:—Some suppose them as old as the cere¬
monial law, and other's fix their beginning to the times
after the Babylonish captivity. They erected synagogues
not only in towns and cities, but also in the country,
especially near rivers, that they might have water for
their purifications and ceremonious washings. No syna¬
gogue was built in any town unless th&re were ten per¬
sons of leisure in it 5 but there might be many in one
town, or in one quarter of a tpwn, provided it was very
populous. Jerusalem is said to have contained 480. The
chief things belonging to a synagogue were, 1. The ark
or chest, made after the model of the ark of the cove¬
nant, containing the Pentateuch. 2. The pulpit and
desk in the middle of the synagogue, in which he that
VOL. XX. Part I. " f
[77 ] S Y N
was to read or expound the law stood. 3. The seats or
pews for the people. 4. The lamps to give light at even¬
ing service, and the feast of dedication. 5. Rooms or
apartments for the utensils and alms chest. The syna¬
gogue was governed by a council or assembly, over whom
was a president, called I'he Ruler of the Synagogue.
rlhese are sometimes called Chiefs of the Jews, The
Rulers, The Priests or Elders, The Governors, The
Overseers, The Fathers of the Synagogue. Their busi¬
ness was to punish the disobedient, by censures, by ex-
communication, or by penalties, such as fines and scourg¬
ing ; to take care of the alms, which are frequently cal¬
led by the name of righteousness. The chief ruler, or
one of the rulers, gave leave to have the law read and
expounded, and appointed who should do it. In every
synagogue, there were several ministers who had differ¬
ent offices assigned to them. Service was performed
three times a-day, viz. in the morning, in the after¬
noon, and at night } at the time of morning sacrifice,
evening sacrifice, and after the evening sacrifice on
Mondays, Ahursdays, and Saturdays, there was a more
forcible obligation upon the people to attend than upon
the other days. There are synagogues at London, Am¬
sterdam, Rotterdam, Avignon, Metz, ckc.
SYNALOEPHA, in Grammar, a contraction of
syllables, performed principally, by suppressing some
vowel or diphthong at the end of a word, on account
of another vowel or diphthong at the beginning of the
next. As, ill' ego, for Me ego, &c.
ConticueF omnes intentiqu' ora tenebant. Yirg.
It is called by the Latins collisio.
SYNARTHROSIS. 7 0 A
SYNCHONDROSIS, jSee Anat°my, N 2.
SYNCELLUS, or Sincellus, an ancient officer in
the family of the patriarchs, and other prelates of the
eastern church. The word, in the corrupt Greek,
e-vyxijAAaj, signifies a person who lies in the chamber with
another j a chamber-fellow, or chum. The syncellus
was an ecclesiastic, who lived with the patriarch of Con¬
stantinople, to be a witness of his conduct 5 whence it
is, that the syncellus was also called the patriarch's eye,
because his business was to observe and watch. The
other prelates had also their syneelli, who were clerks
living in the house with them, and even lying in the
same chamber, to be witnesses of the purity of their
manners. Afterwards the office degenerated into a
mere dignity ; and there were made syncelli of church¬
es.—At last, it became a title of honour, and was be¬
stowed by the emperor on the prelates themselves; whom
they called pontifical syncelli, and syncelli Augustales.
SA NCHRONISM denotes the happening of several
things at the same time. See Chronology.
SYNCOPATION, in diWcV 'denotes a striking or
beating of time, whereby the distinction of the several
times or parts of the measure is interrupted. However,
it is more properly used for the connecting the last note
of any measure, or bar, with the first of the following
measure, so as only to make one note of both. A syn¬
cope is sometimes also made in the middle of a measure.
Syncopation is also used when a note of one part ends
or terminates on the middle of a note of the other part.
This is otherwise denominated binding. It is likewise
used for a driving note ; that is, when some shorter note
at the beginning of a measure, or half measure, is fol-
^ lowed
Synagogue
ii
Syncopa¬
tion.
Syncopa¬
tion
Synodals,
S Y N [i
lowed by two, three, or more longer notes before another
short note occurs, equal to that which occasioned the
driving, to make the number even, e. gr. when an odd
, crotchet comes before two or three minims, or an odd
quaver before two, three, or more crotchets. In syn¬
copated or driving notes, the hand or foot is taken up,
er put down, while the note is sounding.
SYNCOPE, Fainting •, a deep and sudden swoon¬
ing, during which the vital functions are suspended. See
Medicine, N° 98. and 272.
Syncope, in Grammar, an elision or retrenchment of
a letter or syllable out of the middle of a word, as caldns
for calidus,
SYNDIC, in government and commerce, an officer,
in divers countries, intrusted with the aHairs ol a city or
other community, who calls meetings, makes represen¬
tations and solicitations to the ministry, magistracy, &c.
according to the exigency of the case.
SYNECDOCHE, m Rhetoric, a kind of trope fre¬
quent among orators and poets. See Oratory, N 56.
SYNECPHONESIS, in Grammar, a coalition,
whereby two syllables are pronounced as one*, being
much the same as SynaloepHA and Syn/eresis.
SYNE UR OS IS. See Anatomy, N° 2.
SYNGENESTA, and yjvssn?, “congeneration),”
the name of the 19th class in Linnseus’s artificial sys¬
tem. See Classification, Botany Index.
SYNGNATHUS, Pipe-fish, a genus of fishes be¬
longing to the cartilaginous order. See Ichthyology,
page 104.
S YNOCHA, and Synochus, in Medicine, the names
of two species of continued fever. See Medicine, N°
164.
SYNOD, in Astronomy, a conjunction or concourse
of two or more stars or planets, in the same optical
place of the heavens.
Synod signifies also a meeting or assembly of eccle¬
siastical persons to consult on matters of religion.
Of these there are four kinds, viz. 1. General, or
(ecumenical, where bishops, &c. meet from all nations.
These were first called by the emperors, afterwards by
Christian princes ; till in later ages the pope usurped to
himself the greatest share in this business, and by his
legates presided in them when called. 2. National,
where those of one nation only come together, to de¬
termine any point of doctrine or discipline. I he fiist
of this sort which we read of in England, was that of
Herudford or Hertford, in 673, and the last was that
held by Cardinal Pole, in 1555. 3. Provincial, where
those only of one province meet, now called the con¬
vocation. 4. Diocesan, where those of but one diocese
meet, to enforce canons made by general councils, or
national and provincial synods, and to consult and agree
upon rules of discipline for themselves. These were not
wholly laid aside, till by the act of submission, 25 Hen.
VIII. c. 19. it was made unlawful for any synod to
meet, but by royal authority. See Council and Con¬
vocation.
Synods, Provincial, in the Government of the Church
of Scotland See Presbyterians, N° 14.
SYNODALS, or Synodies, were pecuniary rents
(commonly of two shillings), paid to the bishop, or
archdeacon, at the time of their Easter visitation, by
every parish priest. They were thus called, because
usually paid in synods; because anciently bishops used
Syiaca
] SYR
to visit and hold their diocesan synods once.—1‘ or the Synou'
same reason, they are sometimes also denominated syno-
dalica; but more usually, procurations.
SYNODICAL, something belonging to a synod.
Thus, synodical epistles are circular letters written by
the synods to the absent prelates and churches 5 or even
those general ones directed to all the faithful, to inform
them of what had passed in the synod.
SYNOEC1A, in Grecian antiquity, a feast cele¬
brated at Athens in memory of Theseus’s having uni¬
ted all the petty communities of Attica into one single
commonwealth ; the seat whereof was at Athens, where
all the assemblies were to be held. This feast was de¬
dicated to Minerva ; and, according to the scholiast on
Thucydides, it was held in the month Metagitnion.
SYNONYMOUS, is applied to a word or term that
has the same import or signification with another.
Several works have been composed for the express
purpose of explaining synonymous words. In 1777 a
work was published on the Latin syncnyma at Paris by
M. Gardin Dumesnil. The abbe Girard published one
on the synonymous terms of the French language many
years ago. Another was published on the same subject
in the year 1785 by the abbe licubaud. An account
of the English synonyma was published by an anony¬
mous author in 17665 which is a close imitation, and
in some parts a literal translation, of the abbe Girard’s
Synonymes Franpois. Mrs Piozzi has written some
essays on the same subject.
SYNOVIA, in Medicine, a term used by Paracelsus
and his school for the nutritious juice proper and pecu¬
liar to each part. Thus they talk of the synovia of the
joints, of the brain, &c.
SYNTAX, in Grammar, the proper construction or
due disposition of the words of a language into sentences
and phrases. See Grammar and Language.
SYNTHESIS, in Logic, denotes a branch of me¬
thod, opposite to analysis.
In the synthesis or synthetic method, we pursue the
truth bv reasons drawn from principles before establish¬
ed or assumed, and propositions formerly proved: thus
proceeding by a regular chain, till we come to the con¬
clusion. Such is the method in Euclid’s Elements, and
most demonstrations of the ancient mathematicians,
which proceed from definitions and axioms, to prove (1
propositions, &c. and from those propositions proved to
prove others. This method we also call composition, in
opposition to analysis ox resolution. See Analysis.
SYPHILIS. See Medicine, N° 350.
SYPHON. See Hydrodynamics. Some uncom¬
mon phenomena in nature may be accounted for upon
the principles of the syphon 5 as, for instance, that of
reciprocating springs. See Pneumatics, N° 373. 11 •
SYRACUSE, a celebrated city of Sicily, and once At 1
the capital of the island. It was built, according to
Thucydides and Strabo, by Archias, one of the Hera-
clidse, who came from Corinth into Sicily in the second
year of the nth Olympiad, and derived its name from
a neighbouring marsh named Syraco. What form of
government first prevailed in the city is not known.
Many have supposed it originally to have been governed
by kings : but if this were the case, the monarchical
government continued only for a very short time j since
Aristotle, Diodorus Siculus, and Justin, mention it as
being very early subject to a democracy. The history
Sjcase.
i sei-
:es ii the
ot iga-
7-
Defi <s the
Car#li
nian and
:ak'-'he
title
iing
His 'tel-
lent Ign.
Gelo'lies,
ind i ,uc-
t'eedii by
I lien
\n.
15. C.
'in-
a L
Thra
lU!
rant
An. J,
The
'ibdu:.
:nli
5
oyrac ;
inrail' by
the A e;
nians dh
uut ess,
SYR [ i
Is otscure and unimportant till the time of Gelon, when
Syracuse first began to make a conspicuous figure.
Gelon was born in the city of Gela in Sicily, of the
family of Telines, who had been created priest of the
infernal gods. He signalized himself in a war carried
on against the Syracusans, by Hippocrates tyrant of Gela,
whom he defeated in a pitched battle. Having thus
become very powerful among his countrymen, he soon
found means to seize on the sovereignty for himself. In
a short time, having put himself at the head of some
Syracusan exiles, he marched towards that place, where
he was received with loud acclamations and obtained
possession of the city.
Geion, in order to people the capital of his new
dominions, first demolished the neighbouring city of
Camarina, and transplanted the inhabitants to Syracuse.
Soon after, entering into a war with the Megareans, he
defeated them, took and rased their cities, and in like
manner transplanted the people. Syracuse thus became
powerful, and full of inhabitants ; and the friendship
of Gelon was courted both by Athens and Lacedsemon
at the time of the Persian invasion. In the mean time
the Carthaginians bad entered into a treaty with the
Persians •, by which it was agreed, that the former
should attack those of the Greek name in Sicily and
Italy, in order to divert them from assisting each other.
Sicily was accordingly invaded by the Carthaginians
with a vast army, but they were utterly overthrown by
Gelon, as is related under the article Carthage, N°
7—9, After this victory, the people out of gratitude
obliged him to assume the title of king j which till that
time he had refused. A decree also passed by which the
crown was settled on his two brothers Hiero and Thrasy-
bulus after his death.
The new king, instead of keeping his subjects in
greater awe, studied to make them happy, and was the
first man who became more virtuous by being raised to
a throne. He was particularly famous for his honesty,
truth, and sincerity ; is said never to have wronged the
meanest of his subjects, and never to have promised a
thing which he did not perform.
Gelon died in the year 471 B. C. after having reigned
three or four years ; and was succeeded by his brother
Hiero, whose character is differently drawn by different
historians. He is highly celebrated in the odes ot Pin¬
dar j and it is certain that his court was the resort ot
men of wit and learning, to whom he behaved in the
most courteous manner and with the greatest liberality.
In 4?q B. C. Hiero was succeeded by Thrasybulus ;
who proving a tyrant, was in ten months driven out, and
a popular government restored ; which continued for the
space of 55 years.
About this time the Syracusans entered into a war
with the Siculi, which terminated in the total subjection
of the latter •, after which Syracuse became so powerful,
that it in a manner gave law to the w hole island. The
Greek cities indeed enjoyed a perfect liberty; but they
all acknowledged Syracuse as their metropolis : by de¬
grees, however, the latter began to assume such an
authority over them as was totally inconsistent with li¬
berty ; and this occasioned many Avars, which involved
them in much distress and danger. They began with
the Leontines, whose territory they laid Avaste, and re¬
duced their city to gx-eat straits. Leontini was an
Athenian colony : and this furnished the Athenians,
79 ] SYR
who had already meditated the conquest of Sicily, with Syracuse,
a pretence to attack the Syracusans Avith their Avhole c—y—j
force. Under colour of assisting their countrymen,
therefore, they sent a fleet of 250 sail to Sicily ; but
the Leontines, sensible that their pretended allies aimed
at nothing less than the conquest of the whole island,
concluded a peace with Syracuse ; and the disappointed
Athenians vented their rage on those who had advised
and conducted the expedition.
During the continuance of the popular government,
the Syracusans took part in the long Avar betAveen A-
thens and Sparta. The circumstances which took place
in this contest are sufficiently detailed under Attica,
N° 126—150. 9
This Avar Avas scarcely ended, Avhen a new and for- New inva-
midable invasion by the Carthaginians took place ; butsicn by tli«
the event of that expedition Avas as unfortunate to the Carthagi-
Carthaginians as the former had been, as has been par-nians‘
ticularly related under the article Carthage, N° 12.
ct seq.
In the mean time, a considerable revolution had hap¬
pened in Syracuse. The city of Agrigentum had been
taken by the Carthaginians, and of the feAV inhabitants
Avho escaped, some lied to Syracuse, where they accused
the Syracusan commanders of having betrayed the city
into the hands of the enemy. Dionysius, a man of great R;se 0f
valour and address, but AArho had become very obnoxious Dionysius,
to the populace, took this opportunity of attempting to
retrieve his credit. He therefore supported the accusa¬
tions brought against his countrymen by the Agrigen-
tines, and even impeached the magistrates as having a
secret intelligence Avith the enemy, and attempting to
introduce an oligarchy. As his speech was entirely le¬
velled against the more Avealthy citizens, it was very
agreeable to the loAver class : the commanders were in¬
stantly degraded ; and others, among Avhom was Diony¬
sius, Avere appointed. Having once gained this point,
he began to consider how he might get all his colleagues
turned out. For this purpose he never joined in any
council of Avar Avith the other commanders, nor impart¬
ed to them his resolutions, giving out that he could not
trust them, and that they had more regard for their oavu
interest than the welfare of their country. But Avhile he
was proceeding in this manner, the more prudent part
of the citizens, perceiving Avhat he aimed at, complain¬
ed of him to the senate and magistrates, and fined him
as a disturber of the public peace. According to the
laAvs, the fine was to he paid before he could speak in
public, and the circumstances of Dionysius did not al¬
low him to discharge it. In this dilemma he Avas assisted
by Philistus the historian, a man of great wealth, Avho
not only paid this fine for him, but encouraged him to
speak his mind freely, as it became a zealous citizen to
do, promising to pay all the fines that should be laid
upon him.
Being extricated out of this difficulty, Dionysius next
proceeded to inveigh, Avith all the eloquence of which he
AA'as master, against those who by means of their power or
interest were able to oppose his designs, and by degrees
brought them into discredit. His next scheme Avas to
get those exiles recalled whom the nobility had banish¬
ed at different times ; as thinking that they would sup¬
port him Avith all their power, as well out of gratitude
as out of hatred to the opposite party. Having gained
this point also, he next found means to ingratiate bim-
Z 2 self
SYR
[ 180 ]
SYR
Syracuse.
who be¬
comes king
of Syracuse.
An. 404.
ii. C.
12
Dionysius
II.
An. 3(S().
li. C.
1.3
Put under
the care of
Plato by
his uncle
Dion,
whom he
banishes.
I4.
Dion raises
troops for
dethroning
the tyrant.
self with the soldiery to such a degree, that, under pre¬
tence of taking proper measures for resisting the Car¬
thaginians, he was chosen commander in chief, with
absolute and unlimited power. This was no sooner
done, than, pretending his life was in danger, he chose
out 1000 men for his guard, whom he attached to his
interest by great promises. As no person durst now
oppose him, he possessed himself of the capital, where
all the arms and provisions were kept 5 after which he
publicly took the title of king of Syracuse in the year
404 B. C.
The Syracusans did not tamely submit to their new
master : but Dionysius managed matters so well, that
their frequent revolts answered no other purpose than
more certainly to entail slavery on themselves j and he
was allowed to possess the throne without much opposi¬
tion till his death, which happened in the year 366
B. C.
On the death of Dionysius, he was succeeded by his
son, called also Dionysius. He was naturally of a mild
and peaceable temper, averse to cruelty, and inclined to
learning j but his father, to whom all merit, even in
his own children, gave umbrage, stifled as far as possible
his good qualities by a mean and obscure education. He
no sooner ascended the throne, than Dion, brother to
Aristomache the other wife of Dionysius the Elder,
undertook to correct the faults of his education, and to
inspire him with thotights suitable to the high station
in which he was placed. For this purpose he sent for
the philosopher Plato, under whose care he immediately
put the young king. This instantly produced a refor¬
mation on Dionysius •, but the courtiers, dreading the
effects of the philosopher’s instructions, prevailed on him
to banish Dion, and to keep Plato himself in a kind of
imprisonment in the citadel. At last, however, he set
him at liberty j upon which Plato returned to his own
country.
Dion, in the mean time, visited several of the Gre¬
cian cities, and at last took up his residence in Athens ;
but the honours which were everywhere paid him, rais¬
ed such jealousies in the breast of the tyrant, that lie
stopped his revenue, and caused it to be paid into his
own treasury. In a short time Dionysius again sent for
Plato •, but finding it impossible to dissolve the friend¬
ship between him and Dion, disgraced, and placed him
in a very dangerous situation, in the midst of assassins
who hated him. Not daring, however, to offer him any
violence, he allowed him soon after to depart ; revenging
himself on Dion, whose estate he sold, and gave his
wife Arete in marriage to Timocrates one of his flat¬
terers.
Dion now resolved to revenge himself on the tyrant
for the many injuries he had sustained, and at once to
deliver his country from the oppression under which it
groaned. Pie began with raising foreign troops pri¬
vately, by proper agents, for the better execution of his
design. Many Syracusans of distinction entered into his
scheme, and gave him intelligence of what passed in the
citv ; but of the exiles, of whom there were upwards of
1000 dispersed up and down Greece, only 25 joined
him j so much were they awed by the dread ol the ty¬
rant. The troops were assembled at the island of Zacyn-
thus, in number only about 800; but who had all been
tried on many occasions, were well disciplined, and ca¬
pable of animating by their example the forces which
Dion hoped to find in Sicily. When they were about Syrai
to sail, Dion acquainted them with his design, the bold- —-y-‘
ness of which at first occasioned among them no small
consternation ; but Dion soon removed their fears, by
telling them that he did not lead them as soldiers, but
as officers, to put them at the head of the Syracusans
and all the people of Sicily, who were ready to receive
them with open arms. Having then embarked in
two small trading vessels, they arrived in 12 days at
Cape Pachynum near Syracuse. At last they arrived
at the port of Minoa, not far from Agrigentum. Here
they received intelligence that Dionysius had set sail for
Italy, attended by a fleet of 80 galleys. On this Dion
resolved to take advantage of the tyrant’s absence, and
immediately set sail for Syracuse. On his march he pre¬
vailed on the inhabitants of Agrigentum, Gela, Ca-
marina, and other cities, to join him. As soon as he
entered the territories of Syracuse, multitudes flocked 15
to him ; and as nobody appeared to oppose him, heEntos
boldly entered the city, where he quickly found himself’^™
at the head of 50,000 men. As soon as he had landed
in Sicily, Timocrates, to whom his wife Arete had been 1
given by Dionysius, and to whom the care of the city
bad been left, dispatched a courier to let the tyrant
knocv the danger in which be was. Dionysius was, how¬
ever, accidentally prevented from receiving a timely ac¬
count of Dion’s arrival j so that when he entered the
citadel by sea, seven days after Dion’s arrival, lie found
his affairs in a desperate situation. Upon this be bad re-
course to artifice ; and having amused the Syracusans by an.jvcs]
a feigned negotiation, until he observed that they kept is total
a negligent guard, he attacked them all at once with defeat
such fury, that he had almost taken the city. But Dion
encouraged the soldiers by bis example so much, that he
at last obtained a complete victory j for which they pre¬
sented him with a crown of gold. ij
It was not long, however, before the ungrateful Sy-Ingrain
racusans began to think of conferring quite different re-01 l*iei
ciisaiis:
Dion.
to render him suspected by the multitude 5 at the same
time that Heraclides, an excellent officer, but a secret
enemy to Dion, did all that lay in bis power to sink his
credit. Dionysius was soon obliged to fly into Italy,
but left Heraclides to oppose Dion.
At length Dion got possesion of the city, Heraclides
submitted to him, and was received into favour ; but as iS
bis seditious and turbulent behaviour still continued,Bionla
Dion at last gave orders to put him to death. Tbisac-j^y
tion, however necessary, so affected the mind of Dion, amjjsl)
that he became melancholy ; and ever after imagined dered.
himself haunted by a frightful spectre, resembling a wo¬
man of gigantic stature, with the haggard looks and air
of a fury. In a short time after be lost bis life, through
the base treachery of Calippus, or Gyhppus, who pre¬
tended to be bis intimate friend, and who immediately
after caused bis wife and sister to be carried to prison.
Calippus having removed Dion, soon made him¬
self master of Syracuse, where he committed all manner
of cruelties 5 hut was driven out, and forced to fly to
Khegrum, where he was murdered by the same dagger
which had killed Dion. In 350 B. C. Dionysius again
made himself master of Syracuse j and being exasperated „
by his past misfortunes, tyrannized worse than ever. 'lhepi01iy
Syracusans first had recourse to Icetas tyrant of JLeonti'resW1'1
ni 3 but as the Carthaginians took this opportunity to in-
invatk
SYR
[
5e- vade them with a powerful fleet and army, they were
—,—'obliged to apply to the Corinthians. By them Timo-
leon, a celebrated commander, was sent to the assistance
of the Syracusans, whom he found in a very distressed
situation ; Icetas being master of the city, the Cartha¬
ginians of the harbour, and Dionysius of the citadel.
2 As all parties were equally the enemies of Dionysius,
rre rs he found it impossible to hold out, and therefore sur-
1
rendered himself to Timoleon, by whom he u'as sent to
Corinth ; where at last he was reduced to the necessity
[ool it of teaching a school for his support,
rial After the expulsion of the tyrant, Timoleon with¬
drew to Catana, leaving only 400 Corinthians, under
the command of an experienced officer named Leon, ta
guard the citadel. These were immediately besieged by
Icetas and the Carthaginians, bat Timoleon found means
to relieve them in spite of all opposition •, and having
dispersed emissaries through the army of Mago the Car¬
thaginian general, exhorting the mercenary Greeks to.
,j. forsake him, he uras so much intimidated, that in spite
wane of all the remonstrances Icetas could make, he set sail
the ir- for Africa, leaving his colleague to carry on the war
gin is. jn [Jesj; manner he could.
The day after the departure of Mago, Timoleon as¬
saulted the city so briskly, that the troops of Icetas
n were driven from the walls, and the Corinthians became
tade i masters ol the place. Tunoleori, by sound of trumpet,
!'acu invited the inhabitants to come and assist in demolishing
the citadel and other castles, which lie called the nests of
j|gl: ’ tyrants: after which he caused edifices to be erected in
the place where the citadel had stood, for the administra¬
tion ot justice. He found the city in a most miserable
situation: for many having perished in the wars and se¬
ditions, and others ha,ving fled to avoid the oppression
ol tyrants, Syracuse, once so wealthy and populous, w-as
now become almost a desert •, insomuch that the horses
were fed on the grass which grew on the market-place,
rep - Timoleon supplied the city with inhabitants fiom Co¬
rinth and other cities of Greece, at the same time that
great multitudes from Italy and the other parts of Sicily
resorted thither. Timoleon distributed the lands among
them gratis; hut sold the houses, and with the money
arising from the sale established a fund for the support of
the poor. Having thus restored Syracuse, he in like
manner delivered all the Greek cities of Sicily from the
tyrants who had taken possession of them, all of whom
he put to death. After this he resigned his authority,
and led a retired life, honoured in the highest degree by
the Syracusans, and by all the cities in Sicily. After
death he was honoured as a god $ the expence of his
!is funeral w'as defrayed by the public; sports, with horse¬
races and gymnastic exercises, were held annually on
the day 0! his death; and it was decreed, that whenever
the Syracusans were at war with the barbarians, they
should send to Corinth for a general.
or 20 years the Syracusans enjoyed the fruits of
Timoleon’s victories; but new disturbances arising, in a
short time another tyrant started np, who exceeded all
toat had: gone before him in cruelty and other vices.
Dii.s was the celebrated Agathocles, of whose exploits
against the Carthaginians a full account is given under
the article Carthage, N° 33—53. He was poisoned
by one Mcenon in the year 289 B. C. after having reign¬
ed 28 years, and lived 95.—A succession of tyrants fol-
owed, till at last the city, being held by two rivals,
es,a
noun
-od
JS
racus
am f,
tier t
wer i
lants
81 ] S Y B
Toenion and Sosistratus, who made war within the very Syracuse,
walls, Pyrrhus king of Epirus was invited into Sicily, s—v—
in order to put an end to these distractions. He wil- ^ 26
lingly complied with the invitation; and yvas every where
received with loud acclamations, as the deliverer not on-Epirus in¬
ly ot Syracuse, but ot all Sicily. As he had a fine army vited into
of 30,000 foot and 5000 horse, with a fleet of 200 sail, Sit;ily-
he drove the Carthaginians from place to place, till he
lelt them only the two strong posts of Eryx and Lily-
baeum. The former of these he took by assault, and
was himselt the first man who mounted the walls, after
having killed a great number of Africans with his own
hand. The Mamertines likewise, who had conquered
a considerable part ot the island, were everywhere de¬
feated and driven out, till at last they were shut up in
the city of Messana. The Carthaginians, alarmed at
the rapidity of his conquests, sent ambassadors with pro¬
posals ot peace upon very advantageous terms; but
Pyrrhus, pulled up with the expectation of reducing the
whole island, refused to hearken to any terms unless
they would instantly abandon it. So firm was he in
the belief of this, that he caused his son to assume the
title ol king qf Sicily ; but in the mean time, having
displeased the Sicilians by his arbitrary behaviour, they
deserted from him in such numbers that he ivas glad to
set out for Italy, for which retreat the embassies he re¬
ceived from the Samnites, Tarentines, and other Ita¬
lians, furnished him with an honourable pretext. He
embarked in the ships which he had brought with him
fiom Italy ; but was met at sea bv the Carthaginians,
who sunk yo ol lus vessels, and dispersed or took the
reat ; so that he saved himself in Italy with only 12 27
vessels, the poor remains of a fleet of 200 sail. No Syracuse
sooner were the Mamertines apprised of his departure harassed by
than they dispatched a body of 18,000 men to harasstheMamei'*
him alter his landing. J liese having passed the straits*'1*08
before him, posted themselves in the road which Pyrrhus
must take in marching by land to Tarentum ; and con¬
cealing themselves among woods and rocks, attacked
him unexpectedly, and with great resolution. But
Pyrrhus behaved on this occasion with his usual bravery.
The attack being made on his rear, he hastened thither,
and made a dreadful slaughter of the enemy, till a wound
on his head obliged him to retire. 2S
After the departure of Pyrrhus, Hiero the son 0fHieio cho-
Hierocles, a descendant of Gelon, the first king of Sy- S(:n
racuse, was chosen general of the forces, along with “usan forT'
another named Artemidorns. The two generals hadces.
nothing more at heart than to put an end to the eon-
fusion and disorder which reigned in the city; for which
reason they entered it at the head of their forces. Oir
this occasion Hiero discovered extraordinary talents for
government. By mere dint of insinuation and address,
without shedding blood, or hurting a single citizen he
calmed the minds of the people ; reconciled the fac¬
tions ; and so gained the affections of all, (hat he was
invested with the whole civil as well as military power-
in the state. Soon after this, lie married the daughter
ot one of the first citizens ; and having distinguished
himself by his exploits against the Mamertines, was
unanimously elected king of Syracuse, in the year 2651s elected.
• e tt- king of Sy-
Some tune alter Hiero’s accession to the throne, he^use-
again defeated the Mamertines, and reduced them toAn\265*
  meiii
such straits, that they were obliged to call in the Ro-
li. Co
mans
Syracuse.
3°
Hierony¬
mus allies
with the
Carthagi¬
nians.
* See Car¬
thage, N°
123.
Syracuse
invested.
Incredible
effects of
the ma¬
chines of,
Archime¬
des.
SYR [ 182 ] SYR
maos to their assistance. The consequences of this have
been fully related under the articles Kome anti Car¬
thage. Hiero, who had allied himself with the Cartha¬
ginians, being himself defeated by the Romans, and find¬
ing his allies unable to protect him against the power of
that republic, concluded an alliance with them ; and
continued faithful to them even in the time of the se¬
cond Punic war, when they were in the greatest distress.
In his reign flourished the celebrated mathematician
Archimedes, whose genius he employed in fortifying the
city of Syracuse, by innumerable machines, in such a
manner as rendered it absolutely impregnable to every
method of attack known at that time.
Hiero died about 211 B. C. and was succeeded by
his grandson Hieronymus: but he imprudently forsook
the counsels of his grandfather, and entered into an al¬
liance with the Carthaginians. Soon after this he was
murdered, in consequence of his tyranny and cruelty,
and the greatest disorders took place in the city •, which
Hannibal, though then in Italy, found means to foment,
in hopes of keeping the Syracusans in his interest. This
indeed he effected } but as his own affairs in Italy began
to decline*, he could not prevent Marcellus from land¬
ing in Sicily with a formidable army, which the Sicili¬
ans could by no means resist. Syracuse was soon in¬
vested j but the machines invented by Archimedes baf¬
fled all attempts to take it by assault. The immense
preparations which the consul had made for taking the
city by storm, could not have failed to accomplish his
purpose, had the place been otherwise defended than by
the contrivance of Archimedes. The Roman fleet con¬
sisted of 60 quinqueremes, besides a far greater number
of other ships. The decks were covered with soldiers
armed with darts, slings, and bows, to drive the besieg¬
ed from the ramparts, which on one side were washed by
the sea, and to facilitate the approach to the walls. But a
machine of Marcellus’s own invention, called a sambaca,
was what he chiefly depended on. The consul’s design
was to bring his sambuca to the foot of the walls of
Acradina; but, while it was at a considerable distance
(and it advanced very slowly, being moved only by two
ranks of rowers), Archimedes discharged from one of
his engines a vast stone, weighing, according to Plu¬
tarch’s account, 1250 pounds, then a second, and imme¬
diately after a third •, all which, falling upon the sam¬
buca with a dreadful noise, broke its supports, and gave
the galleys upon which it stood such a violent shock
that they parted, and the machine which Marcellus had
raised upon them at a vast trouble and expence was bat¬
tered to pieces. At the same time, several other ma¬
chines, which were not visible without the walls, and
consequently did not lessen the confidence of the Romans
in the assault, played incessantly upon their ships, and
overwhelmed them with showers of stones, rafters, and
beams pointed with iron } insomuch that Marcellus, be¬
ing at a loss what to do, retired with all possible haste,
and sent orders to his land-forces to do the same ; for
the attack on the land-side was attended with no belter
success, the ranks being broken and thrown into the ut¬
most confusion by the stones and darts, which flew with
such noise, force, and rapidity, that they struck the Ro¬
mans with terror, and dashed all to pieces before them.
Marcellus, surprised, though not discouraged, at this
artificial ?torm, which he did not expect, held a council
of war, in which it was resolved, the next (lay before
sunrise, to come up close under the wall, and keep Sya
there. They were in hopes by this means to secure v~''
themselves against the terrible storm of stones and darts
which fell on the ships when at a distance. But Ar¬
chimedes had prepared engines which wrere adapted to 1
all distances. When the Romans therefore had brought
their ships close under the wall, and thought themselves
well covered, they wrere unexpectedly overwhelmed with |
a new shower of darts and stones, which fell perpendi¬
cularly on their heads, and obliged them to retire with
great precipitation. But they were no sooner got at
some distance, than a new shower of darts overtook
them, which made a dreadful havock of the men, while
stones of an immense weight, discharged from other ma-'
chines, either disabled or broke in pieces most of their 9
galleys. This loss they sustained, without being able 1
to revenge it in the least on the enemy. For Archi¬
medes had placed most of his engines behind the walls,
and not only out of the reach, but even out of the sight,
of the enemy ; so that the Romans were repulsed with
a dreadful slaughter, without seeing the hand that occa¬
sioned it. What most harassed the Romans in the at¬
tack by sea, was a sort of crow with iron claws, fasten¬
ed to a long chain, which was let down by a kind of
lever. The weight of the iron made it fall with great
violence, and drove it into the planks of the galleys, if
Then the besieged, by a great weight of lead at the tf
other end of the lever, weighed it down, and conse¬
quently raised up the iron of the crew in proportion,
and with it the prow of the galley to which it was fas¬
tened, sinking the poop at the same time into the water.
After this the crow letting go its hold all of a sudden,
the prow of the galley fell with such force into the sea,
that the whole vessel was filled with water, and sunk.
At other times, the machines, dragging ships to the
shore by hooks, dashed them to pieces against the points
of the rocks which projected under the walls. Other
vessels were quite lifted up into the air, there whirled
about with incredible rapidity, and then let fall into the
sea, and sunk, with all that were in them. How these
stupendous works were effected, few, if any, have hither¬
to been able to comprehend.
The troops under the command of Appius suffered no
less in this second attack than the fleet. In the whole
space of ground which the army, when formed, took up,
the last files as well as the first were overwhelmed with
showers of darts and flints, against which they could not
possibly defend themselves. When they had with in¬
finite trouble brought the mantlets and covered gal¬
leries, under which they were to work the rams, near
the loot of the wall, Archimedes discharged such large
beams and stones upon them as crushed them to pieces.
If any brave Roman ventured to draw too near the wall,
iron hooks were immediately let down from above,
which, taking hold of his clothes or some part ef his
body, lifted him up in the air and dashed out his brains
with the fall. Marcellus, though at a loss what to do,
could not however forbear expressing himself with plea¬
santry : Shall we persist, said he to his workmen, in ma¬
king war upon this Briareus, upon this giant with au
hundred hands ? But the soldiers were so terrified, that
il they saw upon the walls only a small cord, or the
least piece of wood, they immediately turned their backs
and fled, crying out. that Archimedes was going to dis¬
charge some dreadful machine upon them.
The
S Y R
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ie« 'iO
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The consuls, finding themselves thus defeated in every
attempt, turned the siege into a blockade, reduced most
of the other places in the island, and defeated the forces
which were sent against them j and at last Mareeilus
made himself master of Syracuse itself. He took the
opportunity of a festival, when the soldiers and citizens
had drunk plentifully, to make a detachment scale the
walls of Tyche, in that part of it which was nearest to
Epipolse, and which was ill guarded. He presently af¬
ter possessed himself of Epipolaej whereupon the inha¬
bitants ofNeapolis, as well as Tyche, sent deputies to
him, and submitted. Marcellus granted life and liberty
to all of free condition, but gave up those quarters of
the city to be plundered.. The soldiers had orders to
spare the lives of the citizens ; but they were cruel in
their avarice, slew many of them, and among the rest
the incomparable Archimedes. He was very intent on
a demonstration in geometry, and calmly drawing his
lines, when a soldier entered the room, and clapped a
sword to his throat. “ Hold! (said Archimedes) one
moment, and my demonstration will be finished.” But
the soldier, equally regardless of his prayer and his de¬
monstration, killed him instantly. There are different
accounts of the manner of his death ; but all agree that
Marcellus regretted it extremely, and showed a singu¬
lar favour to his relations for his sake.
The city of Syracuse continued subject to tbe western-
empire till its declension, when the island of Sicily, be¬
ing ravaged by difierent barbarians, the capital also un¬
derwent various revolutions ; til! at last, in the pth cen¬
tury, it was so destroyed by the Saracens, that very few
traces ofits ancient grandeur are now to be seen. “ The
ancient city of Syracuse was of a triangular form, and
consisted of five parts or towns. The circuit, accord¬
ing to Strabo, amounted to 180 stadia, or 22 English
miles, and four furlongs. An account which Mr Swin¬
burne once suspected of exaggeration 5 but, after spend¬
ing two days in tracing the ruins, and making reason¬
able allowances for tbe encroachments of the sea, he was
convinced of the exactness of Strabo’s measurement.
At present it is fortified strongly toward the land,
and the ditches of the bastions form the communications
between the two havens. It is very weak towards the
sea, but the shelves render it hazardous to debark on
that side. The garrison is one of the best appointed in the
kingdom, but the heights of Acradina command the works.
About eighteen thousand inhabitants are now con¬
tained in it. The dwellings are far from being memo¬
rials of ancient Syracusan architecture or opulence. In
any other situation they might be thought tolerable $
but to observers who reflect on the style of those build¬
ings that probably once covered tbe same ground, the
present edifices must have a mean appearance. The
ancient temple of Minerva is now turned into a cathe¬
dral. The walls of the cella are thrown down, and on¬
ly as much left in pillars as is necessary to support the
roof •, the intercolumniations of the peristyle are walled
up. Tins temple is built in the old Doric proportions
used in the rest of Sicily *, its exterior dimensions are
*85 feet in length and 75 in breadth. There are also
some remains of Diana’s temple, but now scarcely dis¬
cernible. Besides these, there are few ruins intheisland;
and one is surprised that any should exist in a place
tf liich had been so often laid waste by enemies, and so
83 ] SYR
often shaken by earthquakes. E. Long. 15. 27. N. Lat. Syracuse,
. V. .     s*ria- .
ST BIA, a very ancient kingdom of Asia, lying be- v ' '■
tween the Mediterranean on the west, the Euphrates on
the east, and Arabia Deserta, Phoenicia, and Palestine,
on tbe south. 1
In ancient times this countiy was called pro-Names, di-
bably from Aram the youngest son of Shem. At j’e^C*
it was parcelled out into several petty states; all ofgy^
which seem afterwards to have been reduced under sub¬
jection to the four principal ones, Zobah, Damascus,
Hamath, and Geshur. Afterwards tbe whole country
was divided into two parts only, viz.Cselesyria andPhce-
nicia; though the Phoenicians,Idumeans, Jews,Gazites,
and Azotites, or the whole country of the Philistines,
was included. After the death of Alexander, Syria in
the great extent of the word, was divided, according to
Strabo, into Comagene, Seleucis of Syria, Ccelesyria,
Pboenice on the sea coast, and Judea in the midland.
Ptolemy, however, subdivides these ; and in the Proper
Syria reckons only Comagene, Pieria, Cyrrhistica or
Cyrrhestica, Seleucis,Cassiotis or Casiotis,Cha]ybonitis,
Chalcidice or Chalcidene, Apamene, Laodicene, Phoe¬
nicia Mediterranea, Ccelesyria, and Palmyrene.
The history of the ancient Syrians, till the time of
their being carried away by the kings of Assyria, is to¬
tally unknown, excepting a few particulars which may
be gathered from Scripture, and which it is needless
here to repeat. During the continuance of the Assy¬
rian, Babylonian, and Persian monarchies, the history of
this country affords nothing remarkable; but after the
death of Alexander, it gave name to a very consider¬
able empire, which makes a conspicuous figure in an¬
cient history. At this time, however, it was not con¬
fined to Syria properly so called, but comprehended all
those vast provinces of the Upper Asia which formed
the Persian empire; being, in its full extent, bounded
by the Mediterranean upon one side, and the river In¬
dus on the other. The first king was Seleueus, one of^ ^
the generals of Alexander the Great; who, after the j-irst
death of that conqueror, being made governor of Baby-kjn„ ©f
Ion, was tempted, by the example of Alexander’s other Syria after-
captains, to set up for himself. Eumenes, who had sin-Alexander
cerely at heart the interest of Alexander’s family, soli-th® Great,
cited his assistance against Antigonus, who had openly
revolted; but Seleucus not only refused his assistance,
but attempted to destroy Eumenes bimself wTith his
whole army. Eumenes, however, found means to
escape the danger without the loss of a man. On this
Seleucus endeavoured to gain over his troops : but find¬
ing that impossible, he made a truce with Eumenes, and
granted him a safe passage through his province ; but
at the same time sent an express to Antigonus, desiring
him to fall upon him, before he was joined by the go¬
vernors of Upper Asia. Antigonus did not fail to fol¬
low bis advice; but having prevailed against Eumenes
through treachery, he next thought of bringing Seleu¬
cus himself under subjection. On his return to Baby-.
Ion, therefore, after having been feasted with his whole Antigonus
army by Seleucus, he demanded of him an account of to fly into
the revenues of his province. Receiving an unfavourable
answer to this requisition, Antigonus was so much ex¬
asperated, that Seleucus, not thinking himself a match
for him at that time, thought proper to fly into Egypt.
By
S Y Tl [ 184 ] SYR
Svria. By the flight of Seleucus, Ajitigonus was left master
—v—of all his provinces *, but his son Demetrius being after¬
wards defeated by Ptolemy at Gaza, Seleucus began to
think of recovering what he had lost. Having receiv¬
ed from Ptolemy a very slender force, he set out to¬
wards Babylon, and procured reinforcements as he pro¬
ceeded. As he approached the city, those who favoured
Antigonus retired into the citadel, but were soon oblig¬
ed to surrender •, and in that fortress Seleucus found his
children, friends, and domestics, whom Antigonus had
kept prisoners ever since his flight into Egypt.
Seleucus having made himself master of Babylon, in
the year 312 B. C. began to prepare for encountering
Antigonus, who he knew would soon attack him with
all his foi’ce. Nicanor, govei’hor of Media under An¬
tigonus, first advanced against him at the head of
and reduces jq)O0O foot and 7000 horse j but Seleucus, with only
Susiana*11^ 3000 ^00*; an<^ 4G0 horse, having drawn him into an
ambush, cut olf almost the whole of his army, and such
of the soldiers as had escaped the slaughter willingly en¬
listed under his banner.
The consequence of this victory was the submission
of all Media and Susiana ; but during his absence from
the capital, Demetrius advanced towards it, and made
himself master of it.
On the return of Seleucus to Babylon, he easily drove
out the troops left by Demetrius, recovered the castle
which he had garrisoned, and settled his authority on
such a firm foundation, that it could never afterwards
be moved. Having then marched again into Media,
he defeated and killed with his .own hand Nicanor or
Nicator, whom Antigonus had sent against him 5 after
which, having settled the afiairs of Media, he reduced
all Persia, Bactria, and Hyrcania, subjecting to his
new empire these and all the other provinces on this side
the Indus which had been conquered.
Seleucus being now master of all the countries which
lie between the Euphrates and the Indus, took the title
of king of Babylon and Media. But, not satisfied with
these possessions, ample as they were, he crossed the In¬
dus, in order to conquer those regions which had sub¬
mitted to Alexander beyond that river. In this expe¬
dition, however, he was unsuccessful ; but returning
westward against his old enemy Antigonus, he defeated
and killed him at Ipsus, and reduced his son Demetrius
to a very dependent state. Seleucus now betook him¬
self to the building of a city, which he called Seleitcia,
and which stood on the place where the city of Bagdad
now stands. Besides these, he built a great many
others ; 16 of which he called Antioch, from the name
of his brother Antioehus; nine Seleucia, from his own
name*, three Apamea, from Apama his first wife j one
Stvatonicea, from his second wife Stratonice; and six
Laodicea, from his mother Laodice.
In 284 Seleucus entered into a war with Lysimachus,
with whom he had hitherto lived in strict amity. Out
of 36 general officers left by Alexander the Great, they
two survived, and both were upwards of 70 years old.
Nevertheless they were both filled with the ambition
and animosity of young men. The two armies met at
6 a place called Curopedion in Phrygia, where an obstinate
Defeats and engagement took place. Victory was long doubtful:
kills Lysi- but at last Lysimachus was run through with a spear,
machus. an4 died on the spot j on which his troops betook them¬
selves to flight. This victory added to the possessions
4 '
Becomes
master of
Babylon.
An. 312.
B. C.
5
Defeats
"Kicanor,
of Seleucus all those provinces which had formerly been &.j
subject to Lysimachus, and from this victory he is ge-v—
nerally called Nicator, or the conquei'or. His triumph, : .
however, on this occasion, was but short-lived ; for Jea"|
seven months after, as he was marching towards Mace-on,]V|
don to take possession of that kingdom, he was treach-derec/
erously murdered by Ptolemy Ceraunus, on whom he
had conferred innumerable favours.
Seleucus tvas succeeded by his son Antiochus Soter,Antiwt
who held the empire 19 years. He resigned to Anti-^terJ
gonus Gonatus all pretensions to the crown of Macedon
and having engaged in a war with Eumenes king of ’ V,
Pergamus, he was defeated by him, and obliged tojield Ji
up part of his dominions. He died in 261 B. C. andAntioA
was succeeded by his son Antiochus Hieos*, who ha-^,eos* ‘
ving engaged in a war with Ptolemy Philadelphus kingi]
of Egypt, the Parthians and Bactrians took that oppor- li
tunity to revolt, and could never afterwards be reduced.
In 246 B. C. he was poisoned by his wife Laodice, who
raised to the throne her own son, named Seleuct/s Cal- ,
Unions. He was succeeded by his eldest son SeleucusSelen;
Ceraunus, a weak prince, who was poisoned by a con-C^M
spiracy of two of his officers, when he had reigned one^11^!
year j after which his brother Antiochus, surnamed the
Great, ascended the throne in 225 B. C. ,
In the very beginning of his reign, two of his generals, Antiot
Alexander and Molo, rebelled against him. The for-Q (
mer had been appointed governor of Persia, and the lat-^M j,
ter of Media. Antiochus marched against the rebels, ‘ 11|
whom he defeated in a pitched battle j on which their jp
chiefs laid violent hands on themselves. On his returnSuppt
he received the submission of the Atropatii, a barbarous oner*
people in Media; and put to death his prime ministerial
Hermias, whom he had found hatching treacherous de-st,M ^
signs against him. During his lifetime, however, the other? 1
traitor, by accusing Achaeus of treason* had obliged him
to revolt in his own defence ; so that the king had still
two important wars on his hands, viz. one with Ptole¬
my king of Egypt, and the other against Achaeus. Af¬
ter some deliberation, he resolved to march first against h|
the king of Egypt; and was at first very successful, re- f *>i
ducing many cities in Ccelesyria and Palestine, and de- ‘
feating the Egyptians in a pitched battle j but in the t
year 217 B. C. being worsted in the battle of Raphia, ;
he was obliged to abandon all his conquests j of which 4
Ptolemy immediately took possession, and Antinchus
was obliged to cede them to him, that he might be at
leisure to pursue the war against Achaeus.
Antiochus having made vast preparations for his ex¬
pedition, soon reduced Achceus to such distress, that he
was obligeil to shut himself up in the city of Sardis,
which he defended for some time with great bravery;
till at last, being betrayed by two Cretans, he was de¬
livered up to the king, and by his order put to death. ,
Antiochus then undertook an expedition against the^^f
Parthians, whom he obliged to conclude a peace oiisesis
very advantageous terms. He then turned his armseaA
against the king of Bactria, whom he also compelled to
agree to his terms. He then crossed Mount Caucasus,
and entered India ; where he renewed his alliance with
the king of that country. From India he marched into
Arachosia, Drangiana, and Carmania, establishing or¬
der and discipline in all those countries : then passing
through Persia, Babylonia, and Mesopotamia, he re¬
turned to Antioch, after an absence of seven years.
SR
nt into,
leu:e
ith i:
t
lis i-
le 1
al
I him 1
SYR [ i
In the year 204 B. C. Antiocluis entered into a
league with Philip ot Macetlon, on purpose to deprive
' Ptolemy Epiphanes, the infant king of Egypt, of ail
his dominions. He defeated the Egyptian general, re¬
lip covered all Palestine and Coelesyria j after which he
Mtedon invaded Asia Minor, in hopes of reducing it also, and
-a' ; ^restoring the Syrian empire to the same extent it had in
the time of Seleucus Nicator. The free cities in Asia
£ 4. Minor immediately had recourse to the Romans, who
sent an embassy to Antiochus on the occasion ; hut as
both parties put on those haughty and imperious airs to
which they thought the greatness of their power gave
sec 1 by them a right, no satisfaction was given, hut every thing
tended to an open rupture. While matters were in this
situation, Hannibal the Great, being obliged to leave
his own country, fled to Antiochus: from whom he
met with a gracious reception. As Plannibal had,
pitc- while a child, sworn perpetual enmity against the Ro-
ioa- mans, he used all his eloquence to persuade Antiochus
to make war with them \ and as the many victories
which he had gained over them left no room to doubt
of his capacity, Antiochus doubted nothing of being
able, by his assistance, to conquer that haughty people.
Several embassies passed between the two nations \ but
chiefly with a design, on the part of Antiochus, to gain
time. Hannibal endeavoured to draw his countrymen
■X into the confederacy against Rome, but without effect,
ntio = Antiochus having strengthened himself by several al-
j‘ieliances, at last resolved to begin the war in earnest. The
king imprudently became the aggressor, by falling on a
body of 500 Romans before war had been declared. He
also made King Philip his enemy, by entertaining the
regent of Athamania, who was a pretender to the crown
me-of Macedon. To complete all, he himself fell in love,
though above 50 years of age, with a beautiful young
woman of Chalcis, whom he married ; and became so
great a slave to this passion, that he entirely neglected
his affairs j the army gave themselves up entirely to
dissipation and debauchery, and every trace of military
discipline vanished.
In the year 191 B.£. Antiochus was roused from his
lethargy by a declaration of u’ar against him at Rome,
■. and set out for ^Etolia. His army at this time amount¬
ed to no more than 10,000 foot and 500 horse. He
had been made to believe that he would receive a vast
reinforcement in AStolia : but when he came to make
the experiment, he soon found his mistake ; all the
troops he could raise there amounted to no more than
4^00 men. \\ ith this force, so exceedingly inadequate
to the purpose, he was obliged to oppose the Roman ar¬
my, who were advancing in conjunction with the Ma¬
cedonians, and had already made surprising progress.
Antiochus seized the straits of Thermopylae; hut was
driven from them by the Romans, the king himself be¬
ing the first that fled. Almost h is whole army was de¬
stroyed in the battle or in the pursuit, and Antiochus
returned with disgrace into Asia.
Soon after his return, Antiochus equipped a fleet of
200 sail j on which he immediately embarked for the
fhracian Chersonesus, now Crim Tartary. He for¬
tified the cities of Lysimachia, Sestus, and Abydos,
with others in that neighbourhood, to prevent the Ro¬
mans from crossing the Hellespont. In the mean time
0 yxenidas the Syrian admiral sent intelligence to the
*mg that the Roman fleet had appeared off Delos 1 upon
^OL. XX. Part I. * f
ami .1
il kei-
eur.
1 deft ed
y the ro-
ian t
liern
[Sty-
a. ij
i.C.‘
85 ] S Y H
which he desired him to seek them out and engage them Syria,
at all events. He did so, and was defeated with the l——v-—~f
loss of 40 ships taken or sunk in the engagement. This . 20
was soon after revenged by the destruction of the Rl>o-dl'fefwd h-
dian fleet by the artifice of Polyxenidas ; but in the end thatof llie
the king’s affairs went everywhere to wreck. Having Romans,
laid siege to the city of Pergamus, he was obliged to
raise it with loss; the Phoenician fleet commanded by 2l
Hannibal was defeated by the Rhodians: and soon after Meets with
the Syrian fleet under Polyxenidas was utterly defeated two other
by the Romans. Antiochus was so much disheartened jje,eats,a,1<*
by these repeated defeats, that he appeared like one in- q^one in¬
fatuated. Instead of fortifying more strongly those cities fatuat-ed.
which lay on the frontiers of his kingdom, he entirely
deserted them : and thus Lysimachia and Abydos, the
two keys to Asia, fell into the hands of the Romans
without the least resistance.
The arrival of the Romans in Asia struck Antiochus
with such terror, that he instantly sued for peace. The
terms he ollered were indeed very advantageous, hut
by no means agreeable to the expectations of the Ro- si
mans. They therefore gave him his final answer : ^ues *or
1. That since he had drawn upon himself the war, he Peac(e’
should defray the whole expence of it; 2. That he1SreUSe
should restore liberty in general to all the Greek
cities in Asia ; and, 3. That to prevent future hosti¬
lities, he should relinquish all Asia on this side Mount
Taurus. These terms, however, still appeared to him
so intolerable, that he resolved to continue the war;
and determined also to take the most imprudent me¬
thod of carrying it on, namely, by hazarding all on
the event of a general engagement. The king en¬
camped near Magnesia, and strongly fortified his camp.
I he Romans insulted him in his trenches, and proposed
to attack his fortifications if he continued to decline an
engagement. At last the king, thinking it would be
shameful for him longer to refuse an engagement, being
at the head of an army far more numerous than that of
the enemy, in a friend’s country, and in the midst of
his allies, resolved at all events to accept the challenge,
and accordingly prepared for a decisive battle.
On the day of the battle the weather proved very Dattle^of
favourable to the Romans ; for a thick fog rising in the Maguesis*
morning, the day was almost turned into night, so that
the Syrian commanders could not have all the corps
under their command in view, on account of their great
extent, nor send them proper orders in time ; whereas
the fog was not thick enough to prevent the Roman ge¬
nerals from seeing their several bodies at the greatest
distance, as they took up but little ground. Besides,
the damp which was occasioned by the fog slackened
the strings of the enemy’s bows, so that the Asiatics
who used them could shoot their darts and arrows but
faintly. The whole dependence of Antiochus in the
first attack was on his armed chariots, which were to
cut their way into the Roman army. But Eumenes, king
of Pergamus, undertook to render them useless, and even
fatal, to the enemy. After this advantage, the Roman
cavalry advanced, and fell on those whom the chariots
had put in disorder. The Syrians being already intimi- The Syrian?
dated, after a faint resistance gave way; and the Romans defeated,
made a great slaughter of their men and horses, both be¬
ing borne down with the weight of their heavy armour.
Eumenes charged the left wing, in which Seleucus
commanded, with such vigour, that he put it to flight;
A a and
SYR
[ 186 ]
SYR
Syria.
And their
eamp ta¬
ken.
16
Antiochus
«btains
peace on
very haid
ieruis.
ami the fugitives flying to the phalanx for protection,
put that body likewise in disorder j which Domitius ob¬
serving, advanced against it at the head of his legion¬
aries, but could not break it till he ordered his men to
attack the elephants which the Syrians^ had ^placed
in the spaces between the companies. The Romans
had learned, in their wars with Pyrrhus and Han¬
nibal, not to fear those monsters which were once so
terrible to them. They attacked them, therefore, with
great resolution j and driving them against the pha¬
lanx, put that body into disorder, by means ol those
very animals which had been posted there for its de¬
fence. .
After a long and bloody contest, the Syrians were
totally routed, and the Romans walking over heaps of
dead bodies, marched up to the Syrian camp, attacked,
and plundered it. The riches they found in it are not
to be described5 but the taking of it cost the Romans a
new battle, which proved more fatal to the Syrians
than that in the field 5 for the Romans having, in spite
of a most desperate resistance, forced the intrenchments,
gave no quarter, but put all to the sword without distinc¬
tion. There fell this day in the battle, iii the pursuit,
and in the plunder of the camp, 50,000 foot and 4000
horse*, 1500 were taken prisoners, and 15 elephants.
In the consular army there were but 300 foot killed
and 35 horse. Kumenes had only 15 of his men kill¬
ed *, so that this victory, as we are told by the ancients,
seemed a prodigy to all nations both of the east and
west* • • , r 1 *
Antiochus retired to Sardis with as many or Ins
forces that had escaped the slaughter as he could draw
together. Prom Sardis lie soon marched to rejoin his
son Seleucus, who had fled to Apamea. As for the
consul, he took advantage of the king’s defeat and
flight, making himself master of all the neighbouring
countries. Deputies hastened to him from all parts 5
the cities of Thyatira, Magnesia, Trail is, Magnesia in
Caria, all Lydia, and Ephesus itself, though highly
favoured by Antiochus, declared for the Romans. Po-
lyxenidas, upon the news of the king’s defeat, left the
port of Ephesus, and sailed to Patara, where he landed
with a very small guard, and returned by land into Sy¬
ria. Tlie consul took the road to Sardis, which open¬
ed its gates to him.
Antioclius finding his affairs in a bad situation both
by sea and land, and not daring to appear before the
consular army in the field, sent Antipater his brother’s
son, and Zeuxis, who had been governor of Lydia and
Phrygia, to sue for a peace. They were ordered to
treat chiefly with the elder Scipio, of whose clemency
and good nature Antiochus entertained a high opinion.
Accordingly, on their arrival at Sardis, wheie the con
sul then vvas with his brother, they addressed the latter,
and were by him presented to the consul. Their speech
was very submissive, and such as became a vanquished
people.
Hereupon a council was summoned, and after long
debates the ambassadors were called in *, and Scipio A-
fricanus proposed terms that were very humiliating.
The ambassadors of Antiochus had been ordered to
refuse no terms $ and therefore these were accepted and
the whole allair concluded. So that the Syrian ambas¬
sadors now prepared to set out for Rome, to get the con¬
ditions of peace proposed by Scipio ratified tlx;re. L.
Syria.
—r*
Aurelius Cotta was sent with the ambassadors to Rome,
to acquaint the senate with the particulars of the treaty.
When they appeared before the conscript fathers, they
spoke with great submission, and only desired them to
ratify the articles which the Scipios had offered to their
master. The senate, after examining them, ordered
that a treaty of peace should be concluded with Antio¬
clius, and the articles of it engraved on brass, and fixed
up in the Capitol. They only added one clause, which
was, That the Syrians should change every year all
their hostages, except the son of Jving Antiochus, vlio
should continue at Rome as long as the republic thought
fit. The peace being thus ratified, and all Asia on this
side Mount Taurus delivered into the hands of the Ro¬
mans, the Greek cities were by them restored to their
liberty, the provinces of Caria and Lydia given to the
Rhodians, and all the rest that had belonged to Antio¬
chus bestowed upon Eumenes. 17
Antiochus did not long survive his misfortune atHisdeiii.
Magnesia. He died in 187, and with him fell the glory >'
of the Syrian empire. The Romans now gave laws to the
kings of Syria, insomuch, that when Antiochus Epi-
phanes the grandson of Antiochus the Great hesitated
at obeying the command of the senate, one of the am-
bassadors drew a circle round him with a rod on the
floor, and told him that he should not go out of that
spot before he had told him what he was to do. I he
most remarkable transactions of this prince are his wars |
with the Jews, and persecutions of them j of which a
full account is given under the article Jews. After a
variety of usurpers and tyrants, the kingdom of Syria J™,
fell under Tigranes king of Armenia in the year 83 rqiem
B. C. ; and upon his overthrow by the Romans, it be-pro*
came a province of the dominions of the republic. From
them it was taken by the Saracens in the reign of the
caliph Omar, and is now a province of Turkey in Asia.
See Acre. _ . i»
Syria is in some measure only a chain of mountains,clim*
varying in their levels, situation, and appearances. T he soil, ^
part of the country, however, next the sea is in general
low, and besides this there are several extensive valleys. r'
The climate on the sea-coast and in these valleys is very
hot, but in the higher parts of the country it bears a
good deal of resemblance to that of France. Syria is
exceedingly fertile, and the variety of its productions is
very great. Besides wheat, rye, barley, beans, and the
cotton plant, which is cultivated everywhere, Palestine
abounds in sesamum, from which oil is procured, and
doura as good as that of Egypt. Maize thrives in the
light soil of Balbec, and even rice is cultivated with
success on the borders of the marshy country of Havula-
They have lately begun to plant sugarcanes in the gar¬
dens of Saide and of Bairout, and they find them equal
to those of the Delta. Indigo grows without cultivat¬
ing on the banks of the Jordan, in the country of Bi*aii,
and only requires care to make it of an excellent quali¬
ty. The hill-sides of Latakia produce tobacco. Gazafolit
produces dates like Mecca, and pomegranates like Al-JV*?
giers *, Tripoli affords oranges equal to those of Malta;'1'1'
Bairout figs like those of Marseilles, and bananas no*
inferior to those of St Domingo ; Aleppo enjoys the ex
elusive advantage of producing pistachios; and Dania8*
cus justly boasts of possessing all the fruits known in
France. Its stony soil suits equally the apples of jN°r'
mandy, the plums of Touraiue, and the Poac*pSr^
ia
an.
SYS [ 187 ] TAB
Paris. Twenty sorts of apricots are reckoned there,
the stone of one of which contains a kernel highly valued
, through all Turkey. The cochineal plant, which grows
on all that coast, contains perhaps that precious insect
in as high perfection as it is found in Mexico and St
Domingo.
The inhabitants may be divided into three principal
classes : the descendants of the Greeks of the Lower
Empire ; the Arabs, tbeir conquerors j and the Turks,
the present ruling power : and these again, the first in¬
to three, the second into four, classes ; besides three
wandering tribes of Turkomans, Curds, and Bedouin
Arabs. The ancient inhabitants before the Greeks
under Alexander are enlh’ely lost. The inhabitants are
in general of a middling stature, and the eyes of the
women almost everywhere beautiful, and their shape
correct and well proportioned. The general language
is Arabic.
SYRINGA, the Lilac, a genus of plants belonging
to the class diandria, and in the natural system ranging
under the 44th order, Sepiarice. See Botany Index.
SYRINGE, a well-known instrument, serving to
imbibe or suck in a quantity of fluid, and to squirt or
expel the same with violence. The word is formed
from the Greek <rv£tv%, or the Latin syrinx, “ a pipe.”
—A syringe is only a single pump, and the water as¬
cends in it on the same principle as in the common suck¬
ing-pump. See Hydrodynamics.
SYRUP, in Pharmacy, a saturated solution of sugar,
made in vegetable decoctions or infusions. See Mate¬
ria Medica.
SYSTEM, in general, denotes an assemblage or
chain of principles and conclusions, or the whole of any System
doctrine, the several parts whereof are bound together, H
and follow or depend on each other; in which sense we Syzygy-
say a system of philosophy, system of divinity, &c. The v~~"
word is formed from the Greek o-vrvpx, “ composition,
compages.”
System, in the animal economy, the vascular, the
nervous, and the cellular. See Anatomy.
System, in Music, an assemblage of the rules for har¬
mony, deduced from some common principle by which
they are reunited ; by which their connection one with
another is formed ; from whence, as from their genuine
source, they natively flow ; and to which, if we would
account for them, we must have recourse. See the ar¬
ticles Chromatic, Diatonic, Enharmonic, Har¬
mony, Interval, and Music.
System, in Botany. See Botany.
System, in Astronomy. See Astronomy.
SYSTOLE, in Anatomy, the contraction of the
heart, whereby the blood is drawn off its ventricles in¬
to the arteries; the opposite state to which is called the
diastole, or dilatation of the heart. See Anatomy In¬
dex.
S\ STYLE, in Architecture, that manner of placing
columns where the space between the two shafts consists
of two diameters or four modules.
SYZYGY, Syzygia, in Astronomy, a term equally
used for the conjunction and opposition of a planet with
the sun. The word is formed from the Greek o-vtyyict,
which properly signifies co/T/tt/zcTzb. On the phenomena
and circumstances of the syzygies a great part of the
lunar theory depends. See Astronomy.
T.
HP or t, the 19th letter and 16th consonant of our al-
phabet; the sound whereof is formed by a strong
expulsion of the breath through the mouth, upon a sud¬
den drawing back of the tongue from the fore-part of
the palate, with the lips at the same time open. The
proper sound of t is expressed in most words beginning
or ending with that letter ; as in take, tell, hot, put. Ti
before a vowel has the sound of si, or rather oi shi, as
in creation, except when s precedes, as in question; and
in derivatives from words ending in ty, as mighty, migh¬
tier. Th has two sounds; the one soft, as thou, father ;
the other bard, as thing, think. The sound is soft in
these words, then, thence, and there, with their deriva¬
tives and compounds ; and in the words that, this, thus,
thy, theys though; and in all words in which th comes
between two vowels, as, whether, rather ; and between
r and a vowel, as burthen.
In abbreviations, amongst the Roman writers, T.
stands for Titus, Titius, &c. ; Tab. for Tabularius;
lab. P. H. C. Tabularius Provincice Hispanice Citerio-
rf; Tar. Tarquinius; Ti. Tiberius: Ti. F. Tiberii
//biw; Ti. L. Tiberii libertus: Ti. N. Tiberii Nepos ;
• J. A. V. P. \ . jy tempore judicem arbitrumvepo-
stulat utdet; T. M. P. terminumposuit; T. M. D. D. T
terminum dedicavit; Tr. trans, tribunus; Tr. M. or H
Mil. trihunus militum ; TR. PL. DES. tribunus plebisTabathccr.
designatus; TR. AER. tribunus cerarii; TRV. CAP. ' v
triumviri capitales; T. P. or TR1B. POT. tribunicia
potestate; Tul. H. Tullus HostiUus.
Amongst the ancients, T, as a numeral, stood for cw*
hundred and sixty ; and with a dash at top, thus 7, it
signified one hundred and sixty thousand. In music, T
stands for tutti, “ all, or altogether.”
TABANUS, the Breeze-fly ; a genus of insects
belonging to the order of diptera. See Entomology
Index.
TABARCA, a small island lying opposite to a town
of the same name, which divides the maritime coasts of
Tunis and Algiers, in Africa. It is two miles from the
land, and is in possession of the noble family of the La-
mellini of Genoa, who have here a governor and a gar¬
rison of 200 men to protect the coral fishery. N. Lat.
36. 50. E. Long. 9. 16.
TABASHEER, a Persian word, signifying a hard
substance found in the cavities of the bamboo or Indian
reed, and highly valued as a medicine in the East Indies.
. a 2 Though
TAB [ 188 j TAB
Tabasheev. Though some account was given of the tabasheer by
the Arabian physicians, no accurate knowledge of it
was obtained till Dr Russel favoured the public with
his observations on it.
The tabasheer is produced from the female bamboo,
which is distinguished from the male by a larger cavity.
The bamboos containing it make a rattling noise when
shaken. Dr Russel having examined a bamboo brought
from Vellore, consisting of six joints, found no tabasheer
in two of them : all the rest contained some, but of va¬
rious quality and quantity the whole amounting to
about 27 grains. The best was of a bluish white, re¬
sembling small fragments of shells, harder also than the
rest, but which might be easily crumbled between the
fingers into a gritty powder; and when applied to the
tongue and palate, had a slight saline and testaceous
taste ; the weight not exceeding four grains. The co¬
lour of the rest w'as cinerititous, rough on the surface,
and more friable ; having some particles of a larger
size intermixed, but light, spongy, and somewhat re¬
sembling pumice stones ; which appearance, our author
supposes, led the Arabians to think that fire was con¬
cerned in .the production. The two middle joints were
of a pure white colour w'ithin, and lined with a thin
film. In these the tabasheer was principally found.
The other joints, particularly the two upper ones, were
discoloured within and in some parts of the cavity was
found a blackish substance in grains or in powder, ad¬
hering to the sides, the film being there obliterated. In
two or three of the joints a small round hole was found
at top and bottom, which seemed to have been perfora¬
ted by some insect.
Garzius informs us, that it is not found in all bam¬
boos, or in all the branches indiscriminately, but only in
those growing about Bisnagur, Batecala, and one part
of the Malabar coast. Dr Russel was informed by a
letter from a medical gentleman attending the embassy
to the Nizam, that though tabasheer bears a high price
at Hydrabad, it is never brought thither from Bisnagur;
and that some of what is sold in the markets comes from
the pass of Atcour in Canoul ; and some from Emna-
bad, at the distance of about 80 miles to the north-west;
but that the most part comes from Masulipatam. That
sold in the markets is of two kinds ; one the rate of a
rupee per dx-am, but the other only half that price ; the
latter, however, is supposed to be factitious, and made
up mostly of burnt teeth and bones. Dr Russel himself
also, is persuaded that the tabasheer met with in com¬
merce is greatly adulterated. The above-mentioned
gentleman likewise informed the doctor that tabasheer
was produced in great quantities at Sylhat, where it is
sold by the pound, from one rupee to one and a half;
forming a considerable article of trade from Bengal to
Persia and Arabia. There is, however, a third kind,
much superior in quality, being whiter, purer, and also
harder and heavier.
Dr Russel supposes that the tabasheer is the juice of
the bamboo thickened and hardened. The following
observations on its medical effects were taken from a
Persian work, intitled the “ Tofut ul Monein of Ma-
hommed Monein Hoseiny,” by Mr Williams a surgeon
in the service of the East India company. The taba-
sheer puts a stop to bilious vomitings and to the bloody
flux. It is also of service in cases of palpitation of the
*■“ ' ami for Strengthening those members
of the body that are weakened by heat. It is useful al- Tal
so for the piles, and for acute or burning fevers, and ^
for pustules in the month (thrush) ; and, given with mf
oxymel, is of service against restlessness, melancholy, u-
and hypochondriacal aflections. \ he habitual internal
use of it is prejudicial to the virile powers. It is also
said to be prejudicial to the lungs. Its correctives are
the gum of the pine and honey. The dose ot it is to
the weight of two d’herems, or seven masbas.
TABBY, in Commerce, a kind of rich silk which
has undergone the operation of tabbying.
TABBYING, the passing a silk or stuff under a
Callender, the rolls of which are made of iron or copper
variously engraven, which bearing unequally on the stuff
renders the surface thereol unequal, so as to reflect the
rays of light differently, making the representation of
waves thereon.
TABELLIO, in the Roman law, an officer or scri¬
vener, much the same with our notaries public, wlio are
often called tabelliones.
TABERNACLE, among the Hebrews, a kind of
building, in the form of a tent, set up, by express com¬
mand of God, for the performance of religious worship,
sacrifices, &c. during the journeying of the Israelites iu
the wilderness : and, after their settlement in the land
of Canaan, made use of for the same purpose till the
building of the temple of Jerusalem. It was divided
into two parts; the one covered, and properly called
the tabernaclei and the other open, called the ccurL
The curtains which covered the tabernacle were made
of linen, of several colouis, embroidered. There were
ten curtains, 28 cubits long and four in breadth. Five
curtains fastened together made up two coverings, which
covered up all the tabernacle. Over these there were
two other coverings ; the one of goat’s hair, the other
of sheep’s skins. The holy of holies was parted from
the rest of the tabernacle by a curtain made fast to four
pillars, standing ten cubits from the end. The length
of the whole tabernacle was 32 cubits, that is, about 50
feet; and the breadth 12 cubits or 19 feet. The court
was a spot of ground 100 cubits long, and 50 in breadth,
enclosed by 20 columns, each 20 cubits high and 10 in
breadth, covered with silver, and standing on copper
bases, five cubits distant from one another ; between
which there were curtains drawn, and fastened with
hooks. At the east end was an entrance, 20 cubits
wide, covered with a curtain hanging loose.
Feast of Tabernacles, a solemn festival of the He¬
brews, observed after harvest, on the 15th day of the
month Tisri, instituted to commemorate the goodness
of God, who protected the Israelites in the wilderness,
and made them dwell in booths, when they came out
of Egypt. On the first day of the feast they began to
erect booths of the baughs of trees, and in these they
were obliged to continue seven days. The boughs were
placed in the open air, and were not to be covered with
cloths, nor made too close by the thickness of the boughs;
but so loose that the sun and the stars might be seen, and
the rains descend through them. For further particulars
of the celebration of this festival, see Levit. ch. xxiiu j
TABERNiE, in Ancient Geography. See Tre$
Taber me.
TABERNiEMONTANA, in Botany, a genus of
plants belonging to the class of pentandria, and order of
monogynia; and in the natural system arranged under
ib' . Je¬
an a
TAB t i
the 30th oriler, Contortce. There are two horizontal
follicles, and the seeds are immersed in pulp. There
are eight species, all of foreign growth.
, TABLE, a moveable piece of furniture, usually made
of wood or stone, and supported on pillars or the like,
for the commodious reception of things placed thereon.
Table is also used for the fare or entertainment ser¬
ved up.
Table, in Mathematics, systems of numbers calcu¬
lated to be ready at hand for the expediting astronomi¬
cal, geometrical, and other operations.
TABLE-Book. See Writing.
TABLE-Mountain, a mountain of Africa, being the
most westerly cape or promontory in that part ot the
world, and near the Cape of Good Hope. The bay
which is formed thereby is called the 'Table-baij.
Laws- of the Twelve Tables, were the first set of
laws of the Romans : thus called either because the Ro¬
mans then wrote with a style on thin wooden tablets co¬
vered with wax 5 or rather, because they were engraved
on tables or plates of copper, to be exposed in the most
noted part of the public forum. After the expulsion ot
the kings, as the Romans were then without any fixed
or certain system of law, at least had none ample enough
to take in the various cases that might fall between par¬
ticular persons, it was resolved to adopt the best and
wisest laws of the Greeks. One Hermodorus was first
appointed to translate them, and the decemviri after¬
wards compiled and reduced them into ten tables. Af¬
ter a world of care and application, they were at length
enacted and confirmed by the senate and an assembly of
the people, in the year of Rome 303. The following
year they found something wanting therein, which they
supplied from the laws of the former kings of Rome,
and from certain customs which long use had authoris¬
ed: all these being engraven on two other tables, nude
the law of the twelve tables, so famous in the Roman
jurisprudence, the source and foundation of the civil or
Roman law.
Tables of the Law, in Jewish antiquity, two tables
on which were written the decalogue, or ten command¬
ments, given by God to Moses on Mount Sinai.
TABOO, a word used by the South sea islanders,
nearly of the same import as prohibited or interdicted.
It applies equally to persons and things, and is also ex¬
pressive of any thing sacred, devoted, or eminent.
TABOR, a mountain of Galilee, about 12 miles from
the city of Tiberias. It rises in the form of a sugar loaf,
in the midst of an extensive plain, to the height of 30
stadia, according to Josephus. The ascent is so easy,
that one may ascend on horseback. On the top there
is a plain two miles in circumference.
The situation of Mount Tabor is most delightful.
Bising amidst the plains of Galilee, it exhibits to the
enchanted eye a charming variety of prospects. On
one side there are lakes, rivers, and a part of the Me¬
diterranean } and on the other a chain ot little lulls,
with small valleys, shaded by natural groves, and en¬
riched by the hands of the husbandman with a great
number of useful productions. Here you behold an im¬
mensity of plains interspered with hamlets, fortresses,
and heaps of ruins; and there the eye delights to wan¬
der over the fields of Jezrael or Mageddon, named
hy the Arabs Ebn-Aamer, which signifies “ the field of
the sons of Aamer.” A little farther you distinguish
89 } TAG
the mountains of Hermon, Gilboa, Samaria, and Arabia Tabor
the Stony. In short, you experience all those sensa- ^ II
tions which are produced by a mixture and rapid sue- -1 acitus. ^
cession of rural, gay, gloomy, and majestic objects.
It was upon this enchanting mount that the apostle
Peter said to Christ, “ It is good for us to be hei'e: and
let us make three tabernacles ; one for thee, and one for
Moses, and one for Elias.”
Flavian Josephus, governor of Galilee, caused the
summit of this mountain, for the space of two miles and
a half, to be surrounded with walls. The inhabitants
of Tabor long braved the power of the Roman armies ;
but being deprived of water in consequence of the great
heats, they were forced to surrender at discretion to
Placidus, the general of Vespasian.
Several churches were built upon this mountain by
St Helen, who founded here also some monasteries. Of
the two most remarkable, one was dedicated to Moses,
and inhabited by Cenobites of the order of St Benedict,
who followed the Latin rites : the other was dedicated
to the prophet Elias by monks of the order of St Basil,
attached to the Greek rites. The kings of Hungary
erected here also a pretty spacious convent lor some
monks belonging to that nation, ol the order of St Paul
the first hermit. Tabor was also the seat ol a bishop,
dependant on the patriarchate ol Jerusalem.
When Godfrey of Bouillon seized on this mountain,
he repaired the ancient churches, which were beginning
to fall into ruins. Under Baldwin I. in iii3> the Sa¬
racen troops retook Tabor ; and their sanguinary tury
gained as many victories as there were priests and Ceno¬
bites. This mountain again lell into the hands ot the
Christians; but the Catholic standard was not long dis¬
played on it. Saladin pulled it down the year follow¬
ing, and destroyed all the churches. J he Christians
retook it once more in 1 233 ; and their zeal made them
rebuild all the sacred places. At this time Rome being
accustomed to give away empires, Pope Alexander IV.
granted Tabor to the Templars, who lortified it again.
At length, in the course of the year 1290, the sultan
of Egvpt destroyed and laid waste the buildings of this
mountain, which could never be repaired afterwards ;
so that at present it is uninhabited.
TACAMAHACA, in Pharmacy, a gum resin, ob¬
tained from the fagara octandra and populus balsamifera;
and having a fragrant smell, a bitterish nauseous taste,
and supposed to be stimulant and tonic in its effects.
TACCA, a genus of plants belonging to the class
dodecandria. See Botany Index.
TACHYGRAPHY, from rct%v;, short, and
I write, or the art of writing short-hand. See Steno¬
graphy.
TACITUS, Caius Cornelius, a celebrated Roman
historian, and one of the greatest men of his time, ap¬
pears to have been born about the year of Rome 809 or
810, and applied himself early to the labours of the
bar, in which he gained very considerable reputation. Mw/yAys
Having married the daughter of Agricola, the road {q 1 ranmation
public honours was laid open to him in the reign of^ '■‘■uc^us‘
Vespasian ; but during the sanguinary and capricious
tyranny of Domitian, he, as well as his friend Pliny,
appears to have retired from the theatre of public af¬
fairs. The reign of Ntrva restored these luminaries of
Roman literature to the metropolis, and we find Taci¬
tus engaged, in A. U. C. 850, to pronounce the funeral
oration
TAG
[ 190 ]
TAG
Tacitus.
Biographi¬
cal Diction-
ary.
Bail let Vie
de Det
Cartes,
tom. ii.
Study of
History,
Letter y.
oration of the venerable "V irginius Rufus, the colleague
of the emperor in the consulship, and afterwai’ds suc¬
ceeding him as consul for the remainder of the year.
The time of his death is not mentioned by any ancient
author, but it is probable that he died in the reign of
Trajan.
His works which still remain are, 1. Five books of
his History. 2. His Annals. 3. A Treatise on the dif¬
ferent Nations which in his time inhabited Germany :
and, 4. The Life of Agrieola his father-in-law. There
is also attributed to him a Treatise on Eloquence, which
others have ascribed to Quintilian. The Treatise on the
Manners of the Germans was published in 851.—In the
year 853, Pliny and Tacitus were appointed by the se¬
nate to plead the cause of the oppressed Africans against
Marius Priscus, a corrupt proconsul, who was convicted
before the fathers ; and the patriot orators were honour¬
ed with a declaration that they had executed their trust
to the entire satisfaction of the house. The exact time
when Tacitus published his history is uncertain, but it
was in some period of Trajan’s reign, who died sudden¬
ly, A. F. C. 870, A. 1). 117.—The history comprises
a period of 27 years, from the accession of Galba, 822,
to the death of Homitian, 849. The history being fi¬
nished, he did not think he had completed the tablature
of slavery ; he went back to the time of Tiberius : and
the second work, which, however, comes first in the
order of chronology, includes a period of 54 years, from
the accession of Tiberius, 767, to the death of Nei'o,
821 : this work is his “ Annals.”
It is remarkable, that princes and politicians have
■always held the works of Tacitus in the highest esteem ;
which looks as if they either found their account in
reading them, or were pleased to find courts, and the
people who live in them, so exactly described after the
life as they ai’e in his writings. Part of what is extant
was found in Germany by a receiver of Pope Leo X.
and published bv Beroaldus at Rome in 1515. Leo was
so much charmed with Tacitus, that he gave the recei¬
ver a reward of 500 crowns j and promised not only in¬
dulgences, but money also and honour, to any one who
should find the other part; which it is said was after¬
wards brought to him. Pope Paul HI. as Muretus re¬
lates, wore out his Tacitus by much reading it 5 and
Cosmo de Medicis, who was the first great duke of
Tuscany, and formed for governing, accounted the
reading of him his greatest pleasure. Muretus adds,
that several princes, and privy-counsellors to princes,
i-ead him with great application, and regarded him as a
sort of oracle in politics. A certain author relates, that
Queen Christina of Sweden, though exti-emely fond of
the Greek tongue, which she made “ the diversion of
her leisure hours, was not restrained by that from her
serious studies ; so she called among others Tacitus’s
Histox-y, some pages of which she read constantly every
day.” Lastly, Lord Bolingbroke, an authority surely
of no mean rank, calls him, “ a favourite authoiv,” and
gives him manifestly the pi’eference to all the Greek
and Roman historians.
No author has obtained a more splendid reputation
than Tacitus. He has been accounted, and with good
reason, the most cultivated genius of antiquity; and we
must not seek for his parallel in modern times. It is
impossible not to admire and recommend his intimate
knowledge of the human heart, the spirit of liberty
which he breathes, and the force and vivacity with Tatin
xvhich he perpetually expi’esses himself. 1 he reader of Tact
taste is struck by the greatness of his thoughts and theU^r'
dignity of his narration j the philosopher by the com¬
prehensive powers of his mind ; and the politician by the
sagacity with which he unfolds the springs of the most
secret transactions. Civil liberty and the lights of
mankind never met with a bolder or a more able asser-
tor : servitude, debasement, and tyranny, appear not
in the writings of any other author in juster or more
odious colours. He has been censured as obscure ; and
indeed nothing can be more certain than that he did not
write for the common mass ot men. But to those who
are judges of his compositions, it is no matter of regret
that his manner is his own, and peculiar. Never were
description and sentiment so wonderfully and so beauti¬
fully blended ; and never were the actions and charac¬
ters of men delineated with so much strength and pre¬
cision. He has all the merits of other historians, with¬
out their defects. He possesses the distinctness of Xe¬
nophon without his uniformity j he is more eloquent
then Livy, and is free from his supexstition } and he has
more knowledge and judgment than Polybius, without
his affectation of reasoning on every occasion.
One of the best editions of the works of Tacitus was
published at Paris by Brotier, in 4 vols. 410. There
have been four translations of his works into English ;
the first by Greenway and Sir Plenx-y Saville, in the
reign of Elizabeth 5 tlxe second by Dry den and others j
the thixd by Gordon, which is remarkable for affecta¬
tion of style, though some think it bears a stinking re¬
semblance to the original } and the fourth and best by
Murphy, in 1793, in 4 vols. 410.
TACK, a rope used to confine the foremost lower
corners of the courses and stay-sails in a fixed position,
when the wind crosses the ship’s course obliquely. The
same name is also given to the rope employed to pull
out the lower corner of a studding-sail or driver to the
extremity of its boom.
The main-sail and fore-sail of a ship are furnished
with a tack on each side, which is formed of a thick
rope tapering to the end, and having a knot wrought
upon the largest end, by which it is firmly retained in
the clue of the sail. By this means one tack is always
fastened to windward, at the same time that the sheet
exlends the sail to the leeward.
Tack, is also applied, by analogy, to that part of
any sail to which the tack is usually fastened.
A ship is said to be on the starboard or larboard tack,
when she is close-hauled, with the wind upon the star¬
board or larboard side ; and in this sense the distance
which she sails in that po.-ition is considered as the
length of the tack although this is more frequently
called board. See that article.
To Tack, to change the course from one board to
another, or turn the ship about from the starboard to
the larboard tack, in a contrary wind. Thus a snip
beintr close-hauled on the larboard tack, and turning
her prow suddenly to wind ward, receives the impression
of the wind on her head sails, hy which she falls oil up¬
on the line of the starboard tack. Tacking is also used/u/i®'
in a more enlarged sense, to imply that manoeuvre in^i;
navigation hy which a ship makes an oblique progression
to the windward, in a zig-zag direction. This, how¬
ever, is more usually called beating, or turning to wind-
word-
TAG [ ]
l'a ward. See Navigation, Sailing, and Naval Tac-
| tics, under War.
Tack, in Scots Law. See Law, N° clxvii.
TACKLE, among seamen, denotes all the ropes or
cordage of a ship used in managing the sails, &c.
, TACKSMAN. See Tenure.
TACTICS, in the art of war, is the method of dis¬
posing forces to the best advantage in order of battle,
and of performing the several military motions and evo¬
lutions. See War.
TADCASTER, a town in the west riding of York¬
shire, noted for the great plenty of limestone dug up
near it •, and for being one of the first places in which
a building was erected for Sunday schools. It is nine
miles from York, and 188 from London.
TADMOR. See Palmyra.
TADPOLE, a young frog before it has disengaged
itself from the membranes that envelope it in its first
stage oflife. See Erpetology, p. 281.
1YENIA, a genus of animals belonging to the class
of vermes. See Helminthology, N° 29, 30.
TAFFETA, or Taffeta, in Commerce, a fine
smooth silken stuff, remarkably glossy. There are taf-
i feties of all colours, some plain, and others striped with
gold, silver, &c. others chequered, others flowered, &c.
according to the fancy of the workmen.
TAGANROK, or Taganrog, a sea-port town si¬
tuated at the head of the sea of Azof, and forming one
I of the principal ports of the Russian empire. It stands
i on a small promontory, at the extremity of which is a
fortress of considerable strength, and capable of accom-
i modating a numerous garrison. The streets are wide
j but unpaved, and from the lightness of the soil, are ei¬
ther intolerably dusty, or ankle-deep in mud. The
houses, which do not exceed a thousand, are small, built
[ chiefly of wood, plaistered with mud, and roofed with
bark. It is in north latitude 46°.
I Taganrok is remarkable only as a place of trade, but
in this view is highly respectable. When Mr M‘Gill
visited it in 1805, he found there upwards of 200 vessels
of various sizes, waiting for cargoes. From its advan-
i tageous situation, at the head of the sea of Azof, and
near the mouths of the rivers Don and Volga, and from
I its being in the vicinity of a very fertile country, it has
become the centre of commerce for many staple articles.
| Hither are brought, for exportation, vast quantities of
grain, wool, hides, butter, tallow, bees-wax, and ho¬
ney from the southern provinces of Russia ; iron, tim¬
ber, pitch, and tar from Siberia 5 caviar to the amount
of 50,000 puds annually from the Don and the Volga j
hemp and flax from the neighbouring districts. Cor¬
dage and canvas are manufactured here, and form a
considerable article of traffic. The trade is carried on
chiefly by Ragusan and Greek supercargoes, who re¬
main only till their commodities are collected and ship¬
ped. For the best accounts of this place, see Pallas’s
Travels in the Russian Empire, and M‘Gil!’s Travels
in Turkey, Italy, and Russia.
tagara, a city of ancient India, the metropolis
of a large district caljed Ariaca, which comprehended
the greatest pait of the Subah of Aurungabad, and the
| southern part of Concan. Arrian says, that it was situ¬
ated about ten days journey to the eastward of Pulta-
nab 5 which, according to the rate of travelling in that
country with loaded carts, might be about IOQ British
91 ] T A I
miles. This fixes its situation at Deoghir, a place of
great antiquity, and famous through all India on ac¬
count of the pagodas of Elousa. It is now called Dou-
Ict-abad.
TAGETES, Marygold, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class syngenesia ; and in the natural system
ranking under the 49th order, Composite. See Botany
Index.
TAGUS, the largest river of Spain 5 which, taking
its rise on the confines of Arragon, runs south-west
through the provinces of New Castile and Estremadura;
and passing by the cities of Aranjuez, Toledo, and
Alcantara, and then crossing Portugal, forms the har¬
bour of Lisbon, at which city it is about three miles
broad; and about eight or ten miles below this it falls
into the Atlantic ocean.
TAHOEREWA, one of the Sandwich islands, is
small, destitute of wood, the soil sandy and unfertile 5 is
situated in north latitude 20° 38', in east longitude 203°
27'-
TAHOORA, one of the Sandwich islands in the
South sea. It is uninhabited, and lies in north latitude
21° 43', and in east longitude 1990 36'. See Sakd-
jvich-Islands.
TAJUCA, or Peccary, in Zoology, a species of
hog. See Sus, Mammalia Index.
TAI-ouan, the Chinese name of the island of For¬
mosa. See Formosa.—Tai-ouan is also the name of
the capital of the island.
TAIL, the train of a beast, bird, or fish ; which in
land animals, it is said, serves to drive away flies, &c.
and in birds and fishes to direct their course, and assist
them in ascending or descending in the air or water.
But the tail in all animals is of great use in directing
their motions.
Tail, or Fee-tail, in Law, is a conditional estate
or fie, opposed io fee-simple. See Fee.
A conditional fee, at the common law, was a fee re¬
strained to some particular heirs exclusive of others j as
to the heirs of a man’s body, by which only his lineal
descendants were admitted, in exclusion of collateral
heirs; or to the heirs male of his body, in exclusion
both of collaterals and lineal females also. It was cal¬
led conditional fee, by reason of the condition expres¬
sed or implied in the donation of it, that if the donee
died without such particular heirs, the land should re¬
vert to the donor. For this was a condition annexed by
law to all grants whatsoever, that on failure of the heirs
specified in the grant, the grant should be at an end,
and the land return to its ancient proprietor. Such con¬
ditional feeswere strictly agreeable to the nature of
feuds, when they first ceased to be mere estates of life,
and were not yet arrived to be absolute estates in fee-
simple.
With regard to the condition annexed to these fees
by the common law, it was held, that such a gift (to a
man and the heirs of his body) was a gift upon condi¬
tion that it should revert to the donor if the donee had
no heirs of his body j but if he had, it should then re¬
main to the donee. They therefore called it a fee-sim¬
ple on condition that he had issue. Now we must ob¬
serve, that when any condition is performed, it is thence¬
forth entirely gone j and the thing to which it was be¬
fore annexed becomes absolute and wholly uncondition¬
al. So that as soon as the grantee had any issue born,
his.
T A I [ i
his estate was supposed to become absolute by the per¬
formance of the condition j at least for these three pur¬
poses : I. To enable the tenant to alienate the land, and
thereby to bar not only his own issue, but also the do¬
nor, of his interest in the reversion. 2. 1 o subject him
to forfeit it for treason : which he could not do till issue
born longer than for his own life, lest thereby the in¬
heritance of the issue and reversion of the donor might
have been defeated. 3. To empower him to charge
the land with rents, commons, and certain other encum¬
brances, so as to bind his issue. And this was thought
the more reasonable, because, by the birth of issue, the
possibility of the donor’s reversion was rendered more
distant and precarious: and his interest seems to have
been the only one which the law, as it then stood, was
solicitous to protect, without much regard to the right
of succession intended to be. vested in the issue. How¬
ever if the tenant did not in fact al.enate the land,
the course of descent was not altered by this perform¬
ance of the condition j for if the issue had afterwards
died, and then the tenant or original grantee had
died, without making any alienation, the land, by the
terms of the donation, could descend to none but the
heirs of his body ; and therefore, in default ot them,
must have reverted to the donor. For which reason in
order to subject the lands to the ordinary course ot de¬
scent the donees of these conditional fee-simples took
care to alienate as soon as they had performed the con¬
dition by having issue ; and afterwards repurchased the
lands, which gave them a fee-simple absolute, that
would descend to the heirs general, according to the
course of the common law. And thus stood the old law
with regard to conditional fees : which things, says bir
Edward Coke, though they seem ancient, are yet neces¬
sary to be known, as well for the declaring how the
common law stood in such cases, as tor the sake of an¬
nuities, and such-like inheritances, as are not within the
statutes of entail, and therefore remain as the common
law. The inconveniences which attended these limited
and fettered inheritances were probably wbat induced
the judges to give way to this subtle finesse (for such it
undoubtedly was), in order to shorten the duration of
these conditional estates. But, on the other band, the
nobility, who were willing to perpetuate their posses-
rsions in their own families, to put a stop to this prac¬
tice, procured the statute of Westminster the second
(commonly called the statute cle donis conditionahbus)
to be made *, which paid a greater regard to the private
will and intentions of the donor, than to the propriety
of such intentions, or any public considerations whatso¬
ever. This statute revived in some sort the ancient teo-
dal restraints which were originally laid on alienations,
by enacting, that from thenceforth the will of the donor
be observed 5 and that the tenements so given (to a man
and the heirs of his body) should at all events go to the
issue, if there were any j or if none, should revert to the
Upon the construction of this act of parliament, the
"indges determined that the donee had no longer a con¬
ditional fee-simple, which became absolute and at his
own disposal the instant any issue was born | but they
divided the estate into two parts, leaving the donee a
new kind of particular estate, which they denominated
a. fee-tail; and vesting in the donor the ultimate fee-
^simple of the land, expectant on the failure of issue;
92 ] T A I
which expectant estate is what we now call a reversion.
And hence it is that Littleton tells us, that tenant in'-
fee-tail is by virtue of the statute of Westminster the
second. The expression fee-tail, or feodum talhatvm,
was borrowed from the feudists (see Crag. /. s. t. 10.
§ 24, 25.), among whom it signified any mutilated or
truncated inheritance, from which the heirs general
were cut off; being derived from the barbarous verb
taUare, to cut ; from which the French taider and the
Italian tagliare are formed, (Spelm. Gloss. 531.).
Having thus shown the original of estates tail, we
now proceed to consider what things may or may not be
entailed under the statute de donis. Tenements is the
only word used in the statute : and this S11 Edward
Coke expounds to comprehend all corporeal heredita¬
ments whatsoever: and also all incorporeal heredita¬
ments which savour of the reality, that is, which issue
out of corporeal ones, or which concern or aie annexed
to or mav be exercised within the same ; as rents, esto¬
vers, commons, and the like. Also offices and digni¬
ties, which concern lands, or have relation to faxed and
certain places, may be entailed. But meie personal
chattels, which savour not at all of the reality, canno the
entailed. Neither can an office, which merely relates
to such personal chattels; nor an annuity, which char¬
ges only the person, and not the lauds of the granter.
But in these last, if granted to a man and the heirs of
his body, the grantee hath still a fee conditional at com¬
mon law as before the statute, and by his alienation
mav bar the heir or reversioner. An estate to a man
and his heirs for another’s life cannot be entailed; for
this is strictly no estate of inheritance, and therefore
not within the statute de donis. Neither can a copy-
hold estate be entailed by virtue of the statute; for that
would tend to encroach upon and restrain the will of
the lord ; but, by the special custom of the manor, a
copyhold may be limited to the heirs of the body ; for
here the custom ascertains and interprets the lord’s
will.
As to the several species of estates-tail, and how they
are respectively created ; they are either general or spe¬
cial. Tail-general is where lands and tenements are
given to one, and the heirs of his body begotten : which
is called tail-general; because, how often soever such
donee in tail be married, his issue in general, by all and
every such marriage, is, in successive order, capable ot
inheriting the estate-tail per formatn doni. Tenant m
tail-special is where the gift is restrained to certain
heirs of the donee’s body, and does not go to all of them
in general. And this may happen several ways. We
shall instance in only one ; as where lands and tene¬
ments are given to a man and the heirs of his body, on
Mary his now wife to be begotten. Here no issue can
inherit but such special issue as is engendered between
them two ; not such as the husband may have by ano¬
ther wife; and therefore it is called special tail. And
here we may observe, that the words of inheritance (to
him and his heirs) give him an estate in fee; but they
being heirs to be by him begotten, this makes it a lee
• M and the person being also limited, on whom suci
U
tail ,
heirs shall be begotten (viz. Mary his present wiiej>
this makes it a fee-tail special.
Estates in general and special tail are farther oivei-
sified by the distinction of sexes in such entails; for ho|1
of them may either be in tail male or tail female. ^
T A I
If lands he given to a man, and his heirs-male of his
*'body begotten, this is an estate in tail male general ;
hut if to a man, and the heirs-female of his body on his
present wife begotten, this is an estate in tail female
special. And in case of an entail male, the heirs-female
shall never inherit, nor any derived from them ; nor, e
convet'so, the heirs-male in case of a gift in tail female.
Thus, if the donee in tail male hath a daughter, who
dies leaving a son, such grandson in this case cannot in¬
herit the estate tail j for he cannot deduce his descent
wholly by heirs-male. And as the heir-male must con¬
vey his descent wholly by males, so must the heir-female
wholly by females. And therefore if a man hath two
estates-tail, the one in tail male and the other in tail
female, and he hath issue a daughter, which daughter
hath issue a son ; this grandson can succeed to neither
of the estates, for he cannot convey his descent wholly
either in the male or female line.
As the word heirs is necessary to create a fee, so, in
farther imitation of the strictness of the feodal donation,
the word body, or some other words of procreation, are
necessary to make it a fee-tail, and ascertain to what
heirs in particular the fee is limited. If, therefore, ei¬
ther the words of inheritance or words of procreation he
omitted, albeit the others are inserted in the grant, this
will not make an estate-tail. As if the grant be to a
man and the issue of his body, to a man and his seed, to
a man and his children or offspringj all these are only
estates for life, there wanting the words of inheritance,
“ his heirs.” So, on the other hand, a gift to a man,
and his heirs male or female, is an estate in fee-simple
and not in fee-tail ; for there are no words to ascertain
the body out of which they shall issue. Indeed, in last
wills and testaments, wherein greater indulgence is al¬
lowed, an estate-tail may he created by a devise to a
man and his seed, or to a man and his heirs male, or by
other irregular modes of expression.
There is still another species of entailed estates, now
indeed grown out of use, yet still capable of subsisting
in law ; which are estates in libero mar it agio, or
Frank-marriage. See that article.
The incidents to a tenancy in tail, under the statute
Wesminster 2. are chiefly these: I. That a tenant in
tail may commit waste on the estate-tail, by felling tim¬
ber, pulling down house's, or the like, without being im¬
peached or called to account for the same. 2. That the
wife of the tenant in tail shall have her dower, or thirds,
of the estate-tail. 3. That the husband of a female te¬
nant m tail may be tenant by the curtesy of the estate-
tail. 4. That an estate tail may he barred, or destroyed,
by a fine, by a common recovery, or by lineal warranty
descending with assets to the heir. See Assets.
I bus much for the nature of estates-tail : the esta¬
blishment of which family law (as it is properly styled
by Pigott) occasioned infinite difficulties and disputes.
Children grew disobedient when they knew they could
not be set aside : farmers were ousted of their leases
made by tenants in tail ; for if such leases had been va¬
lid, then, under colour of long leases, the issue might
have been virtually disinherited: creditors were de¬
frauded of their debts ; for, if a tenant in tail could
have charged his estate with their payment, he might
also have defeated his issue, by mortgaging it for as
much as it was worth : innumerable latent entails were
produced to deprive purchasers of the lauds they had
^;OL. XX. Part I.
[ 193 1
T A I
fairly brought; of suits in consequence of which, our
ancient books are full: and treasons were encouraged,
as estates-tail were not liable to forfeiture longer than
for the tenant’s life. So that they were justly branded
as the source of new contentions and mischiefs unknown
to the common law ; and almost universally considered
as the common grievance of the realm. But as the no¬
bility were always fond of this statute, because it pre¬
served their family estates from forfeiture, there was
little hope of procuring a repeal by the legislature; and
therefore, by the connivance of an active and politic
prince, a method was devised to evade it.
About 200 years intervened between the making of
the statute de donis, and the application of common re¬
coveries to this intent, in the 12th year of Edward IV. ;
which were then openly declared by the judges to be a
sufficient bar of an estate-tail. For though the courts
had, so long before as the reign of Edward III. very
frequently hinted their opinion that a bar might be ef¬
fected upon these principles, yet it was never carried
into execution ; till Edward IV. observing (in the dis¬
putes between the houses of York and Lancaster) how
little effect attainders for treason had on families whose
estates were protected by the sanctuary of entails, gave
his countenance to this proceeding, and suffered Talta-
rum’s case to lie brought before the court: wherein, in
consequence of the principles then laid down, it was in
effect determined, that a common recovery suffered by
tenant in tail should he an effectual destruction thereof.
These common recoveries are fictitious proceedings, in¬
troduced by a kind of pia fraus, to elude the statute de
dam’s, which was found so intolerably mischievous, and
which yet one branch of the legislature would not then
consent to repeal ; and that these recoveries, however
clandestinely begun, are now become by long use and
acquiescence a most common assurance of lands ; and
are looked upon as the legal mode of conveyance, by
which a tenant in tail may dispose of bis lands and tene¬
ments : so that no court will suffer them to he shaken
or reflected on, and even acts of parliament have bv a
side-wind countenanced and establ.’-hed them.
This expedient having greatly abridged estates-tail
with regard to their duration, others were soon invented
to strip them of other privileges. The next that was
attacked was their freedom from forfeitures for treason.
For, notwithstanding the large advances made by re¬
coveries, in the compass of about threescore years, to¬
wards unfettering these inheritance's, and thereby sub¬
jecting the lamE to forfeiture, the rapacious prince
then reigning, finding them frequently resettled in a si¬
milar manner to suit the convenience of families, had
address enough to procure a statute, whereby all estate*
of inheritance (under which general words estates-tail
were covertly included) are declared to he forfeited to
the king upon any conviction of high-treason.
The next attack which they suffered, in order of time,
was by the statute 32 Hen. VIII. c. 28. whereby cer¬
tain leases made by tenants in tail, which do not tend to
the prejudice of the issue, were allowed to be good Ju
law, and to bind the issue in tail. But they received a
more violent blow in the same session of parliament, by
the construction put upon the statute of fines, bv the
statute 32 Hen. VIII. c. 36. which declares a fine duly
levied by tenant in tail to he a complete bar to him
and his heirs, and all other persons claiming under such
f B entail.
Tail
T A L [ 194 3 T ,A. ^
entail. This was evidently agreeable to the intention preach from six in the morning tid noon
of Menrv VII. whose policy it was (before common re-
Talapoin?, COVeries had obtained their fall strength and authority)
v to lay the road as open as possible to the alienation ot
landed property, in order to weaken th
and from one Ta]apdB
in tlie afternoon till live in the evening. 1 hey dress in j| 1!
a very mean garb, go bareheaded and barefooted ; and | '^a|eil*ji ^
overgrown
power of his nobles. But as they, from the opposite
reasons, were not easily brought to consent to such a
provision, it was therefore couched, in his act, under
covert and obscure expressions. And the judges, though
willing to construe that statute as favourably as possible
for the defeating of entailed estates, yet hesitated at giv¬
ing fines so extensive a power by mere implication, when
the statute de doms had expressly declared that they
should not be a bar to estates-tail. But the statute ot
Henry VIII. when the doctrine of alienation was better
received, and the will ot the prince more implicitly
obeyed than before, avowed and established that inten¬
tion. Yet, in order to preserve the property of the
crown from any danger of infringement, all estates-tail
created by the crown, and of which the crown has the
reversion, are excepted out ot this statute. And the
same was done with regard to common recoveries, by
the statute 34 and 35 Hen. VIII. c. 28. which enacts,
that no feigned recovery had against tenauts in tail,
where the estate was created by the crown, and the re¬
mainder or reversion continues still in the crown, shall
be of any force and effect. Which is allowing, indi¬
rectly and collaterally, their full force and effect with
respect to ordinary estates-tail, where the royal prero¬
gative is not concerned.
Lastly, by a statute of the succeeding year, all estates-
tail are rendered liable to be charged for payment ol
debts due to the king by record or special contract ; as
since, by the bankrupt laws, they are also subjected to
be sold for the debts contracted by a bankrupt. And
by the construction put on the statute 43 Eliz. c. 4. an
appointment by tenant in tail of the lands entailed to a
charitable use is good without fine or recovery.
Estates-tail being thus by degrees unfettered, are
now reduced again to almost the same state, even before
issue born, as conditional fees were in at common law,
after the condition was performed by the birth ot issue.
For, first, the tenant in tail is now enabled to alienate
his lands and tenements by fine, by recovery, or by cer¬
tain other means j and thereby to defeat the interest as
well of his own issue, though unborn, as also of the re¬
versioner, except in the case of the crown: secondly, he
is now liable to forfeit them for high treason: and, lastly,
he may charge them with reasonable leases,and also with
such of his debts as are due to the crown on specialties,
or have been contracted with his fellow-subjects in a
course of extensive commerce.
TAILZIE, in Scots Law, the same with Tail. See
Law, N° clxxx. 9.
TALAPOINS or Talopins, priests of Siam.—
They enjoy great privileges, but are enjoined celibacy
and austerity of life. They live in monasteries contigu¬
ous to the temples ; and what is singular, any one may
enter into the priesthood, and after a certain age may
quit it to marry, and return to society. There are tala-
poinesses too, or nuns, who live in the same convents,
but are not admitted till they have passed their fortieth
year. The talapoins educate children j and at every
Dew and full moon explain the precepts of their religion
in their temples $ and during the rainy season they
no person is admitted among them who is not well skil¬
led in the Baly language.
They believe that the universe is eternal j but admit
that certain parts of it, as this world, may be destroyed
and again regenerated. I hey believe in a universal per¬
vading spirit, and in the immortality and transmigration-
of the soul j but they extend this last doctrine, not only
to all animals, but to vegetables and rocks. I hey have
their good and evil genii, and particular deities, who
preside over forests and rivers, and interfere in all sub¬
lunary affairs.
For the honour of human nature, we are happy to
find so pure a system of morality prevail among these
people : It not only forbids its followers to do ill, hut
enjoins the necessity of doing good, and of stifling every
improper thought or criminal desire.
Those who wish to peruse a more particular account
of the Talapoins, may consult Voyage de M. de la Lou-
here ; and Sketches relating to the History, &c. of the-
Hindoos.
TALC, a species of mineral arranged under the mag¬
nesian earths. See Mineralogy Index.
TALENT, signifies both a weight and a coin very
common among the ancients, but very different among
different nations.
The common Attic talent of weight contains 60 Ab-
tic minae, or 6000 Attic drachmae ; and weighed, ac¬
cording to Hr Arbuthnot, 59 lbs. 11 oz. 174 gr. Eng¬
lish Troy weight. There was another Attic talent, by
some said to consist of 80, by others of 100 minae. The
Egyptian talent was 80 minae-, the Antiochian also 80 y
the Ptolemaic of Cleopatra 864 j that of Alexandria
963 and the Insular talent 1 20. In the valuation of
money, the Grecian talent, according to Dr Arbuth¬
not, was equal to 60 minae, or, reckoning the mina at
3I. 4s. yd. equal to 193I. 15s. The Syrian talent, in-
this valuation, consisted of 15 Attic minae-, the Ptole¬
maic of 20 -, the Antiochian of 60 ; the Euboic of 60 4
the Babylonic of 70$ the Greater Attic of 80$ the
Tyrian of 80 -, the Eginean of 100 j the Rhodian of
100 ; and the Egyptian of 80 minae.
There is another talent much more ancient, which
Dr Arbuthnot calls the Homeric talent of gold, which
seems to have weighed six Attic drachms or three darics,
a daric weighing very little more than a guinea. Ac¬
cording to this talent, some reckon the treasure of King
David, particularly that mentioned 1 Chron. xxii. I4-
which, according to the common reckoning, would a-
mount in gold talents to the value of 547,500,000!. and
the silver to above 342,000,000!. -, or, reckoning accord¬
ing to the decuple proportion of gold to silver, the two
sums would be equal. As David reigned in Judaea after
the siege of Troy, it is not improbable but Homer and
he might use the same numeral talent of gold.
Among the Romans there were two kinds ol talents,
the little and the great talent : the little was the com¬
mon talent; and whenever they say simply talentunty
they are to be understood of this. The little talent was
60 minae or Roman pounds } the mina or pound estima¬
ted at 100 drachmae or denarii: it was also estimated
at 24 great sesterces, which amounted to 60 pounds.
The great talent exceeded the less by one-third part.
3 ' Rudseu*
TAB [ j
Tjlit Budteus computes, that the little talent of silver was
worth 75I. sterling, and the greater 99I. 6s. 8d. sterling.
■ . The greater of gold was worth 1125I. sterling.
Talent, as a species or money, among the Hebrews,
was sometimes used for a gold coin, the same with the
shekel of gold, called also stater, and weighing only four
drachms. The Hebrews reckoned by these talents as we
tlo by pounds, &c. Thus a million of gold, or million
of talents of gold, among them, was a million of shekels
or nummi \ the nummus of gold being the same weight
with the shekel, viz. four drachms.
But the Hebrew talent weight of silver, which they
called dear, was equivalent to that of 3000 shekels, or
113 lb. 10 oz. 1 dwt. 104 gr. English Troy weight, ac¬
cording to Arbuthnot’s computation.
TALIACOTIUS, Caspar, chief surgeon to the
great duke of Tuscany, was born at Bononia in Italy in
1553. He wrote a Latin treatise entitled
de Curtis Membris, in which he teaches the art of en¬
grafting noses, ears, lips, &c. giving representations of
the instruments and proper bandages ; many, however,
are of opinion that he never put his art in practice. But
his doctrine is not singular j for Alexander Benedictus,
a famous chirurgical writer, has described a similar ope¬
ration.
TALK), (Jex talionis), a species of punishment in
the Mosaic law, whereby an evil is returned similar to
that committed against us by another 5 hence that ex¬
pression, “ Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.” This law
was at first inserted in the 1 2 tables amongst the Ro¬
mans j but afterwards set aside, and a power given to
the praetor to fix upon a sum of money for the damage
done.
TALISMANS, magical figures cut or engraved
with superstitious observations on the characterisms and
configurations of the heavens, to which some astrologers
have attributed wonderful virtues, particularly that of
calling down celestial influences. The talismans of Sa-
mothrace, so famous of old, were pieces of iron formed
into certain images, and set in rings ; these were esteem¬
ed preservatives against all kinds of evils. There were
likewise talismans taken from vegetables, and others
from minerals.
1 TALLAGE, (tallagium), from the French taille, is
i metaphorically used for a part or share of a man’s sub-
J stance carved out of the whole, paid by way of tribute,
toll, or tax.
TALLOW, in Commerce, the fat of certain animals
melted and clarified. It is procured from most animals,
but chiefly from bullocks, sheep, hogs, and bears. Some
kinds of tallow are used as unguents in medicine, some
for making soap and dressing leather, and some for mak¬
ing candles. See Fat, Chemistry Index.
Tallow-Tikc. See Croton, Botany Index.
TALLY, is n stick cut in two parts, on each where¬
of is marked, with notches or otherwise, what is due be¬
tween debtor and creditor, as now used by brewers, &c.
And this was the ancient way of keeping all accounts,
<’'ie part being kept by the creditor, the other by the
debtor, &c. Hence the tallier of the exchequer, whom
we now call the teller. But there are two kinds of tal¬
lies mentioned in our statutes to have been long used in
the exchequer. The one is termed tallies of debt, which
^•ire in the nature of an acquittance for debts paid to the
rUnS> 011 tfie payment whereof these tallies are delivered
95 ] . T A L
to (lie debtors, who carrying them to the clerk of the Tally
pipe-office, have there an acquittance in parchment for I!
their full discharge. The other are tallies of reward or fTalimnl.'1
allowance, being made to sheriffs of counties as a re-
compense for such matters as they have performed to
their charge, or such money as is cast upon them in their
accounts of course, but not leviable, &c. In the exche¬
quer there is a tally court, where attend the two deputy-
chamberlains of the exchequer and the tally-cutter : and
a tally is generally the king’s acquittance for money paid
or lent, and has written on it words proper to express on
what occasion the money is received.
TALLY-Man, a person that sells or lets goods, clothes,
&c. to he paid by so much a-week.
TALMUD, a collection of Jewish traditions. There
are two works which bear this name, the Talmud of Je¬
rusalem, and the Talmud of Babylon. Each of these is
composed of two parts; the Mishna, which is the text,
and is common to both, and the Gemara or commentary.
See Mishna and Gemara.
The Mishna, which comprehends all the laws, insti¬
tutions, and rules of life which, beside the ancient He¬
brew scripture, the Jews thought themselves bound to ob¬
serve, was composed, according to the unanimous testi¬
mony of the Jews, about the close of the second century.
It was the work of Rabbi Jehuda (or Juda) Hakkadosh,
who was the ornament of the school at Tiberias, and is
said to have occupied him forty years. The commen¬
taries and additions which succeeding Rabbis made were
collected by Rabbi Jochanan Ben Eliezer, some say in
the 5th, others say in the 6th, and others in the 7th
century, under the name of Gemara, that is, completion;
because it completed the Talmud. A similar addition
was made to the Mishua by the Babylonish doctors in
the beginning of the 6th century according to Enfield,
and in the 7th according to others.
The Mishna is divided into six parts, of which every
one which is entitled order is formed of treatises, every
treatise is divided into chapters, and every chapter into
mishnas or aphorisms. In thefust partis discussed what¬
ever relates to seeds, fruits, and trees: \n second
feasts : in the third women, their duties, their disorders,
marriages, divorces, contracts, and nuptials: in the
fourth are treated the damages or losses sustained 1/y
beasts or men, of things found, deposits, usuries, rents,
farms, partnerships in commerce, inheritance, sales and
purchases, oaths, witnesses, arrests, idolatry; and here are
named those by whom the oral law was received and
preserved: in the ffth part are noticed what regards
sacrifices and holy things : and the i/v/A treats on purifi¬
cations, vessels, furniture,clothes, houses, leprosy, baths,
and numerous other articles. All this forms the Mishna.
As the learned reader may wish to obtain some notion
of rabbinical composition and judgment, we shall grati¬
fy his curiosity sufficiently by the following specimen :
“ Adam’s body was made of the earth of Babylon, his
head of the land of Israel, his other members of other
parts of the world. R. Meir thought he was compact of
the earth gathered out of the whole earth ; as it is writ¬
ten, thine eyes did see my substance. Now it is elsewhere
written, the eyes of the Lord are over all the earth. R.
Aha expressly marks the twelve hours in which his vari¬
ous parts were formed. His stature was from one end of
the world to the other; and it was for his transgression
that the Creator, laying his hand in anger on him, les-
B b 2 sened
TAM [ 196 ] TAM
s.'ned him) for before (says R. Eleazar), ‘ with his hands
he reached the firmament.’ Iv. Jehuda thinks his sin
was heresy •, hot 11. Isaac thinks that ‘ it was nourishing
his foreskin.’
The Talmud of Babylon is most valued by the Jewsj
and this is the book which they mean to express when
they talk of the Talmud in general. An abridgement
of it was made by Maim on ides in the 12th century, in
which he rejected some of its greatest absurdities. The
Gemara is stuffed with dreams and chimeras, with many
ignorant and impertinent questions, and the style very
coarse. The Mishna is written in a style comparatively
pure, and may be very useful in explaining passages ot
the New Testament where the phraseology is similar.
This is indeed the only use to which Christians can ap¬
ply it ) but this renders it valuable. Lightfoot had ju¬
diciously availed himself of such information as be could
derive from it. Some of the popes, with a barbarous
zeal, and a timidity of spirit for the success of the Chri¬
stian religion, which the belief of its divinity can never
excuse, ordered great numbers of the Talmud to be
burned. Gregory IX. burned about 20 cart-loads, and
Paul IV. ordered 12,000 copies of the Talmud to be
destroyed.
The last edition of the Talmud of Babylon, printed
at Amsterdam, is in 12 vols folio. The Talmud of
Jerusalem is in one large folio.
TALPA, the MOLE } a genus of quadrupeds be¬
longing to the order of ferae. See Mammali a Index.
TAMANDAU. See Myrmecophaga, Mamma¬
lia Index.
TAMARUNDIS, the Tamarind-Tree j a genus
of plantsaccording to Linnaeus belonging to the class
of triandria } but Woodville, Schreber, and other bota¬
nists, have arranged it under the class of monadelphia.
See Botany Index.
TAMARIX, the Tamarisc, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the class pentandria ; and in the natural sy¬
stem ranging under the 13th order, Succulentce. See
Botany Index.
TAMBOUR, in J/r/wteeft/re, a term applied to the Co¬
rinthian and Composite capitals, as bearing some resem¬
blance to a drum, which the French call tambour. Some
choose to call it the vase, and others campana or the bell.
Tambour is also used for a little box of timber work,
covered with a ceiling, withinside the porch of certain
churches ", both to prevent the view of persons passing
by, and to keep oil'the wind, &c. by means of folding-
doors, &c.
Tambour, also denotes a round course of stone, se¬
veral whereof form the shaft of a column, not so high as
a diameter.
Tambour, in the arts is a species of embroidery. The
tambour is an instrument of a spherical form, upon which
is stretched, by means of a string and buckle, or other
suitable appendage, a piece of linen or thin silken stuff;
which is wrought with a needle of a particular form,
and by means of silken or gold and silver threads, into
leaves, flowers, or other figures.
TAMBOUR IN, is the name of a dance performed
on the French stage. The air is lively, and the move¬
ments are quick.
The same name is applied to a musical instrument,
formed of a hoop, over which is stretched a piece of
parchment or vellum, while bells and hollow hemi¬
spheres of brass are loosely hung in holes cut in the
hoop. The tambourin is used only as an accompani- j
ment to other instruments. Tanm.
TAMERLANE, or Timur Bek, a celebrated prince
and conqueror. At the age of 25 be attained the highest
dignities, with surprising courage, and an ambition asto¬
nishing to all the world. Endeavouiing to perfect the
great talents which be had received from nature, be spent
nine years in different countries j where bis great sense
and elevated genius appeared in councils and assemblies,
while his intrepidity and valour, whether in personal
combats or pitched battles, drew upon him the admira¬
tion of all mankind. He made himself master of the
three empires of Jagatay Khan, Tushi Khan, and Huia-
ku Khan j so that his power, riches, and magnificence,,
were immense. There remain vast monuments of his
grandeur in the cities, towns, castles, and walls, which
he built ", in the rivers and canals which he dug, as well
as the bridges, gardens, palaces, hospitals, mosques, and
monasteries, which he erected in divers parts of Asia in
so great a number, that a king might be accounted very
powerful and magnificent, who should have employed
36 years only in building the great edifices wlfisb
Timur caused to be founded.
Timur, according to the historian Arabsh&h, was in
his person very corpulent and tall. He bad a large fore¬
head and big head. His countenance was agreeable,
and bis complexion fair. He wore a large beard, was
very strong and well limbed j bad broad -.boulders, thick
fingers, and long legs. His constitution was amazingly
vigorous j but he was maimed in one band and lame of
the right side. His eyes appeared full of fire; his voice
was loud and piercing ; be feared nothing ; and when
far advanced in years, his understanding was sound and
perfect, his body vigorous and robust, his mind constant
and unshaken like a rock.
He did not like raillery, and could not bear a lie.
There was no joking or fooling before him ; for he lov¬
ed the naked truth, even although it was to his own dis¬
advantage. He neither grieved if he miscarried in any
attempt, nor appeared overjoyed on any great success.
The device of his seal was, I am sincere and plain.”
He had a clear and solid understanding, was surprisingly
happy in his conjectures; vigilant, active, and unshaken
in his resolutions. He took great delight in reading hi¬
story, and was well versed in the state of countries, pro¬
vinces, and cities. He was penetrating, subtle, close,
and dissembling; just by inclination, liberal from dispo¬
sition ; but ambition bad in a great measure extinguish¬
ed his humanity : war had familiarized him to blood;
and bis religious zeal had inspired him with the most
cruel, implacable, and pernicious fanaticism.
He died on the 1st of April J405, in the yist year
of his age and 36th of his reign. When he found death
approaching, he sent for his principal officers, declared
his grandson his heir, and made them swear to execute
his will. Having recommended brotherly love and con¬
cord to the princes his children, he ordered one of the
doctors to read the Koran at his bed’s head, and often
repeat the unity of God. At night he several times made
profession of bis belief, “ That there is no other God
than God,” and then expired. See Moguls, N° t5,&G'
TAMTAM, a flat drum used by the Hindoos, re¬
sembling a tabor, but it is larger, and sounds louder.
TAMUS, Black Briony, a genus of plants belong-
Tank
TAN [ 197 ] tan:
,, ing to the class dioecia ; and in the natural system rank¬
ing under the nth order, Sarmentacece. See Botany
|r- Index.
'r~> TAN, the bark of the oak after it has been ground
and used by the tanner. The smallest sort is generally
made up in little square cakes called turf, and sold for
Bring. The coarser sort is sometimes dried in the sun,
and used by bakers for heating their ovens, &c. but its
chief use is for making hot-beds to raise pine-apples and
other plants.—William III. introduced the use of it from
Holland, for the purpose of raising orange trees-, after
which it was discontinued for many years : but about
1719, when ananas were tirst brought into England, it
came into general use, and has ever since been in great
estimation with gardeners for all the purposes of forcing,
&c. on account of its strong and lasting fermentation.
The smaller the tan the quicker it heats but the larger
sort acquires heat more gradually and retains it longer :
the skilful gardener therefore uses the one or the other,
or a mixture of both, according to the time and purpose
for which it is wanted. It is some time after the tan
comes out of the tannerrs pit before it begins to heat,
and therefore it is not fit for immediate use but having
lain a week or two, it enters into a state of fermenta¬
tion, and if put into hot-heds properly prepared, will re¬
tain a moderate heat for three or four months. When
it becomes useless for the hot house, it is said by Miller
and others to be an excellent manure for some kinds of
I land.
The word tan is sometimes, though improperly, used
for the bark itself, which is the chief ingredient in the
I tanning of leather. Oak bark, on account of its gneat
astringency and gummy-resinous properties, is preferred
j to all other substances for the purpose of tanning, as it
not only preserves the leather from rotting, but also, by
! condensing the pores, renders it impervious to water.
See Tanning.
For an account of tan or tannin, considered as a
chemical principle, see Chemistry, N° 2504.
TANACETUM, Tansy, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class syngenesia ; and in the natural system
ranging under the 49th order, Composites. See Botany
I Index.
I TAN/ECIUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class ; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der tire 25th order, Putamineee. See Botany Index.
TANAGRA, Tanager, a genus of birds belonging
1 to the order of passe res. See Ornithology Index.
TANAIS, or Don. See Don.
TANGENT of an Arch, is a right line drawn per¬
pendicularly from the end of a diameter, passing to one
extremity of the arch, and terminated by a right line
drawn from the centre through the other end of that
arch, and called the secant. See Geometry.
TANGIER, a port-town of Africa, in the empire of
Morocco and kingdom of Fez, situated at the entrance
ot the straits of Gibraltar, in W. Long. 5. 50. N. Lat.
38. 49. In 1662, this place belonged to the Portu¬
guese, and was given to King Charles II. upon his mar¬
riage with the Infanta of Portugal j but, he growing
weary of the charge of keeping it, caused it to be blown
up and destroyed in 1684; ever since which time it has
been only a poor fishing town. Anciently it was called
Tmg7,9, and gave name to the province of Mauritania
Tingitana.
TANK, in the language of Indostan, a place inclos¬
ed for receiving and retaining rain water. During the 11
periodical rains the tanks are filled, and thus in the dry Tanniug.
season furnish water for the rice fields and cattle. Some
of them are of great extent, measuring 300 or 400 feet
on the side ; they are of a quadrangular form, and lined
with granite, descending in regular steps from the mar¬
gin to the bottom.
TANNER, one who dresses hides by tanning them.
See Tanning.
Tanner, Dr Thomas, an English prelate and cele¬
brated antiquarian, born in 1674. Fie was admitted of
Queen’s college Oxford, where a similarity of taste for
antiquities produced a close friendship between him and
Edmund Gibson afterwards bishop of London. In 1697,
he was chosen fellow of his college 5 and having already
published some specimens of his antiquarian researches
soon after became known to Dr Moore bishop of Nor¬
wich, who made him chancellor of bis diocese. In
1722, he "was made archdeacon of Norwich, and in
1731, bishop of St Asaph. He died at Oxford in 1735 ;
and after his death was published an elaborate work, in
which he is said to have been employed for 40 years,
under this title, Bibliotheca Britannica Hibernica, sive
de Scriptoribus qui in Anglia, Scotia, et Hibernia, ad
sceculi XVII. initium floruerunt, &c.
TANNING, the art of converting hides and skins
into leather. This art has been practised for many cen¬
turies in Britain j but some improvements have been
made on it, especially in France, suggested by the dis¬
coveries of modern chemistry. These improvements we
shall briefly notice after having described the method
lately practised in the neighbourhood of London, where
the best British leather is manufactured. The general
principles on which the improvements are founded, will
naturally come to be considered, after describing the
processes themselves. 1
The leather tanned in England is generally divided 9‘^ercnt
by the manufacturers into three kinds, butts or backs,
hides, and skins. Butts are made from the stoutest and
heaviest ox bides, and are used chit fly for the soles of
stout shoes and boots. Hides, or crop-hides, are made
from cow bides, or the lighter ox hides, and are employ¬
ed for ordinary soles. The term skins is applied to all
the other kinds of leather, comprehending that made
from the skins of calves, seals, dogs, kids, &c.
Butts are tanned as follows. After the horns are Method *f
taken off, the bides are laid smooth in heaps for two days tanniug
in summer, and five or six in winter ; they are then hung
on poles in a close room, called a smoke-house, in which
is kept a smouldering fire of wet tan ; this occasions
a small degree of putrefaction, by which means the hair
more easily comes off, by spreading the hide on a sort of
wooden horse or beam, and scraping it with a crooked
knife. The hair being taken off, the hide is thrown
into a pool of water, to cleanse it from the dirt, &c.
which being done, it is again spread on the wooden
beam, and the grease, loose flesh, extraneous filth, &c.
carefully taken off: the hides are then put into a pit of
strong liquor, called ooze, prepared in pits kept for the
purpose, by infusing ground oak hark in water, which
is termed colouring. The hides are then removed into
another pit, called a scouring, which consists of water
strongly impregnated with vitriolic or sulphuric acid, or
a vegetable acid prepared from rye or barley. This
operation
TAN [ !y8 ] TAN
Tamiiag.
3
0f tauning
Iiides.
4
0i tanning
skins.
operation is called raising. The hides are then taken
out of the scouring, and spread smooth in a pit usually
filled with water, called a binder, with a quantity bf
ground bark strewed between each. After lying a
month or six weeks, they are taken up, and the decay¬
ed bark and liquor being drawn out of the pit, it is
again filled with strong ooze, when they are put in as
before, with bark between each hide. They now lie
two or three months, at the expiration of which the
same operation is repeated j they then remain four or
live months, when they again undergo the same pro¬
cess, and after being three months in the last pit, are
completely tanned, unless the hides are so remarkably
stout as to require an additional pit or layer. The
whole process requires from II to 18 months, and
sometimes two years, according to the substance of the
hide, and discretion ot the tanner. When taken out
of the pit to be dried, they are hung on poles j and af¬
ter being compressed by a steel pin, and beaten out
smooth by wooden beetles, the operation is completed.
Hides are thus managed. After the horns are taken
off, and the hide is washed, they are put into a pit of
•water, saturated with lime, and having mixed with it a
quantity of the same substance, where they remain a
few days, when they are taken out, and the hair scraped
off on a wooden beam, as before described ; they are
then washed in a pit or pool of water, and the loose
flesh, &c. being taken off, they are removed into a pit
of weak ooze, where they are taken up and put down
two or three times a day, for the first week} every se¬
cond or third day they are shifted into a pit of fresh
ooze, somewhat stronger than the former, till at the
end of a month or six weeks they are put into a strong
ooze, in which they are handled once or twice a week
with fresh bark for two or three months. They are
then removed into another pit, called a layer, in which
they are laid smooth, with bark ground very fine, strew¬
ed above each hide. After remaining here two or
three months, they are generally taken up, when the
ooze is withdrawn, and the hides put in again with fresh
ooZe and fresh bark, where, after lying two or three
months more, they are completely tanned ; except a
Very few stout hides which may require an extra layer.
They are then taken out and hung on poles, and being
smoothed by a steel pin, are, when dry, ready for
sale.
Skins are to be washed in water, &c. and put into
lime pits as before mentioned, where they are taken up
and put down every third or fourth day for two or
three weeks, in order to destroy the scarf-skin. The
hair is then scraped oft', and the excrescences being re¬
moved, they are put into a pit of water impregnated
with pigeons dung, called a grainer, which in a week
or io days soaking out the lime, grease, and sapona¬
ceous matter, softens the skins, and prepares them for
the reception of the ooze. They are then put into a
pit of weak ooze, in the same manner as the hides, and
being frequently handled, are by degrees removed into
a stronger, and still stronger liquor, for a month or six
weeks, when they are put into a Very strong ooze, with
fresh bark ground very fine, and at the end of two or
three months, according to their substances, are suffi¬
ciently tanned j when they are taken out, hung on poles,
and dried.
Xhe lighter sorts ef hides, called dressing hides, as
well as horse hides, are managed nearly in the same Tan!,v
manner as skins, and are used for coach work, harness
work, &c.
The principal objections to this old method of tanning object
are, that it is extremely tedious, and very expensive, to th i
Various means have been suggested for introducing a11161'®
cheaperand more expeditious method of tanning. Among
the earliest of these we mav notice that of Dr Macbiide. 5
This method consists chiefly in the use of sulphuric jn-r)r"i
stead of acetous acid, for raising or distending the pores ,)I^et
of the leather, and in substituting lime water, or a so-^0™8
lution of lime, for what has been called the milk of lime,
or a considerable quantity of lime diffused in water.
According to a report made to the committee of com¬
merce of the Dublin society, it appeared that Dr Mac-
bride’s method produced a saving of more than 20 pet
cent, to the manufacturer, while the hides were com¬
pletely tanned in a much shorter time. It does not
appear, however, that this method ever came into ge¬
neral use.
The experiments of M. Seguin, made in the end of
the 18th century, on the nature of the tanning princi¬
ple led him to suggest a method of tanning which is
certainly much more expeditious than the old method.
It has been adopted in England by Mr William Des¬
mond, and by his directions has been practised with
considerable success, by some of the principal tanners in
Warwickshire, Staffordshire, and some of the neighbour¬
ing counties. The following directions, communicated
by Mr Desmond to the editor of the Philosophical Ma¬
gazine, will sufficiently explain this new process. V
Provide five vessels, called digesters, of any conveni-
ent materials and dimensions, with an aperture at the^*
bottom of each. Let them be placed near each other,
and elevated on stillages or otherwise ; so that a small
vessel may be placed under them. Fill the digesters
with tan, viz. the bark of certain trees, such as of oak,
cut small, or ground to a coarse powder. Pour water
on the tan in the first digester, where it may stand some
time, or be immediately drawn off. This liquor is to
he poured on the tan in the second digester; from that
to the third, and so on, until it comes through the tan
in the last digester. The liquor is then highly colour¬
ed, and marks from 6° to 8° on the hydrometer fop
salts. This liquor is to be used for tanning the thickest
hides, and may be called the tanning lixivium. If you
take a small quantity of it in a glass, and pour on it a
few drops of a solution of animal glue, the clear liquor
becomes turbid, and a whitish substance falls to the bot¬
tom. The precipitate thus obtained, is a sure indica¬
tion that the liquor contains the tanning principle ; lor
this reason, that glue being of the same nature with the
sk ins or hides of which it is made, whatever substance
unites itself indissolubly with the foimer, will do so
likewise with the latter.
This solution is made bv dissolving a little common
glue in water over a moderate fire ; by means of it, not
only oak bark, but also the bark of several other trees,
as well as different shrubs and plants, all which may be
called tan, are found to contain the tanning principle;
and by employing the solution as before, it will he al¬
ways easy to ascertain whether any given substance con¬
tains this principle.
In the course of these lixiviations it may be observed,
x. That the liquor running from the first digester, at
TAN [ i
length loses its colour. If in this state a little of it be
' put into a glass, and the former experiment be repeated,
the liquor no longer becomes turbid, but remains clear,
which shews that it contains no more of the tanning
principle*, but if a few drops of a solution of sulphate
of iron be poured into the same glass, the liquor be¬
comes thick and black, which is not to be poured on
the tan in the second digester, but afterwards used for
taking off the hair or wool. It is known by the name
of gci/lic lixivium, as it appears to contain the same
principles with galls.
The liquid sulphate of iron is obtained by dissolving
a small quantity of iron in diluted sulphuric acid, or by
dissolving green copperas in water. This solution serves
to ascertain such substances as contain the gallic prin¬
ciple. Lime water will also produce this effect.
When the liquor ceases to grow black by the mixture
of the sulphate of iron, it will be in vain to pour any
more water on the tan in the first digester. This tau
being thus exhausted, must be removed, and new tan
put in its place.
The liquor, after running through all the digesters,
at last grows weak. All the liquor that marks from 6°
to 8° on the hydrometer, must be added to the stock of
tanning lixivium. What proceeds afterwards from the
last digester is to be poured on the new tan in the first.
Then the fresh water is to be conveyed on the tan in
the second digester, and the liquor of the first set aside,
while it marks 6° or 8° on the hydrometer, and added
to the tanning lixivium, which must always be carefully
separated from the gallic. In this manner, the tan in
all the digesters may be renewed, and the lixiviations
continued.
The number of these lixiviations, as well as the mode
of making them, may be varied at pleasure j the essen¬
tial point is to repeat them so as to give the liquor a suf¬
ficient degree of concentration, which may be deter¬
mined by the hydrometer, and proportioned to the
quickness required in the operation, and the thickness
of the hides and skins to be tanned ; all which experi¬
ence will soon teach. As all kinds of tan are not
equally good, it will sometimes happen that six or more
filtrations will be necessary to obtain a lixivium of 6°
or 8°, in which case the number of digesters must be in¬
creased, and the same method pursued as above ; and
when a weaker lixivium is wanted, three or four filtra¬
tions will be sufficient.
The person directing these lixiviations should be pro¬
vided with the solution of glue and sulphate of iron, al¬
ready described, in order to ascertain the qualities of the
different lixivia, as well as with a hydrometer properly
graduated, to determine their degree of concentration
or specific gravity.
In tanning cow and ox hides with this lixivium, they
should first be washed in running water, well cleaned,
and fleshed in the usual wav. For removing the hair,
the hides are to be steeped for two or three days in a
vat filled with the gallic lixivium, and a mixture of sul¬
phuric acid, marking 66° on the hydrometer lor acids,
and in the proportion of one to a thousand, or one pint
to 125 gallons. During this steeping, the hair is sepa¬
rated trom the bides in such a manner, that it may be
easily known when they arc to be taken out of the vat,
dint is, when the hair is quite loose. It is to be scraped
sfi with a round knife on the horse or beam.
99 ]
TAN
When raising is necessary, the hides are immersed for Tanning'.
10 or 12 hours in a vat filled with water, and of'——v——
its volume of mineral acid, of the same quality with the
former, and the operation of raising is finished. The
hides are repeatedly washed, and the round knife is
used, after whic h they are prepared for tanning.
The rest of the process consists in tanning, properly
so called ; for which purpose, the hides are to be steep¬
ed some hours in a weak lixivium of only 1° or 2°; to
obtain which, that is to be taken which runs from the
second digester, or some already used for tanning. They
are next put into a stronger lixivium, where in a few
days they will he brought to the same degree of satura¬
tion with the liquor in which they are immersed. The
strength of the liquor being then much diminished, it
must he renewed ; and when the hides are completely
saturated, or fully tanned, which is known by cutting
off’ a bit of the edge, remove the leather, and let it dry
slowly in a shady place.
For calf skins, goat skins. Sic. these are first fleshed
with the knife, and worked in running water like the
others. They are then steeped in lime water, in which
there should he more lime than the water can dissolve
at once. W hat is not dissolved will subside, but must
be mixed with the water, by stirring it several times a-
day. In two or three days the skins are to be removed j
when the hair is found quite loose, it is scraped off on
the horse. They are then washed and pressed well, till
the water running from them is perfectly clear, and the
lime totally extracted. They are first steeped in a weak
lixivium, then tanned as above*, but the tanning lixi¬
vium must not be nearly so strong as ibat for bides.
Lime is used for these soft skins instead of a mixture
of gallic lixivium and sulphuric acid, because the acid
always swells the leather more or less, and because the
lime may be more easily extracted from them, by wash¬
ing and compressing them, than from the thick hides,
which, when limed, are harsh and apt to crack, if the
lime be not wholly extracted before they are tanned.
Among the different methods of immersion which
may be practised in the course of these operations, the
best way seems to be that of suspending the bides and
skins vertically in the lixivia, by means of transverse rods
or bars, and at such a distance asunder as not to touch
each other in any one point. If they are laid out the
one over the other, they will require frequent handling,
in order that all the parts may be equally saturated,
and to prevent the folds or plaits that would otherwise
be formed in them. In some eases it will be found ex¬
pedient to mix fresh tan from time to time with the lixi¬
vium, which will depend on the state and quality of the
hides and skins to be tanned, as well as on the purposes
for which they are intended. All these considerations
must he left to the judgment of the manufacturer 5 but
they do not change the principle on which this mode of
tanning is founded.
Mr Desmond asserts, that besides the very great sav¬
ings in point of time and labour, the leather tanned ac¬
cording to the above method being more completely sa¬
turated, will be found to weigh heavier, to wear better,* Philor>
and to be less susceptible of moisture, than the leatherTV/ag-.
tanned in the usual way*. xi. 20.
In explaining the principles on which the several () ? .
parts of the tanning process depend, we must first re oi* tannine,
mark, that the principal object of tanning is, to com¬
bine
TAN
[ 200 ]
TAN
■Tanning, bine the gelatinous part of the hides Avith the tanning
'   ' principle of astringent vegetables as intimately as pos¬
sible, and thus produce that compound which we call
leather, and which is insoluble in water. The chief
part of the process therefore consists in steeping the hides
in a solution of tannin till they are sufficiently impreg¬
nated with the tanning principle j and to this operation
tiie others are subservient, only as they prepare the
hides to he more easily acted on by the tanning prin¬
ciple.
The infusions of oak hark, when chemically exami¬
ned, are found to contain two principal substances, one
precipitahle by solution of gelatine made from glue or
isinglass, and this gives a dense black, with solution of
common sulphate of iron ; the other not precipitable
by solution of gelatine, hut precipitating the salts of
iron of a brownish black, and the salts of tin of a fawn
colour.
The former of these is the tanning principle, or the
tannin of Seguin ; it is essential to the conversion of
skin into leather. The latter is the colouring or ex¬
tractive matter j it is capable of entering into union
with skin, and it gives to it a brown colour j but it does
not render it insoluble in boiling water.
It has been generally supposed that the infusion of
oak bark contains a peculiar acid, called gallic acid }
but some late experiments render this opinion doubtful j
and this principle, if it exists in oak bark, is in intimate
combination with the extractive or colouring matter.
In the common process of tanning, the skin, which
is chiefly composed of gelatine, slowly combines in its
organized form with the tannin and extractive matter
of the infusions of bark 5 the greater proportion of its
increase of weight, however, is owing to tannin, and
from this substance the leather derives its characteristic
properties j but its colour, and the degree of its flexibi¬
lity, appear to be influenced by the quantity of colour¬
ing matter that it contains. When skin, in large quan¬
tity, is suffered to exert its full action on a small portion
of infusion of bark, containing tannin and extractive
matter, the fluid is found colourless. It gives no preci¬
pitate to solution of gelatine, and produces very little
effect on the salts of iron or of tin. 1 he tanning prin¬
ciple of oak bark is more soluble in water than the ex¬
tractive matter; and the relative proportion of tannin
to extractive matter is much greater in strong infusions
of oak bark than in weak ones; and when strong infu¬
sions are used for tanning, a larger proportion of tannin
• is combined with the matter of skin.
The state of the skin with regard to its impregnation
with tannin may be easily ascertained by cutting it trans¬
versely with a sharp knife, as the tanned part will appear
of a nutmeg colour, while the unimpregnated pait re¬
tains its whiteness. Though the impregnation of the
skins with tannin be an essential part of the process,
something more is required to give the leather its pro¬
per degree of strength and pliability. The infusions of
oak bark, especially the weaker infusions, contain, be¬
sides tannin, more or less of extractive matter, which is
absorbed by the skins during the tanning process. Hence
it appears, that a solution of tannin alone would not con¬
vert the skins into leather ; and that as concentiated
infusions of oak bark contain a less proportional quanti¬
ty of extractive matter, they are not so well calculated
i‘pr the purposes of tanning as the weaker infusions.
This is an important conclusion, as it shews that the Tamil
vulgar opinion of tanners respecting the propriety of the r-
old methods, and what they call feeding the leather, is
founded on rational principles. ] n fact it appears, that,
though, in the quick method, recommended by Seguin
and Desmond, the leather may he more expeditiously,
and perhaps more completely impregnated with tannin,
it is deficient in strength and pliability, from the want
of its due proportion of extractive matter.
Having thus explained the principles on which the
material part of the tanning process depends, we must
briefly notice the rationale of the preliminary opera-
tions.
Chaptal has shewn, that when skin is immersed in a
tanning liquor, without having been previously freed
from its cuticle or scarf-skin, the impregnation oftannirv
takes place only on the flesh side. This shews the ne¬
cessity, especially in the thicker hides or butts, of remo¬
ving the cuticle, before steeping the hides in the tanning
liquor. The small degree of putrefaction to which the
butts are subjected, has this effect, and the steeping of
the hides and skins in lime water contributes to the same
end ; for though lime does not seem to be capable of
dissolving the cuticle, it renders it friable, so that it is
easily removed by the instruments employed for scraping
off the hair. Not only the cuticle, but likewise the
soft matter of the extremity of the hair is acted on by
lime ; and this effect must considerably tend to facilitate
the process of depilation. The same substance mixing
with the fat on the fleshy side of the skins, forms a soapy
compound, which, with other extraneous matter, is re¬
moved by the subsequent washings.
It has been supposed that the acids in which the skins
are steeped, previous to their immersion in tanning li¬
quors, have the effect of opening their pores, and thus
rendering them more easily penetrable by the tanning
prim pie and extractive matter. We believe that this
opinion is erroneous, as we cannot see bow acids, the
obvious effect of which seems to be that of contracting
animal matter, can enlarge the pores of the skins. It
is probable that they produce some other advantageens
effect not yet sufficiently understood, in preparing the
skins for being more perfectly acted on by the tanning
liquors.
The principal effect of the grainer, or the pigeons
dung employed in the thinner skins, seems to be that of
promoting putrefaction, and rendering the skins less
elastic, though the alkali evolved during the fermenta¬
tion of the dung, may assist in removing the fat on the
flesh side of the skins.
As from the present great demand, and consequentSuM#'
scarcity of oak timber, oak bark has become a very
pensive aiticle, it may be proper to enumerate a few of
the principal vegetable substances, especially those indi¬
genous to Great Britain, that may he substituted for it-
Of these the hark of the Scotch fir appears to.be most
deserving of attention, and was some years ago employ¬
ed by a gentleman in Ireland with great success.
veral species, of willow aflord a good substitute for ca
bark, particularly the Leicester willow, of which th«
entire bark produces a greater quantity of solid extract
than the entire bark of oak. Next to these may
mentioned the bark of the common elm, the root of tor-
mentil {tormentiUa vulgaris, Lin.) which has been long
employed in the north of Scotland as an article of do¬
mestic
T A O [ 201 ] TAP
fningiiiestic tanning. To these may be added the herb avens
{geum urbanum, Lin.), several species of cinquefoil,
rna- and of bistort, common ladies mantle {alchemilla vulga¬
ris), and the root of the common water-flag (iris pseu-
dacorus, Lin.). Of plants not indigenous to Britain,
hut generally cultivated here, we may particularly no¬
tice the horse-chesnut, the bark of which is a strong
astringent, and might be employed, we think, with
great advantage in tanning. The most powerful tan¬
ning substance, however, with which we are acquainted,
is the juice or extract of the mimosa catechu, commonly
called Japan earth, one pound of which will tan as much
leather as seven or eight pounds of oak bark.
Our limits will not permit us to extend this article,
by describing the processes for tanning employed in
other countries. On the method pursued in Russia, our
readers may consult Tooke’s View of the Russian Em¬
pire ; and of the French method of tanning, an ample
account has been given in a publication by De Lalande.
Another on the same subject may soon be expected from
Chaptal. The most complete work on British tanning,
and on other processes to which leather is subjected,
with which we are acquainted, is a small volume entit¬
led The Art of Tanning and Currying Leather, pub¬
lished by the Dublin Society in 1780. Several useful
papers on this subject may also be found in Nicholson’s
Philosophical Journal, and Tilloch’s Philosophical Ma¬
gazine.
For an account of other processes connected with the
leather manufacture, see Leather and Currying.
TANTALIUM, a new metal which has been de¬
tected in two minerals. See Mineralogy, p. 2$o.
TANTALUS, in fabulous history, king of Phrygia
i and Paphlagonia, was the son of Jupiter and the nymph
Plota. He one day entertained the gods at his table ;
when, to prove their divinity, he served up his son Pe-
lops cut in pieces. All the deities, except Ceres, per¬
ceived his cruelty and impiety, and would not touch his
provisions. That goddess, whose thoughts were solely
employed about her daughter Proserpine, inadvertently
ate a part of his left shoulder. Pelops, however, was
restored to life5 and an ivory shoulder given him in the
room of that which had been eaten ; while Tantalus
was thrown into Tartarus, where he was punished with
perpetual hunger and thirst. He was chained in a
lake } the water of which reached up to his chin, but
retired when he attempted to drink. The branch ot a
tree loaded with fruit hung down even to his lips, but
on his attempting to pluck the fruit the branch sprung
upwards.
Tantalus, a genus of birds belonging to the order
of grallae. See Ornithology Index.
Tantalus’s Cup. See Science, Amusements of,
33- '
TANZY, or Tansy. See Tanacetum, Botany
Index..
TAORMINA, a town in Sicily, which is situated
on a high rock, and is 88 miles south of Messina. Of
its origin little is known. A colony from the isle of
Naxos settled at the foot of Etna, at no great distance
from the shore, and at about a league or a league and a
half from the present situation of Taormina. Dionysius
the Tyrant attacked this colony, and either took or set
Are to their city. The inhabitants retired to the rocks
of Mount Taurus ; among which they found a tract of
^ ol. XX. Part I. >
ground sufficiently level and secure, and of sufficient Taoimiha
extent. Plere therefore they built a city; which, after |j
the mountain, they named Tauromenium. It was at Taper,
length raised to a very flourishing state by trade, and v ”
became celebrated as a seat of the arts, the remains of
which show that the fine arts must have been once suc¬
cessfully cultivated at Tauromenium.
Among other remains are still to be seen a spacious
theatre, a tomb, and a long natural grotto, which ap¬
pears to have been anciently adorned within with arti¬
ficial ornaments. After the inhabitants of Taormina
embraced Christianity, they still continued to visit this
grotto with devout veneration. Instead of the Pagan
divinities to whom it had before been sacred, they sub¬
stituted a saint, the venerable St Leonard. But St Leo¬
nard did not long draw crowds to this grotto j and the
Christians have either defaced its Pagan decorations, or
suffered them to fall into decay by the injuries of time.
It is now black and smoky} and it is with difficulty
that any remains of the Greek paintings with which it
was once ornamented can be distinguished.
TAPE-worm. See Taenia, Helminthology In¬
dex.
TAPER, Tapering, is understood of a piece of
timber, or the like, when thick at one end, and gra¬
dually diminishing to the other j as is the case in pyra¬
mids, cones, &c.
To measure TAPER-Timber, &c. See Sliding
Rule.
TAPER-Bored, is applied to a piece of ordnance when
it is wider at the mouth than towards the breech.
Taper, also denotes a kind of tall wax candle, pla¬
ced in a candlestick, and burnt at funeral processions,
and in other church solemnities.
Tapers are made of different sizes j in some places,
as Italy, &c. they are cylindx-ical j but in most other
countries, as England, France, &c. they are conical or
taper ; whence possibly the name ; unless we rather
choose to derive taper, in the adjective sense from the
substantive taper, in the Saxon tapen or tapon, cereus,
“ wax-candle.” Both kinds are pierced at bottom for a
pin in the candlestick to enter.—There are two ways of
making tapers, the first with the ladle, the second by
hand ; for which see Candle.
Paschal Taper, among the Romanists, is a large ta¬
per, whereon the deacon applies five bits of frankincense,
in holes made for the purpose in form of a cross j and
which he lights with new fire in the ceremony of Easter
Saturday.
The Pontifical makes Pope Zosimus the author of
this usage j but Baronius will have it more ancient, and
quotes a hymn of Prudentius to prove it. That pope
he supposes to have only established the use thereof in
parish-churches, which, till then, had been restrained to
greater churches.
F. Papebroch explains the original of the paschal ta¬
per more distinctly, in his Conatus Chj'onico-Historicus,
&c. It seems, though the council of Nice regulated
the day whereon Easter was to be celebrated, it laid it
on the patriarch of Alexandria to make a yearly canon
thereof, and to send it to the pope. As all the other
moveable feasts were to be regulated by that af Easter,
a catalogue of them was made every year 5 and this was
written on a taper, cereus, which was blessed in the
church with much solemnity.
C« This
T i A P [202
Taper, This taper, according to the abbot Cbastelain, was
Tapestry, not a wax-candle made to be burnt j it had no wick,
'—~v 1 nor was it any thing more than a kind of column of
wax, made on purpose to write the list of moveable
feasts on j and which would suffice to hold that list for
the space of a year.
For among the ancients, when any thing was to be
written to last for ever, they engraved it on marble or
steel *, when it was to last a long while, they wrote it
on Egyptian paper 3 and when it was only to last a
short time, they contented themselves to write it on wax.
In process of time they came to write the moveable
feasts on paper, but they still fastened it to the paschal
taper. Such is the original of the benediction ol the
paschal taper.
TAPESTRY, a kind of cloth made of wool and
silk, adorned with figures of different animals, &c. and
formerly used for lining the walls of rooms, churches,
&C.
The art of weaving tapestry is supposed to have been
borrowed from the Saracens 3 accordingly the workmen
employed in this manufacture in France were formerly
called Saraxins or Saraxinois. Guicciardini ascribes
the invention of tapestry hangings to the inhabitants of
the Netherlands j but he has not mentioned at what time
the discovery was made. This art was brought into
England by William Sheldon, near the end of Henry
VILL’s reign. In 1619 a manufacture was established
at Mortlake in Surry by Sir Francis Crane, who recei¬
ved 2000I. from King James to encourage the design.
The first manufacture of tapestry at Paris was set up
under Henry IV. in 1606 or 1607, by several artists
whom that monarch invited from I landers. Under
Ton is XIV. the manufacture of the Gobelins was insti¬
tuted, which has introduced very beautiful cloths, re¬
markable for strength, for elegance of design, and a
happy choice of colours. The finest paintings are co-
pied, and eminent painters have been employed in mak¬
ing designs for the work.
Tapestry-work is distinguished by the workmen into
two kinds, viz. that of high and that of low warp 3
though the difference is rather in the manner of work-
]
TAP
ing tli an in the work itself; which is in effect the same
Ja both : only the looms, and consequently the warps,
are differently situated 3 those of the low warp being
placed flat and parallel to the horizon, and those of the
JiJah warp erected perpendicularly. The English an¬
ciently excelled all the world in the tapestry of the high
warp 3 and they still retain their former reputation,
though with some little change : their low warps are
still admired 3 but as for the high ones, they are quite
laid aside by the French. The French, before the re¬
volution, had three considerable tapestry manufactures
besides that of the Gobelins 3 the first at Aubusson in
Auvergne, the second at Felletin in the Upper Marche,
and the third at Beauvais. They were all equally esta¬
blished for the high and the low warp 3 but they had
all laid aside the high warp excepting the Gobelins.
There were admirable low warps likewise in Flanders,
generally exceeding those of France 3 the chief and al¬
most only Flemish manufactures were at Brussels, Ant¬
werp, Oudenard, Lisle, Tournay, Bruges, and Valen¬
ciennes 3 but of the state of these manufactures now we
are ignorant.
The usual widths of tapestry are from two ells to Tapestn.
three ells Baris measure.
The Manufacture of Tapestry of the High Jrarp.—
The loom on which it is wrought is placed perpendicu¬
larly : it consists of four principal pieces 3 two long
planks or cheeks of wood, and two thick rollers or
beams. The planks are set upright, and the beams
across them, one at the top and the other at the bottom,
or about a foot distance from the ground. Ihey have
each their trunnions, by which they are suspended on
the planks, and are turned with bars. In each roller is
a groove, from one end to the other, capable ot contain¬
ing a long round piece of wood, fastened therein with
hooks. The use of it is to tie the ends of the warp to.
The warp, which is a kind of worsted, or twisted wool¬
len thread, is wound on the upper roller 3 and the work,
as fast as wove, is wound on the lower. With inside
the planks, which are seven or eight feet high, lourteen
or fifteen inches broad, and three or four thick, are
holes pierced from top to bottom, in which are put
thick pieces of iron, with hooks at one end serving to su¬
stain the coat-stave : these pieces of iron have also holes
pierced, by putting a pin in which the stave is drawn
nearer or set farther off 3 and thus the coats or threads
are stretched or loosened at pleasure. I he coat-stave is
about three inches diameter, and runs all the length of
the loom 3 on this are fixed the coats or threads, which
make the threads of the warp cross each other. It has
much the same effect here as the spring stave and tred-
dles have in the common looms. The coats are little
threads fastened to each thread of the warp with a kind
of sliding knot, which forms a sort of mesh or ring.
They serve to keep the warp open for the passage of
broaches wound with silks, woollens, or other matters
used in the piece of tapestry. In the last place, there
are a number of little sticks of different lengths, but all
about an inch in diameter, which the workman keeps
by him in baskets, to serve to make the threads of the
wrarp cross each other, by passing them across 3 and,
that the threads thus crossed may retain their proper
situation, a packthread is run among the threads above
the stick.
The loom being thus formed, and mounted with its
warp, the first thing the workman does is to draw on
the threads of this warp the principal lines and strokes
of the design to be represented on the piece of tapestry j
which is done by applying cartoons made from the
painting he intends to copy to the side that is to be the
wrong side of the piece, and then, with a black lead
pencil, following and tracing out the contours thereof
on the thread of the right side; so that the strokes ap¬
pear equally both before and behind.
As for the original design the work is to be finished
by, it is hung up behind the workmen, and wound on
a long staff, from which a piece is unrolled from time
to time as the work proceeds.
Besides the loom, &c. here described, there are three
other principal instruments required for working the
silk or the wool of the woof within the threads of the
warp 3 these are a broach, a reed, and an iron needto.
The broach is made of a hard wood, seven or eight
inches long, and two-thirds of an inch thick, ending.m
a point with a little handle. This serves as a shuttle 3
the silks, woollens, gold, or silver, to be used in the
work
TAP [ 203 ] TAR
>>e y. work being wound on it. The reed or comb is also of
-vr—' wood, eight or nine inches long, and an inch thick on
the back, whence it grows less and less to the extremity
of the teeth, which are more or less apart, according to
the greater or less degree of fineness of the intended
work. Lastly, the needle is made in form of the com¬
mon needle, only bigger and longer. Its use is to press
close the wool and silks when there is any line or colour
that does not fit well.
All things being prepared for the work, and the work¬
man ready to begin, he places himself on the wrong side
of the piece, with his back towards the design : so that
he works as it were blindfold, seeing nothing of what
he does, and being obliged to quit his post, and go to
the other side of the loom whenever he would view and
examine the piece, to correct it with liis pressing-needle.
To put silk, &c. in the warp, he first turns and looks
at the design *, then, taking a broach full of the proper
colour, he places it among the threads of the warp,
which he brings cross each other with his fingers, by
means of the coats or threads fastened to the staff; this
he repeats every time he is to change his colour. Ha¬
ving placed the silk or wool, he beats it with his reed
or comb ; and when he has thus wrought in several
rows over each other, he goes to see the effects they
have, in order to reform the contours with his needle,
if there be occasion. As the work advances, it is rolled
Upon the lower beam, and they unroll as much rvarp
from the upper beam as suffices them to continue the
piece : the like they do of the design behind them.
When the pieces are wide, several workmen may be em¬
ployed at once.
We have but two things to add: the first is, that the
j high warp tapestry goes on much more slowly than the
’ low warp, and takes up almost twice the time and trouble.
The second is, that all the difference that the eye can
perceive between the two kinds, consists in this, that in
the low warp there is a red fillet, about one-twelfth of
an inch broad, running on each side from top to bottom,
which is wanting in the high warp.
Manufacture of Tapestry of the Low Warp.—The
loom or frame, whereon the low warp is wrought, is
much like that of the weavers; the principal parts there¬
of are two strong pieces of wood forming tlie sides of the
j loom, and bearing a beam or roller at each end : they
are sustained at bottom with other strong pieces of wood
in manner of trestles; and, to keep them the firmer, they
are likewise fastened to the floor with a kind of but¬
tresses, which prevent any shaking, though there are
sometime# four or five workmen leaning on the fore-beam
at once.
The, rollers have each their trunnions, by which they
are sustained: they are turned by large iron pins three
feet long. Along each beam runs a groove, wherein is
placed the wich, a piece of wood of about two inches
diameter, and almost of the length of the roller: this
piece fills the groove entirely, and is fastened therein,
Irom space to space, by wooden pins. To the two
wiches are fastened the two extremities of the warp,
which is wound on the farther roller, and the work, as
it advances, on the nearer.
Across the two sides, almost in the middle of the loom,
passes a wooden bar, which sustains little pieces of wood,
not unlike the beam of a balance: to these pieces are
lastened strings, which bear certain spring staves, where¬
with the wmrkman, by means of two treddles under the Tapestry
loom whereon he sets his feet, gives a motion to the ||
coats, and makes the threads of the warp rise and fall Tar-
alternately. Each loom has more or fewer of these v "
spring-staves, and each staff more or fewer coats, as the
tapestry consists of more or fewer threads.
The design or painting the tapestry-man is to follow
is placed underneath the warp ; where it is sustained
from space to space with strings, by means of which the
design is brought nearer the warp.
The loom being mounted, there are two instruments
used in working it, viz. the reed and the flute. The flute
does the office of the weaver’s shuttle; it is made of an
hard polished wood, three or four lines thick at the
ends, and somewhat more in the middle, and three or
four inches long. On it are wound the silks or other
matters to be used as the woof of the tapestry. The
comb or reed is of wood or ivory ; it lias usually teeth
on both sides ; it is about an inch thick in the middle,
but diminishes each way to the extremity of the teeth :
it serves to beat the threads of the woof close to each
other, as fast as the workman haspassed and placed them
with his flute amongst the threads of the warp.
The workman is seated on a bench before the loom,
with his breast against the beam, only a cushion or pil¬
low between them; and, in this posture, separating, with
his fingers, the threads of the warp, that he may see the
design underneath, and taking a flute, mounted with a
proper colour, he passes it among the threads, after ha¬
ving raised or lowered them, by means of the treddles
moving the spring-staves and coats.
Lastly, to press and close the threads of the silk or
yarn, &c. thus placed, he strikes each course (i.e. what
the flute, leaves in its passing and coming back again)
with the reed.
TAPIOCA, a species of starch, which the "Brazileans
make from the roots of the cassada plant. See Jatro-
fha. Botany Index.
TAPIR, a quadruped of the order of helium, resem¬
bling the hippopotamus. See Mammalia Index.
TAPPING, in general, the act of piercing a hole in
a vessel, and applying a tube or canula in the aperture,
for the commodious drawing off the liquor contained
therein.
Tapping, in Surgery. See Paracentesis, Sur¬
gery Index.
TAPROBANA, the ancient name of the island of
Ceylon. See Ceylon, and Geography, N° 28.
TAR, a thick, black, unctuous substance, obtained
chiefly from old pines and fir-trees by burning them with
a close smothering heat. It is prepared in great quan¬
tities in Norway, Sweden, Germany, Russia, and North
America, and in other countries where the pine and fir
abound,
Becher the celebrated chemist, first proposed to make
tar from pit-coal. Manufactures for this purpose have
been established many years ago in the bishopric tf
Liege, and in several parts of England. In the year
1781, the earl of Dundonald obtained a patent for ex¬
tracting tar from pit-coal by a new process of distillation.
Great hopes were entertained of the value of this disco¬
very, but we have not heard that it has answered expec¬
tation.
Tar, which is well known for its economical uses, is
properly an empyreumatic oil of turpentine, and has been
C c 2 much
T A Ft [ 204 ] TAR
Tar much used as a medicine both internally and externally.
B Tar-water, or water impregnated with the more soluble
Targuni. parts of tar, was formerly a very popular remedy.
' v ' TARANTO, the ancient Tarentum, a seaport
town of Italy, in the kingdom of Naples, and in the
Terra de Otranto. It is a strong and populous place,
with an archbishop’s see, and the title of a principality.
/ It is seated on a peninsula, and is defended by a strong
castle; but the harbour is choked up. E. Long. 17.
29. N. Lat. 40. 35.
TARANTULA, a species of aranea, so called from
Taranto, the place where it is said to abound. See
Aranea, Entomology Index'.
TARASCON, an ancient and populous town of
France, in the department of the Mouths of the Rhone,
and late province of Provence, with a well-built castle,
seated on the river Rhone, opposite Beaucaire, with
which it communicates by a bridge of boats. Its com¬
merce consists in oil, brandy, starch, and stuffs that are
much worn, one sort being ot coarse silk, and the other
of the same material and wool. It is 10 miles north of
Arles, and 375 south by east of Paris. E. Long. 4. 45.
N. Lat. 43. 46.
TARAZONA, a strong town of Spain, in the king¬
dom of Arragon, and on the frontiers of Old Castile,
with a bishop’s see. It is seated partly on a rock, and
partly in a fertile plain, on the river Chiles. It was
taken from the Moors in 1110. W. Long. 1. 26.
N. Lat. 42. 10.
TARCHONANTHUS, Flea-bane, a genus of
plants belonging to the class syngenesia; and in the na¬
tural system ranging under the 49th order, Composite.
See Botany Index.
TARE, is an allowance for the outside package that
contains such goods as cannot be unpacked without de¬
triment ; or for the papers, threads, bands, &c. that in¬
close or bind any goods imported loose; or though im¬
ported in casks ; chests, &c. yet cannot be unpacked
and weighed neat.
Tare, or Vetch. See Vicia, Botany Index.
TARGET, a kind of shield or weapon of defence
made use of by the ancients.
TARGIONIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of cryptogamia, and natural order of Algcx. See
Botany Index.
TARGUM, a name given to the Chaldee para¬
phrases of the books of the Old Testament. They are
called paraphrases or expositions, because they are rather
comments and explications than literal translations of
the text. They are written in the Chaldee tongue,
which became familiar to the Jews after the time of
their captivity in Babylon, and was more known to them
than the Hebrew itself. So that when the Hebrew text
was read in the synagogue, or in the temple, they ge¬
nerally added to it an explication in the Chaldee tongue
for the service of the people, who had but a very im¬
perfect knowledge of the Hebrew tongue. It is pro¬
bable, that even from the time of Ezra this custom be¬
gan, since this learned scribe, reading the law to the
people in the temple, explained it with the other priests
that were with him, to make it understood by the peo¬
ple (Nehem. viii. 7—-9.).
But though the custom of making these sorts of expo¬
sitions in the Chaldee language be very ancient among
the Hebrews, yet have they no written paraphrases 0:
targums before the era of Onkelos and Jonathan, who
lived about the time of our Saviour. Jonathan is placed
about 30 years before Christ, under the reign of Herod
the Great. Onkelos is something more modern. The
Targum of Onkelos is the most of all esteemed, and
copies are to be found in which it is inserted verse for
verse with the Hebrew. It is so short and so simple,
that it cannot be suspected of being corrupted. This
paraphrast wrote only upon the books of Moses ; and
his style approaches nearly to the purity of the Chaldee,
as it is found in Daniel and Ezra. This targum is
quoted in the Misna, but was not known either to Eu¬
sebius, St Jerome, or Origen.
The Targum of Jonathan son of Uziel is upon the
greater and lesser prophets. He is much more diffuse
than Onkelos, and especially upon the lesser prophets,
where he takes great liberties, and runs on in allegories.
His style is pure enough, and approaches pretty near to
the Chaldee of Onkelos. It is thought that the Jewish
doctors who lived above 700 years after him made some
additions to him.
The Targum of Joseph the Blind is upon the Hagio-
grapha. This author is much more modern, and less
esteemed than those we have now mentioned. He has
written upon the Psalms, Job, the Proverbs, the Can¬
ticles, Ecclesiastes, Ruth, and Esther. His style is a
very corrupt Chaldee, with a great mixture of words
from foreign languages.
The Targum of Jerusalem is only upon the Penta¬
teuch ; nor is that entire or perfect. There are whole
verses wanting, others transposed, others mutilated;
which has made many of opinion that this only is a
fragment of some ancient paraphrase than is now lost.
There is no targum upon Daniel, or upon the books of
Ezra and Nehemiah.
These targums are of great use for the better under¬
standing not only of the Old Testament, on which they
are written, but also of the New7. As to the Old Testa¬
ment, they serve to vindicate the genuineness of the pre¬
sent Hebrew text, by proving it to be the same that was
in use when these targums were made, contrary to the
opinion of those who think the Jews corrupted it after
our Saviour’s time. They help to explain many words
and phrases in the Hebrew original, and they hand
down to us many of the ancient customs of the Jews.
And some of them, with the phraseologies, idioms, and
peculiar forms of speech, which rve find in them, do in
many instances help as much for the better illustration
and better understanding of the New7 Testament as of
the Old ; the Jerusalem Chaldee dialect, in which they
are written, being the vulgar language of the Jews in
our Saviour’s time. They also very much serve the
Christian cause against the Jews, by interpreting many
of the prophecies of the Messiah in the Old Testament
in the same manner as the Christians do. Many in¬
stances are produced to this purpose by Dr Prideaux
in his Connect, of the Hist, of the Old and New Testa¬
ment, vol. iv. p. 777, &c.
These targums are published in the second edition of
the great Hebrew Bible set forth at Basil by Buxtorf
the father, anno 1610; for he has rectified the Chaldee
text, and reformed the vowel pointings in it; the tar¬
gums having at first been written without vowel points,
which were afterwards added very erroneously by some
t::?
Parry.
I
visio
Inde.
tdcnt
t'tary,
TAR p 20
TARIF, a table containing the names of different
sorts of merchandise, with the duties to be paid as set¬
tled among trading nations.
TARPA, Spurius Mecius, a Latin critic in the
time of Julius Caesar and Augustus, He had his tri¬
bunal in the temple of Apollo, where, with four assist¬
ants, he passed sentence on the works of the poets. Ci¬
cero and Horace make honourable mention of this critic.
TARPAULIN, a piece of canvas, well tarred over,
to keep off the rain from any place. The term is also
often applied in a burlesque sense to a persca that has
been all his life bred to the sea.
TARPEIAN, in Roman antiquity, an appellation
given to a steep rock in Rome; whence, by the law
of the twelve tables, those guilty of certain crimes were
precipitated. It took its name from Tarpeia, a vestal
virgin, who was killed by the Sabines, as related under
the article Rome, N° 24.
TARQUIN the Elder, king of Rome, succeeded
Ancus Martius 615 B. C. See Rome, N° 35—40.
Tarquin the Proud, a tyrant and usurper. See
Rome, N° 49—51, &c.
TARRAGON, or Dragon-wort. See Botany
Index.
TARROCK, a species of lorus. See Ornithology
Index.
TARSHISH, a town frequently mentioned by an¬
cient authors, the situation of which it is difficult to as¬
certain. See Ophir.
TARTAN, in sea language, a small coasting vessel
navigated in the Mediterranean, with only one mast
and a bowsprit, the principal sail, which is very large,
being extended by a lateen-yard. When tartans put up
a square sail, it is called a sail of fortune.
TARTAR, a hard solid substance which separates
from wine after complete fermentation, and adheres to
the top and sides of the casks. It is an impure tartrate of
potash with the acid in excess. See Chemistry,N° 999.
TARTARIC acid. See Chemistry, p. 529.
TARTARY, a name given by geographers and his¬
torians to a considerable extent of territory in Asia, ly¬
ing between Russia and China, and including a great
variety ol nations, now chiefly dependent on these two
empires. The whole country is usually divided into
Western Tartary, and Eastern or Chinese Tartary, of
which the former includes Western Turkistan, Kha-
nsm, and Great Bucharia; while the latter comprehends
the country of the Monguls and the Mandshurs, now
[Joth subject to Russia, and Little Bucharia. The geo¬
graphy of several parts of this extensive tract has already
been considered under the articles Bucharia, China,
and Russia, and we shall here confine ourselves to that
which is now commonly known by the name of Inde¬
pendent Tartary, by which we understand that extent
of country now possessed by the Kirghises, and the Us-
beck Tartars, including the Kharism, and Great and
Little Bucharia.
Independent Tartary thus defined, extends from the
aspian sea on the west to the mountains of Belur on
he east, a space of about 870 British miles, and from
| e mountains of Gaur in the south, to the southern
oundaries of the Russian empire on the north, including
nearly 1500 British miles. About half of this extent
f occupied by the Kirghises to the north, and the Us-
oecks to the south.
0 J T A R
The country of the Kirghises is separated from Si¬
beria by the great steppe or desert of Issim, an exten¬
sive plain intersected by a river of the same name, and
abounding with lakes of salt and bitter waters. Even
the soil ot this steppe is in many places impregnated
with salt and nitre, though in several spots the soil is
by no means unfruitful. There are no towns, as the in¬
habitants dwell wholly in tents.
I he Kirghises have been long divided into three
principal hordes, called the great, middle, and lesser. Of
these, the two latter are now regarded as subjects of the
Russian empire, though they seem by no means to be
dependent on that power. The great horde, defended
by mountains on the south and east, are properly inde¬
pendent. This last horde is supposed to contain about
60,000 families, while the lesser and middle hordes are
said to comprehend each about half that number. The
whole population is computed at about 500,000.
The Kirghises have gradually moved from the east
towards the west. Their manners are described at con¬
siderable length by Pallas. Their tents are of a sort
of felt j their drink kumiss, made of acidulated mare#
milk. The great horde is considered as the source of
the other two. Being settled near the mountains of
Alak, or Ala Tau, this horde has been called the Ala-
tanian Kirghises. They lead a wandering life, from
the borders of the Upper Sirr, near Tashkund, to the
steppe of Issim. Each horde has its particular khan}
but the middle horde, when Pallas visited this country,
was contented with a prince, who seemed to acknow¬
ledge the khan of the lesser horde ; and in 1777, this
khan was called Nur Hali, an equitable prince. Their
features are Tartaric, with flat nose and small eyes, but
not oblique like those of the Monguls and Chinese.
They have horses, camels, cattle, sheep, and goats.
Some individuals of the middle horde, it is said, had
10,000 horses, 300 camels, 4000 cattle, 20,000 sheep,
and upwards of 2000 goats j while in the lesser horde
were proprietors of 5000 horses, and a proportional
number of the other animals. Their dromedaries fur¬
nish a considerable quantity of woolly hair, sold to the
Russians and Bucharians, being annually clipped like
that of sheep. Their chief food is mutton } and the
lamb is so exquisite, that it is sent from Orenburg to St
Petersburg for the tables of the palace. The lamb
skins are the most celebrated next to those of Bucharia}
but the wool of the sheep is coarse, and used only for
domestic purposes, for felts and thick cloths. The steppes
supply them with objects of the chase, wolves, foxes,
marmots, antelopes, &c. In the southern and eastern
mountains are found wild sheep, the ox of Tibet, which
seems to delight in snowy alps } with chacals, tigers,
and wild asses.
As the Kirghisians regard each other as brethren,
they are obliged to employ slaves who are captives taken
in their incursions. Their dress consists of close vests,
large trowsers, and pointed boots. The ladies adorn
their heads with the necks of herons, disposed like horns.
They appear to be Mahometans, but have a more re¬
laxed creed.
The Kirghisians carry on some trade with Russia.
The chief traffic is at Orenburg, and wholly by ex¬
change} but the middle horde proceed to Omsk. About
150,000 sheep are annually brought to Orenburg, with
horses, cattle, lamb skins, camels wool, and sometimes
slaves.
Tart ary;
3_
Kirghises.
TAR [ 206 ] TAR
Tartm-T. slaves. In return they take manufactured articles, chief-
' v—^ ly clothes and furniture. From Bucharia, Khiva, and
Tashkund, they receive arms and coats-of-mail, which
Russia refuses, in return for camels and cattle. They
are extremely fond of the Kalmuk women, who long
retain their charms ; and often marry them if they will
adopt the Mahometan religion. They have an annual
festival in honour ol the dead. About the beginning of
the 17th century this people, who were formerly Sha-
manians, became children of circumcision, by the exer-
4 tions of the priests of Turkistan.
Usbeks. The country of the Usbek Tartars includes Kharism
and part of Great Bucharia. I he former of these ex¬
tends from the river Gihon to the Caspian sea, and is
bounded on the north and east by vast deserts. Its
length is about 400 British miles, and its breadth rather
less than 350. The chief town is Khiva, besides which
there are five walled cities or towns, within half a day’s
journey of each other. I he khan is absolute, anu inde¬
pendent of any but the high priest, or lama, by whom
he is controlled, d-he Kievinski Tartars differ little
from the Kirghises, but surpass even them in treachery.
Their manners are nearly the same, except that the
Kirghises live in tents, while the others inhabit cities
and villages. Their only trade is with Bokhara and
Persia j whither they carry cattle, furs, and hides, which
they procure from the Kirghises and Turkoman Tartars.
The place itself produces little more than cotton, lamb
5 furs, of a bad quality, and some raw silk j part of
Town of which they manufacture. The town of Khiva stands
K*»ya- on a rising ground, with three gates, and a strong thick
wall of earth much higher than the houses, with turrets
at small distances, and a broad deep ditch full ot water.
It occupies a large space, and commands a pleasant pro¬
spect j but the houses are built with mud, having flat
roofs covered with earth. It is 17 days journey from
the Caspian sea, and 33 from Orenburg, allowing 40
versts to the day’s journey.
The people of Khiva bring to Orenburg large quan¬
tities of raw cotton 5 but the coasts ot the Caspian are
held by some remains of Turkomans in the north, and
by Usbeks in the south. A considerable trade is car¬
ried on with Mangushlak. As the merchants of Khiva
brought gold and gems to Astrakan, probably from the
two Bucharias, it was suggested to Peter the Great
that these products were found in Kharism, in conse¬
quence of which he attempted a settlement. But the
Russians, to the number ot 3<-,o^> were cut off by the
6 Usbeks.
©reat Buc- Great Bucharia, by far the most important part of
haria. Independent Tartary, extends for about 700 British
miles in length from north to south, by a medial breadth
of about 350, being bounded on the north by the
mountains of Argun, and divided from Kharism and
Corazan by the river Amu, and extensive deserts,
while on the south and east it has for its boundaries
the mountains of Gaur and of Beber.
The chief city of Great Bucharia is SAMARCAND,
011 the southern hank of the river Sogd. The other
places of note are Bokhara on the same river, Balk
on the river Dehash, Zouf, and Kothm.
The face of the country presents a great variety,
abounding with rivers, hills, and mountains, but being
in general deficient in wood. ISTear the rivers the soil
is very productive, the grass sometimes exceeding the
4
height of a man; and in some parts much industry Is Ti
shown in the cultivation of rice and other grain. L“
The rivers are, the Amu and Sirr. Besides the sea
of Aral, already described under that bead, there are
several considerable lakes, particularly that of Palkati,
Tengis, or Balcash, being about 140 miles long by 70
broad.
“ In all the regions of the earth (says Sir William
Ouseley), there is not a more flourishing or a more de¬
lightful country than this, especially the district of Bok¬
hara. If a person stand on the Kohendis (or ancient
castle) of Bokhara, and cast his eyes around, he shall
not see any thing but beautiful and luxuriant verdure
on every side of the country j so that he would imagine
the green of the earth and the az.ure of the heavens
were united 5 and as there are green fields in ever?
quarter, so there are villas interspersed among the
green fields. The Sogd, for eight days journey, is all
delightful country, affording fine prospects, and full of
gardens and orchards, and villages, corn fields, and vil¬
las, running streams, reservoirs, and fountains, both on
the right hand and on the left. You pass from corn
fields into rich meadows and pasture lands j and the
straits of Sogd are the finest in the world.”
The religion of the Usbeks and Bucharians is the|^
Mahometan of the Sunni sect, and the government oftar
the khans is despotic. There are no accounts to be
met with of the state of the population, but it is be¬
lieved that on any emergency they could muster an
army of 100,000. The revenue of these fertile pro¬
vinces is not certainly known, though that of Corasan
is said to amount to half a million sterling annually, and
it is probable that the revenue of Great Bucharia is at
least equal to that of Corasan. _J
Besides the caravans to Persia, Hindostan, and
China, some trade is carried on with the Russians j the
Bucharian merchants not only furnishing their own
products, but others from the eastern countries to which
they trade. j
The manners and customs of the Usbeks are similar ^
to those of the other Tartars ; but they are supposed to
be the most spirited and industrious of these barbarians.
Though many reside in tents in the summer, yet in
winter they inhabit the towns and villages. They are
accustomed to make sudden inroads into the Persian
provinces. The native Bncharians are comparatively
fair, and correspond in form and features with these of
Little Bucharia. The Bucharians never bear arm*.
The Usbeks, on the contrary, are no strangers to the
use of the musket, and it is said that even their women
are not averse to warfare. The language is Turkish,
but that of the Bucharians has never been investigated,
though it be probably a dialect of the Persian. Their
literature would furnish an ample theme, Samarcand
having been a celebrated school of oriental science, cul¬
tivated even by monarchs, as Ulug Beg and others.
“ Such are the generosity and liberality of the inha¬
bitants, that no one (says Sir William Ouseley), turns
aside from the rites of hospitality j so that a person con¬
templating them in this light, would imagine t/icitol!
the families of the land ivere but one house. When a
traveller arrives there, every person endeavours to at¬
tract him to himself, that he may have opportunities of
performing kind offices for the stranger ; and the best
proof of their hospitable and generous disposition is that
every
T A S
»r v
\
'as
-V —
tin
lift
ji
tef
Its
fli
every peasant, though possessing but a bare sufficiency,
allots a portion of his cottage for the reception of a
guest. On the arrival of a stranger they contend one
with another for the pleasure of taking him to their
home, and entertaining him. Thus, in acts of hospita¬
lity, they exceed their incomes. I happened once to
he in Sogd, and there I saw a certain palace, or great
building, the doors of which were fastened back with
nails against the walls. I asked the reason of this, and
they informed me that it was a hundred years and more
since those doors had been shut, all that time they had
continued open day and night $ strangers might arrive
there at the most unseasonable hours, or in any num¬
bers, for the master of the house had provided every
thing necessary both for the men and for their beasts j
and he appeared with a delighted and joyful countenance
when the guests tarried a while.”
For a more particular account of the manners and
customs of the Tartars, see the articles Bukharia and
Kalmuks 5 Pallas’s Travels in the Southern Provinces
of the Russian Empire, and Tooke’s View of the Rus¬
sian Empire. An account of the Baschkirs, also a tribe
of wandering Tartars, and of the Tartars of the Kri-
tnea, has been given under BossiA.
We cannot here enter on the history of Tartary.
Hie most interesting parts of it will be found under the
articles China and Mogul, and we may refer those
who wish for a more detailed account to the"4th volume
of the Modern Universal History, and to the Asiatic
Researches.
Krim Tartary. See Crimea.
rl AR TRATES, in Chemistrysaline bodies, com¬
posed of an alkaline, earthy, or metallic base, and tar¬
taric acid.
TASSEL, a pendant ornament at the corners of a
cushion, &c. In building, tassels denote those pieces
of board that lie under the ends of the mantlet trees.
LASSO, "1ORQUATO, celebrated Italian poet, was
born at Sorrento in the kingdom of Naples, in i 544.
He was the son of Bernardo Tasso, and of Portia de
Rossi, a lady of an illustrious family of Naples.
At three years of age Tasso was committed by hi«
father to the care of Angeluzza, a man of great learn¬
ing, who at this tender age, it is said, began to teach
him grammar ; at four he was sent to the Jesuits col-
>ege, and at seven he was well acquainted with Latin
and Greek. At the age of 12 he went from Rome to
Mantua, where his father had entered into the service
ot the duke Guglielmo Gonzaga j he had then complet¬
ed his knowledge oi the Latin and Greek languages;
he was well acquainted with rhetoric and poetry, and
master of Aristotle’s Ethics. He was soon after sent
to the university of Padua; and at 18, published his
ivinaldo, a poem on the plan of Homer’s Odyssey. This
extended his fame through all Italy ; but his father went
^a^ua> to remonstrate against his apparent purpose
of gmng himself up to philosophy and poetry, and made
use of many harsh expressions, which Tasso heard
with great patience. “ Of what use is that philosophy
on which you value yourself so much ?” “ It has en¬
abled me (replied Tasso) to endure the harshness of
your reproofs “
[ 207 ]
T A S
been elected prince of the academy established in that Tasso.
city under the name of the JEtherei. In this retreat   -y—
be formed the design of his Jerusalem Delivered, in¬
vented the fable, disposed the parts, and determined to
dedicate it to the house of Este ; and being pressed to re¬
side at Ferrara, he gave his consent. The duke of Ferra¬
ra gave him an apartment in his palace, where he lived
in peace and affluence, and prosecuted his work, which
he determined to dedicate to the duke, and which was
published book by book, as he finished them.
At the age of 30 he finished his Jerusalem, and the
whole was reprinted and published together, the success
of which was astonishing. It was translated into Latin,
French, Spanish, and even the oriental languages, al¬
most as soon as it appeared. Soon after the publication
of bis Jerusalem be lost his father, who had been ap¬
pointed governor of Ostia on the Po by the duke of
Mantua ; and a pretended friend to Tasso, belonging to
Ferrara, to whom he had incautiously committed some
transactions of a very delicate nature concerning his
patron the duke, had the perfidy to betray him. This
coming to the ears of the duke, lie shut up Tasso in pri¬
son, from which, however, he found means to escape,
after a year’s confinement, and retired to Turin, being
then about 34 years of age, and was recommended to
the duke of Savoy, who shewed him many marks of es¬
teem and regard. Fearing, however, that he might be
delivered up to the duke of Mantua, he secretly retir¬
ed to Rome, and went directly to his friend Mauritio
Cataneo, by whom he was received with great kindness,
and his presence made the whole city rejoice. Here
he endeavoured to make bis peace with the duke, and
was fortunate enough to succeed.
After this he lived at Mantua about a year, in great
favour with the prince ; but growing weary of a state
of dependence, lie resolved to go to Naples, and en,-
deavour to recover his mother’s jointure, which had
been seized by her relations ; but as this law suit had
no appearance of being soon determined, lie went from
Naples to Rome, where he continued about a year, in
high favour with Pope Sextus Quintus, and then went
to Florence, at the earnest desire of Ferdinaodo, grand
duke of Tuscany, who had been cardinal at Rome when
Tasso first resided there.
Having spent another year at Florence, he returned
to Naples, where he corrected his Jerusalem Delivered..
Cardinal Cynthio, who was a great patron of learn¬
ing and genius, and knew Tasso when he first resided
at Rome, prevailed with him once more to leave his
retreat at Naples and live with him in that city, where
he continued till he was 50, and then returned to
Naples to prosecute his law suit, from which place,
however, he was soon recalled ; and being introduced
to the pope, his holiness said, “ that his merit would
confer as much honour on the laurel he was about
to receive, as the laurel had formerly conferred on
others.”
It happened that while they waited for fair weather,
for the purpose of celebrating the solemnity of Tasso’s
coronation with laurel, that great poet took his last
illness, and died on the 15th day of his sickness, aged
51. His poems have acquired him an immortal repu-
JJ. * Jj-l. J-Aio ^ 1JX4U (til J lllIlJUlLHl repu-
He soon after went to Bologna, by the invitation of tation, the chief of which are, 1. Jerusalem Delivered,
pie city a"d college; but in a short time he returned to 2. Jerusalem Conquered. 3. Rinaldo. 4. The Seven
■ a at urgent desire of Scipio Gonzaga,who had Days of the Creation. 5.. The Tragedy of Torimond^
6..
T A S [2
Tasso, 6. Aminta, &c. All lus works were printed together
Taste, at Florence in 1724, in 6 vols. folio, with the pieces
for and against his Jerusalem Delivered.
TASTE, a certain sensation excited in the mind by
certain bodies, which are called sapid, applied to the
tongue and palate, and moistened with saliva. This is
ithe original and proper meaning of the word taste (see
Metaphysics, N° 46.) } but as the qualities of bodies
which produce these sensations are unknown, they have
got the names of the sensations themselves, by substitu-
'ting the cause for the effect. Tastes have been divided
into simple and compound, and philosophers have en¬
deavoured to ascertain the number of each species. At¬
tempts have likewise been made to determine from their
1 tastes the effects of different substances on the human
body, taken into the stomach as food or physic} but by
.stating the results of such inquiries, we should be more
likely to mislead than to communicate useful informa¬
tion.
Taste is likewise used in a figurative sense, to denote
that faculty by which we perceive whatever is beautiful
-or sublime in the works of nature or of art. This fa¬
culty relishes some things, is disgusted with others, and
to many is indifferent. It has also been called an in¬
ternal sense, and by one philosopher, a reflex sense, while
others have considered it as the joint exertion of per¬
ception and judgment in some cases, and as a play of the
imagination in others.
To decide among these different opinions, it will be
necessary to ascertain, if we can, what are the objects
of this faculty. Scarlet, blue, green, and yellow, are all
beautiful colours, and a cube and a sphere are beautiful
figures j but it does not appear to us, that a man could
be said to have either a good or a bad taste for relishing
the perception of a scarlet more than that of a yellow
colour, or a spherical more than a cubical figure.
With respect to the objects of the external sense, we
are so constituted by nature as to relish those kinds of
food which are most wholesome, and such a taste is just¬
ly said to be sound and uncorrupted. It is in the high¬
est perfection too at first, for it depends not on culture
of any kind, and is incapable of improvement. I be
reverse is the case with respect to internal taste. Every
voice, it is true, unites in applauding elegance, simpli-
city, spirit in writing, and in blaming affectation, or a
false brilliancy 5 but when critics come to particulars.,
this seeming unanimity vanishes. Perhaps no man ever
beheld the rising or setting sun without feeling emotions
of pleasure 5 yet it is certain that the emotions of the
clown are not the same, at least in degree, with those
pf the philosopher. Any beautiful object presented to
the eye, gives a pleasing sensation to the mind} and it
appears to us that the clown feels nothing more than a
mere sensation from the view of the rising sun, similar
to what he would feel from a blazing heath. In poetry
and painting the vulgar are always delighted with the
melody of the verse, and the brilliancy of the colours,
and think of nothing else as beauties.
If this be so, the pleasures which the vulgar derive
from what are called objects of taste, are mere gratifi¬
cations of the senses ; but very different is the pleasure
which the man of cultivated taste derives from the beau¬
ties of nature or of art. The mere sensation of the
.clown is followed by a train of ideas which hurries him
08 ] T A S
beyond the object before him to its beneficent effects Tastt,
and its Almighty Creator. 'T\
The nature of any person’s taste, therefore, is gene¬
rally determined from the character of his imagination
and the soundness of his judgment. The simple percep¬
tion of the object we find is insufficient to excite these
emotions, unless it is accompanied with this operation
of mind. Thus, when we feel the beauty or sublimity !
of natural scenery, we are conscious of a variety of
images in our minds very different from those which
the objects themselves can present to the eye.
If the mind is in such a state as to prevent this free¬
dom of imagination, the emotion is not perceived. In
so far as the beauties of nature or art affect the external
senses, their effect is the same on every man who is in
possession of these senses. But to a man in pain or in
grief, the same scene will not produce any feeling of
admiration, which at other times would have produced
it in perfection.
There are many objects of taste which produce not
their full effect on the imagination, but through the
medium of the judgment. The beauty of the Farnese
Hercules is one kind of beauty 5 that of the gladiators
in the palace of Chighi, another j and that of the Apol¬
lo Belvidere a -third. Each of these figures is acknow¬
ledged to be perfect in its kind j but according to Sir
Joshua Reynolds, the highest perfection of the human
figure is not to be found but in that form which might
be taken from them all, and which would partake of
the activity of the gladiator, of the delicacy of the A-
pollo, and of the muscular strength of the Hercules,
In this view the perfection of these statues consists in
something which being perceived by the eye, is refer¬
red by the understanding to what we know of the cha¬
racters of Hercules, Apollo, and the gladiator, and
which we suppose it was the intention of the statuaries
to express. There are besides, objects of which taste is
sometimes said to judge, though they have little or no
effect whatever on the imagination. A book of ab¬
stract science, written in a prolix and intricate style,
may be said to be in a bad taste } and had Swift, in his
clear and simple style, written an Essay on the Human
IInderstanding, his work, supposing him master of the
subject, would undoubtedly have displayed more taste
than Locke’s in which the terms are sometimes vague,
and the period often encumbered. This is the case of
Berkeley, who is admitted by all to have been a writer
of good taste, though neither the Principles of Human
Knowledge, the Dialogues on Matter, nor the Minute
Philosopher, is capable of affording pleasure, either to
the senses or the imagination. His beauty consists
merely in the perspicuity of his style, of which the un¬
derstanding alone is the judge. The metaphysical writ¬
ings of Dr Reid possess in an eminent degree the same
beauty ; and no man of true taste can read them wiffi-
out admiring the elegant simplicity of the composition
as much as the strength of the reasoning, and feeling
from the whole a pleasure which the poetical style of
Shaftesbury cannot communicate.
If this be a just account of the pleasures of taste, that
faculty cannot be properly considered as a mere internal
sense, since to its enjoyments a well-stored fancy is ne'
cessary in some cases, and the reasoning power in alj ‘1
and the poet and the painter who wished to excel m
V 1 their
T A S
r,
 1
)isi rse
'wed
the
yya
lan
their respective professions, must not content themselves,
the one with filling the ear of the reader with mellillu-
ous sounds, and the other with dazzling or deceiving
the eye of the spectator by the brilliancy of his colours,
but both must strive for fame by captivating the imagi¬
nation j whilst the architect, who aspires to a similar
celebrity, must make the purpose of his ornaments ob¬
vious to every person capable of judging. The land¬
scapes of Claude Lorrain, the music of Handel, and
poetry ol Milton, excite leeble emotions in our minds,
when our attention is confined to the qualities they
present to our senses, or when it is to such qualities of
their composition that we turn our regard. It is then
only we feel the sublimity or beauty of their produc¬
tions, when our imaginations are kindled by their power,
when we lose ourselves amid the number of images
that pass before our minds, and when we waken at last
from this play of fancy as from the charm of a roman¬
tic dream.
It is well observed by Sir Joshua Reynolds *, that
taste is sometimes praised in such terms by orators and
poets, who call it inspiration, and a gift from heaven,
that though a student by such praise may have his at¬
tention roused, and a desire excited of obtaining this
gift, he is more likely to be deterred than encouraged
in the pursuit ol his object. “ He examines his own
mind, and perceives there nothing of that divine inspi¬
ration with which he is told so many others have been
favoured. He never travelled to heaven to gather new
ideas j and he finds himself possessed of no other qua¬
lifications than what mere common observation and a
plain understanding are able to confer. Thus he be¬
comes gloomy amidst the splendour of figurative decla¬
mation, and thinks it hopeless to pursue an object which
he supposes out ol the reach of human industry. But
on this, as on many other occasions, we ought to di¬
stinguish how much is to be given to enthusiasm, and
how much to common sense ; taking care not to lose
in terms ol vague admiration that solidity and truth of
principle upon which alone we can reason.” Whoever
possesses the ordinary powers of perception, sensibility
of heart, good sense, and an imagination' capable of be¬
ing roused by the striking objects of nature and of art,
may, without inspiration, become, by mere experience,
a man ol fine taste in the objects of which he aspires
to be a critical judge.
rI his being the case, we may easily account for the
variety ol tastes which prevail among man, not only as
individuals but as nations. We have already mention¬
ed the difterence in one instance between the European
taste and the African respecting female beauty ; and
we may now affirm, as we hope to prove our affirma¬
tion, that the one taste is equally correct with the
other. I he charms of female beauty exist not in the
mere external form and colour considered by themselves
(for then the inanimate statue of the Venus de Medicis
Would give more delight to the European beholder than
the finest woman that ever lived) $ but we associate ex¬
ternal beauty with sweetness of disposition, and with
ml the train ol endearments which take place in the
union of the sexes; and it is this association which de-
. hgnts the man of taste, as giving refinement to an ap¬
petite which itself is gross and sensual. A similar as¬
sociation must be formed in the breast of the African
W10 has ^ taste; and as he never knew feminine soft-
Vol. XX. Part I. f
t 209 ]
T A S
ness, or any of the endearing qualities of the sex, but Taste.
as united with thick lips, a flat nose, a black skin, and ^ —-v 
woolly hair—a sable beauty of that description must
excite in his breast the same emotions that are excited in
the breast of an European by the fair woman with Gre¬
cian features.
But is there not an ideal or perfect beauty of the hu¬
man form ? I here certainly is, as of every other natu¬
ral object $ but it cannot be the same in Europe as .n
Africa, unless to a Being who is acquainted with all the
peculiarities of form, national and individual, that are
to be found among the inhabitants of the whole earth.
It has been supposed, and we think completely proved,
by one of the best writers that we have on the philoso¬
phy of taste *, that the sublimity or beauty of forms * 3^
arises altogether from the associations we connect .with son.
them, or the qualities ol which they are expressive to
us. The qualities expressed by the male and female
forms are very different; and we would by no means
think the woman beautiful who should have the form of
the Farnese Hercules, or admire the shapes of the hero
who should be formed like the Venus de Medicis; be¬
cause the proportions of such a woman would indicate
strength and intrepidity, where we wish to find only
gentleness and delicacy ; and the delicate form of the
hero would indicate softness and efttminacy, where the
opposite qualities only can be esteemed. As we associ¬
ate with the lemale form many desirable qualities, every
woman is esteemed more or less beautiful as her figure
and features indicate a greater or smaller number of
these qualities; and the same is the case with respect
to the qualities which adorn the male character, and the
form and features by which they are expressed. Upon
comparing a number of human beings with one another,
we find, that with respect to every feature and limb,
there is one central form to which nature always tends,
though she be continually deviating from it on the right
hand and on the left : (See Nose). This form there¬
fore is considered as the most perfect form of the species,
and most expressive of the qualities for which that spe¬
cies is valued; but in Africa, the central form, with
respect to the proportions of the human body and the
features of the human face, is very difierent from what
it is in Europe ; and therefore the ideal or perfect
beauty of the human form and features cannot be the
same in both countries. No doubt, if a man could ex¬
amine the limbs and features of every individual of the
human race, he would discover one central form belong¬
ing to the whole, and be led to esteem it the standard
of beauty ; but as this is obviously impossible, the com¬
mon idea or central form belonging to each great class
of mankind must be esteemed the standard of beauty in
that class, as indicating most completely the qualities
for which individuals are esteemed. Thus there is a
common form in childhood and a common form in age;
each of which is the more perfect as it is the more
remote from peculiarities : but though age and child¬
hood have something in common, we should not deem
the child beautiful who was formed exactly like the
most handsome man, nor the man handsome who was
formed exactly like the most beautiful child. This
doctrine is well illustrated by Sir Joshua Reynolds,
who has applied it to every object esteemed beautiful
in nature ; and proved, that the superiority of Claude
Lorrain over the landscape-painters of the Hutch and
H d (Flemish
T A S
Taste. Flemish schools, arise chiefly from his having gencrali-
—*y—zed his conceptions, and formed his pictures by com¬
pounding together the various draughts which he had
previously made from various beautiful scenes and pro¬
spects. “ On the whole (says he), it seems to me that
there is but one presiding principle which regulates and
gives stability to every art. The works, whether of
poets, painters, moralists, or historians, which are built
upon general nature, live for ever; while those which
depend for their existence on particular customs and
habits, a particular view of nature, or the fluctuation of
fashion, can only be coeval with that which first raised
them from obscurity. All the individual objects which
are exhibited to our view by nature, upon close exami¬
nation, will be found to have their blemishes and de¬
fects. The most beautiful forms have something about
them like weakness, minuteness, or imperfection. But
it is not every eye that perceives these blemishes : It
must be an eye long used to the contemplation and com¬
parison of these forms ; which alone can discern what
any set of objects of the same kind has in common, and
what each wants in particular.”
From these reasonings the same great artist concludes,
that the man who is ambitious of the character of pos¬
sessing a correct taste, ought to acquire a “ habit of
comparing and digesting his notions. He ought not to
be wholly unacquainted with that part of philosophy
which gives him an insight into human nature, and re¬
lates to the manners, characters,passions, and affections.
He ought to know something concerning mind, as well
as a great deal concerning the body, and the various ex-
ternal works of nature and of art ; for it is only the
power of distinguishing right from wrong that is pro¬
perly denominated taste.
“ Genius and taste, in the common acceptation, ap¬
pear to be very nearly related ; the difference lies only
in this, that genius has superadded to it a habit or power
of execution. Or we may say, that taste, when this
power is added, changes its name, and is called g’emW.
They both, in the popular opinion, pretend to an entire
exemption from the restraint of rules. It is supposed
that their powers are intuitive; that under the name of
genius great works are produced, and under the name
of taste an exact judgment is given, without our know¬
ing why, and without being under the least obligation
to reason, precept, or experience.
“ One can scarce state these opinions without expo¬
sing their absurdity ; yet they are constantly in the
mouths of men, and particularly of illiterate and affect¬
ed connoisseurs. The natural appetite, or taste of the
human mind, is for truth; whether that truth results
from the real agreement or equality of original ideas
among themselves, from the agreement of the represen¬
tation of any object with the thing represented, or from
the correspondence of the several parts of any arrange¬
ment with each other It is the very same taste which
relishes a demonstration in geometry, that is pleased
with the resemblance of a picture to an original, and
touched w’ith the harmony of music.
“ But besides real, there is also apparent truth, or
opinion, or prejudice. With regard to real truth, when
it is known, the taste which conforms to it is and must
be uniform. With regard to the second sort of truth,
which may be called truth upon sufferance, or truth by
courtesy, it is not fixed but variable. However, whilst
3
T A S
these opinions and prejudices on which it is founded 1
continue, they operate as truth ; and the art, whose of-'”
fice it is to please the mind as well as instruct it, must
direct itself according to opinion, or it will not attain its
end. In proportion as these prejudices are known to be
generally diffused or long received, the taste which con¬
forms to them approaches nearer to certainty, and to a
sort of resemblance to real science, even where opinions
are found to be no better than prejudices. And sinco
they deserve, on account of their duration and extent,
to be considered as really true, they become capable of
no small degree of stability and determination by their
permanent and uniform nature.
“ Of the judgment which we make on the works of
art, and the preference that we give to one class of art
over another, if a reason be demanded, the question is
perhaps evaded by answering, I judge from my taste;
but it does not follow that abetter answer cannot be
given, though for common gazers this may be sufficient.
Every man is not obliged to investigate the causes of his
approbation or dislike. The arts would lie open for
ever to caprice and casualty, if those who are to judge
of their excellencies had no settled principles by which
they are to regulate their decisions, and the merit or de¬
fect of performances were to be determined bv unguided
fancy. And indeed we may venture to assert, that
whatever speculative knowledge is necessary to the ar¬
tist, is equally and indispensably necessary to the critic
and the connoisseur.
“ The first idea that occurs in the consideration of
what is fixed in art or in taste, is that presiding principle
which we have already, mentioned, the general idea of
nature. The beginning, the middle, and the end of
every thing that is valuable in taste, is comprised in the
knowledge of what is truly nature ; for whatever idea*
are not conformable to those of nature or universal opi¬
nion, must be considered as more or less capricious; the
idea of nature comprehending not only the forms which
nature produces, but also the nature and internal fabric
and organization, as I may call it, of the human mind
and imagination. General ideas, beauty, or nature, are
but different wavs of expressing the same thing, whether
we apply these terms to statues, poetry, or picture. De¬
formity is not nature, but an accidental deviation from
her accustomed practice. This general idea therefore
ought to be called nature: and nothing else, correctly
speaking, has a right to that name. Hence it plainly
appears, that as a work is conducted under the influence
of general ideas, or partial, it is principally to be consi¬
dered as the effect of a good or a bad taste.”
Upon the whole, we mav conclude that the real sub¬
stance, as it may be called, of what goes under the name
of taste, is fixed and established in the nature of things;
that there are certain and regular causes by which the
imagination and passions of men are affected ; and that
the knowledge of these causes is acquired by a laborious
and diligent investigation of nature, and by the same
slow progress as wisdom or knowledge of every kind,
however instantaneous its operations may appear when
thus acquired. A man of real taste is always a man of
judgment in other respects; and those inventions which
either disdain or shrink from reason, are generally more
like the diearns of a distempered brain than the exalted
enthusiasm of a sound and true genius. In themidstof
the highest flights of fancy or imagination, reason ought
[ 210 ]
T A V
[
to preside from first to last; and lie wlio shall decide on
the beauties of any one of the fine arts by an imaginary
r-innate sense or feeling, will make as ridiculous an ap¬
pearance as the connoisseur mentioned by Dr Moore,
who praised as a work of the divine Raphael the wretch¬
ed daubing by a Swiss copyist. The reader who wishes
for further instruction in the philosophy of taste, may
consult Gerard’s Essay on Taste, with the dissertations
of Voltaire, D’Alembert, and Montesquieu *, Alison’s
Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste; and-Sir
Joshua Reynold’s Discourses delivered in the Royal
Academy. See also the article Beauty, Supplement.
TATE, Nahum, an English poet, born in Ireland
about the middle of the reign of Charles II. where he
received his education. He was made poet laureat to
King William upon the death of Shadweil, and held
that place until the reign of George I. whose first birth¬
day ode he lived to write, and executed it with unusual
spirit. He died in the Mint in 1716. He was the
author of nine dramatic performances, a great number of
poems, and a version of the Psalms in conjunction with
Dr Brady.
I 1 A I IAN, a writer of the primitive church in the
second century. He wras born in Assyria, and trained
up in the heathen religion and learning. Coming over
to Christianity, he became the disciple of Justin Martyr,
whom he. attended to Rome. While Justin lived, he
j continued steadily orthodox: but after Justin’s death he
made a schism, and became the author of a new’ sect,
I condemning marriage, enjoining abstinence from wine
and animal food, and suffering only water to be used in
1 the holy mysteries ; whence lus followers were called
Encratitce and Hydroparastatce. None of his works are
j now extant, hut his piece against the Gentiles; or, as
I it is usually entitled, his Oration to the Greeks.
j TAT I US, Achilles, a native of Alexandra, was
the author of a book on the sphere, which Father Pe-
j tau translated into Latin. There is also attributed to
him a Greek romance on the loves of Leucippe and
Clitophon, of which Salmasius has given a beautiful
edition in Greek and Latin with notes. Suidas says,
that this Achilles Tatius was a Pagan, but that he
afterwards embraced the Christian religion, and be-
I came a bishop. Photius mentions him in his Biblio-
| theca.
TATONNEUR. See Lemur, Mammalia In-
lex.
TATTOOING, or Tattowing, an operation in
ase among the islanders in the South sea for marking
heir bodies with figures of various kinds which they
-onsuler as ornamental. I t is performed by puncturing
1 he skin, and rubbing a black colour into the wounds,
the instrument used somewhat resembles a comb, ihe
eeth of which are repeatedly struck into the skin by
neans of a small mallet. It is very painful; hut
he children are forced by their relations to submit
jo it.
TATIOU, a beat of a drum at night to advertise
j >e soldiers to retreat, or repair to their quarters in the
o'- (0 their tents in a camp.
TAAERNIER, John Baptist, a French traveller,
>as born in 1635. 1° *he course of 40 years he tra-
C 1. ^mes 10 Turkey, Persia, and the East Indies,
n ^‘ted all the countries in Europe, travelling mostly
n oot. His travels have been frequently reprinted in
hi ] TAW
six volumes 12mo. He died on his seventh journey to Tarerniw
the east, at Moscow, in 1686. * R
TAVIRA, or Tavila, a considerable town of Por- | Tawing,
tugal, and capital of the province of Algarve, with a* v
handsome castle, and one of the best harbours in the
kingdom, defended by a fort. It is seated in a fertile
country, at the mouth of the river Gilaon, between
Cape Vincent and the strait of Gibraltar, 100 miles
west-by-north of Cadiz. W. Long. 7. 46. N. Lat. 37.
18.
IAV1 STOCK, a town of Devonshire in England,
situated on the river Tavey or Tave, containing 4723
inhabitants in 1811. W. Long. 4. 12. N. Lat. 50. 37.
It sends two members to parliament, and gives the title
of marquis to the noble family of Russel duke of Bed¬
ford.
TAUNTON, a large, elegant, and well built town
of Somersetshire, 146 miles from London. It consists
principally of four streets paved and lighted ; the mar¬
ket place is spacious, and has a handsome market-house,
witli a town hall over it, w'hich was finished in 1773.
It has an extensive w'oollen manufactory; and in 178.3
a silk manufactory was introduced. Its castle, the ruins
of which remain, was in 1645 defended for the parlia¬
ment by^Colonel Blake against an army of 10,000 men
under Lord Goiing, but was dismantled by Charles II.
In 1685 the duke of Monmouth made this place his
head quarters. Its church, which is large and beauti¬
ful, is a fine specimen of the florid Gothic style of ar¬
chitecture. The tower, which is lofty, is of exceilent
workmanship, crowned at the top with four stately pin¬
nacles, 32 feet high. The whole perhaps is not equal¬
led in the kingdom. Taunton is pleasantly seated on
the river Tone, which is navigable to Bridgewater ; is
reckoned the best town in the county ; sends two mem¬
bers to parliament; and contained 6997 inhabitants in
1811. W. Long. 3. 17. N. Lat. 50. 59.
TAURIS, or Tebris, a town of Persia, and capital
of Aderbeitzan. It was formerly the capital of Persia,
and is now the most considerable next to Ispahan ; for
it contains 15,030 houses, besides many separate shops,
and about 200,000 inhabitants. It is about five miles
in circumference, and carries on a prodigious trade in
cotton, cloth, silks, gold and silver brocades, fine tur¬
bans, and shagreen leather. There are 300 caravanse-
ras, and 250 mosques. Some travellers suppose it to be
the ancient Echatana ; hut of this there is no ceitain-
ty. It is seated in a delightful plain, surrounded
with mountains, from whence a stream issues, which
runs through the city. E. Long. 47. 50. N. Lat. 38.
18.
TAURUS, a great chain of mountains in Asia, which
begin at the eastern part of Little Carimania, and ex¬
tend very far into India. In different places they have
different names.
Taurus, in Astronomy, one of the 12 signs of the
zodiac.
TAUTOLOGY, a needless repeating of the same
thing in different words.
TAM ING, the art of dressing skins in white, so
as to be fit for divers manufactures, particularly gloves,
&c.
All skins may be tawed ; hut those chiefly used for
this purpose are lamb, sheep, kid, and goat skins.
The method of tawing is this : Having cleared the
D d 2 skins
TAW
Tawing, skins of wool or hair by means of lime, they are laid in
a large vatt of wood or stone, set on the ground, full of
water, in which quicklime has been slaked; wherein
they are allowed to lie a month or six weeks accord¬
ing as the weather is more or less hot, or as the skins
are required to be more or less soft and pliant.
While they are in the vatt, the water and lime are
changed twice, and the skins are taken out and put in
again every day: and when they are taken out tor the
last time, they are laid all night to soak in a running
water, to get out the greatest part of the lime ; and in
the morning are laid together by sixes one upon another,
upon a wooden leg, and are scraped stoutly one after ano¬
ther, to geyt the flesh olf from the fleshy side, tvith a cut¬
ting two-handled instrument called ix knife; and then
they cut off the legs (if they are not cut off before) and
other superfluous parts about the extremes. Then they
are laid in af vatt or pit with a little water, where they
are fulled with wooden pestles for the space of a quarter
of an hour ; and then the vatt is filled up with water,
and they are rinsed in it.
In the next place, they are thrown on a clean pave¬
ment to drain, and afterwards cast into a fresh pit of
water, out of which they rinse them well, and are laid
again on the wooden leg, six at a time, with -the hair
side outermost: after which they rub a kind of whet¬
stone very briskly, to soften and fit them to receive four
or five more preparations, given them on the leg both
on the flesh side and the hair-side, with the knife, after
the manner above mentioned.
After this they are put into a pit of water and wheat-
en bran, and stirred about in it with wooden poles, till
the bran is perceived to stick to them,, and then they
are left: as they rise of themselves to the top of the
water by a kind of fermentation, they are plunged down
again to the bottom; and at the same time fire is set to
the liquor, which burns as easily as if it were brandy,
but goes out the moment the skins are all covered.
They repeat this operation as often as the skins rise
above the water; and when they have done rising they
take them out, lay them on the wooden leg, the fleshy
side outwards, and pass the knife over them to scrape oft*
the bran.
Having thus cleared them of the bran, they lay the
£kins in a large basket, and load them with huge stones
to promote the draining : and when they have drained
sufficiently, they give them their feeding; which is per¬
formed after the manner following :
For 100 of large sheep skins, and for smaller in pro¬
portion, they take eight pounds of alum and three of
sea-salt, and melt the whole with water in a vessel over
the fire, pouring the solution out, while yet lukewarm,
into a kind of trough, in which is twenty pounds of
the finest wheat-flour, with the yolks of eight dozen
of eggs ; of all which is formed a kind of paste, a
little thicker than children’s pap; which, when done,
is put into another vessel, to be used in the following
manner.
They pour a qyantity of hot water iuto the trough in
which the paste was prepared, mixing two spoonfuls of
the paste with it ; to do which they use a wooden spoon,
which contains just as much as is required for a dozen of
skins: and when the whole is well diluted, two dozen of
the skins are plunged into it; but they take care that the
TAX
water be not too hot, which would spoil the paste and Tawiij
burn the skins. Taxstioi,
After they have lain some time in the trough they ‘"“r*
take them out, one after another, with the hand, and
stretch them out ; this they do twice: and after they
have given them all their paste, they put them into tubs,
and there full them afresh with wooden pestles.
They then put them into a vatt, where they are suf¬
fered to lie for five or six days, or more; then they take
them out in fair weather, and hang them to dry on cords
or racks: and the quicker they are dried the better ; for
if they be too long a drying, the salt and alum within
them are apt to make them rise in a grain, which is an
essential fault in this kind of dressing.
When the skins are dry, they are made up into bun¬
dles, and just dipt in fair water, and taken out and
drained : they are then thrown into an empty tub ; and
after having lain some time are taken out and trampled
under foot.
They then draw them over a flat iron instrument, the
top of which is round like a battledore, and the bottom
fixed into a wooden block, to stretch and open them;
and having been opened, they are hung in the air
upon cords to dry ; and being dry, they are opened a
second time, by passing them again over the same instru¬
ment.
In the last place, they are laid on a table, pulled out,
and laid smooth, and are then fit for sale.
TAXATION. Besides those expences which are
necessary to the existence, or conducive to the comfort
and enjoyment of private individuals, there are others
of which the benefit is directly applicable to the whole
society. These benefits indeed are chiefly of a negative
kind, but they are not therefore the less essential. Ihey
consist in the preservation of person and property from
that violence both internal and external, to which the
irregular passions of human nature continually expose
them. The regular administration of justice, and de¬
fence against foreign enemies, are so essential to the
w'ell-being of a people, that they can with no propriety
hesitate, when necessary, to part even with a large por¬
tion of their income in order to provide for the proper
accomplishment of these objects. A certain pomp and
magnificence too, in those who are to take the lead m
these departments, have been deemed both ornamental to
the society, and necessary for securing respect and obe¬
dience from the body of the people. If, besides these
grand and indispensable advantages of foreign and inter¬
nal security, public funds can be applied to any other
purposes, evidently tending to promote the national
well-being, yet beyond the reach of private exertions,—
to canals, high roads, or public institutions of any de¬
scription,—there can be no doubt surely as to the pro¬
priety of such an application.
It is evident, therefore, that the money which is ne¬
cessary for tile above purposes, forms a perfectly neces¬
sary and proper part of national expenditure. The go*
vernment of the country, indeed may, as elsewhere ob¬
served (Political Economy), economically speaking,
be considered as part of its fixed capital, essential to the
advantageous employment of tile rest. Without the se¬
curity which the labourer thence derives, of reaping the
fruits of his industry, be would have little motive to
action ; every thing would be the prey of the stroiigosf)
[ 212 ]
T AX [2
and all impulse to activity ceasing, universal poverty
,mJ would ensue. At the same time we may observe with
regard to this as to other fixed capitals, that the ex¬
pence is expedient only so far as it is necessary, and
that if the same functions can be performed at a small¬
er cost, a decided gain arises to the public. It be¬
comes therefore an important object to inquire in what
manner the offices of government may be adequately
performed, with the least burden on the people.
We have formerly, under the head of Political E-
CONOMY, slightly illustrated some leading principles re-
spectiitg public revenue. But as the subject is important,
we shall consider it here in somewhat greater detail.
Taxes may be arranged in the following manner.
1. Assessed taxes, or those which the subject is required
to pay directly into the hands of the sovereign or com¬
monwealth. Under this title are comprehended all the
taxes which bear the above name $ all income or capi¬
tation taxes, and every species of land taxes. These
taxes are almost always intended to fall upon income.
2. Taxes upon commodities, which are paid, in the first
instance, not by the consumer, but by the producer, or
importer. These taxes fall upon consumption •, the man
who does not use the articles, pays no tax. They ope¬
rate thus partly as sources of revenue, and partly as
sumptuary laws. 3. Stamp duties, or duties upon those
deeds which regulate the transference of property.
These duties fall chiefly upon capital.
r. Assessed Taxes.—Assessed taxes, according to the
above definition, seem to be the most simple and direct
mode of raising a revenue. The money comes at once
from the pockets of the people into those of the sove-
’ reign. No tax is so certain of yielding a revenue. The
1 money is demanded, and must be paid. Where pro¬
perly arranged also,, they may probably be made to fall
more equally than any other, upon the different classes,
according to their ability. In absolute governments,
therefore, and in governments little skilled in the science
of finance, these taxes are commonly preferred, as those
which can be levied with the least trouble. They have
likewise this merit that they cost little in the collection,
and consequently nearly their whole amount is brought
into the treasury.
Assessed taxes, however, are liable to many objec¬
tions. None are so heavily felt. In other cases the
tax is concealed under the price of the commodity with
1 which it confounds itself j but here the money is paid
' directly without anything in return. It must generally
too be paid in a considerable sum at once, a circum¬
stance which must often be productive of serious incon¬
venience, while the same sum, broken down into small
portions, might have been paid without difficulty. For
these reasons, much greater discontent is excited by
these taxes than by taxes upon commodities. A double
revenue perhaps, may, in the latter way, be raised with
less murmuring. In popular governments, therefore,
and in those where finance has been reduced to a system,
the object has generally been to avoid direct assessment
as much as possible. In this country, the greater part,
by far, of the revenue had been raised by taxes upon
commodities, till, within these last twenty years, the
pressure of public wants made it necessary to have re¬
course to every mode of raising money which promised
to be effectual, and thus the assessed taxes have been
raised to a very great amount. The most important
3 1 .T AX
of these taxes may be included under land tax, capita- Tax
lion taxes, house tax, and income tax. '
La?id Tax.—There is no class of men who may with
more propriety be burthened with an extraordinary
imposition, than the proprietors of land. They enjoy
commonly a liberal income, without care or trouble 0?
their own. Their property, being of permanent value,
is much preferable to any source of income which ex¬
pires with its possessor. From being local and im¬
moveable, it is peculiarly dependent on the protecting
influence of government, and may therefore be reason¬
ably called upon to contribute something more than the
common share to its support. In almost all countries,
therefore, the landholders, besides being liable to the
same burdens with the rest of the society, are subject
to a peculiar tax, called land tax.
In India and other great oriental empires, the prin¬
cipal revenue of the sovereign is derived from land. It
arises, however, not properly in the way of tax, but of
rent. The sovereign, in those absolute governments,
is judged to be the sole proprietor of all the land in his
dominions, which are let out by him or his deputy, to
the farmers. This is also the principal source of the
revenue which we derive from our East Indian posses¬
sions. It is otherwise, however, in all the European
countries. There, almost all the land is private pro¬
perty, and the contribution which government draws
from it is therefore a tax.
The adherents of the economical system have propo¬
sed to substitute a land tax in the room of every other.
They maintain that all taxes must finally fall upon the
produce of land, since it alone affords that surplus re¬
venue, out of which public contributions can be drawn.
Were this doctrine true, much trouble and expence
would doubtless be saved, exchanging the present com¬
plicated and laborious system of taxation, for one so
simple and easy. But we have already endeavoured
to show, under the head of Political Economy, that
the principles of this sect have no solid foundation 5
that manufactures and commerce are sources of wealth,
as well as agriculture, though in a somewhat inferior
degree. It will follow, therefore, that they are equal¬
ly liable to be aflected by taxation. It is in vain to
urge that the merchant must have his profit,, and th«
labourer his hire, and that otherwise they will not em¬
ploy their capital and labour. Were a tax to be impo¬
sed upon any one branch of industry, leaving the rest
untouched, there is no doubt, that wages and profit in
that branch must rise, till the merchant or labourer is
placed on a level with the rest of the community, other¬
wise he will transfer his capital and industry to some
other branch. But where the imposition falls indiscri¬
minately upon the different employments of labour and
stock, there is no such refuge; the labourer and mer¬
chant must suffer a diminution of income 5 nor is there
any process by which he can throw this diminution up¬
on the landlord.
Other persons of a much less-informed character, are
often heard urging, that we have only to lay the impo¬
sition upon the landlords; and that they will not bs
long of indemnifying themselves by raising the rent of
their lands. Such arguments will make little impres¬
sion upon those who have at all attended to the true
principles of political economy. The value of la»d3, as
of every other article,, is determined by the demand and
the
TAX [ 214 ] TAX
Taxation, the supply. A tax upon the rent of land would have
v~—J no tendency, either to increase the one, or to diminish
the other, consequently no tendency to raise the value
of land. Indeed, were we to suppose, according to this
hypothesis, that proprietors have an unlimited power of
raising their lands, whenever they are so inclined, it is
quite contrary to common sense to suppose that they
should not exert that power, without waiting for the
stimulus of a tax.
lor these reasons, land cannot, with any propriety,
he made the sole subject of taxation ; hut it is verv fair,
as above observed, that it should pay somewhat more
than other sources of revenue. A difficulty, however,
arises from the variations to which its value is subject,
sometimes on the decreasing, but more commonly on
the increasing side. The rate which, at one time, is
equitable, becomes quite otherwise at another. An at¬
tempt, on the part of government, to keep up a conti¬
nual survey of all the lands in the kingdom, would he
attended with a very heavy expence, and would, after
all, he probably fruitless. Besides, such a measure
would operate as a discouragement to the improvement
of land, when so large a share would go out of the
hands of the improver. These objections have weighed
so strongly with the legislature of this country, that they
have not ra’sed this tax, since its first imposition in the
reign of King William. It was then meant to be at
the rate of four shillings in the pound, though in fact,
it w'as by no means so much. It was also very un¬
equally distributed, even at the beginning; a serious
evil, which, however, it might have required very great
trouble to avoid. Since that time, a great and general
rise has taken place in the value of land, which has
made this tax much higher still, than when it was ori¬
ginally imposed. It has also rendered it, however, still
more unequal. Although almost all the land in Great
Britain has improved ; yet this improvement has taken
place in very different proportions, according as each
district differed in natural advantages, and in the indus¬
try of the inhabitants. The land tax accordingly is, at
the present moment, most exceedingly unequal ; but as
it fortunately happens, that there is scarcely a district
in Great Britain which has not improved more or less,
the general moderation of the tax has rendered its in¬
equality less grievous.
A method has be^n proposed of obviating this disad¬
vantage, by keeping a register, in which the landlord
and tenant shall be jointly obliged to enter the rent which
the land hears, a new entry being made at every varia¬
tion. A valuation may he made of the lands which the
proprietor keeps in his own possession. Something of
this kind, it is said, actually takes place in the Vene¬
tian territory. The discouragement to improvement in¬
deed still remains, hut even this might he obviated by
an equitable, and even liberal allowance being made,
for any sums which the landlord may satisfactorily
prove to have been expended in this way. The chief
objection to the plan seems to be the danger of collu¬
sion between the farmer and landlord, who would have
a mutual interest in representing the rent as less than it
really was. The agreement indeed might, by law, he
made obligatory on the farmer only to the extent of
the sum registered ; hut it may he doubtful, whether
even this regulation would always be an adequate secu¬
rity against fraud. The valuations would necessarily
depend a good deal upon the discretion of the revenue
officer ; which, in an arbitrary government at least,
might become-a serious objection. The additional ex¬
pence of such a plan would be considerable ; but, pro¬
vided it could be made to answer the purpose, this ought
not to deter from its adoption.
Frederick of Prussia imposed a higher tax upon lands
held by a noble, than upon those held by a base tenure.
He conceived that the privileges and flattering advan¬
tages of nobility were such as to compensate for this,
additional charge. We are rather disposed to consider
this proceeding as severe. A nobleman, with the same
income, is poorer than a commoner, because he has a
greater rank to support ; and in the present state of
Europe, a great proportion of the nobility are extreme¬
ly poor. This extreme, however, is much better than
that of France before the revolution, of the Austrian
states, and of most of the old governments of Europe.
I here the nobility, possessing the chief influence in the
administration, had obtained for themselves liberal ex¬
emptions, and thrown the principal weight of this, as
of other taxes, upon the inferior orders. In Sardinia,
and in some provinces of France, lands held by a noble
tenure paid nothing whatever.
Some taxes upon land are proportioned, not to its
rent, but to its produce. This is the case in the Asiatic
countries. In China, a tenth, and in India, a fifth cf
the whole produce of the land, are claimed by govern¬
ment. In England and Ireland, the church is support¬
ed by a tax of this kind, which is called tithe.
'I hese taxes are liable to two very great objections.
They are, in the first place, unequal. It is rent-only
that can he the proper subject of taxation ; that part of
the produce which is necessary to pay the expence of cul¬
tivation, ought to remain untouched. But this expence
is far greater in poor than in rich lands. In the
former, perhaps, the produce may he little more than
sufficient to pay the expences incurred ; while in rich
lands not only the necessity of labour is less, hut the
produce greater. If, by well employed capital, and
costly cultivation, the farmer succeeds in extracting to¬
lerable crops from an ungrateful soil, it is both ciuel
and unjust that he should he obliged to pay as much as
if he had no such obstacle to struggle with.
But if this tax he objectionable on the ground of
equity, it is still more so, on that of expediency. The
first excitement to labour and improvements of every
kind, must undoubtedly he the prospect of enjoying
their fruits. Where the rate of taxation is fixed, this
prospect remains unimpaired ; for whatever addition the
proprietor or farmer can, by such means, make to the
produce of his land, is all his own. But the case i*
very different, when it must he so deeply shared in by
persons who have clone nothing to forward this increase
of produce. A sovereign prince indeed may derive,
from such an arrangement, some motive to encourage
agriculture, and improve the means of communication,
so as to raise the value of its produce. But this advan-
tage, which will scarcely ever counterbalance the at¬
tendant evils, disappears altogether, when this imposi¬
tion is to be paid for the support of an ecclesiastical
body. These, being only life-renters, and seldom pos¬
sessed of much capital, cannot be expected to co-operate
in
TAX [ 2
aifrt. in any measure for the improvement of the lands. The
v—'jarrings too, which are likely to take place between
the pastor and his flock, form a moral argument against
this mode of support.
It must not he concealed, however, that a permanent
commutation of tithes would he a measure little favour¬
able to the interests of the clergy. It seems both just
to themselves, and advantageous to the public, that
when the country is in a state of improvement, this
body should not be left behind ; it should be able to
keep pace with the other members of the society. This
it can never do, if it has merely a certain fixed sum al¬
lotted for its maintenance, without the possibility of
augmentation. Ibis evil has, in lact, been seriously
felt in the church of Scotland, the income of whose
members, notwithstanding all that has been done for
their relief, is still very inferior to what it was thirty or
lorty years ago. A source of income, which rises or
falls with the value of land, seems the most effectual
mode of maintaining this proportion between the in¬
come of the clergy, and of the rest of the society; we
need not, therefore, wonder, that the clergy should be
I so tenacious of it.
To reconcile these contrarieties, would certainly be
attended with difficulty ; yet it does not seem to be ab¬
solutely impossible. The first object would be, to trans¬
fer the tax from the produce to the rent. This might
be done by forming a correct estimate, on an average of
| a few years, ol the value of the tithe 5 and then assign-
j ing a claim to such a proportion of the rent, as would
be equal to that value. This would remove all discou-
, ragements to the exertion of the cultivator. Those
which press against the exertions of the landlord would
I indeed remain in full force, though without any increase.
In most cases, these exertions would be of very small
importance, when compared with those of the former.
1 But, besides, a scheme might probably be contrived si*
milar to that above suggested, by which the landlord
might receive an adequate allowance for any improve¬
ments he might make.
lire ground-rent of houses forms part of the rent of
iand. In remote country situations, it is often no more
than the same land wrould yield, if employed for the
purposes ol agriculture. But in the vicinity, and still
! more in the heart of a great town, competition, and
j the value attached by convenience or fashion to some
particular situations, raise tins rent to a very extrava¬
gant height.
Ground-rent seems to be a still more proper subject
of taxation than that of common land. It arises com¬
monly from circumstances entirely independent of any
care or attention on the part of the proprietor. Yet
ground rents have never been considered as a separate
subject of taxation. This has probably been from the
difficulty of distinguishing them from the building rent,
in every tax upon houses, however, part must fall up¬
on the ground rent, provided that be able to bear it.
By diminishing the demand for houses, it will diminish
“ So the demand for ground to build them on.
Capitation or Poll Taxes,—afford one of the easiest
and more obvious modes of taxation. To lay an assess¬
ment upon every individual without exception, seems
1 le effectual mode of preventing all trouble, and
caving no room for evasion. In most of the absolute
6<tvernments, where the sovereign does not claim the
15 ] TAX
sole property of the lands, as in Turkey and Russia, poll
tax' s are imposed in lieu of land tax.
I he rudest form of this imposition is, when it is
laid equally upon every individual. An equality of this
kind is the most grievous inequality. To make the
poorest subject pay as much as the richest, is palpably
unjust. Ihe only case, where such a tax can be pro¬
per, is where it falls upon slaves. In this case, it is
paid, not by the slave, but by the master. The num¬
ber of slaves forms the most accurate test of the value
of his property ; and accordingly, in Russia, an estate
is described, not by the number of acres, but by the
number of slaves which it contains. This tax has also
the good property of encotiraginir manumission. In
all other cases, such a tax can only be rendered toler¬
able by its extreme moderation.
Nations were not long of perceiving the preposterous
nature of this arrangement, and of seeking to substitute
some more equitable one in its place. Fortune was evi¬
dently the most correct standard to proceed upon ; but
a close inquisition into private concerns was conceived to
be burdensome and oppressive, If each individual were
to report his own fortune, could the report be trusted
to r1 If, on the other hand, the assessment were to be
regulated by the oflicers of government, according to
what they supposed to be his wealth, a door was opened
to vexatious and arbitrary proceedings. In order to a-
void these opposite dangers, it lias been common to re¬
gulate the contribution according to the rank of the con-
tubutor, which it is supposed will bear at least a certain
proportion to his fortune. This w'as the case with the
different poll taxes imposed in this country during the
reign of King William. It was the case also in France
with regard to that part of the taille which fell upon the
nobility. It is extremely unequal; for many men of
rank have no fortune corresponding; and where it so
happens, their rank impoverishes them, by the expence
which is requisite for its support. Yet, as rank affords
a certain approximation to fortune, it is certainly better
to fix it according to that standard, than to leave it to
the arbitrary appointment of the officers of government.
Inequality is a less evil than uncertainty.
In that part of the taille which fell upon the inferior
orders, the latter mode was adopted. This tax was the
subject perhaps of more grievous discontent, than any
other which yielded an equal revenue. It cannot be
supposed that the intendant should not be often swayed
by motives of favouritism, private interest, or private re¬
sentment 5 and the very uncertainty to which the people
were exposed, formed a severe hardship. 'I hey ween
tempted to conceal their wealth, and even to employ in¬
adequate instruments of trade or agriculture, in order
to deceive the watchful eye of the intendant.
Plonse 'lax.—In order to avoid the defects incident to
the above modes of assessment, rent of houses has been
fixed upon as affording the best criterion of the amount
of a man’s income. It certainly affords a tolerable cri¬
terion of his expenditure ; and though this may often
differ considerably from his means, yet as it is rather
the object of government to discourage profuse expendi¬
ture, there may be no harm in such inequality.
rlhe most equitable mode of taxing bouses, would
evidently be in the proportion of their rent. In this
country, accordingly, part of the land tax is made to
fall upon the rent of houses. This branch of the laad
tax
Taxation.
TAX [21
tax is subject to the same inequalities, both original ami
acquired, as the other branches. The assessment, not
upon each house, but upon each district, continues in¬
variably the same. In general, it is still higher than
upon land. The value of houses, however, has not
risen so invariably as that of land j hence, in some
districts where the population has decreased, the tax
falls with considerable weight. Since that time another
tax has been imposed upon houses which is in propor¬
tion to the rent, and varies with it. The heaviest tax
upon houses, however, is now that which is regulated
by the number of windows.
At the time of the original imposition of the house
tax, it seems to have been considered difficult or impos¬
sible to ascertain and follow the fluctuations of the rent.
Some obvious and undeniable circumstance, connected
with the very form and construction of the house, was
therefore selected. The most ancient is the number of
hearths. Hearth money is a very ancient duty, and
seems to have existed even before the Conquest. Under
Charles II. a tax of two shillings on all hearths was
granted to the crown for ever. This tax was grievous
to the people, on account of the domiciliary visits to
which it necessarily subjects them. It had besides the
worst kind of inequality, pressing harder on the poor
than the rich. A man of 2ol. a-year may have two
.hearths j a man of 20o\. not above four or five. A man
of 1000I. will scarcely have ten. Hearth money, there¬
fore, was abolished at the'Revolution. In its stead was
afterwards substituted the window tax, which could be
ascertained without entering the house of the contribu¬
tor. It was soon found, however, to be liable to the
.same inequality as hearth money. In consideration of
this, the rate was greatly increased with the increase of
the number of windows, and houses having less than six
were entirely exempted. If, however, as would rather
appear, the rent can be ascertained in a satisfactory
manner, it would seem better to lay the whole of the
house tax upon it directly, rather than by any circuitous
and doubtful mode.
There are two parts of house rent j the ground rent,
or that which is given for the use of the ground on
which the house stands; and the building rent, which
is paid to the builder, as a remuneration for his trouble
and expence. The ground rent, as above observed,
must pay a share of the tax ; but the building rent can¬
not be affected by it. The builder must have his profit,
otherwise he would turn his capital and industry into an¬
other direction. This rule, however, is somewhat modi¬
fied by the very durable nature of the subject. When
the tax is first imposed, it is very probable that the sup¬
ply of houses may continue for some time nearly ade¬
quate to the demand’, in which case the proprietor must
lower his price in order to get his houses let. As the
old houses decay, however, new ones are wanted, which
will not be built without an adequate remuneration j
and thus the general law will again operate.
Income Tax.—The object of all the different assessed
taxes is to make the subject contribute an equitable pro¬
portion of his income to the expences of the state. But
those which we have above enumerated, though they
may procure an approximation to this point, can never
attain it.with perfect precision. If therefore an income
tax, established on just principles, could be collected
•without any farther grievances, than the always una-
6 ] TAX
voidable payment of the contribution, it would certainly
be the most equitable assessment of any, and might with 1—
propriety supersede all other taxes of this description.
Serious, however, are the difficulties which attend it.
The correctness of the estimate must always depend, in
a great measure, on the honour of the contributors j but
all men are not honest; and the cheating of the king,
is, according to the popular code, so venial an offence,
that accurate returns cannot, in all cases, be expected.
If, on the.other hand, tiie collectors, as in the French
taillc, take upon themselves to form this estimate, a door
is opened to arbitrary and oppressive exactions. I he
impossibility also of escaping the tax by any species ol
privation makes its weight more sensibly felt, than in
those which are in any degree voluntary. I'or all these
reasons, an income tax has hitherto been among the last
resources to which a nation has had recourse in its ex-
tremest necessity.
Most of the capitation taxes, as formerly observed,
partook more or less ol the nature of the income tax.
The subsidies, so frequent in our early finance, were,
like the iaille, composed, partly according to rank, and
partly according to fortune. Among the nobility, aliena¬
tion of estates was yet rare, and the disproportion be¬
tween rank and wealth much greater than in subsequent
times. The estimate of income seems to have been
made by the collectors. Such impositions, however,
were ill brooked by a free and turbulent people; the
subsidies became more and more unproductive; and at
last were entirely given up. The first was imposed
under Richard II. in 1370 ; the last under Charles II.
in 1673.
In some small republican states, a tax of this kind is
levied, the amount of which is entirely regulated by the
good faith of the contributor. At Hamburgh every ci¬
tizen is said to have placed in the public coffers a sum,
which is declared upon oath to be one fourth per cent,
of his whole property, which, reckoning interest at five
per cent, would be one twentieth of his income. It was
not supposed that this mode of collection gave occasion
to any fraud. The good faith of the people and their
confidence in their government, supplied the place of
compulsory laws. The secrecy was considered necessary
by a mercantile state; but in some of the small Swiss
republics, every citizen declared publicly upon oath the
amount of his income, and was assessed accordingly.
Such unsuspected good faith could only exist in these
small states, where patriotism W'as ardent, and the con¬
fidence of the people in their government entire.
Since the discontinuance of subsidies, nothing of tins
kind had been attempted in Britain, till the year 179^’
when the accumulating weight of public debt suggested
to Mr Pitt the necessity of raising a large portion oi
the supplies within the year. For this purpose, there
appeared a necessity for having recourse to an income
tax ; and so strong a sense was entertained by the na¬
tion of the pressing nature of the exigency, that it was
submitted to with less reluctance than might have beea
expected. t .
An attempt was at first made to connect this imposi¬
tion with the former assessed taxes. These were to e
tripled; but if any person was able to prove, that this
charge amounted to more than a tenth of his incoW**
he was relieved from all which exceeded that propot
tion. At the same time, a voluntary subscription wf
opened)
TAX [2
-au-v opened ; but the produce, though honourable to national
-y — patriotism, aftorded but a slender supply to public wants.
'Ihese irregular and uncertain approximations towards
an income tax were soon given up, and their place sup¬
plied by the tax itself, in its own shape.
lo obviate the inconveniences of disclosure or arbi¬
trary assessment, measures have been adopted, as effec¬
tual probably as any that could be devised. The com¬
missioners of income tax are chosen by the treeholders
of the county, or by the electors in a borough, in the
same manner as a member of parliament, excepting that
a smaller qualification is requisite. To the office of
these commissioners, public opinion attaches a certain
dignity, which makes it be performed gratuitously, and
by the most distinguished persons in the distiict. These
are, by oath, bound to secrecy. Ihe statements are
given, in the first instance, by the contributor; but if
the commissioners are not satisfied with his return, they
can require from him satisfactory explanations. Accor¬
ding to the sources of income, the person is assessed at
the amount of one year, or at an average of three years.
The result of these regulations seems to have been such
as to obviate, almost entirely, the chief inconveniences
attached to this mode of taxation. I he simple payment
of the income tax indeed, is most grievously complained
of; but the accessories of disclosure, or arbitrary assess¬
ment, which were considered as presenting unsurmount-
i able obstacles to this measure, scarcely seem to be com¬
plained of at all.
The most important consideration in such a tax re¬
lates to the proportion in which it should be paid by the
i different members of the community. That the lowest
J orders, who subsist by the labour of their hands, ought
j to be exempted, seems universally agreed. This would
produce the same effect as a tax upon the necessaries
of life, the effects of which we shall d<scuss hereafter.
But independent of this class, an equal imposition upon
the higher and middling classes of the community would
be extreme inequality. The larger the income, the less
of it must be spent upon necessaries or common conve¬
niences, and the more upon objects of mere show and
ostentation. These last can certainly admit more easily
of retrenchment; and as the opulent have a greater
^ stake in the country, it seems reasonable that they
should contribute somewhat more in a season of public
exigency. A gradation continually augmenting, such as
, takes place in most of the other assessed taxes, seems
J to be strongly called for in this. The full proportion of
ten per cent, was, from the first, imposed upon incomes
ot 200I. a-year, and ti ough this was infinitely too low,
yet at a subsequent period (in i8c6) it was brought
town to 150I. 'I his sum, according to the present rate
of expence is the very lowest at which any family in
tie middling rank can possibly be supported. The
whole of this class, therefore, a class which has so many
claims to the favour of the legislature, is assessed to the
'e,y sanie amount as the highest classes. The first
conveniences of life are taxed at the same rate as its
most s-uperfbjous luxuries, Certainly J oool.ua-year
ought to be the first income liable to the very heavy
e large of 10 per cent. ; and the deficiency lienfce arising
migit be very fairly supplied by an increase, gradually
augmenting, upon incomes above that amount. Fifteen
per cent, perhaps, ought to be the utmost that it ever
loaeto; but tins charge might doubtless be more easily
vOL. XX. PartL
17] TAX
supported by an income of io,occl. a-year, than half of Taxatjou.
it by one of 200I. or 30c!. —*—y—j
Modifications ougiit also to take place, according to
the source from which the income is derived. That
which arises from capital is undoubtedly of greater value
than mere professional income, it does not expire with
rts possessor ; it relieves him from the care and anxiety
of laying up a provision for his family, and allows him
to spend his whole income, when, to another person, it
would be the most culpable imprudence. Of all species
of capital, land seems to be the most valuable and dur¬
able. It stands also most in need of the protection of
the state. It generally, too, comes to its possessor by-
inheritance, and is not the fiuit of his own industry.
With regard to money, although its value F still much
superior to salaries or professional profits, yet it seems
rather to be the policy of government to favour its ac¬
cumulation, which a very great addition of charge mieht
discourage. Money besides is a more moveable species
of property than land, or even than professional income.
If heavily taxed, the proprietor might withdraw into
another country, and his capital, with the industry which
it supported, be thus lost to the community.
Tf be present tax makes no distinction between income
which dies with its possessor, and income arising IrOtn
land or capital. Yet such a distinction, if it appeared
eligible, might easily be made under the present system
of collection, which demands a statement, not only of
the amount of income, but of the source from which it
arises. The propriety, however, of such a charge de¬
mands some consideration. Land, it is true, is well
able to bear a considerable share of the public burthens.
But land, in this country, and in almost every other, is
the subject of a peculiar tax, over and above what is
paid by income arising from other sources. If therefore
it were also to pay a greater proportion of the income
tax, the pressure might become unjustly sfevere. The
land tax in this country amounts to about two millions.
Were we to suppose the share of the income paid by
land to amount to 5,000,000!. (a large allowance), land
would then pay fourteen percent, which seems as much
as can reasonably be exacted. No such burden, at
least in any sensible degree, falls upon stock ; but for
the reasons above stated, the propriety of taxing it hea¬
vily seems somewhat equivocal.
According to the original bill, as proposed by Mr
Pitt, very liberal exemptions were granted on account
of children. To encourage marriage and the rearing
of families, has been generally considered by legislators
as an important object. From some recent speculations,
however, it has appeared doubtful whether it be desir¬
able to remove the obstacles to marriage which arise
from the difficulty of subsistence. Whether from these
views, or for the mere wish of rendering the tax more
productive, this exemption has been gradually circum¬
scribed. i he last regulation made respecting it seems
to be of a very capricious nature. An allowance of
four per cent, is given, but only for the number of
children exceeding two. This allowance besides is
given, not out of the income tax itself, but out of the
assessed taxes. As this tax was entirely a war fax, its
abolition was strongly called for after the close of the
lute war, and was carried in 1816, though opposed by
the ministry.
Other Assessed Taxes—A considerable revenue is raised
E e
T A X
in this country by'taxes on men servants, pleasure horses,
carriages, dogs, &c. These are all luxuries, the use of
which is confined to the most opulent classes ; they form,
therefore, extremely proper subjects of taxation. The
income tax indeed, modified as above stated, might per¬
haps come instead of all such taxes ; but while that tax
favours the higher above the middling classes, these in
question tend to remedy that inequality. One assess¬
ment, however, is of a different nature j that upon la¬
bouring horses. It is not likely, and certainly could
never be intended, that this tax should restrain the use
of these indispensable instruments of agriculture. Nei¬
ther can the duty fall upon the farmer, who, in all cases,
must have his profits. To secure this, he must pay the
less rent, in proportion as he pays the more tax; and
this duty will finally operate as a land tax. It does
not seem, however, to have any advantages above a di¬
rect assessment of the same nature. It will bear hard
upon the farmer who is in the middle of his lease at
the time of its being imposed. If at all heavy, it may
have some tendency to limit the use of such horses, and
to encourage inferior substitutes. The tax was first
laid at 2s. and was justified only by its extreme light¬
ness. It was then gradually raised to 14s. j but a pro-
posal to raise it still higher was thrown out by parlia¬
ment, and has never been again revived.
2. Taxes upon Commodities.—The experience of the
discontent excited by direct assessments, and of the dif¬
ficulty of proportioning them equally, led to the impo¬
sition of taxes on consumable commodities. These be¬
ing laid in the first instance on the commodity at the
time of its production or importation, are finally paid
by the consumer in the increased price of his goods.
No taxes are so little felt, or excite so little discontent.
The duty, mingling with the price of the goods, is con¬
founded with it. 5 and, unless when the tax is first im¬
posed, and a sudden rise in consequence takes place, the
great mass of the people are even ignorant, how much
of what they pay goes to government, and how much
constitutes the mere price of the goods. The payment
is also made in the most convenient manner, and may
be divided into the smallest portions. The power of
not paying by ceasing to consume the article taxed, goes
a great way in supressing murmurs. Thus, indeed,
those whose expence does not keep pace with their for¬
tunes, pay an unequal share of the common contribution.
But as the law is generally disposed to recommend eco¬
nomy, it will not perhaps consider this as a serious ob¬
jection.
For these reasons, the modern system of finance, par¬
ticularly in this country, where it is so much an object
to avoid discontent, has shewn a decided favour to this
mode of raising a revenue. And perhaps, upon the
whole, they are the best of any j yet the evils with which
they are attended are by no means inconsiderable.
I. These taxes take more out of the pocket of the
people, in proportion to what they put in that of the
public, than any other. This arises from the extensive
and minute superintendance which is necessary for their
proper collection. For this purpose, a number of officers
must be kept, whose salaries form a serious deduction
from the produce. In Smith’s time, this expence amount¬
ed to above 54 per cent, on the duties of excise, and
above 10 per cent, on those of customs. The great
TAX
augmentation of revenue which has taken place since
that time, has been produced more by an increase of
duty on articles formerly taxed, than by the introduc¬
tion of new subjects of taxation. The expence of col¬
lection, however, bears still a larger proportion to the
amount collected, than either in the stamps or assessed
taxes.
There is another way, in which the burden of these
taxes is rendered heavier on the public. The merchant
or producer advances the tax, often a considerable time
before he can dispose of the article. He must therefore
have not only indemnification to the amount of the duty,
but also profit oa the advance which he has made. It
is universally observed, that when a new tax is imposed,
the article rises more than in proportion to it. The
public commonly murmur, and complain that the mer¬
chant has merely made the tax a pretence for this dis¬
proportionate increase in the price of his article. The
truth is, however, that the merchant has a reasonable
claim to receive the same profit on that part of his ca¬
pital, which he has employed in advancing the tax, as
upon that which he employed in the original purchase
of the commodity.
2. Though the collection of these taxes is less griev¬
ous to the great mass of the people, yet it falls heavier
on certain classes. These are the dealers in exciseable
commodities. As evasion is much easier here than in
assessed taxes, a more grinding system of superintendance
becomes requisite. The tax-gatherer must have con¬
tinual access to every part, not only of the workshop,
but even of the private house, of the dealer in them.
No time, no place, can be exempt from his visits. The
power with which he is invested may also, if he be so
disposed, give occasion to insolence at least, if not to op¬
pression. Now, as the dealers in these commodities form
a part, and even a pretty numerous part of the society,
any hardship falling upon them must be a considerable
evil. It is felt, besides, though not directly, by the rest
of the society. It has already been observed, under the
head of Political Economy, that every disagreeable
circumstance attendant on any profession, necessarily
raises the rate of wages and profit in that profession. It
cannot be supposed, that the dealers in these commodi¬
ties will submit to the hardships we have noticed with¬
out claiming some indemnification in the price of their
goods. Thus the first inconvenience will be augment¬
ed, and still more will be taken from the people, with¬
out any addition to the revenue of the public.
3. These taxes give birth to the trade of smuggling,
a trade at once injurious to the public, and ruinous to
the individual. Unfortunately the lax state of public
morals, in regard to this point offers a strong temptation
to grasp at the extraordinary profits which smuggling
affords 5 and from the same cause, the produce of such
traffic, when successful, is always sure of a ready sale.
This trade, however, in the end, generally ruins not only
the fortune, but also the morals of him by whom d
is pursued. It trains to the practice of falsehood, per¬
jury, and other vices, without which it cannot be car¬
ried on with any chance of success.
4. Such taxes always alter more or less, the natural,
and consequently the most advantageous direction of na¬
tional industry. The tax upon wine must diminish the
consumption of that article, and consequently the in¬
dustry
L 218 ]
TAX [2
cton. d'istry employed in producing it. Wine indeed is not
~ a commodity ot British production ; but it must be pur¬
chased with British commodities, and if the merchant
cannot import it, neither can he afford a market for
these British articles which were to he given in exchange
lor it. Dr Smith seems to imagine, that these taxes
produce an absolute defalcation in the amount of na¬
tional produce a supposition in which we are inclined
to differ Irom him. Although there is a diminution in
the demand for this particular article ; yet as the sum
levied is not withdrawn from the national expenditure,
but is merely transferred from one class of persons to
another, it must still support a demand, if not for the
same, at least for some other species of commodities.
Thus the public will suffer chiefly from the inconve¬
niences attendant on the change. Other restraints, how¬
ever, for which there is no such compensation, are ne¬
cessarily attendant on the collection of such duties. In
order to render this efficacious, regulations must often
be made, as to the manner in which the trade is to be
carried on j and it is always to be apprehended, that
governments will be more attentive to the security of
the revenue, than to the ease of the public. In arbi¬
trary and unenlightened governments, this propensity
becomes often so powerful, as to throw the most formid¬
able oijstacles in the way of that free circulation of com¬
modities on which the prosperity of trade, and of all in¬
dustry, essentially depends.
I I he commodities on which these duties are imposed,
may be either the necessaries or the luxuries of life. Be¬
tween these two divisions the line is not easily drawn.
Necessaries, strictly speaking, are confined to those
things, without which life cannot be supported or health
i preserved. Yet, though the philosopher may reason
thus, the sovereign cannot confine his people within
such strict limits. In regard to food indeed, which is
entirely a domestic arrangement, this definition may
, hold 5 but in clothing and lodging, the arrangements of
| which are in the eye ot the public, long custom may
impose obligations of decency and propriety, which fall
little short of absolute necessity. Every thing, in this
respect, must be considered as necessary, which a com¬
mon labouring person ot the lowest class cannot want,
without incurring the reproach, or exciting the com-
j miseration, of others in the same station.
laxes upon the necessaries of life have the same effect
with taxes upon the wages of labour. Dr Smith, and
most other writers, seem to conceive that the immediate
effect of such taxes is to raise the wages of labour. But
we do not see that such can be the case. Nothing can
raise the vyages of labour, except an augmentation of the
funds destined for its support. But these funds, far from
raised by such taxes, are somewhat diminished,
ihe employers of the poor, being themselves affected
by them, will be less able to pay wages than before,
t is quite a fallacy to urge, that the labourer, if he
oes not get sufficient wages, will refuse to work. This
might be, if the tax affected only a certain class of la¬
bourers, and left the rest free. The labourer, if be could
not, over and above the tax, obtain the regular standard
iate, would withdraw to other employments. The con¬
sequence would be, a rise of the wages of the taxed la-
I our» with a slight fall in those of every other, propor-
ioned to the additional number who would thus be
I0'vn uPoa if* But where the tax falls equally upon
19 ] TAX
labour of every description, as taxes upon the necessaries
of life must do, there is no new quarter to which the
labourer can turn j there is nothing either to raise or
to lower wages ; the supply of and demand for labour
continue the same. The effect of the tax is merely to
diminish the subsistence of the labourer in proportion
to its amount.
This, however, is merely the first effect j for the di¬
minished subsistence will soon begin to act upon the po¬
pulation, which furnishes the supply of labour. Were
wages at the time so low as to furnish merely the ne¬
cessaries of life according to the first definition, that is,
such necessaries as it could not subsist without, the ine¬
vitable consequence seems to be, that part of the labour-
ing poor must perish for want. Such a calamitous ef¬
fect seems actually to result, in the crowded population
of some eastern empires, when a deficient crop produces
a scarcity of subsistence. Happily, however, the la¬
bouring poor are seldom so wholly without resource. In
general the wages are sufficient to allow them a portion
of the other description of necessaries, and even of lux¬
uries, by retrenching which, they can, in the event of
such a tax, preserve themselves from absolute starvation.
In the end, however, the discouragement to marriage,
and difficulty of rearing children, will reduce the po¬
pulation. This reduction, diminishing the supply of la¬
bour, will increase wages, till they cover the amount of
the tax. The same sum, divided among a smaller num¬
ber, will make more to each.
High wages operate as a complete tax upon every
species of manufactured produce. The manufacturer'
must charge upon the price of his goods the whole sum
which he has paid to his workmen with a profit. In
the market of the world, therefore, lie must, ccetcris pa¬
ribus, be undersold by the manufacturer who resides in
a country where labour is cheaper. When these high
prices, however, are the result of national prosperity,
when they improve the subsistence of the labourer, and
lay a foundation for increased population, this disadvan¬
tage will weigh very light in the balance. But where
they are the result of diminished population, and at¬
tended with no improvement in the condition of the la¬
bouring poor, they form one of the greatest evils with
which a nation can be afflicted.
lor these reasons, taxes upon the necessaries of life,
though certainly productive, have always been found to
be oppressive and ruinous to the prosperity of a state.
Luxuries, therefore, form the proper objects of taxation.
As every one, if unable to purchase bis usual quantity,
can either diminish it or abstain altogether, the rise of
the article has no tendency to induce such a degree of
want, as to check population, and thus cause a rise to
the wages of labour. This power of abstinence may
indeed lead to a certain inequality j but as this inequa¬
lity is altogether voluntary, it can neither excite mur¬
muring, nor be considered as a serious hardship. The
greatest irregularity is in the case of absentees, by whom
such taxes are evaded altogether.
It is not, however, we must observe, from the mere
luxuries of shew and ostentation that any important or
permanent revenue is to be drawn. These are confined
chiefly to persons of large fortune, who are few in num¬
ber, and are always subject to the influence of fashion,
so that little dependence can be placed on their regular
consumption* Hie luxuries from ivhich alone a great
E e 2 revenue
T AX [ 220 ] T A X
Taxation, revenue can be drawn are those which, among the higher
! vr- i and middling classes, have come to be considered almost
as necessaries, and which are extensively used by such as
are in easy circumstances, even among the lower orders.
The only drink necessary for supporting the human
constitution in perfect health, seems to he pure water.
Men, however, have an universal propensity for some¬
thing more, both to gratify their taste, and to exhilarate
their spirits. Fermented and spirituous liquors, tea,
coffee, &c. are had recourse to with this view, and are
habitually used in various forms and degrees, by almost
every inhabitant of this country. Such articles form
therefore the grand basis of this system of taxation.
Of all superfluities, tea seems to be one of the great¬
est. It affords neither nourishment nor strength, and
;s generally considered by physicians as injurious to the
human constitution. Being imported besides from a re¬
mote country, the intercourse with which was, by the
mercantile system, stigmatized as injurious, it was con¬
sidered as every way a fair subject of taxation. Very
high duties were accordingly accumulated upon it,
which, in 1783, amounted to nearly 30 per cent, on the
value, besides an excise of is. on every pound. It was
found that so high a duty opened a wide door to the
smuggling of a commodity of so smail hulk, and which
was then imported in large quantities by all the neigh¬
bouring countries. It was calculated, that though duty
was paid on five or six millions of pounds, the consump¬
tion of Great Britain amounted to more than double
that quantity. A plan was therefore brought forward
by Mr Pitt to substitute in its room an additional tax
on windows. Smuggling was no doubt checked, and
the people were, on the whole, gainers; yet the new
tax, being assessed, was more heavily felt by the public
than its px-edecessor, which was only a duty on consump¬
tion. Since that time, the exigency of the times has
made it again necessary to have recourse to this ar¬
ticle ; and the tax upon tea has been raised even high¬
er than it was previous to the commutation tax. Ihe
diminution, however, of the Indian trade carried on by
the other powers, joined to the stricter precautions a-
gainst smuggling, has prevented its renerval to nearly
the same extent as formerly. TLobaceo is a still more
complete superfluity than tea, yet its use is very exten-.
sive. It has therefore been justly considered as one of
the properest of all subjects of taxation, and duties have
been laid upon it, amounting to five or six times the
original value of the article.
Wine is the wholesomest of all fermented liquors,
and is even pretty extensively used as a medicine. These
circumstances might seem to entitle it to some favour,
which, however, it has not experienced. Being entire¬
ly a foreign commodity, and being particularly cultiva¬
ted by a nation long the object of our commercial jea¬
lousy, it has incurred the decided hostility of the mer¬
cantile system. Duties have been imposed, consider¬
ably exceeding the original value. A preference has
also been shewn to the wines of Portugal and Spain,
(though inferior in quality), which has rendered them
the common drink of this country.
Spirits are an article extensively consumed in this
country, and on which a high duty may, with the
greatest propriety, be imposed, for the purposes not on¬
ly of revenue, hut of moral regulation. They afford no
apurishmenf, and gre in the highest degree liable to
abuse. They are affected by the general tax on malt; Taxati.
hut pay, besides, a considerable one when mamifactu-' V'-
red. In order to obviate the smuggling which was car¬
ried to a great extent in the making of spirits, it has
been found advisable to lay the duty on the still, in pro¬
portion to its contents. It is paid by the month ; and
the distiller, when he chooses at any time to intermit
his operations for that period, may, by giving due no¬
tice to the officers of revenue, avoid being charged. i
When this plan was first adopted, the duty was com¬
paratively very low. But Mr Pitt soon found him¬
self completely deceived as to the productiveness of
this rate of duty. It was raised therefore successively
to 162I. its present rate. This system lays the distiller
under a temptation to work very rapidly, which is sup¬
posed to be injurious to the quality of the spirits. It
obliges them also to work without intermission, which
they did at first without even the exception of Sunday,
till that practice was prohibited by the legislature. It
may he proper to notice, that this mode of imposition
is confined to Scotland, and that in England it is laid
upon the wmrt or wrash.
Fermented liquors from malt are much more useful.
They are the most nutritive perhaps of any species of
drink, and are on that account well suited to those who
are engaged in hard labour. Neither do they offer the
same temptations to excess; yet their extensive use, and
the necessity of raising a revenue, have led the legisla¬
ture to consider them as a staple subject of taxation, and
they are now charged with a duty of nearly 100 per
cent. Dr Smith advises the transference of the whole tax
on beer to the malt tax. The latter appears to he less
liable to smuggling, and it obviates the present exemp¬
tion enjoyed by private brewers, which is evidently un¬
reasonable and unequal. The only objection seems to
he, that, being imposed at an earlier period of the ma¬
nufacture, it obliges the manufacturer to lie longer out
of his advance, and consequently to demand a greater
profit; though this might perhaps he obviated by al¬
lowing him a longer credit. The additional taxes,
however, imposed upon this article, have been all laid
upon beer or porter. In general, it would appear that
considerable unnecessary trouble is occasioned by taxing
successively different stages of a manufacture. By lay¬
ing the whole either upon malt, or upon beer, a consi¬
derable expence of collection might be saved, without
any diminution of the produce.
There are many species of food which cannot, strictly
speaking, be considered as necessaries of life, since their
place can he supplied by some less expensive substitute.
Butcher meat can he supplied by eggs, butter, and
other products of milk ; wheaten bread by other bread
of inferior grains. It may he observed, however, that
the imposition of a tax on the superior article would
produce an increased demand for the inferior ; and con¬
sequently raise its price. Accordingly, both butcher
meat and wheaten bread are universally numbered
among the necessaries of life ; nor do we recollect, in
the British system of taxation, an instance of solid food
liable to duty. This is not the case in other countries,
particularly in Holland. Heavy taxes are there impo¬
sed upon both articles. All butcher meat pays a duty
of more than 7 per cent, of its value. All cattle, be¬
sides, pay about 5s. per annum. The lax upon ground
corn is also very heavy and undistinguishing. Wheat
TAX [ ;
l!, pays 104 florins (nearly 9!.) per last. Nor are the in-
—• lerior grains entirely exempted. liye pays 42 florins
(about 3I. I os.) ; barley, beans, and oats, about 2I.
Smith is not disposed to censure these heavy impositions,
as they may have been rendered necessary by the long
wars in which this people were engaged for the support
of their independence; and when proper subjects of tax¬
ation are exhausted, recourse must be had to improper
ones. Upon examining the list, however, of Dutch
taxes, we do not find that the taxes upon articles of
luxury are so very high, as to have reduced the legisla¬
tors of that country to such an extremity. The excise
upon the aam of wine, equal to 40 English gallons, is
only 14 florins, or about il. 5s. Tobacco, so fair an
article of taxation, and so much used in Holland, is
taxed only by a slight license, estimated at little more
than a halfpenny a pound. Beer and spirits are taxed
still more moderately than wine. Besides, even suppo¬
sing all the articles of luxury to be exhausted, we should
conceive it more advisable to have recourse to assess¬
ments upon income to the necessary extent, than to
duties upon articles of necessity. Accordingly, in this
country, a larger revenue in proportion to the popula¬
tion, is now raised than ever was raised in Holland,
without having recourse to these ruinous resources.
Clothes and furniture are, to a certain extent, as
much necessaries of life as food. The quantity of
them, however, which comes under this description, is
much less ; by far the greater part of the expence which
I is laid out in this way being for the purpose of conve¬
nience at most, if not of mere shew and ostentation.
There seems therefore no reason for sparing any, beyond
1 those plainest articles which decency demands from the
j lowest of the people. This class of commodities, how-
' ever, has met with peculiar indulgence, in consequence
of the favour entertained by the mercantile system for
manufactures of every kind. Woollens and hardwares,
the two staples of England, have been completely ex¬
empted. The same favour has been shown to linen,
the staple of the sister kingdoms. Yet, provided a cor¬
responding drawback were allowed on exportation, there
does not appear any good reason why the finer sorts of
all these fabrics should not be made a subject of revenue.
Printed linens and cottons, which have recently been
j so abundantly produced both in England and Scotland,
1 have been made to pay a considerable tax.
But though the legislature of this country has been
thus laudably attentive to avoid touching on the first
j necessaries of life, there are still several particulars in
which it has failed. One of the most important of these
is coal, an article of the first utility, the universal fuel
[af this country, and the material of many of its most
important manufactures. It is the less able to bear any
luty, because from its local and bulky nature, the ex-
ience ot transport is often very heavy. London is sup-
^ died with coal from Newcastle, which is 300 miles di-
tant. If a bounty could in any case be advisable, it
vould be in such a case. The legislature, however, has
udged otherwise, and has imposed upon every ton of
ea-borne coal, a duty of 3s. 6d. Coals carried by land
•r inland navigation are duty* free. Through the exer-
ion ol Lord Melville, Scotland, to the north of St
^bb’s Head, has been freed from this duty ; a circum-
tance which has materially contributed to her rapid
prosperity..
21 ] TAX
Salt, though it may not be requisite for the support t
of life, has yet, by immemorial usage among civilized
nations, been constituted a necessary of life. Notwith¬
standing this, the small quantity used by each individual,
and the minute portions in which it is purchased, make
a tax upon it be levied with less murmuring than most
other taxes. Governments, taking advantage of this
circumstance, have almost universally made it a source
of revenue.
In this country the tax on this article presses with
the greater severity, as salt is essential to the fishery,
one of the most important sources of national wealth.
It is true, the duty is drawn back, when salt, is so em¬
ployed : but the facility of smuggling bv means of this
drawback, produces the necessity of strict regulations,
which cramp extremely this branch of industry, espe¬
cially when carried on in that small scale which is pe¬
culiarly suited to it.
Leather, soap, and candles, are also necessaries of
life taxed in this country. But though these articles
are to a certain extent necessary, by far the greatest
consumption of them is for purposes of luxury. Al¬
though therefore these taxes do press upon the poor,
their weight is not very severe. It might seem easy
enough, at least in the first and last of them, to exempt
those coarser forms of the commodity, which are used
by the lower classes, and thus the deficiency of revenue
might be compensated by an increase on the more ex¬
pensive forms.
Taxes may he imposed either upon exportation or
importation. The duties of customs were at first levied
on both indiscriminately; but as the mercantile system
gained ground, and an anxious desire prevailed to en¬
courage exportation and check importation, in the hope
of increasing the specie in the country, all the new du¬
ties were laid upon the latter, while the former was
more and more extmpted. Although this system may
not have taken its rise from the most enlightened views,
yet no reasonable exception can be taken to it. The
taxes imposed by any government ought to fall upon
the consumption of its own people, not upon that of
others; and as this is a maxim of justice, so it is equally
recommended by policy. Were a government to tax
its own exported commodities, these commodities would
also have to pay the taxes of the country into which
they were imported. Loaded with this double bur¬
den, they could not advantageously come into competi¬
tion with similar articles, either the produce of that
country, or imported from another which followed a
more liberal policy. It is only therefore upon goods
imported or produced for home consumption, that these
taxes can with propriety fall. From similar views, the
materials of manufacture have been generally exempted
from duty. We have already observed, that, provided
these manufactures be objects of luxury, there is no
good reason why they should not pay a tax. But there
is an evident advantage in levying the duty after, ra¬
ther than before, the manufacturing process. In the
latter ease, the merchant being obliged to advance it
so early, must have a profit on his advance, proportion¬
ed to the length of time which elapses till the commo¬
dity is fit for sale; and this profit must be paid by the
consumer in the price of the goods.
Should we suppose indeed a nation to possess a mono¬
poly of any particular commodity, such a nation might
impose,.;
TAX l 22
Taxation, impose a tax on its export, without danger of its mer-
^ chants being supplanted in the foreign market. Still
this could not but be considered as a somewhat illiberal
system $ and it would also bear hard upon the producer,
who would still probably have a double system of duties
to pay, since it cannot be supposed that the foreign
country should regard these monopolized commodities
with peculiar favour.
W ith the view of following up the principles of the
mercantile system, importation duties have often been
laid upon goods, so heavy as to amount to a prohibition.
Such duties are not intended to produce any revenue,
but to favour some home manufacture, or to injure that
of some foreign nation, which is an object of commer¬
cial jealousy. In the same manner, bounties are given
to forward the growth of some branch of industry, which
is the object of peculiar favour. In both cases, the re¬
venue is sacrificed, without any real advantage accruing
to the public. The industry and capital of the nation
are thus turned from their natural direction into one
which is less advantageous, and the public is injured in¬
stead of being benefited.
It is an undoubted principle, that whether the tax
be paid at the time of importation, or at manufacture,
it ought to be paid only once. Some governments,
profoundly ignorant of the true principles of political
economy, have repeated the imposition at every succes¬
sive sale of the property. This is obviously unequal.
The value of property, and the frequency of its trans¬
ference, are two things altogether distinct. One species
of goods may thus come to pay ten or twelve times as
much as another of the same value. But great as is its
inequality, its impolicy is still more glaring. It forms
the most powerful check to that free interchange of
commodities which is the very soul of all industry. It
tends to confine the consumption of every article to the
place of its production, and thus to exclude all those
benefits which arise from the extension of the market.
Of this ruinous nature is the Spanish alcava/a, which
consists in an imposition, originally of 10, but now only
of 6 per cent, on every sale without exception, whatever
be the nature of the property, or however frequently
repeated. The mere undistinguishing nature of such a
tax must be a great evil j but it is rendered far more
pernicious by the obstruction which it thus throws in the
way of every species of commercial intercourse.
It may be established as a principle in regard to these
taxes, that they ought to be as uniform as possible, and
not to vary in different parts of the country. Such va¬
riations necessarily lead to restraints on the free circu¬
lation of commodities. Each province becomes as an in¬
dependent kingdom, tbe frontier of which is guarded by
customhouses and by chains of officers, through which
whoever passes must submit not only to the payment of
duties, but to the inconvenience and delay of having
his goods searched. Such was the case both in France
and in Spain, where each province having formerly
been separate and independent, retained still its distinct
system of taxation. 'I he transporting of goods from one
province to another was like exporting them to a foreign
country j the same barriers of customhouses, duties, and
revenue officers, obstructed their passage. One of tbe
circumstances which has most contributed to the prospe¬
rity of Great Britain is the uniformity of taxation
.throughout, and consequently the entire freedom of
2 ] T A X
commerce from one part of the island to the other.
This was the principal advantage which Scotland de¬
rived from the union ; and it has been such as fully to
compensate for the increased burdens to which that mea-
sure subjected her.
Duties upon consumption, instead of being levied up¬
on tbe trader, may be levied upon the person consuming,
who may be made to pay a certain sum as a license to
use tbe commodity. Such a mode of levy has some of
the advantages of assessed taxes, in regard to the facility
and cheapness of collection. It is still also in some de¬
gree spontaneous j but it must obviously be, in most
cases, very unequal. Of two persons, who should pay
tbe same sum for a license to use wine, one might con¬
sume twenty times tbe quantity of tbe other. A license
has besides the disadvantage of being paid all at once,
and of being more sensibly felt than taxes which con¬
found themselves with the price of tbe commodity. In
general, therefore, it is a much less eligible form.
There are a few instances, however, of very costly and
durable goods, such as coaches, plate, &c. where it is
found to he the most convenient. Wine and other li¬
quors, when consumed in taverns, may, it is supposed,
be fah'ly required to pay more than when consumed in
private bouses. An attempt, however, to proportion
this addition to tbe quantity consumed, would be at¬
tended with unsurmountable difficulties. A license is
therefore required to be taken out by innkeepers who
deal in these articles. This tax falls with equal weight
upon the great and small dealers ; but it may be rather
considered as desirable'to check the multiplication of the
last.
3. Stamp Duties.—Under tbe title of stamp duties,
we would include all those which fall upon the deeds
which regulate tbe transference of property.
The first of these duties, of which we find any men¬
tion, are those upon testamentary donations. A law of
Augustus imposed tbe mcesima hereditatum, or twen¬
tieth penny, upon all inheritances. It was in Holland,
however, which was pressed by the severest necessity ot
raising a revenue, and not very discriminating in the
mode of doing it, that the system of stamp duties first
originated, and was carried to a formidable extent.
Such were the difficulties of that state, that they are
said to have publicly proposed a reward to any one who
should suggest a new source of revenue. This plan was
proposed and approved. From Holland it was, in 1671,
imported into this country, and has since become oneot
tbe great sources of public income. In other countries,
deeds regarding the transference of property are requi¬
red to be entered in a public register, and the tax laitl
on the registration. A considerable revenue was thus
raised in France. Auction duties upon the sale of pro¬
perty, both moveable and immoveable, though some¬
what different in point of form, coincide exactly with
these taxes in their essence and tendency.
Taxes of this nature are attended with considerable
conveniences to tbe contributors. From the nature oi
the transaction, there must always be money in hand
with which tbe tax can be paid j and tbe time of pay
ment is thus the most convenient of any. In many cases,
the sum to be paid at a time is small. It is onlypart
of the society which is liable to them to any great ex¬
tent, and these only occasionally j they are not felt
intrenching on daily and habitual comforts j nor do
TAX [ 223 ] T A Y
ioi they excite that general murmur, which is alone lormi-
— dable to government. It is not to be wondered at,
therefore, if the latter should avail themselves of this
passive disposition in the people for the extension of this
source of supply. The truth is, however, that in all
essential respects, these taxes are among the most im¬
proper of any.
I. They are unequal, inasmuch as the value of any
property is altogether unconnected with the frequency
of its transference. This inequality would subsist, even
though the stamp duty were always in exact proportion
to the value of the properly. But this is, in general,
far from being strictly the case. It may be noticed,
■however, that in the recent additions made to the stamp
i duties in this country, the principle of equality has been
more attended to.
. 2. The greater part of such taxes fall not upon the
ncome, but upon the capital of the country j not upon
hat fund which may be properly and safely expended,
mt upon that, the expenditure of which must be ulti-
nately ruinous. This circumstance is peculiar to these
tuties •, for though others, when very severe, may
blige the contributor to encroach on his capital, they
done fall directly and immediately upon that fund. An
bjection of this nature would alone be sufficient to dis-
uade their adoption.
3. Such taxes, when they fall upon moveable goods,
ave a direct tendency to check commerce, and through
. every kind of industry. They are then a complete
Icavala, differing from that ruinous impost only by be-
ig more moderate.
Thus we find, that the facility of collection, and the
voiding of discontent, which have tempted modern go-
ernments to extend so much this source of revenue, are
Itogether fallacious advantages, and bear no proportion
') the ill consequences with which such taxes are neces-
1 irily attended. It would therefore be much better
1 iat the duties upon the transference of moveable goods
iiould be laid upon their original production. They
ould thus pay only once, and no impediment would
i thrown in the way of their free circulation. Duties
Jon the sale of land and other immoveable goods
• ight to be converted into assessed taxes, payable on
Heir yearly use. In the present circumstances of this
i mntry indeed, it is perhaps too much to expect that
I xes, which are paid without much murmuring, should
I • taken off; but the considerations now stated ought
rtainly to deter from any farther addition to them.
Legacies from any distant relation are a sort of acci-
ntal and unexpected advantage, and it is therefore to
supposed, that the person receiving will have secured
■ regular source of subsistence independent of them. He
11 not therefore, it is likely, be disposed to complaip
Vry grievously, if this extrinsic source of wealth be
newhat diminished by a duty to government. In this
1 !,ntry, accordingly, such legacies are chargeable with
! luty of 10 per cent. This tax seems one of the most
1 exceptionable of the kind, and only liable to the ob-
J :tion of falling upon capital. It is otherwise with
* mey left by a father or other very near relation. The
J ith of such persons commonly diminishes, instead of
1 Teasing, the wealth of the family j and the sum left
1 ms often the sole dependence of a great part of it.
J cordingly, in Great Britain, the duty on legacies to
the nearest relations is very slight, and gradually in¬
creases as the consanguinity becomes more remote.
lieceipt stamps, though they ate formally paid by the
seller, fall really upon the purchaser. 'The merchant,
who must have his profit, will calculate the expence
which he is likely to be at in stamps, and will lay a
corresponding augmentation on the price of his goods.
Such taxes, unless very heavy, will fall upon income
only, not upon capital.
Bills of exchange, and policies of insurance, being
necessary instruments of trade, seem as improper sub¬
jects of taxation as can well be. The only thing tole¬
rable in these taxes, as imposed in this country, is their
moderation.
Auction duties seem liable to every objection which
can be stated against taxes of this description. They
are the more severe, as they must fall often upon unfor¬
tunate persons who are reduced to the necessity of dis¬
posing, in this manner, of their property.
Stamps upon law proceedings tend to increase the ex¬
pence of obtaining justice, which is already complained
of in genei’al as too heavy. They may indeed be sup¬
posed to be of some use in checking a litigious spirit j
but this seems already to be done pretty effectually
by the other expences attendant on judicial proceed¬
ings.
Taxes upon indentures, or upon the entrance to any
profession, produce a monopoly to the persons exercising
that profession. They thus tend at once to raise the
price of their labour and of its fruits, and to diminish
the necessity of qualifying themselves for its perform¬
ance. The chief weight of these taxes falls upon the
persons exercising the profession of the law. The pub¬
lic are apt to regard such persons with a degree of hosti¬
lity, which has probably induced government to believe
it might tax them without danger of exciting any gene¬
ral murmur. The truth is, however, that these taxes
fall not on the practitioners themselves, but on those
who complain of them, on the persons engaged in liti¬
gation ; so that their effect is precisely the same with that
of taxes on law proceedings. It diflers from them only
as a license differs from a duty upon commodities, and
is less eligible, as falling more unequally. The persons
who pay the same sum at entrance, carry on their pro¬
fession with very different degrees of success.
Some impositions, which assume the form of stamp
duties, are in reality taxes upon commodities. Such-
are the game duty, the duty on cards, hats, plate, &c.
But most of these seem to be unexceptionable sub¬
jects.
TAXUS, the Yew-tree, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class dicecia, and in the natural system ran¬
ging under the 51st order, Coniferce. See Botany
Index.
TAY, in Latin Tavus, or Taus, the largest river in
Scotland, rises in Braidalbane, on the frontiers of Lorn y
and having in the passage of a few miles augmented its
stream by the accession of several small rills, spreads it¬
self into the lake called Loch Dochart; out of which
having run but a little space, it expands itself again.
Leaving this second lake, it rolls some miles with a con¬
siderable body of water, and then diffuses itself in the
spacious Loch Tay } which, reckoning from the sources
of the river, is 24 miles in length, though, strictly
speaking,
Taxation
*
T A Y [ 224. ] T A Y
T;»y, speaking, tlielake is but 13 : almost as soon as it issues
Taylor, from hence, it receives the river Lyon, coming out of
v Loch Lyon, and running through Glen Lyon ; which,
having travelled in a manner parallel to it, from its
source, for a space of 25 miles, at length joins theTay
as it enters Athol, which it next traverses, and, direct¬
ing its course in a manner dne east, receives almost all
the waters of that country. Bending then to the south,
at the distance of six miles, itreaches Dunkeld ; which,
in the language of our ancestors, signihes “ the hill of
hazels,” was the very centre of the old Caledonia, and
is at present esteemed the heart of the Highlands. The
river is very broad here, insomuch that there is a ferry¬
boat over it at each end of the town. Declining still
to the south-east, with a winding course, for above 12
miles, the Tav receives a large supply of waters from
the county of Angus ; and then running south west lor
eight miles more, is joined in that space by several ri¬
vers, the most considerable of which is the Almond.
Turning then to the south-east, at the distance of about
three miles, this copious river comes with a swelling
stream to Perth.
The Tay, continuing still a south-east course, re¬
ceives, a few miles below Perth, the river Erne j which,
issuing from a loch of the same name, traverses the
county of Strathern, and passes by Abernethy, once the
capital of the Pictish kingdom. Swelled by the waters
of this last river, the Tay, running next directly east,
enlarges itself till it becomes about three miles broad 5
hut contracts again before the town of Dundee-, soon
after which it opens into the German ocean. At the
entrance of the frith, there are sands both on the north
and on the south side the former styled Goa, the latter
Aberlay and lyrvmlan ; and before these, in the very
mouth of the frith, those which are called the Cross
Sands. At Buttonness, which is the northern promon¬
tory, there are two light-houses. The space between
the north and the south sands may he near a mile, with
about three fathoms water j but being within the frith,
it grows deeper, and in the road of Dundee is full six
fathoms. The frith of Tay is not indeed so large or so
commodious as that of Forth, but from Buttonness to
Perth it is not less than 40 miles j and the whole may
he, without any great impropriety, styled a harbour,
which lias Fife on one side, and the shires of Perth and
Angus on the other, both very fertile and pleasant coun¬
tries.
TAYLOR, Du Jeremy, bishop of Down and Con¬
nor in Ireland, was the son of a barber at Cambridge,
where he was educated. Upon entering into orders, he
became divinity lecturer of St Paul’s in London ; and
wa-, by the interest of Archbishop Laud, elected fellow
of All-Souls college, Cambridge, in 1636. Two years
after he became one of the chaplains of the archbishop,
who bestowed on him the rectory of Uppingham in Rut¬
landshire. In 1642, he was chaplain to the king ; and
a frequent preacher before him and the court at Oxford.
He afterwards attended in the king’s army in the c ondi¬
tion of a chaplain. Upon the declining of his majesty’s
cause, he-retired into Wales-, where he was permitted
to officiate as minister, and to keep a school, in order
to maintain himself and his children. In tins retirement
he wrote several of his works. I! tying spent several
vears there* his family was visited with sickness-5 and
he lost three sons of great hopes within the space of
5
two or three months. This affliction touched him so Taj]er
sensibly, that it made him desirous to leave the country j^
and, going to London, lie for a time officiated in a pri¬
vate congregation of loyalists to his great hazard. At
length meeting with Edward lord Conway, that noble¬
man carried him over with him into Ireland, and settled
him at Portmore, where he wrote his Ductor Dubitan-
iium. Upon the Restoration he returned to England,
boon after, he was advanced to the bishopric of D 'wn
and Connor in Ireland and had the administration of
the see of Dromore granted to him. He was likewise
made privy-eounseiior and vice-chancellor of the univer¬
sity ot Dutmn j which place he held till his death. He
died of a fever at Lisnegarvy in 1667, and was interred
in a chapel which he himself had built on the ruins of
the old cathedral of Dromore.
Taylor, Dr RrooA:, was born at Edmonton, Au¬
gust i8lh 1685. He was the son of John Taylor, Esq.
of Bitrons house in Kent, by Olivia, daughter of Sir
Nicholas Tempest, of Durham, Baronet. His grand¬
father, Nathaniel Taylor, was one of those puritans
whom “ Cromwell thought fit to elect by a letter, dated
June 14th 1653, to represent the county of Bedford in
pailiament.” Ihe character of his father partook in no
small degree of the austerity that had been transmitted
to him in the line of his ancestors, and by the spirit of
the times in which they lived ; and to this cause maybe
ascribed the disaffection which sometimes subsisted be¬
tween the father and even such a son as is the subject
of this article. The old gentleman’s morose temper,
however, yielded to the powers of music; and the most
eminent professors of the art in that period were hospi¬
tably welcomed in his houses His son Brook was in¬
duced, by his natural genius, and by the disposition of
his father, which he wished by all the means in Ins
power to conciliate, to direct his particular attention to
music j and he became in very early life a distinguished
proficient in it.—“ In a large family piece, he is re¬
presented at the age of 13 sitting in the centre of bis
brothers and sisters j the two elder of whom, Olivia and
Mary, crown him with laurel, bearing the insignia of
harmony.”
To music he added another accomplishment, in which
he equally excelled. ” His drawings and paintings, of
which some are still preserved, require not those allow¬
ances for error or imperfection with which we scan the
performances of even the superior dilettanti •,—they will
bear the test of scrutiny and criticism from artists them¬
selves, and those of the first genius and professional abi¬
lities'.” Though he was eminent in the culture and
practice both ot music and drawing in his eatly youth,
his whole attention was not occupied by these fascinat¬
ing arts. His classical education was conducted at
home under a private tutor ; and bis proficiency in the
ordinary branches of the languages and the mathema¬
tics was so great, that he was deemed qualified for the
university at the early age of 15.
In 1701 he was entered a fellow commoner of St
John’s College, Cambridge. At that period mathema¬
tics engaged more particularly the attention of the uni¬
versity j and the examples of eminence in the learned
world, derived from that branch of science, attneted
the notice and roused the emulation of every OU 'i p"s*
sessed ot talents and of application. We may presume,
that Brook Taylor, from the very hour of his achmss‘On
T A Y [ 225 ] T A Y
rai*. at college, adopted the course of study which a Machin,
a Keil, and, above all, a Newton, had opened to the
mind of man, as leading to discoveries of the celestial
system.-—That he applied early to these studies, and
without remission, is to he inferred from the early notice
and kind attention with which he was honoured by those
eminent persons, and from the extraordinary progress
which he made in their favourite science.”
In 1708 he wrote his treatise On the Centre of Oscil¬
lation, which was not published in the Philosophical
Transactions till some years afterwards. In 1709, he
took his degree of Bachelor of Laws. In 1712, he was
chosen a Fellow of the Royal Society. During the in¬
terval between these two periods, he corresponded with
Professor Keil on several of the most abstruse subjects of
mathematical disquisition. Sir William Young informs
us, that he has in his possession a letter, dated in 1712,
addressed to Mr Machin, which contains at length a
solution of Kepler’s problem, and marking the use to be
derived from that solution. In this year he presented to
the Royal Society three different papers : one On the
Ascent of Water between two Glass Planes 5 a second,
On the Centre of Oscillation ; and a third, on the Mo¬
tion of a stretched String. It appears from his corre¬
spondence with Keil, that in 1713 he presented a paper
on his favourite subject of Music j but this is not preser¬
ved in the Transactions.
His distinguished proficiency in those branches of sci¬
ence, which engaged the particular attention of the
Royal Society at this period, and which embroiled them
in contests with foreign academies, recommended him
to the notice of its most illustrious members j and in
1714 he was elected to the office of secretary. In this
year he took at Cambridge his degree of Doctor of
Laws: and at this time he transmitted, in a letter to
Sir Hans Sloane, An Account of some curious Experi¬
ments relative to Magnetism j which, however, was not
delivered to the Society till many years afterward, when
it was printed in the Transactions. His application to
those studies to which his genius inclined was indefati¬
gable; for we find that in 1715 he published in Latin
his Methodus Incrementorvm ; also a curious essay pre¬
served in the Philosophical Transactions, entitled An
Account of an Experiment for the Discovery of the
Laws ol Magnetic Attraction ; likewise a treatise well
known to mathematicians, and highly valued by the
best judges, on the Principles of Linear Perspective.
In the same year (such were his admirable talents, and
so capable were they of being directed to various sub¬
jects), he conducted a controversial correspondence with
the Count Raymond de Montmort, on the Tenets
of Malebranche ; which occasioned his being parti¬
cularly noticed in the eulogium pronounced by the
French academy on the decease of that eminent meta¬
physician.
Ihe new philosophy of Newton (as it was then cal¬
led) engaged the attention of mathematicians and phi¬
losophers both at home and abroad. At Paris it was in
high estimation ; and the men of science in that city
were desirous of obtaining a personal acquaintance with
the learned secretary of the Royal Society, whose repu¬
tation was so generally acknowledged, and who had
paiticularly distinguished himself in the Leibnitzian or
erman controversy, as we may denominate it, of that
period. In consequence of many urgent invitations, he
Vol. XX. Part I. f
determined to visit his friends at Paris in the year 1716.
He was received with every possible token of affection ‘
and respect ; and had an opportunity of displaying ma¬
ny traits of character, which mark the general scholar
and accomplished gentleman, as well as the profound
mathematician. His company was courted by all “ who
had temper to enjoy, or talents to improve, the charms
of social intercourse.” Besides the mathematicians, to
whom he had always free access, he was here introduced
to Lord Bolingbroke, the Count de Caylus, and Bishop
Bossuet.
Early in 1717 he returned to London, and composed
three treatises, which were presented to the Royal So¬
ciety, and published in the 30th volume of the Transac¬
tions. About this time his intense application had im¬
paired his health to a considerable degree ; and he was
under the necessity of repairing, for relaxation and re¬
lief, to Aix-la-Chapelle. Having likewise a desire of
directing his attention to subjects of moral and religious
speculation, he resigned his office of secretary to the
Royal Society in 1718.
After his return to England in 1719, he applied to
subjects of a very different kind from those that had em¬
ployed the thoughts and labours of bis more early life.
Among his papers of this date, Sir William Young has
found detached parts of A Treatise on the Jewish Sacri¬
fices, and a dissertation of considerable length On the
Lawfulness of eating Blood. He did not, however,
wholly neglect his former subjects of study, but employ¬
ed his leisure hours in combining science and art; with
this view he revised and improved his treatise on Linear
Perspective. Drawing continued to be his favourite
amusement to his latest hour; and it is not improbable,
that his valuable life was shortened by the sedentary ha¬
bits which this amusement, succeeding his severer studies,
occasioned. “ He drew figures with extraordinary pre¬
cision and beauty of pencil. Landscape was yet his
favourite branch of design. His original landscapes are
mostly painted in water colours, but with all the rich¬
ness and strength of oils. They have a force of colour,
a freedom of touch, a varied disposition of planes of
distance, and a learned use of aerial as well as linear
perspective, which all professional men who have seen
these paintings have admired.”
Jhe work of Dr Brook Taylor in linear perspective
was censured by Bernoulli, in a treatise published in the
Acts of Leipsic, as “ abstruse to all, and as unintelligi¬
ble to artists for whom it was more especially written.”
It must be acknowledged that this excellent work, for
so it deserves to be called, was not level to the appre¬
hensions of practitioners in the art of drawing and de¬
sign ; but it was much esteemed by mathematicians.
Thr ee editions of it have been published: and as it is
now scarce, a republication of it in its most improved
and perfect state would be very acceptable. Mr Kir¬
by, however, has made it more plain and popular, in
his treatise entitled “ Brook Taylor’s Perspective made
easy ;” and this book, detailing and illustrating the
principles of the original work, has been the vade me-
cum of artists. Dr Brook Taylor was incensed by the
invidious attacks of Bernoulli; and he published An
Apology against .1. Bernoulli’s Objections, which may
be seen in the 30th volume of the Philosophical Trans¬
actions. Bernoulli, with his usual envy of British ma¬
thematicians, had disputed our author’s right to his own
Taylor.
T A Y [ 226 ] TEA
work. We have no reason to doubt Dr Taylor’s claims
to the undecided discovery of the method which he de¬
scribes, though he is not an original inventor. This
method was long before published by Guido Ubaldi, in
JiJs Perspective, printed atPesaro in 1600 5 ivlieie it is
delivered very clearly, and confirmed by most elegant
demonstrations ; and where it is actually applied to the
art of delineating the scenes of a theatre.
Toward the end of the year 1720, Dr Brook Taylor
accepted the invitation of Lord Bolingbroke to spend
some time at La Source, a country-seat near Orleans,
which he held in right of his wife, the widow of the
Marquis deVillette, nephew of Madame de Maintenon.
In the next year he returned to England, and published
the last paper which appears with his name in the Phi¬
losophical Transactions, entitled, An Experiment made
to ascertain the Proportion ol Expansion ot Liquor,
in the Thermometer, with regard to the degree ot
Heat.
In 1721, Dr Brook Taylor married Miss Bridges of
Wallington in the county of Surry, a young lady of
good family, but of small fortune 5 and this mariiage
occasioned a rupture with his father, whose consent he
had never obtained. The death of this lady in 1725,
and that of an infant son, whom the parents regarded
as the presage and pledge ol reconciliation with the fa¬
ther, and who actually proved such, deeply affected the
sensibility of Dr Taylor. However, during the two
succeeding years he resided with his father at Bifrons,
where “ the musical parties, so agreeable to his taste
and early proficiency, and the affectionate attentions
of a numerous family welcoming an amiable brothel, so
long estranged by paternal resentment, not only soothed
his°sorrows, but ultimately engaged him to a scene of
country retirement, and domesticated and fixed his ha¬
bits of life. He could no more recur to the desultory
resources, and cold solace ot society, which casual.vi¬
sits, slight acquaintance, and distant friendships, afford
the man who hath none to make and cheer a constant
home.'1'1 ,
In 1725 he formed a new connection 5 and with the
full approbation of his father and family, married Sa-
betta, daughter of John Sawbridge, Esq. of Olantigh,
in Kent. In 1729, on the death of his father, he suc¬
ceeded to the family estate of Bifrons. In the fol¬
lowing vear he lost his wufe in childbed. I he daugh¬
ter whose birth occasioned this melancholy event survi¬
ved, and became the mother of Sir William Young, to
whom we owe these memoirs ot his grandfather.
In the interval that elapsed between the years 1721
and 1730, no production by Brooklaylor appears in
the Philosophical Transactions; nor did he publish in
the course of that time any work. His biographer has
found no traces of his learned labour, excepting a Trea¬
tise of Logarithms, which was committed to his friend
Lord Paisley (afterward Abercorn), in order to be pre¬
pared for the press j but which probably never was print¬
ed. His health was now much impaired j relaxation
became necessary, and he was diverted by new connec¬
tions from the habit of severe study, which had distin¬
guished the early period of his life, and which had con¬
tributed to contract the duration of it. Happy in the
social circle of domestic enjoyment, and devoting his
attention to business or amusement as they occurred, his
application and his literary emulation seem to have de¬
clined. He did not long survive the loss of his second
wife j and his remaining days were days of increasing
imbecility and sorrow.
“ The essay entitlePhilosophica, pub¬
lished by Sir William Young, 1793, appears to have
been written about this time, and probably with a view
to abstract his mind from painful recollections and re¬
gret. It was the effort of a strong mind, and is a most
remarkable example of the close logic of the mathema¬
tician applied to metaphysics. But the blow was too
deep at heart for study to afford more than temporary
relief. The very resource w'as hurtful, and intense stu¬
dy but accelerate d the decline of his health. His friends
offered every comfort; in particular Lord Bolingbroke
pressed his consolation, and sought to call his mind from
regret of domestic endearments to social friendship at
Dawley.
The attention and kindness of his friends, however,
could not ward off the approaches of dissolution. “ Ha¬
ving survived his second wufe little more than a year,
Dr Brook Taylor died of a decline in the 46th year of
his age, December the 29th 1731, and was buried in
the church-yard of St Ann’s Soho. I am spared (says
his descendant) the necessity of closing this biographi¬
cal sketch with a prolix detail of his character: in the
best acceptation of duties relative to each situation of
life in which he was engaged, his own writings, and
the writings of those who best knew him, prove him to
have been the finished Christian, gentleman, and scho¬
lar.”
TAYLon-Bird. See Motacilla, Ornithology
Index.
TEA, the dried leaves of the tea plant.—A com¬
modity with which we are so well acquainted, which
affords a beverage so generally used and so generally
agreeable, and which forms so considerable an article
of commerce, must excite curiosity to know something
of its history, and of the nature of the plant from which
it is obtained.
The tea plant is a native of Japan, China, and Ton-
quin, and has not, as far as w-e can learn, been found
growing spontaneously in any other parts of the world.
Linnseus arranged it under the class of polyandria, and
order of monogynia, and Thunberg, one of the most
distinguished pupils of that illustrious botanist, who re¬
sided 16 months in Batavia and Japan, has classed it in
the same manner as his master. Several of the British
botanists, on the other hand, refer it to the order of
trigynia; deriving their authority from a plant in the
duke of Northumberland’s garden at Sion-house, which
had three styles.
Linnaeus says that there are two species of the tea
plant j the bohea, the corolla of which has six petals j
and the viridis or green tea, which has nine petals.
Thunberg makes only one species, the bohea, consisting
of two varieties 5 the one with broad and the other with
narrow leaves.
The tea plant, which is an evergreen, grows to tb*
height of five or six feet j Le Compte says ten or twelve.
The leaves, which are the only valuable part of it, ar®
about an inch and a half long, narrow, indented, al1<
tapering to a point, like those of the sweet briar, aiu 0
a dark green eolour. The root is like that °f (e
peach tree, and its flowers resemble those of the win e
wild rose. The stem spreads into many irreguk1'
branches*
Taylor,
Tea,
Tea,
TEA [ :
1 branches. The wood is hard, of a whitish green co-
■ ||" 1 lour, and the bark is of a greenish colour, with a bitter,
nauseous, and astringent taste. The fruit is small, and
contains several round blackish seeds, about the bigness
of a bean or large pea.
This plant delights in valleys, is frequent on the slop¬
ing sides of mountains and the banks of rivers, where it
enjoys a southern exposure. It flourishes in the northern
latitudes of Pekin as well as round Canton, but attains
the greatest perfection in the mild temperate regions of
Nankin. It is said only to be found between the 30th
and 45th degree of north latitude. In Japan it is plant¬
ed round the borders of fields, without regard to the
soil j but as it is an important article of commerce with
the Chinese, whose fields are covered with it, it is by
them cultivated with care. The Abbe Rochen says, it
grows equally well in a poor as in a rich soil j but that
there are certain places where it is of a better quality.
The tea which grows in rocky ground is superior to that
which grows in a light soil 5 and the worst kind is that
which is produced in a clay soil. It is propagated by
seeds j from six to twelve are put into a hole about five
inches deep, at certain distances from each other. The
reason why so many seeds are sown in the same hole is
said to be, that only a fifth part vegetate. Being thus
sown, they grow without any other care. Some, how¬
ever, manure the land, and remove the weeds *, for the
Chinese are as fond of good tea, and take as much
pains to procure it of an excellent quality, as the Euro¬
peans do to procure excellent wine.
The leaves are not fit for being plucked till the shrub
be of three years growth. In seven years it rises to a
man’s height; but as it then bears but few leaves, it is
1 cut down to the stem, and this produces a new crop of
fresh shoots the following summer. We are informed
by Kcempfer, that there are three seasons in which the
leaves are collected in the isles of Japan, from which
the tea derives different degrees of perfection.
The first gathering commences at the end of Fe¬
bruary or beginning of March. The leaves are then
small, tender, and unfolded, and not above three or
four days old : these are called Jlcki-tsiaa, or “ tea in
powder,” because it is pulverised ; it is also called im¬
perial tea, being generally reserved for the court and
people of rank ; and sometimes also it is named bloom
tea. It is sold in China for 2od. or 2s. per pound.
Hie labourers employed in collecting it do not pull the
leaves by handfuls, but pick them one by one, and take
every precaution that they may not break them. How¬
ever long and tedious this labour may appear, they ga¬
ther from 4 to 10 or 13 pounds a-day.
The second crop is gathered about the end of March
or beginning of April. At this season part of their
jeaves have attained their full growth, and the rest are
not above half their size. This difference does not,
low ever, prevent them from being all gathered indis-
ciimmately. They are afterwards picked and assorted
into different parcels, according to their age and size.
he youngest, which are carefully separated from the
test, are often sold for leaves of the first crop, or for
imperial tea. Tea gathered at this season is called too-
; tswa, or “ Chinese tea,” because the people of Japan
m use it, and drink it after the Chinese manner.
, le whit'd crop is gathered in the end of May or in
" 2 mouth of June. The leaves are then very numer-
27 ] TEA
ous and thick, and have acquired their full growth.
This kind of tea, which is called ben-tsiaa, is the
coarsest of all, and is reserved for the common people.
Some of the Japanese collect their tea only at two sea¬
sons of the year, which correspond to the second and
third already mentioned ; others confine themselves to
one general gathering of their crop, towards the month
of J une : however, they always form afterwards differ¬
ent assortments of their leaves.
The finest and most celebrated tea of Japan is that
which grows near Ud-si, a small village situated close
to the sea, and not far distant from Meaco. In the
district of this village is a delightful mountain, having
the same name, the climate of which is said to be ex¬
tremely favourable to the culture of tea ; it is therefore
inclosed by a hedge, and surrounded with wide ditches,
which prevent all access to it. The tea shrubs that
grow on this mountain are planted in regular order, and
are divided by different avenues and alleys.
The care of this place is entrusted to people who are
ordered to guard the leaves from dust, and to defend
them from the inclemency of the weather. The la¬
bourers who are appointed to collect the tea abstain
from every kind of gross food for some weeks before
they begin, that their breath and perspiration may not
in the least injure the leaves. They gather them with
the most scrupulous nicety, and never touch them but
with very fine gloves. When this choice tea has under¬
gone the process necessary for its preparation, it is es¬
corted by the superintendant of the mountain and a
strong guard to the emperor’s court, and reserved for
the use of the imperial family.
As the tea shrub grows often on the rugged banks of
steep mountains, access to which is dangerous, and some¬
times impracticable, the Chinese, in order to come at
the leaves, are said to use a singular stratagem: These
steep places are generally frequented by great numbers
of monkeys, which being irritated and provoked, to re¬
venge themselves tear off the branches, and shower them
down upon those who have insulted them. The Chinese
immediately collect these bx-anches, and strip them of
their leaves.
When the tea leaves have been collected, they are
exposed to the steam of boiling water j after which they
are put upon plates of coppei’, and held over the fire
until they become dry and shrivelled, and appear such
as we have them in Europe. According to the testi¬
mony of Koempfer, tea is prepared in the same manner
in the isles of Japan. “ There are to be seen there
(says this traveller) public buildings erected for the pur¬
pose of preparing the fresh gathered tea. Every private
person who has not suitable conveniences, or who is un¬
acquainted with the operation, may carry his leaves
thither as they dry. These buildings contain a great
number of small stoves raised about three feet high, each
of which has a broad plate of iron fixed over its mouth.
The workmen are seated round a large table covered
with mats, and are employed in rolling the tea leaves
which are spread out upon them. When the iron
plates are heated to a certain degree by the fire, they
cover them with a few pounds of fresh gathered leaves,
which being green and full of sap, crackle as soon as
they touch the plate. It is then the business of the
workman to stir them with his naked hands as quickly
as possible, until they become so warm that he cannot
F f 2 easily
TEA
Tea.
TEA [ 22$ 1
He then taUe, off tbe .eaves P™-^a^^
C « 1 .1 J- -   .1 1 . aa 4 H 4J C r> /I _
easily endure the heat. ......  
' with a kind of shovel, and lays them upon mats, me
people who are employed in mixing them, take a sma
quantity at a time, roll them in their hands always i
the same direction j while others keep continually stir¬
ring them, in order that they may cool sooner, and pre¬
serve their shrivelled figure the longer. This process
is repeated two or three times, and even oftener, betore
the tea is deposited in the warehouses. These precau¬
tions are necessary to extract all the moisture from the
^ The people of Japan and China generally keep their
tea a year before using it, because, when quite fresh and
newly gathered, it possesses a narcotic quality which
hurts the brain. Imperial tea is generally preserved
in porcelain vases, or in leaden or tin canisters covered
with fine mats made of bamboo. Common tea is kept
in narrow-mouthed earthen pots-, and coarse tea, the
flavour of which is not so easily injured, is packed up
in baskets of straw.
An infusion of tea is the common drink ot the inl¬
and indeed when we consider one circumstance
in their situation, we must acknowledge that Providence
has displayed much goodness in scattering this plant
with so much profusion in the empire of China. Ihe
water is said to be unwholesome and nauseous, and would
therefore perhaps, without some corrective, be unfit for
the purposes of life. The Chinese pour boiling water
over their tea, and leave it to infuse, as we do in Lu-
rope but they dj;ink it without any mixture, and even
<1114.1 ~ —  * m. *
Avas lessened, and the practice of drinking tea descend
ed to the lower ranks f. In 1720 the French began tof H(B1U
send it to us by a clandestine commerce. Since then Jownti
the demand has been increasing yearly, and it has be¬
come almost a necessary of life in several parts of Eu¬
rope, and among the lowest as well as the highest ranks.
The following table shews the quantity of tea import¬
ed annually into Great Britain and Ireland since I’jJ'j-
From 1717 to 1726 - 700,000 lbs.
173210 1742 - 1,200,000
1755 near - 4,000,000
1766 - - 6,000,000
1785 about - 12,000,000
1794 from 16 to 20,000,000
Since 1794 the increase has still been very great.
The whole revenue derived from tea in Great Britain
in the year ending 5th January 1819, was 3,309,845!.
Besides the quantities imported into Britain and Ire¬
land, much has been brought to Europe by other nations.
In 1766 the whole tea imported into Europe from
China amounted to 17 millions of pounds j in 17^5 ^
was computed to be about 19 millions of pounds j;. t
Several researches have been made in Europe to
termine whether the tea plant grows spontaneously , but^jg
these researches have been hitherto in vain* When
Captain Cook visited Teneriffe in his last voyage, Mr
Anderson his surgeon was informed by a gentleman ot
mpe 5 but they drink it witiou any 1 ’ . acknowledged veracity, that a shrub is common near
without sugar. The people ot Japan reduce them, ° a v > with the description
* A mkr-
M/i's Com¬
merce, vol
S. p.138.
fine powder, which they dilute with warm water until
it has acquired the consistence of thin soup. Their
manner of serving tea is as follows : They place before
the company the tea equipage, and the box in which
this poAvder is contained : they fill the cups with warm
water, and taking from the box as much powder as the
point of a knife can contain, throw it into each of the
cups, and stir it with a tooth-pick until the liquor be¬
gins to foam it is then presented to the company, who
sip it while it is warm. According to F. du Halde,
this method is not peculiar to the Japanese j it is also
used in some of the provinces of China.
The first European writer who mentions tea is Gio¬
vanni Botero, an eminent Italian author, who published
a treatise about the year 1590, Of the Causes of the
Magnificence and Greatness of Cities. He does not in¬
deed mention its name, but describes it in such a man¬
ner that it is impossible to mistake it. “ The Chinese
(says he) have an herb out of which they press a deli¬
cate juice, which serves them for drink instead of wine :
it also preserves their health, and frees them from all
those evils which the immoderate use of wine produces
among us
Tea was introduced into Europe in the year 1610
by the Dutch East India Company. It is generally
said, that it was first imported from Holland into Eng¬
land, in 1666, by the lords Arlington and Ossory, who
brought it into fashion among people of quality. But
it was used in coffee-houses before this period, as ap¬
pears from an act of parliament made in 1660, in which
a duty of 8d. was laid on every gallon of the infusion
sold in these places. In 1666 it was sold in London
for 60s. per pound, though it did not cost more than
2s. 6d. or 3s. 6d. at Batavia. It continued at this
Santa Cruz which agrees exactly with the description
given of the tea-plant by Linmeus. It is considered as
a weed, and large quantities are rooted out of the vine¬
yards every year : But the Spaniards who inhabit tbs
island sometimes make use of it, and ascribe to it all ths
•qualities of the tea imported from China.
Many attempts have been made to introduce this va¬
luable plant into Europe ; but from want of proper pre¬
cautions most of these attempts have miscarried. The
seeds, being of an oily nature, are apt to grow rancid
during a long voyage, unless proper care is taken to pre¬
serve them. There are tAvo methods of preserving theie
seeds : The first is, to inclose them in wax after they
have been dried in the sun ; the second is, to leave them
in their husks, and shut them up closely in a box made
of tin : but neither of these methods has been attended
with general success, whatever care has been taken to
obtain fresh seeds, or to preserve them. I he best me¬
thod would be, to sow fresh seeds in fine light earth im¬
mediately on leaving Canton, and to cover them with
wire to secure them from rats and other animals that
might attack them. The boxes ought not to be too
much exposed to the air, nor to that kind of dew which
rises from the sea. The earth in the boxes must neither
be hard nor dry, and should from time to time be gently
watered with fresh or rain Avater; and when the shoots
begin to appear, they ought to be kept in a slight
moisture, and sheltered from the son. I he tea-plants
to be found in England have been procured by these
means only j and though several of the young rising
shoots perished, the last method proposed is proba¬
bly that Avhich may be followed with greatest suo-
cess*
The finest tea-plant known in England was raised i&
TEA
a. Kew gardens; it was carried thither by Sir J. Ellis,
j—^ who brought it from seed: but the first that ever
flourished in Europe was one belonging to the duke of
Northumberland at Sion, from a drawing of which our
engraving is taken. The plants which are cultivated in
the gardens near London thrive well in the green-house
during winter, and some stand that season in the open
air. Linnseus, who obtained this shrub in its growing
state, contrived to preserve it in the open air in the
northern latitude of Sweden. France has also procured
some plants. There can be no doubt but they would
succeed in many countries of Europe, if proper care
were paid to their cultivation till they became inured
to the climate. It will be a great advantage if we can
rear that plant, which can never suffer so much from
change of soil as from growing musty during the long
voyage from China. Besides, the demand for tea is
now become so great, that the Chinese find it necessary,
or at least profitable, to adulterate it. Bad tea is now
become an universal complaint. The abbe Grosier
tells us, that there is a kind of moss which grows in
the neighbourhood of the little city of Mang-ing-hien,
which is sold as a delicate species of tea. If this deli¬
cious commodity is adulterated in China, can we flatter
ourselves that none comes to us but what is pure and
unmixed ? How would our fine ladies like to be told,
that instead of tea they drink nothing but the infusion
of moss from the rocks of Mang-ing-hien (f) ?
Of the chemical qualities and effects of tea on the
constitution, many various and opposite opinions have
been formed. About a century ago, Bontikoe, a Hutch
physician, bestowed extravagant encomiums on the be¬
nefits of tea. With him it was good for every thing j
and any quantity might be drunk, even to the amount
of 200 dishes in a day. Whether Bontikoe in this case
acted as a physician, or, being a Dutchman, was eager
to encourage the sale of an important article of his
country’s commerce, is not easy to say. On the other
hand, the pernicious effects of tea upon the nervous
system have been often repeated, and very opposite
effects have been ascribed to it. Some affirm that green
tea is mildly astringent •, others say it is relaxing : Some
say it is narcotic, and procures sleep j while others con*
tend, that taken before bed-time it assuredly prevents it.
TEA
Dr Lettsom, who has written the Natural History of Tea.
the Tea Tree, made several experiments to determine its —y—
chemical qualities. He found an infusion of it preserved
beef fresh; it is therefore antiseptic ; and from its strik¬
ing a purple colour with the salt (sulphate) of iron, he
justly concludes that it is astringent; and he thinks al¬
so, that the essential qualities of tea reside in its fra¬
grant and volatile parts.
We have heard much of the bad effects of tea, but we
have neither felt nor observed them. If it were so per¬
nicious as it has been represented by some, its effects
must certainly be evident in China, where it is drunk by
all ranks; yet so far from being thought hurtful in that
country, it is in high estimation. The present emperor
has composed a kind of eloge on the virtues of tea. We
are told by those who have written the history of China,
that inflammatory diseases are less frequent there than in
many other countries, which is ascribed solely to the li¬
beral use of tea. It must be observed by all, that tea is
an antidote against intemperance, and that he who re¬
lishes the one seldom runs into the other. Raynal says,
that tea has contributed more to the sobriety of this na¬
tion than the severest laws, the most eloquent harangues
of Christian orators, or the best treatises of morality.
We have no doubt but it may be hurtful to some con¬
stitutions in particular circumstances ; but we suspect
that the nervous disorders so often attributed to tea,
are rather owing to hereditary diseases, to want of exer¬
cise, and to irregularity in food or sleep, than to tea.
“ Weak tea drunk too hot (says Dr Leake) will ener¬
vate, and if very strong, may prove equally pernicious
by affecting the head or stomach. But when it is
drunk in moderation, and not too warm, with a large
addition of milk, I believe it will seldom prove hurtful,
but, on the contrary, salutary. After study or fatigue
it is a most refreshing and grateful repast; it quenches
thirst, and cheers the spirits, without heating the blood ;
and the pleasing society, in which we so often partake of
it is no inconsiderable addition to its value; for what¬
ever affords rational pleasure to the mind, will alivays
contribute to bodily health.
In this country teas are generally divided into three
kinds of green, and five of bohea: The former are,
i. Imperial or bloom tea, with a large loose leaf, light
green
[ 229 I
(f) The numerous instances in 1817 and 1818, of dealers being convicted of selling spurious tea, show that
the process of adulteration is carried on to a great extent in this country. Mr Twining, a considerable tea dealer
in London, published a pamphlet some years ago, in which he has exposed this infamous traffic. The informa¬
tion (he says) was obtained from a gentleman who had made very accurate inquiries into this subject.
The smouch for mixing with black teas is made of the leaves of the ash. When gathered, they are first dried
i» the sun, then baked: they are next put upon a floor, and trod upon until the leaves are small, then sifted and
steeped in copperas with sheep’s dung; after which, being dried on a floor, they are fit for use. There is also ano¬
ther mode: When the leaves are gathered, they are boiled in a copper with copperas and sheep’s dung ; when the
liquor is strained off, they are baked and trod upon, until the leaves are small, after which they are fit for use.
The quantity manufactured at a small village, and within eight or ten miles thereof, cannot be ascertained, but is
supposed to be about 20 tons in a year. One man acknowledges to have made 600 weight in every week for six
months together. The fine is sold at 4I. 4s. per cwt. equal to qd per lb. The coarse is sold at 2l. 28. per cwt^
equal to 4^ per lb. Elder buds are manufactured in some places to represent fine teas.
For the honour of human nature, we hope such a traffic as this is not very common : but if it be, those con-
eerned in it deserve exemplary punishment. The only way (Mr Twining says) to escape this adulterated tea,,
is never to purchase from those who offer their teas to sale at lower prices than genuine teas can be afforded
hut to purchase them only from persons ot character.
TEA [ 230 ] TED
Toa. green eoltnir, and a faint delicate smell. 2. Hyson, so
Teachers, called from the name of the merchant who first import-
—v ' ed it *, the leaves of which are closely curled and small,
of a green colour, verging to a blue : And, 3. Single
tea, from the name of the place where it is cultivated.
The boheas are, 1. Souchong, which imparts a yellow
green colour by infusion. 2. Cambo, so called from
the place where it is made ; a fragrant tea, with a vio¬
let smell 5 its infusion pale. 3. Congo, which has a
larger leaf than the following, and its infusion some¬
what deeper, resembling common bohea in the colour of
the leaf. 4. Pekoe tea ; this is known by the appear¬
ance of small white flowers mixed with it. 5. Common
bohea, whose leaves are of one Colour. There are
Other varieties, particularly a kind of green tea, done
up in roundish balls, c-aW^A gunpowder-tea.
TsA-Tree of New Zealand, is a species of myrtle,
of which an infusion was drunk by Captain Cook’s peo¬
ple in their voyages round the world. Its leaves were
finely aromatic, astringent, and had a particular plea¬
sant flavour at the first infusion j but this went off at
tbe next filling up of the tea-pot, and a great degree of
bitterness wras then extracted j for which reason it was
never suffered to be twice iniused. In a fine soil in
thick forests this tree grows to a considerable size; some¬
times 30 or 40 feet in height, and one foot ks diameter.
On a hilly and dry exposure it degenerates into a shrub
of five or six inches ; but its usual size is about eight
or ten feet high, and three inches in diameter. In that
case its stem is irregular and unequal, dividing very
soon into branches, which arise at acute angles, and
only bear leaves and flowers at top. The flowers are
white, and very ornamental to the whole plant.
Mr Whit'c, in his Journal of a Voyage to New South
Wales, mentions a shrub which he calls a tea-tree
merely from its being used by the convicts as a succe-
daneumfor tea ; for he had not seen the flower, nor did
he know to what gentis it belonged. It is a creeping
kind of a vine, running to a great extent along the
ground ; the stalk slender ; the leaf not so large as the
common bay leaf; the taste sweet* exactly like the li¬
quorice root of the shops. *
TEACHERS, persons employed in conducting the
education of the young.
We will venture to say, that there is no class of men
to whom a nation is so much indebted as to those em¬
ployed in instructing the young : For if it be education
that forms the only distinction between the civilized and
the savage, much certainly is due to those who devote
themselves to the office of instruction. It must be the
duty therefore of every state to take care that proper
encouragement be given to those who undertake this of¬
fice. There ought to be such a salary as would render
it an object of ambition to men of abilities and learn¬
ing, or at least as would keep the teacher respectable.
In Scotland, the office of a schoolmaster was formerly
much more lucrative than at present* and most of that
class had received liberal education ,; and this is the rea¬
son why the common people in Scotland have been fa¬
mous even to a proverb, for their learning. But at pre¬
sent the salary of a country schoolmaster, independent
of fees, for scholars, is not greater than a ploughman
can earn, being seldom more than 81. 6s. 8d. the conse¬
quence of which is that this, which is in fact an honour-
,2.
able, because an useful profession, is now sinking intG
contempt. It is no longer an object to a man of learn¬
ing ; and we must soon be satisfied with schoolmasters Tel
O 7 # t
that can read, write, and cast accounts, a little better
than the lowest of the people, or who from some natu¬
ral deformity are unable to exercise a trade. And
what in this case must become of the minds of the com¬
mon people ! They must be totally uncultivated.
We have observed a great difference between the cul¬
tivation of the common people in one part of Scotland
compared with another ; and we have found, that where-
ever a schoolmaster is looked upon as a mean profession
there is scarcely a duly qualified person to be found to
undertake the office 5 and in those places the common
people are lamentably ignorant. In other places again,
where the schoolmaster is considered as one of the prin¬
cipal persons in the parish, there men of a liberal edu¬
cation, young divines, and preachers, do not think
themselves disgraced by exercising this profession ; and
there the common people show a degree of acuteness,
knowledge, and observation, and possess such polished
manners, as raise them very high above those of their
own rank in other parts of the country.
Many and keen have been the debates about a re¬
form of government of late years ; but little attention
has been paid to the formation of the minds of the com¬
mon people, who constitute the greater part of the na¬
tion ; of cqurse they are ready to join the standard of
every seditious demagogue who sounds the alarm of op¬
pression ; and should they at length be roused, their
cruelty and barbarity* like the common people of
France, would be exactly in proportion to their igno¬
rance and want of principle.
We are willing to hope, then, that the government
and the moneyed men of the nation, who alone have
property to lose and money to bestow, will at length
find it to be their interest to patronize schoolmasters.
TEAL. See Anas, Ornithology Index.
TEARS, a lymph or aqueous humour, which is lim¬
pid, and a little saltish : it is separated from the arte¬
rial blood by the lachrymal glands and small glandulous
grains on the inside of the eyelids.
TEASELS, a plant cultivated in the west of Eng¬
land for the use of clothiers. See Hipsacus, Botany
Index.
TEBETH, the tenth month of the Jewish eccle¬
siastical year, and fourth of the civil. It answers to our
month of December.
TECLENBtJRG, a town of Germany, in the cir¬
cle of Westphalia, capital of a county of the same name,
with a castle built on a hill. It was bought by the king
of Prussia in lyo'?. E. Long. 8. 2. N. Lat. 52. 20.
TECHNICAL, expresses somewhat relating to art*
or sciences : in this sense we say technical terms. It is
also particularly applied to a kind of verses wherein are
contained the rules or precepts of any art, thus digest¬
ed to help the memory to retain them; an example
whereof may be seen in tbe article Memory.
TECTONA, Teak-wood, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class pentandria. See Botany, p. 139.
TE DEUM, the name of a celebrated hymn, used in
the Christian church, and so called because it begins
with these words, Te Deum laudamus, We praise thee,
O God. It is sung in the Romish church with great
pomp
T E F [2.31 ] T E F
rum pomp and solemnity upon the gaining of a victory, or
other happy event j and is believed to be the composi-
tion of St Ambrose bishop of Milan.
TEES, a river which rises on the confines of Cum¬
berland, and running eastward, divides the county of
Durham fronr Yorkshire, and falls into the German sea
below Stockton.
TEETH, the bones placed in the jaws for chewing
food, that it may be the more easily digested in the sto¬
mach. The anatomical structure of the teeth has al¬
ready been described under Anatomy. The diseases
to which they are liable, as well as the most successful
remedies for removing them, are fully detailed under
Medicine and Surgery.
Much attention has been paid to the beauty and pre¬
servation of the teeth among most nations. The Romans
rubbed and washed them with great care *, and when they
lost them, supplied their place with artificial teeth made
of ivory j and sometimes, when loose, bound them with
gold. Ligatures of wire have been found to hurt the
natural teeth with which the artificial are connected :
whereas silken twist cannot affect them to any consider¬
able degree for several years.
Guilleman gives us the composition of a paste for
making artificial teeth, which shall never grow yellow :
the composition is white wax granulated, and melted
with a little gum elemi, adding powder of white ma-
stich, coral, and pearl.
When several teeth are out in the same place, it is
best to make a set, or the number wanted, out of one
piece, all adhering together, which may be fastened to
the two next of the sound or natural teeth. And even
a whole set of artificial teeth may be made for one or
both jaws, so well lilted to admit of the necessary mo¬
tions, and so conveniently retained in the proper situa¬
tion by means of springs, that they will answer every
purpose ol natural teeth, and may be taken out, cleaned,
and replaced, by the patient himself with great ease.
The common trick of mountebanks and other such
practitioners, is to use various washes for teeth, the sud¬
den effects ol which, in cleaning and whitening the
teeth, surprise and please people , but the effects are
very pernicious. All the strong acid spirits will do this.
As good a mixture as any thing can be, on this occa¬
sion, is the following: take plantane-water an ounce,
honey of roses two drams, muriatic acid ten drops j mix
the whole together, and rub the teeth with a piece of
linen rag dipped in this every day till they are whitened.
Ihe mouth ought to be well washed with cold water af¬
ter the use of this or any other acid liquor ; and indeed
the best of all teeth washes is cold water, with or with¬
out a little salt; the constant use of this will keep them
clean and white, and prevent them from aching.
Alter all the numerous cures which have been propos¬
ed for preventing- the toothach, we will venture to re¬
commend the keeping the teeth clean as the most effica¬
cious, and avoiding every kind of hot food, especially
hot liquids, as tea, &c. They who are constantly using
powders generally destroy their teeth altogether, as the
valetudinarian does his health.
TEETHING in children. See Medicine.
IEEE, a kind of grain, sown all over Abyssinia,
-lorn which is made the bread commonly used through¬
out the country. We have no description of this plant
at Mr -Bruce, who says that it is herbaceous j and
that from a number of weak leaves surrounding the root
proceeds a stalk of about 28 inches in length, not per¬
fectly straight, smooth, but jointed or knotted at parti¬
cular distances. This stalk is not much thicker than
that of a carnation or julyllower. About eight inches
from the top, a head is formed of a number of small
branches, upon which it carries the fruit and flowers ;
the latter of which is small, of a crimson colour, and
scarcely perceptible by the naked eye but from the op¬
position of that colour. The pistil is divided into two,
seemingly attached to the germ of the fruit, and has at
each end small capillaments forming a brush. The sta¬
mina are three in number ; two on the lower side of the
pistil, and one on the upper. These are each of them
crowned with two oval stigmata, at first green, but after
crimson. 1 he fruit is formed in a capsula, consisting of
two conical hollow leaves, which, when closed, seems
to compose a small conical pod, pointed at the top. The
fruit or seed is oblong, and is not so large as the head
of the smallest pin ; yet it is very prolific, and produces
these seeds in such quantity as to yield a very abundant
crop in the quantity of meal.
Our author, from the similarity of the names, conjec¬
tures it to be the tipha mentioned, but not described,
by Pliny j but this conjecture, which he acknowledges
to be unsupported, is of very little importance.
There are three kinds of meal made from teff, of
which the best (he says) is as white as flour, exceed-
ingly light, and easily digested ; the second is of a
browner colour 5 and the last, which is the food of sol¬
diers and servants, is nearly black. This variety he
imagines to arise entirely from the difference of soils in
which the seeds are sown, and the different degrees »f
moisture to which the plant is exposed when growing.
The manner of making the meal or flour into bread is
by taking a broad earthen jar, and having made a lump
of it with water, they put it into an earthen jar at some
distance from the fire, where it remains till it begins to
ferment or turn sour ; they then bake it into cakes of a
circular form, and about two feet in diameter : it is of a
spungy soft quality, and not a disagreeable sourish taste.
Two of these cakes a-day, and a coarse cotton cloth once
a year, are the wages of a common servant.
At their banquets of raw meat, the flesh being cut in
small bits, is wrapt up in pieces of this bread, with a
proportion of fossil salt and Cayenne pepper. Before
the company sits down to eat, a number of these cakes
of different qualities are placed one upon the other, in
the same manner as our plates, and the principal people
sitting first down, eat the white teff; the second or coar¬
ser sort serves the second-rate people that succeed them,
and the third is for the servants. Every man, when he
is done, dries or wipes his fingers upon the bread which
he is to leave for his successor, for they have no towels;
and this is one of the most beastly customs among them.
Of this tell'bread the natives makes a liquor, by a pro¬
cess which our author describes in the following words.
The bread, when well toasted, is broken into small
pieces, which are put into a large jar, and have warm
water poured upon them. It is then set by the fire, and
frequently stirred for several days, the mouth of the jar
being close covered. After being allowed to settle three
or four days, it acquires a sourish taste, and is what they
call bowza, or the common beer of the country. The
bouza in Atbara is made in the same manner, only in-
. tead
TEG f 232 ] TEL
Teff stead of teff, cakes of barley meal are employed. Both
H are very bad liquors, but the worst is that made of bar-
Tegerhy. ley.
t y —f TEFFLIS, or TiFFLis, a town of Asia, in Georgia,
one of the seven nations between the Black sea and the
Caspian. It is the capital of that country, the place of
residence of its sovereign, and is called by the inhabit¬
ants Thilis-Cabar, “ warm town,” from the warm baths
in its neighbourhood. Though its circumference does
not exceed two English miles, it contains 20,000 inha¬
bitants, of which more than half are Armenians 5 the
remainder are principally Georgians, with some Tartars.
According to Major Kennel, it has 20 Armenian and
15 Greek churches, and three metsheds. But Mr Coxe,
on the authority of Professor Guldenstaedt, states the
places of worship to be one Roman Catholic, 13 Greek,
and seven Armenian churches. There are some magni¬
ficent caravanseras, bazars, and palaces in the city, but
110 mosquesj for the Georgians, though living under a
Mohammedan government, have always risen up in arms
as often as any attempts have been made to erect such
places of Mohammedan worship. Many ot the Romish
missionaries live here in disguise under the denomination
of physicians, surgeons, and chemists j and the great
cures which they perform procure them much esteem,
though they are sometimes exposed to the insults ot the
people when they attempt to make any proselytes to
their church. All the houses are of stone, with flat
roofs, which serve, according to the customs of the East,
as walks for the women. They are neatly built j the
rooms are waiuscotted, and the floors spread with car¬
pets. The streets seldom exceed seven feet in breadth j
and some are so narrow as scarcely to allow room for a
man on horseback: they are consequently very filthy.
Tefflis is a place of considerable trade, especially in
furs, which are conveyed hence to Constantinople by
the way of Erzerum. As for the silks of this country,
they are bought up on the spot by the Armenians, and
conveyed to Smyrna and other ports of the Mediterra¬
nean j but the greatest part is first sent to Erzerum to be
manufactured, the Georgians being very ignorant and
unskilful in that respect. From hence, likewise, great
quantities of a root called boya is sent to Erzerum and
Indostan for the use of the linen dyers. Here is likewise
a foundery, at which are cast a few cannon, mortars, and
balls, all of which are very inferior to those of the
Turks. The gunpowder made here is very good. The
Ai •menians have likewise established in this town all the
manufactures carried on by their countrymen in Persia:
the most flourishing is that of printed linens. Tefflis is
seated on the river Kur, at the fo)t of a mountain j and
on the south side of it stands a large castle or fortress,
built by the Turks in 1576, when they made themselves
masters of the city and country, under the command of
the famous Mustapha Pacha. It is 125 miles west of
Terki. E. Long. 63. 3. N. Lat. 41. 1^9.
TEGERHY, a principal town in Fezzan, in Africa,
about 80 miles south-west of the capital. It collects
from its lands little other produce than dates and Indian
corn. In this, as in every town in Fezzan, a market
for butcher-meat, corn, fruit, and vegetables, is regu¬
larly held. Mutton and goats flesh are sold by the quar¬
ter without weighing; the usual price is from 32 to 40
grains of gold-dust, or four or five shillings English mo¬
ney. The flesh of the camel, which is much more highly
3
valued, is commonly sold at a dearer rate, and is divid- Te
ed into smaller lots. Agriculture and pasturage seem to
be the principal occupations. Teli
TEGUMENT, any thing that surrounds or covers
another.
TEIND, in Scots Law. See Law, N° clxx.
Commission of Tbinds. See Commission.
TEINTS. and Semiteints, in Painting, denote the
several colours used in a picture, considered as more or
less high, bright, deep, thin, or weakened and diminish¬
ed, &c. to give the proper relievo, softness, or distance
&c. of the several objects.
TELEGRAPH (derived from r/iXt and y£«e<p«), is
the name very properly given to an instrument, by
means of which information may be almost instantane¬
ously conveyed to a considerable distance.
The telegraph, though it has been generally known
and used by the moderns only fora few years, is by no
means a modern invention. There is reason to believe
that amongst the Greeks there was some sort of tele¬
graph in use. The burning of Troy was certainly
known in Greece very soon after it happened, and be¬
fore any person had returned from thence. Now that
was altogether so tedious a piece of business, that con¬
jecture never could have supplied the place of informa¬
tion. A Greek play begins with a scene, in which a
watchman descends from the top of a tower in Greece,
and gives the information that Troy was taken. “ I
have been looking out these ten years (says he) to see
when that would happen, and this night it is done.”
Of the antiquity of a mode of conveying intelligence
quickly to a great distance, this is certainly a proof.
The Chinese, when they send couriers on the great
canal, or when any great man travels there, make sig¬
nals by fire from one day’s journey to another, to have
every thing prepared ; and most of the barbarous na¬
tions used formerly to give the alarm of war by fires
lighted on the hills or rising grounds.
Polybius calls the different instruments used by the
ancients for communicating information ttv^o-uoh, pyrsia,
because the signals were always made by means of fire.
At first they communicated information of events merely
by torches ; but this method was of little use, because it
was necessary before-hand to fix the meaning of every
particular signal. Now as events are exceedingly various,
it was impossible to express the greater number of them
by any premeditated contrivance. It was easy, for
instance, to express by signals that a fleet had arrived
at such a place, because this had been foreseen, and sig¬
nals accordingly had been agreed upon to denote it; hut
an unexpected revolt, a murder, and such accidents, as
happen but too often, and require an immediate remedy,
could not be communicated by such signals; because to
foresee them was impossible.
.ZEneas, a contemporary of Aristotle, who wrote a''
treatise on the duties of a general, endeavoured to cor- ^ ,
rect those imperfections, but by no means succeeded.
“ Those (says he) who would give signals to one ano¬
ther upon affairs of importance, must first prepare two
ve-sels of earth, exactly equal in breadth and depth; and
they need be but four feet and a half deep, and a foot
and a half wide. They then must take pieces of cork,
proportioned to the mouth of these vessels, but not quite
so wide, that they may be let down with ease to the
bottom of these vessels. They next fix in the middle of
Ji . Mitc/ic/l Sctlfp
[ 233 ] TEL
this cork a stick, which must be of equal size in both
' these vessels. 1 his stick must he divided exactly and
distinctly, by spaces of three inches each, in order that
such events as generally happen in war may be written
on them. For example, on one of these spaces the follow¬
ing words may be written: ‘A BODY OF horse are
MARCHED INTO THE COUNTRY.’ On another, ‘ A BODY
OF INFANTRY, heavily armed, are arrived hither.’ On
a third, 4 INFANTRY LIGHTLY ARMED.’ On a fourth,
‘ Horse and foot.’ On another, ‘ Ships then
‘ Provisions j’ and so on till all the events which may
probably happen in the war that is carrying on are
marked in these intervals.
This being done, each of the two vessels must have a
little tube or cock of equal bigness, to let out the water
in equal proportion. Then the two vessels must be filled
with water; the pieces of cork, with their sticks thrust
through them, must be laid upon them, and the cocks
must be opened. Now, it is plain, that as these vessels
are equal, the corks will sink, and the sticks descend
lower in the vessels, in proportion as they empty them¬
selves. But to be more certain of this exactness, it will
be proper to make the experiment first, and to examine
whether all things correspond and agree together, by an
uniform execution on both sides. When they are Well
assured of this, the two vessels must be carried to the
two places where the signals are to be made and observ¬
ed : water is poured in, and the corks and sticks are put
in the vessels. When any of the events which are'writ-
ten on the sticks shall happen, a torch or other light is
raised, which must be held aloft till such time as ano¬
ther is raised by the party to whom it is directed. (This
first signal is only to give notice that both parties are
ready and attentive). Then the torch or other light
must be taken away, and the cocks set open. When
the interval, that is that part of the stick where the
event of which notice is to be given or written, shall
be fallen to a level with the vessels, then the man who
gives the signal lifts up his torch ; and on the other
side, the correspondent -signal-maker immediately turns
the cock of bis vessel, and looks at what is writ on that
part of the stick which touches the mouth of the vessel :
on which occasion, if every thing has been executed ex¬
actly and equally on both sides, both will read the same
thing.”
Ibis method was defective, because it could not con¬
vey any other intelligence except what was written on
the sticks, and even that not particularly euough. With
regard to all unforeseen events, it was quite useless.
A new method was invented by Cleoxenus (others
say by Democlitus), and very much improved by Poly¬
bius, as he himself informs us. He describes this me¬
thod as follows : Take the letters of the (Greek) alpha¬
bet, and divide them into five parts, each of which will
consist of five letters, except the last division, which will
have only four. Let these be fixed on a hoard in five
columns. The man who is to give the signals is then
to begin by holding up two torches, which he is to keep
•ooft, till the other party has also shown two. This is
on]y show that both sides are ready. These first
torches are then withdrawn. Botli parties are provided
with boards, on which the letters are disposed as for¬
merly described. The person who then gives the signal
ls to hold up torches on the left to point out to the other
party from what column he shall take the letters as they
VOL. XX. Part. I.
are pointed out to him. If it is to he from the first co¬
lumn, he holds up one torch j if from the second, two ;
and so on for the others. He is then to hold up torches
on the right, to denote the particular letter of the co¬
lumn that is to be taken. All this must have been agreed
011 before-hand. '1 he man who gives the signals must
have an instrument (^eTrrjoev), consisting of two tubes,
and so placed as that, by looking through one of them,
he can see only the right side, and through the other
only' the left, of him who is to answer. The board
must be set up near this instrument 5 and the station on
the right and left must he surrounded with a wall
(*U£X7ri<p£{txi6cu) ten feet broad, and about the height of
a man, that the torches raised above it may give a clear
and strong light, and that when taken down they may
be completely concealed. Let us now suppose that this
information is to be communicated,—A number of the
auxiliaries, about a hundred, have gone over to the enemy.
In the first place, words must be chosen that will con¬
vey the information in the fewest letters possible: as, A
hundred Cretans have deserted, Kgulu af tuuy
vlapoXno-Hv. Having written down this sentence, it is
conveyed in this manner. The first letter is a K, which
is in the second column ; two torches are therefore to be
raised on the left hand to inform the person who receives
the signals to look into that particular column. Then
five torches are to be held up on the right, to mark the
letter k, which is the last in the column. Then four
torches are to be held up on the left to point out the ?
(r), which is in the fourth column, and two on the
right to show that it is the second letter of that column.
The other letters are pointed out in the same manner.
—Such was the pyrsia or telegraph recommended by
Polybius.
But neither this nor any other method mentioned by
the ancients seems ever to have been brought into gene¬
ral use *, nor does it appear that the moderns had thought
of such a machine as a telegraph till the year 1663,
when the Marquis of Worcester, in his Century of
Inventions, affirmed that he had discovered “a method
by which, at a window, as far as eye can discover black
from white, a man may hold discourse with his corre¬
spondent, without noise made or notice taken; being ac¬
cording to occasion given, or means afforded, ex re na-
ta, and no need of provision before hand ; though much
better if foreseen, and course taken by mutual consent
of parties.” ffliis could be done only by means of a
telegraph, which in the next sentence is declared to have
been rendered so perfect, that by means of it the corre¬
spondence could he carried on “ by night as well as bv
day, though as dark as pitch is black.”
About 40 years afterwards M. Amontons proposed
a new telegraph. His method was this : Let there be
people placed in several stations, at such a distance front
one another, that by the help of a telescope a man in one
station may see a signal made in the next before him ; he
must immediately make the same signal, that it may be
seen by persons in the station next after him, who are to
communicate it to those in the following station, and so
on. These signals may be as letters of the alphabet, or
as a cipher, understood only by the two persons who are
in the distant places, and not by those who make the
signals. The person in the second station making the
signal to the person in the third tin# very moment he sees
it in the first, the news may be carried to the gieatest
t G g distance
Telegraph.
TEL [ 234 ] TEL
Telegraph, distance in as little time as is necessary to make the sig-
V’—^ nals in the first station. The distance of the several sta¬
tions, which must he as few as possible, is measured by
the reach of a telescope. Amontons tried this method
in a small tract of land before several persons of the
highest rank at the court of France.
It was not, however, till the French revolution that
the telegraph was applied to useful purposes. Whether
M. Chappe, who is said to have invented the telegraph
first used by the French about the end of 1793, knew
any thing of Amontons’s invention or not, it is impos¬
sible to say *, but his telegraph was constructed on prin¬
ciples nearly similar. The manner of using this tele¬
graph was as follows . At the first station, which was on
the roofof the palace of the Louvre at Paris, M. Chappe,
the inventor, received in writing, from the committee of
public welfare, the words to be sent to Lisle, near which
the French army at that time was. An upright post
was erected on the Louvr®, at the top of which were
two transverse arms, moveable in all directions by a sin¬
gle piece of mechanism, and with inconceivable rapidi¬
ty. He invented a number of positions for these arms,
which stood as signs for the letters of the alphabet j and
these, for the greater celerity and simplicity, he reduced
in number as much as possible. The grammarian will
easily conceive that sixteen signs may amply supply all
the letters of the alphabet, since some letters may be
omitted not only without detriment but with advantage.
These signs, as they were arbitrary, could be changed
every week } so that the sign of B for one day might be
the sign of M the next } and it was only necessary that
the persons at the extremity should know the key. The
intermediate operators were only instructed generally in
these sixteen signals 5 which were so distinct, so marked,
so different the one from the other, that they were easily
remembered. The construction of the machine was
such, that each signal was uniformly given in precisely
the same manner at all times : It did not depend on the
operator’s manual skill j and the position of the arm
could never, for any one signal, be a degree higher
or a degree lower, its movement being regulated me¬
chanically.
M. Chappe having received at the Louvre the sen¬
tence to be conveyed, gave a known signal to the second
station, which was Mont Martre, to prepare. At each
station there was a watch tower, where telescopes were
fixed, and the person on watch gave the signal of prepa¬
ration which he had received, and this communicated
successively through all the line, which brought them all
into a state of readiness. The per*on at Mont Martre
then received, letter by letter, the sentence from the
Louvre, which he repeated with his own machine j and
this was again repeated from the next height, with in¬
conceivable rapidity, to the final station at Lisle.
English The first description of the telegraph was brought
Review, from Paris to Frankfort on the Maine by a former mem-
June 1796. ljer 0f t]ie parliament of Bourdeaux, who had seen that
which was erected on the mountain of Belville. As gi¬
ven by Dr Hutton from some of the English papers, it
Plate as tadow®* A A is a beam or mast of wood placed
DXXVIU. upright on a rising ground (fig. 1 ), which is about 15 or
lig i. 16 leet high. BB is a beam or balance moving upon
the centre AA. 'Ihis balance-beam may be placed
vertically or horizontally, or any how inclined, by
means of strong cords, which are fixed to the wheel D,
on the edge of which is a double groove to receive the jeiegr
two cords. This balance is about 11 or 12 feet long,
and nine inches broad, having at the ends two pieces of
wood CC, which likewise turn upon angles by means of
four other cords that pass through the axis of the main
balance, otherwise the balance would derange the cords j
the pieces C are each about three feet long, and may be
placed either to the right or left, straight, or square,
with the balance-beam. By means of these three the
combination or movement is very extensive, remarkably
simple, and easily performed. Below is a small wooden
gouge or hut, in which a person is employed to observe
the movements of the machine. In the mountain nearest
to this another person is to repeat these movements, and
a third to write them down. I he time taken up for
each movement is 20 seconds j of which the motion
alone is four seconds, the other 16 the machine is sta¬
tionary. Two working models of this instrument were
executed at Frankfort, and sent by Mr W. Playfair to
the duke of York ; and hence the plan and alphabet of
the machine came to England.
Various experiments were in consequence tried upon
telegraphs in this country j and one was soon after set
up by government in a chain of stations from the admi¬
ralty-office to the sea coast. It consists of six octagon
boards, each of which is poised upon an axis in a frame,
in such a manner that it can be either placed vertically,
so as to appear with its full size to the observer at the fig. t,
nearest station, as in fig. 2. or it becomesinvisible to him
by being placed horizontally, as in fig. 3. so that the
narrow edge alone is exposed, which narrow edge is from
a distance invisible. Fig. 2. is a representation of this
telegraph, with the parts all shut, and the machine ready
to work. T, in the officer’s cabin, is the telescope pjg, j.
pointed to the next station. Fig. 3. is a representation
of the machine not at work, and with the ports all
open. The opening of the first port (fig. 2.) expresses
a, the second b, the third c, the fourth d, the fifth e,
the sixths &c.
Six boards make 36 changes, by the most plain and
simple mode of working j and they will make many
more if more were necessary : but as the real superiority
of the telegraph over all other modes of making sig¬
nals consists in its making letters, we do not think that
more changes than the letters of the alphabet, and the
ten arithmetical ciphers, are necessary 5 but, on the
contrary, that those who work the telegraphs should
avoid communicating by words or signs agreed upon to
express sentences 5 for that is the sure method never to
become expert at sending unexpected intelligence accu¬
rately.
This telegraph is without doubt made up of the best
number of combinations possible ; five boards would he
insufficient, and seven would be useless. It has been
objected to it, however, that its form is too clumsy to
admit of its being raised to any considerable height
above the building on which it stands j and that it can¬
not be made to change its direction, and consequently
cannot be seen but from one particular point.
Several other telegraphs have been proposed to remedy
these delects, and perhaps others to which the instru¬
ment is still liable. The dial-plate of a clock would
make an excellent telegraph, as it might exhibit 144 ,1
signs so as to be visible at a great distance. A telegraph
on this principle, with only six divisions instead of
twelve,
TEL [2
pej rapli. twelve, would be simple and cheap, and might be raised
— —' 20 or 30 feet high above the, building, without any dif¬
ficulty: it might be supported on one post, and therefore
turn round, and the contrast of colours would always be
the same.
up^merit ^ very ingenious improvement of the telegraph has
,r been proposed in the Gentleman’s Magazine. It consists
of a semicircle, to be properly elevated, and fixed per¬
pendicularly on a strong stand. The radius 1 2 feet 5 the
semicircle consequently somewhat more than 36. This
to be divided into 24 parts. Each of these will there¬
fore comprise a space of 18 inches, and an arch of 70 30'
on the circumference. These 24 divisions to be occu¬
pied by as many circular apertures of six inches diame¬
ter; which will leave a clear space of six inches on each
side between the apertures. These apertures, beginning
from the left, to denote the letters of the alphabet,
omitting K, J consonant, V, X, and Q, as useless for
this purpose. There are then 21 letters. The four other
spaces are reserved for signals. The instrument to have
an index moveable by a windlass on the centre of the
semicircle, and having two tops, according as it is to be
used in the day or night; one, a circular top of lac¬
quered iron or copper, of equal diameter W'ith the aper¬
tures (and which consequently will eclipse any of them
against which it rests) ; the other, a spear or arrow-
shaped top, black and highly polished, which, in stand¬
ing before any of the apertures in the day-time, will be
distinctly visible. In the night, the apertures to be redu¬
ced by a diaphragm fitting close to each, so as to leave
an aperture of not more than two inches diameter. The
diaphragm to be of well-polished tin ; the inner rim lac¬
quered black half an inch. All the apertures to be
illuminated, when the instrument is used in the night¬
time, by small lamps; to which, if necessary, according
to circumstances, convex lenses may be added, fitted into
each diaphragm, by which the light may be powerfully
concentrated and increased. Over each aperture one of
the five prismatic colours least likely to be mistaken (the
remaining two being less distinguishable, and not want¬
ed, are best omitted) to be painted; and, in their natural
order, on a width of eighteen inches and a depth of four,
red, orange, yellow, green, blue; or, still to heighten the
contrast, and render immediately successive apertures
more distinguishable, red, green, orange, blue, yellow.
The whole inner circle beneath and between the apeiv
tures to be painted black.
When the instrument is to be used, the index to be set
to the signal apertures on the right. All the apertures
to be covered or dark when it begins to be used, except
that which is to give the signal. A signal gun to
be fired to apprise the observer. If the index is set to
the first aperture, it will denote that words are to be ex¬
pressed ; if to the second, that figures ; if to the third,
that the figures cease ; and that the intelligence is car¬
ried on in words. When figures are to be expressed, the
alternate apertures from the left are taken in their order,
to denote from 1 to 10 inclusively ; the second from the
right denotes 100; the fifth 1000. This order, and
these intervals, are taken to prevent any confusion in so
35 ] T E L
peculiarly important an article of the intelligence to be Telegraph,
conveyed. u—y—<
Perhaps, however, none of the telegraphs hitherto of¬
fered to the public exceeds the following, either in sim¬
plicity, cheapness, or facility in working, and it might
perhaps, with a few trifling additions, be made exceed¬
ingly distinct. It is thus described in the Repertory of
Arts and Manufactures : For a nocturnal telegraph, let
there be four large patent reflectors, lying on the same
plane, parallel to the horizon, placed on the top of an
observatory. Let each of these reflectors be capable, by
means of two winches, either of elevation or depression
to a certain degree. By elevating or depressing one or
two of the reflectors, eighteen very distinct arrange¬
ments may be produced, as the following scheme will
explain (a).
O0O
B
o
o 00
o
00 o
000
F
000
G
o 00
o
00 o
o
000
L
00
00
M
o o
o o
N
o o
00
O
00
00
For the sake of example, the above arrangements are
made to answer to the most necessary letters of the al¬
phabet ; but alterations may be made at will, and a
greater number of changes produced, without any addi¬
tion to the reflectors. In the first observatory there need
only be a set of single reflectors; but in the others each
reflector should be double, so as to face both the pre¬
ceding .and subsequent observatory; and each observa¬
tory should be furnished with two telescopes. The pro¬
per diameter of the reflectors, and their distance from
each other, will be ascertained by experience.
To convert this machine into a diurnal telegraph, no¬
thing more is necessary than to insert, in the place of the
reflectors, gilt balls, or any other conspicuous bodies.
Were telegraphs brought to so great a degree of per¬
fection, that they could convey information speedily and
distinctly ; were they so much simplified, that they could
be constructed and maintained at little expence—the
advantages which would result from their use are almost
inconceivable. Not to speak of the speed with which
information could be communicated and orders given in
time of war, by means of which misfortunes might be
prevented or instantly repaired, difficulties removed, and
disputes precluded, and by means of which the whole
kingdom could be prepared in an instant to oppose an
G g 2 invading
ace.
(a) Each reflector, after every arrangement, must be restored to its pi;
TEL
Telegraph, invading enemy ; it might he used hy commercial men
Telema- to convey a commission cheaper and speedier than an
^ express can travel. The capitals of distant nations
might he united hy chains of posts, and the settling of
tiiose disputes which at present take up months or years
might then he accomplished in as many hours. An
establishment of telegraphs might then he made like that
of the post; and instead of being an expence, it would
produce a revenue. Until telegraphs are employed to
convey information that occurs very frequently, the per¬
sons who are stationed to work them will never become
expert, and consequently will neither be expeditious nor
accurate, though, with practice, there is no doubt but
they will attain both in a degree of perfection of which
we can as yet have but little conception.
Various other improvements of the telegraph might
have been mentioned, but our limits do not permit us to
dwell longer on the subject.
TELEMACHUS, the son of Ulysses and Penelope,
was still in the cradle when his father went with the
rest of the Greeks to the Trojan war. At the end of
this celebrated war, Telemachus, anxious to see his fa¬
ther, went to seek him ; and as the place of his resi¬
dence, and the cause of his long absence, were then un¬
known, he visited the court of MenelauS and Nestor to
obtain information. He afterwards returned to Ithaca,
where the suitors of his mother Penelope had conspired
to murder him, but he avoided their snares ; and by
means of Minerva he discovered his father, who had ar¬
rived in the island two days before him, and was then
in the house of Eumaeus. With this faithful servant and
Ulysses Telemachus concerted how to deliver his mo¬
ther from the importunities of her suitors, and it was
effected with great success. After the death of his fa¬
ther, Telemachus went to the island of AEsea, where he
married Circe, or, according to others, Cassiphone the
daughter of Circe, by whom he had a son called Latinus.
He some time after had the misfortune to kill his mo¬
ther-in-law Circe, and fled to Italy, where he founded
Clusium. Telemachus was accompanied in his visit to
Nestor and Menelaus hy the goddess of wisdom under
the form of Mentor. It is said that, when a child, Te¬
lemachus fell into the sea, and that a dolphin brought
him safe to shore, after he had remained some time un¬
der water. From this circumstance Ulysses had the
figure of a dolphin engraved on the seal which he wore
on his ring.
From these stories, collected from Homer and the
other poets of antiquity, the celebrated Fenelon, arch¬
bishop of Cambray, took the idea of his well-known Ad*
ventures of Telemachus ; which, though not composed
Lectures jn verse, is justly intitled to be esteemed a poem. “ The
*lndlheC l^an ^ie w01'^ (says Hr Blair) is in general well
Belles contrived ; and is deficient neither in epic grandeur nor
Letlres. unity of object. The author has entered with much fe¬
licity into the spirit and ideas of the ancient poets, par¬
ticularly into the ancient mythology, which retains
more dignity, andmakes a better figure in his hands than
in those of any other modern poet. His descriptions are
rich and beautiful ; especially of the softer and calmer
scenes, for which the genius of Fenelon was best suited ;
such as the incidents of pastoral life, the pleasures of vir¬
tue, or a country flourishing in peace. There is an in¬
imitable sweetness and tenderness in several of the pic¬
tures of this kind which he has givenand his mea-
4
TEL
sured prose, which is remarkably Harmon ions;.gives the Teb]
style nearly as much elevation as the French language c)llls,
is capable of supporting even in regular verse. " 1
According to the same eminent critic, “ the best exe-T,f'e!C#l
cuted part of the work is the fir^t six books, in which <~V'
Telemachus recounts his adventures to Calypso. Tfie
narration throughout them is lively and interesting.
Afterwards, especially in the last 12 books, it become*
more tedious and languid ; and in the warlike adven¬
tures which are attempted, there is a great defect of
vigour. The chief objection against this work being
classed with epic poems, arises from the minute details
of virtuous policy, into which the author in some place*
enters; and from the discourses and instructions of Men¬
tor, which recur upon us too often, and too much in th*
strain of common-place morality. Though these were
well suited to the main design of the author, which was
to form the mind of a young prince, yet they seem not
congruous to the nature of epic poetry ; the object of
which is to improve us by means of actions, characters,
and sentiments, rather than by delivering professed and
formal instruction.”
i ELEPH1UM, True Orpine, a genus of plants
belonging to the class pentandria; and in the natural
system ranging under the 54th order, Miscelianece. Ben
Botany Index.
TELESCOPE, an optical instrument for viewing
distant objects; so named by compounding the Greek
words rn^y far off, and o-kotcim, I. look at or contemplate.
This name is commonly appropriated to the larger sizes
of the instrument, while the smaller are called perspec¬
tive-glasses, spy-glasses, opera-glasses. A par¬
ticular kind, which is thought to be much brighter than
the rest, is called a NIGHT-GLASS.
To what has been said already with respect to the in¬
ventor of this most noble and useful instrument in the
article Optics, we may add the tivo following claims.
Mr Leonhard Higges, a gentleman of the 17th cen¬
tury of great and various knowledge, positively assert*
in his Stratioticos, and in another work, that his father,
a military gentleman, had an instrument which he used
in the field, by which he could bring distant objects
near, and could know a man at the distance of three
miles. He says, that when his father was at home h«.
had often looked through it, and could distinguish the
waving of the trees on the opposite side of the Severn.
Mr Digges resided in the neighbourhood of Bristol.
Francis Fontana, in his Celestial Observations, pub- -
lished at Naples in 1646, says, that he was assured by
a Mr Hardy, advocate of the parliament of Paris, a
person ol great learning and undoubted integrity, that
on the death of his father, there was found among his
things an old tube, hy which distant objects were di¬
stinctly seen ; and that it was of a date long prior to
the telescope lately invented, and had been kept by him
as a secret.
It is not all improbable, that curious people, hand¬
ling spectacle glasses, of which there were by this time
great varieties, both convex and concave, and amusing
themselves with their magnifying power and the singu¬
lar effects which they produced in the appearances of
things, might sometimes chance so to place them as to
produce distinct and enlarged vision. We know per-
feeily, from the table and scheme which Sirturus has
given us of the tools or dishes in which the spectacle-
makers
C 236 ]
TEL
Feletspe, makers fashioned their glasses, that they had convex
—lenses formed to spheres of 24 inches diameter, and of
xi inferior sizes. He has given us a scheme of a set
which he got leave to measure, belonging to a spectacle-
maker of the name of Rogettc at Corunna in Spain j and
lie says that this man had tools of the same sizes for con¬
cave glasses. It also appears, that it was a general
practice (of which we do not know the precise purpose)
to use a convex and concave glass together. If any per¬
son should chance to put together a 24-inch convex and
a 12-inch concave (wrought on both sides) at the di¬
stance of six inches, he would have distinct vision, and
the object would appear of double size. Concaves of
six inches were not uncommon, and one such combined
with the convex of 24, at the distance of nine inches,
would have distinct vision, and objects would be qua¬
drupled in diameter. When such a thing occurred, it
was natural to keep it as a curiosity, although the ra¬
tionale of its operation was not in the least understood.
We doubt not but that this happened much oftener than
in these two instances. The chief wonder is, that it was
not frequent, and taken notice of by some writer. It is
pretty plain that Galileo’s first telescope was of this kind,
made up of such spectacle-glasses as he could procure ;
for it magnified only three times in diameter; a thing
easily procured by such glasses as he could find with
every spectacle-maker. And he could not but observe,
211 his trials of their glasses, that the deeper concaves and
flatter convexes he employed, he produced the greater
amplification ; and then he would find himself obliged
to provide a tool not used by the spectacle-makers, viz.
either a much flatter tool for a convex surface, ora much
smaller sphere for a concave; and, notwithstanding his
telling us that it was by reflecting on the nature of re¬
fraction, and without any instruction, we are persuaded
that he proceeded in this very way. His next teles¬
cope magnified but five times. Now the slightest ac¬
quaintance with the obvious laws of refraction would
Have directed him at once to a very small and deep con¬
cave, which would have been much easier made, and
have magnified more. But he'groped his way with such
spectacle-glasses as he could get, till he at last made
tools for very flat object-glasses and very deep eye-glasses,
and produced a telescope which magnified about 2^
times. Sirturus saw it, and took the measures of it.
He afterwards saw a scheme of it which Galileo had
sent to a German prince at Inspruck, who had it drawn
(that is, the circles for the tools) on a table in bis gal¬
lery. The object-glass was a plano-convex, a portion
cf a sphere of 24 inches diameter ; the eye-glass was
a double concave of two inches diameter ; the focal
distances were therefore 24 inches and one inch nearly.
This must have been a very lucky operation, for Sirtu-
ius says it was the best telescope he had seen : and we
vnovv that it requires the very best work to produce this
magnifying power with such small spheres. Telescopes
continued to be made in this way for many years; and
alileo, though keenly engaged in the observation of
upiter s satellites, being candidate for the prize held
out by the Dutch-for the discovery of the longitude,
am therefore much interested in the advantage which
a convex eye-glass would have given him, never made
iem of any other form. Kepler published his Diop-
ncs in 1611; in-which he tells ns, all that he or others
discovered of the law of refraction, viz. that in very
E 237 1
TEL
small obliquities of incidence, the angle of Refraction Telesecps.,
was nearly one- third of the angle of incidence. This r
was indeed enough to have pointed out, with sufficient
exactness, the construction of every optical instrument
that we are even now possessed of; for tlmproportiona-
lity of the angles of incidence and refraction is assumed
in the construction of the optical figure for all of them ;
and the deviation from it is still considered as the re¬
finement of the art, and was not brought to any rule till
50 years after by Huyghens, and called by him aber¬
ration. Aet even the sagacious Kepler seems not to
have seen the advantage of any other eonstrnction of
the telescope ; he just seems to acknowledge the possi¬
bility of it: and we are surprised to see writers giving
him as the author of the astronomical telescope, or even
as hinting at its construction. It is true, in the last
proposition he shows how a telescope may be made ap¬
parently with a convex eye-glass : but this is only a
frivolous fancy ; for the eye-glass is directed to be mad*
convex externally, and a very deep concave on the in¬
side; so that it is, in fact, a meniscus with the concavi¬
ty prevalent. In the 86th proposition, he indeed shows
that it is possible so to place a convex glass behind ano¬
ther convex glass, that an eye shall see objects distinct,
magnified, and inverted ; and he speaks very sagacious¬
ly on the subject. After having said that an eye placed
behind the point of union of the first glass will see an
object inverted, he shows that a small part only will be
seen; and then he shows that a convex glass, duly pro¬
portioned and properly placed, will show more of it.
But in showing this, he speaks in a way which shows
evidently that he had formed no distinct notions of the
manner in which this effect would he produced, onlv
saying vaguely that the convergency of the second glass
would counteract the divergency beyond the focus of
the first. Had he conceived the matter with any toler¬
able distinctness, aftet seeing the great advantage of ta¬
king in a field greater in almost any proportion, he
would have eagerly catched at the thought, and enlar¬
ged on the immense improvement. Had he but drawn
one figure of the progress of the rays through two con¬
vex glasses, the whole would have been open to his
view.
This step, so easy and so important, was reserved for
Father Scheiner, as has been already observed in the
article Optics; and the construction of this author, to*-
gether with that of Jansen, are the models on which all
refracting telescopes are now constructed; and m all
that relates to their magnifying power, brightness, and
field of vision, they may be constructed on Kepler’s prin¬
ciple, that the angles of refraction are in a certain given
proportion to the angles of incidence.
But after Huyghens had applied his elegant geometry
to the discovery of Snellius, viz. the proportionality, not
of the angles, but of the sines, and had ascertained the
aberrations from the foci of infinitely slender pencils,
the reasons were clearly pointed out why there were
such narrow limits affixed by nature to the performance
of optical instruments, in consequence of the indistinct¬
ness of vision which resulted from constructions where
the magnifying power, the quantity of light, or the field
of vision, were extended beyond certain moderate bounds.
The theory of aberrations, which that most excellent
geometer established, has enabled us to diminish this in¬
distinctness arising from any of these causes ; and this
diminution
TEL
Telescope, diminution is tlie sole aim of all the different construc-
' v— ' tions which have been contrived since the days of Gali¬
leo and Scheiner.
The description which has been already given of the
various constructions of telescopes in the article Optics,
is sufficient for instructing the reader in the general
principles of their construction, and with moderate at¬
tention will show the manner in which the rays of light
proceed, in order to ensure the different circumstances
of amplification, brightness, and extent of field, and
even distinctness of vision, in as far as depends on the
proper intervals bet ween the glasses. Butit is insufficient
for giving us a knowledge of the improvements which
are aimed at in the different departures from the original
constructions of Galileo and Scheiner, the advantage of
the double eye-glass of Huyghens, and the quintuple
eye-glass of Dolland: still more is it insufficient for show¬
ing us why the highest degrees of amplification and most
extensive field cannot be obtained by the mere propor¬
tion of the focal distances of the glasses, as Kepler had
taught. In short, without the Huyghenian doctrine of
aberrations, neither can the curious reader learn the li¬
mits of their performance, nor the artist learn why one
telescope is better than another, or in what manner to
proceed to make a telescope differing in any particular
from those which he servilely copies.
Although all the improvements in the construction of
telescopes since the publication of Huyghen’s Dioptrics
have been the productions of this island, and although
Dr Smith of Cambridge has given the most elegant and
perspicuous account of this science that has yet appear¬
ed, we do not recollect a performance in the English
language (except the Optics of Emerson) tVhich will
carry the reader beyond the mere schoolboy elements of
the science, or enable a person of mathematical skill to
understand or improve the construction of optical instru¬
ments. The last work on this subject of any extent
(Dr Priestley’s History of Vision) is merely a parlour
book for the amusement of half-taught dilettanti, but is
totally deficient in the mathematical part, although it
js here that the science of optics has her chief claim to
pre-eminence, and to the name of a DISCIPLINA accu-
31 AT A. But this would have been ultra crepidam; and
the author would in all probability have made as poor a
figure here as he has done in his attempts to degrade
his species in his Commentaries on the Vibratiunculce of
Hartley ; motions which neither the author nor his am-
plificator were able to understand or explain. We trust
that our readers, jealous as we are of every thing that
sinks us in the scale of nature’s works, will pardon this
transient ejaculation of spleen, when our thoughts are
called to a system which, of absolute and unavoidable ne¬
cessity, makes the divine mind nothing but a quiver¬
ing of that matter of which it is the author and un¬
erring director. Sed missum faciamus.
We think therefore that we shall do the public some
service, by giving such an account of this higher branch
of optical science as will at least tend to the complete un¬
derstanding of this noble instrument, by which our con¬
ceptions of the extent of almighty power, and wisdom,
and beneficence, are so wonderfully enlarged. In the
prosecution of this we hope that many general rules will
emerge, by which artists who are not mathematicians
pay be. enabled to construct optical instruments with
T E L
intelligence, and avoid the many blunders and defects
which result from mere servile imitation. y
The general aim in the construction of a telescope is,
to form, by means of mirrors or lenses, an image of the
distant object, as large, as bright, and as extensive as is
possible, consistently with distinctness; and then to view
the image with a magnifying glass in any convenient
manner. This gives us an arrangement of our subject.
We shall first show the principles of construction of the
object-glass or mirror, so as that it shall form an image
of the distant object with these qualities; andkthen show
how to construct the magnifying glass or eye-piece, so
as to preserve them unimpaired.
This indistinctness which we wish to avoid arises from
two causes; the spherical figures of the refracting and
reflecting surfaces, and the different refrangibility of
the differently coloured rays of light. The first may be
called the SPHERICAL and the second the chromatic
indistinctness; and the deviations from the foci, deter¬
mined by an elementary theorem, given under Optics,
may be called the spherical and the chromatic
aberrations.
The limits of a work like this will not permit us to
give any more of the doctrine of aberrations than is ab¬
solutely necessary for the construction of achromatic te¬
lescopes ; and we must refer the reader for a general
view of the whole to Euler’s Dioptrics, and other works
of that kind. Dr Smith has given as much as was ne¬
cessary for the comparison of the merits of different
glasses of similar construction, and this in a very plain
and elegant manner.
We shall begin with the aberration of colour, be¬
cause it is the most simple.
Let white or compounded light fall perpendicularly Pis
on the flat side PQ (fig. i.) of a plano-convex lens D.V
PVQ, whose axis is CV and vertex V. The white ^
ray pP falling on the extremity of the lens is dispersed
by refraction at the point P of the spherical surface, and
the red ray goes to the point r of the axis, and the vio¬
let ray to the point v. In like manner the white ray
q Q is dispersed by refraction at Q, the red ray going
to r, and the violet to v. The red ray P r crosses the
violet ray Q y in a point D, and Q r crosses P t; in a
point E; and the whole light refracted and dispersed
by the circumference whose diameter is PQ, passes
through the circular area, whose diameter is DE. Sup¬
posing that the lens is of such a form that it would col¬
lect red rays, refracted by its whole surface in the point
r, and violet in the point v; then it is evident that the
whole light which occupies the surface of the lens will
pass through this little circle, whose diameter is DE.
Iherefore white light issuing from a point so distant that
the rays may be considered as parallel, will not be
collected in another point or focus, but will be dispersed
over the surface ol that little circle: which is therefore
called the circle of chromatic dispersion; and the radi¬
ant point will be represented by this circle. The neigh¬
bouring points are in like manner represented by circles;
and these circles encroaching on and mixing with each
other, must occasion haziness or confusion, and render
the picture indistinct. This indistinctness will be greater
in the proportion of the number of circles which are in
this manner mixed together. This will be in the pro¬
portion of the room that is for them ; that is, in propor¬
tion to the area of the circle, or in the duplicate propor-
tioa
[ 238 ]
cpe,
TEL [
tion of its diameter. Our first business therefore is, to
obtain measures of this diameter, and to mark the con¬
nection between it and the aperture and focal distance
of the lens.
Let ? be to r as the sine of incidence in glass to the
sine of refraction of the red rays ; and let i be to v as
the sine of incidence to the sine of refraction of the vio¬
let rays. Then we say, that when the aperture PQ is
moderate, v—r : u-f-r—2 /—DE : PQ, very nearly,
lor let DE, which is evidently perpendicular to Vr,
meet the parallel incident rays in K and L and the radii
of the spherical surface in G and H. It is plain that
GPIv is equal to the angle of incidence on the posterior
or spherical surface of the lens ; and GP r and GP v
are the angles of the refraction of the red and the violet
rays; and that GK, GD, and GE, are very nearly as
the sines of those angles, because the angles are supposed
to be small. We may therefore institute this proportion
DE : KD——r : r—i; then, by doubling the con¬
sequents DE : 2 KD~1;—7’ : 2 r—2 7. Also DE :
2 KD -}- DE=t!—7" : 27’—2i -\- v—7’, —r : 7’-{-
<7—2 7. But 2 KD -j- DE is equal to KL or PQ.
Therefore we have DE : PQ v—r : r -J- v—2 i.
Q.E.D.
Cor. 1. Sir Isaac Newton, by most accurate observa¬
tion, found, that in common glass the sines of refraction
of the red and violet rays were 77 and 78 where the
sine of incidence was 50. Hence it follows, that v—r
is to t;-{-7>—2t as 1 to 55 ; and that the diameter of
the smallest circle of dispersion is 3-3-th part of that of
the lens.
2. In like manner may be determined the circle of
dispersion that will comprehend the rays of any particu¬
lar colour or set of colours. Thus all the orange and
yellow will pass through a circle whose diameter is
•g^oth of that of the lens.
3. In different surfaces, or plano-convex lenses, the
angles of aberration 7’ P v are as the breadth PQ di¬
rectly, and as the focal distance VF inversely j because
any angle DPE is as its subtense DE directly and ra¬
dius DP inversely. N. B. We call VF the focal di¬
stance, because at this distance, or at the point F,,the
light is most of all constipated. If we examine the fo¬
cal distance by holding the lens to the sun, we judge it
to be where the light is drawn into the smallest spot.
When we reflect that a lens of 5-^ inches in diameter
has a circle of dispersion -j^-th of an inch in diameter,
we are surprised that it produces any picture of an ob¬
ject that can be distinguished. We should not expect
greater distinctness from such a lens than would be pro¬
duced in a camera obscura without a lens, by simply ad¬
mitting the light through a hole of Toth of an inch in
diameter. This, we know, would be very hazy and
confused. But when we remark the superior vivacity
of the yellow and orange light in comparison with the
test, we may believe that the effect produced by the
confusion of the other colours will be much less sensible.
But a stronger reason is, that the light is much denser
in the middle of the circle of dispersion, and is exceed¬
ingly faint towards the margin. This, however, must
not be taken for granted ; and we must know distinctly
the manner in which the light of different colours is
distributed over the circle of chromatic dispersion, be¬
fore we pretend to pronounce on the immense difference
between the indistinctness arising from colour and that
239 1 T E L
arising from the spherical figure. We think this the Xelc
more necessary, because the illustrious discoverer of the v——
chromatic aberration has made a great mistake in the
comparison, because he did not consider the distribution
ot the light in the circle of spherical dispersion. It is
therefore proper to investigate the chromatic distribu¬
tion of the fight with the same care that we bestow¬
ed on the spherical dispersion in Optics, and wTe shall
then see that the superiority of the reflecting tele¬
scope is incomparably less than Newton imagined it to
be.
Therefore let EB (fig. 2.) represent a plano-convex Fig.
lens, of which C is the centre and C r the axis. Let
us suppose it to have no spherical aberration, but to col¬
lect rays occupying its whole surface to single points in
the axis. Let a beam of white or compounded light
fall perpendicularly on its plane surface. The rays will
be so refracted by its curved surface, that the extreme
red rays will be collected at r, the extreme violet rays
at w, and those of intermediate refrangibility at inter¬
mediate points, 0, y, g, b, p, v, of the line rw, which
is nearly -g^th of r C. The extreme red and violet
rays will cross each other at A and D 5 and AD will
be a section or diameter of the circle of chromatic dis¬
persion, and will be about TYtli of EB. We may sup¬
pose w r to be bisected in because w b is to b 1
very nearly in the ratio of equality (for r £ \rCj~
£ A : e E, —b A : c B,' ~ w b : w C). The line r w
will be a kind of prismatic spectrum, red from r to 0,
orange-coloured from 0 to y, yellow from y to g, green
from g to b, blue from b toy, purple from p to and
violet from v to w.
The light in its compound state must be supposed uni¬
formly dense as it falls upon the lens j and the same
must be said of the rays of any particular colour. New¬
ton supposes also, that when a W’bite ray, such as e E,
is dispersed into its component coloured rays by refrac¬
tion at E, it is uniformly spread over the angle DEA.
This supposition is indeed gratuitous j but we have no
argument to the contrary, and may therefore consider it
as just. The consequence is, that each point to, o, y, 6,
&c. of the spectrum is not only equally luminous, but
also illuminates uniformly its corresponding portion of
AD : that is to say, the coating (so to term it) of any
particular colour, such as purple, from the point y, is
uniformly dense in every part of AD on which it falls.
In like manner, the colouring of yellow, intercepted by
a part of AD in its passage to the point y, is uniform¬
ly dense in all its parts. But the density of the differ¬
ent colours in AD is extremely different: for since the
radiation in w is equally dense with that in y, the den¬
sity of the violet colouring, which radiates from «>, and
is spread over the whole of AD, must he much less than
the density of the purple colouring, which radiates from
y, and occupies only a part of AD round the circle b.
These densities must he very nearly in the inverse pro¬
portion of w to pb\
Hence we see, that the central point b will he very
intensely illuminated by the blue radiating fromy b and
the green intercepted from bg. It will be more faintly
illuminated by the purple radiating from fy, and the
yellow intercepted from gij; and still more faintly by
the violet from w v, and the orange and red intercepted
from y The whole colouring will he a white, tend¬
ing a little to yellowness. The accurate proportion of
these
TEL
[ 240 ]
TEL
Telescope, these colourings may be computed from our knowledge
*v"1 1 of the position of the points o,y,g, &c. But this is of
little moment. It is of more consequence to be able to
determine the proportion of the total intensity of the
light in b to its intensity in any other point I.
For this purpose draw r 1R, I w W, meeting the lens
in R and W. The point I receives none of the light
which passes through the space : for it is evident
that b I : CR=6 A : CE, — 1 : 55, and that CR=:
CW; and therefore, since all the light incident on EB
passes through AB, all the light incident on RW passes
through I i (A i being maderr^ I). Draw 0 10, y IY,
g IG, IpY, 1 v V. It is plain that I receives red
light from RO, orange from OY, yellow from YG,
green from GE, a little blue from BP, purple from
PV, and violet from VW. It therefore wants some of
the green and of the blue.
That we may judge of the intensity of these colours
at I, suppose the lens covered with paper pierced with a
small hole at G. The green light only will pass through
I j the other colours will pass between I and b, or be¬
tween I and A, according as they are more or less re¬
frangible than the particular green at I. This particu¬
lar colour converges to g, and therefore will illuminate
a small spot round I, where it will he as much denser
than it is at G as this spot is smaller than the hole at G.
The natural density at G, therefore, will be to the in¬
creased density at I, as g I* to g G*, or as g b1 to g C1,
or as b I* to CG1. In like manner, the natural density
' of the purple coming to I through an equal hole at P
will be to the increased density at I as A I* to CP*.
And thus it appears, that the intensity of the differently
coloured illuminations of any point of the circle of dis¬
persion, is inversely proportional to the square of the di¬
stance from the centre of the lens to the point of its sur¬
face through which the colouring light comes to this
point of the circle of dispersion. This circumstance will
give us a very easy, and, we think, an elegant solution
of the question.
Bisect CE in F, and draw FL perpendicular to CE,
making it equal to CF. Through the point E describe
the hyperbola KLN of the second order, that is, having
the ordinates EK, FL, RN, &c. inversely proportional
te the squares of the abscissae CE, CF, CR, &c. j so
that FL : : or =CR* : CF», &c. It
is evident that these ordinates are proportional to the
densities of the severally coloured lights which*^o from
them to any points whatever of the circle of disper¬
sion.
Now the total density of the light at I depends both
on the density of each particular colour and on the num¬
ber of colours which fall on it. The ordinates of this
hyperbola determine the first; and the space ER mea¬
sures the number of colours which fall on I, because it
receives light from the whole of ER, and of its equal
BW. Therefore, if wdinates be drawn from any point
of ER, their sum will be as the whole light which goes
to I; that is, the total density of the light at I will he
proportional to the area NREK. Now it is known that
CExEK is equal to the infinitely extended area lying
beyond EK; and CRxRN is equal to the infinitely
extended area lying beyond RN. Therefore the area
NREK is equal to CR x RN—CE x EK. But RN
Tdeseo[
CF* CF*
and EK are respectively equal to^rj^j and There-1
/ CR
fore the density at I is proportional to CF3X ( TT-jy; —
\ Civ*
CE\
CE
D’=cr>x(^-^)’=CF3x
CE—CR
= CF*x
ER
CF* ER
CE x CR’
CF* CF3
isJ°fCE-cEis=rcF-
CE X CR.
CExCR
But because CF
CF1
, a constant quantity.
Therefoi’e the density of the light at I is proportional to
ER AL . . . _ , T *■ . 1
or to -^-y, because the points It and 1 are similarly
situated in EC and A b.
Farther, if the semiaperture CE of the lens be called
CF* . T _ . T , AI
  is and the density at 1 is
8 b V
Here it is proper to observe, that since the point R
has the same situation in the diameter EB that the point
I has in the diameter AD of the circle of dispersion, the
circle described on EB may be conceived as the magni¬
fied representation of the circle of dispersion. The point
F, for instance, represents the point f in the circle of
dispersion, which bisects the radius A; andyreceives
no light from any part of the lens which is nearer the
centre than F, being illuminated only fey the light which
comes through EF and its opposite BF'. The same may
be said of every other point.
In like manner, the density of the light in f, the
EF
CF1
middle between b and A, is measured by which is
EF
- EF>
proper standard of comparison.
.1 J • r AI
the density at I as 1 to
This makes the density at this point a
The density there is to
,T, or as 'b I to AI; and this
0 1
is the simplest mode of comparison. The density half
way from the centre ot the circle of dispersion is to the
density at any point I as Z> I to AI.
Lastly, through L describe the common rectangular
hyperbola khn, meeting the ordinates of the former in
A-, L, and 11: and draw k h parallel to EC, cutting the
ordinates in g, f, r, &c. Then CR : CE =:E k : R «,
and CR : CE—CRzrE k : R n—E k, or CR : EE=
E & : r 7?., and b 1 : IA~E k : r n. And thus we have
a very simple expression of the density in any point of
the circle of dispersion. Let the point be anywhere, as
at I. Divide the lens in R as AD is divided in I, and
then r n is as the density in I.
I hese two measures were given by Newton; the first
in his treatise de Mundi Systematic and the last in his
Optics, but both without demonstration.
II the hyperbola k L n be made to revolve round the
axis CQ, it will generate a solid spindle, which will
measure the whole quantity of light which passes through
difierent portions of the circle of dispersion. Thus the
solid produced by the revolution of L k j will measure
all the light which occupies the outer part of the circle
of dispersion lying without the middle of the radix**.
Ibis space is ^ths of the whole circle ; hut the quanti¬
ty ol light is but ^th of the whole.
A
TEL
les .p
-v -
[ 241
A full more simple expression of the whole quantity
Jof light passing through different portions of the circle
of chromatic dispersion may now be obtained as fol¬
lows :
ft has been demonstrated, that the density of the IjVht
* t • Al ER
at I is as ^ or as Suppose the figure to turn
round the axis. lorR describe circumferences of circles j
and the whole light passing through this circumference
is as the circumference, or as the radius, and as the den-
«ity jointly. It is therefore as x CR, that is, as
I
TEL
CR
ER. Draw any straight line E m, cutting RN in
and any other ordinate FL in j? R .y. The whole light
which illuminates the circumference described by I is
to the whole light which illuminates the centre 6 as ER
to EC, or as R s to C m. In like manner, the whole
light which illuminates the circumference described by
the point / in the circle of dispersion is to the whole
light which illuminates the centre b, as F a1 to C m.
I he lines C m, RS, F a?, are therefore proportional to
the whole light which illuminates the corresponding
circumferences in the circle of dispersion. Therefore
the whole light which falls on the circle whose radius
is b I, will be represented by the trapezium in CRS ;
and the whole light which falls- on the ring described
by IA, will be represented by the triangle E .v R j and
so of any other portions.
. % considering the figure, we see that the distribu¬
tion ol the light is exceedingly unequal. Round the
margin it has no sensible density j while its density in
the very centre is incomparably greater than in any
other point, being expressed by the asymptote of a hy¬
perbola. Also the circle described with the radius
contains ^ths of the whole light. No wonder then that
the confusion caused by the mixture of these circles of
dispersion is less than one should expect $ besides, it is
evident that the most lively or impressive colours oc¬
cupy the middle of the spectrum, and are there much
denser than the rest. The margin is covered with an
illumination of deep red and violet, neither of which co¬
lours are brilliant, i he margin will lie of a dark claret
colour. I he centre revives all the colours, but in a pro¬
portion of intensity greatly different from that in -the
common prismatic spectrum, because the radiant points
L Pi g, &c. by which it is illuminated, are at such
dillerent distances from it. It will he white j hut we
apprehend not a pure white, being grfcatlv overcharged
with the middle colours.
( These considerations show that the coloured fringes
wmch are observed to border very luminous objects seen
on a dark ground through optical instruments, do not
proceed from the object-glass of a telescope or micro¬
scope, hut from an improper construction of the eye¬
glasses. I he chromatic dispersion would produce
fringes of a different colour, when they produce any at
all, and the colours would be’cliffereiitly disposed. But
t.ns dispersion by the object-glass can hardly produce
my fringes : its effect is a general and almost uniform
mixture of circles all over the field, which produces ah
• inform haziness, as if the object were viewed at an
•niproper distance, or out of its focus, as we vulgarly
express it.
yol, XX. Part I. „f
We may at present form a good guess at the limit Teleseop;
Wnich this cause puts to the performance of a tele- '—“■'v——
scope. A point of a very distant object is represent¬
ed, in the picture formed by the object-glass, by a
little circle, whose diameter is at least T^th of the a-
per tore the object-glass, making a very full allow¬
ance for the superior brilliancy and density of the cen¬
tral light. We look at this picture with a magnifying
eye glass. This magnifies the picture of the point. If
I1 amplify it to such a degree as to make it an object
individually distingm-,hahle, the confusion is then sen
sihle. Now this can he computed. An object sub¬
tending one minute of a degree is distinguished by the
dullest eye, even although it he a dark object on a
bright ground. Let us therefore suppose a telescope,
the object glass of which is of six feet focal distance’
and one inch aperture. The diameter of the circle of
chromatic dispersion will be T^th of an inch, which
subtends at the centre of the object-glass an angle of
about 9J. seconds. 'Ibis, when magnified six times by
an eye-glass, would become a distinguishable object; and
a telescope of this length would he indistinct if it mag-
mned more than six times, if a point were thus spread
out into a spot of uniform intensity. But the spot is
much less intense about its margin. It is found expe¬
rimentally that a piece of engraving, having fine cross
hatches, is not sensibly indistinct till brought so far
from the limits of perfectly distinct vision, that this
indistinctness amounts to 6' or 5' in breadth. There¬
fore such a telescope will be sensibly distinct when it
magnifies 36 times; and this is very agreeable to ex¬
perience.
We come, in the second place, to the more arduous
task of ascertaining the error arising from the spherical
figureof the surfaces employed in optical instruments.
buthce it to say, before we begin, that although Geo¬
meters have exhibited other forme of lenses which are
totally exempt from this error, they cannot he executed
by the artist ; and we are therefore restricted to the
employment of spherical surfaces.
Of all the determinations which have been given of
spherical aberration, that by Dr Smith, in his Optics,
which is an improvement of the fundamental theorem
of that most elegant geometer Huyghens, is the most
perspicuous and palpable. Some others are more con¬
cise, and much better fitted for after use, and will there¬
fore be employed by us in the prosecution of this article.
But they do not keep in view the optical facts, giving
the mind a picture of the progress of the rays which it
can contemplate and discover amidst many modifying
circumstances. By ingenious substitutions of analytical
symbols, the investigation is rendered expeditious, con¬
cise, and certain ; but these are not immediate symbols
of things, hut of operations of the mind ; objects suffi¬
ciently subtle of themselves, and having no need of sub¬
stitutions to make us lose sight of the real subject ; and
thus our occupation degenerates into a process almost
without ideas. We shall therefore set out with Dr
Smith’s fundamental Theorem.
1. In Refactions.
Let AVB (fig. 3.) he a concave spherical mirror of
which C is the centre, V the vertex, CV the axis, and Fig ■»
F the focus of an infinitely slender pencil of parallel rays °
passing
TEL [
Telescope, passing tlirouglj the centre. Let the ray a A, parallel
u-—y—1—' to the axis, be reflected in AG, crossing the central
ray CV in f. Let AP be the sine of the semi-aperture
A V, A D its tangent, and CD its secant.
The aberration F /’from the principal focus of central
rays is equal to -J of the excess VD of the secant above
the radius, or very near equal to of ^ P, the versed
sine of the semi-aperture.
For because AD is perpendicular to CA, the points
C, A, D, are in a circle, of which CD is the diameter ;
and because Ay is equal to Cf, by reason of the equali¬
ty of the angles yAC, yCA, and CA a, f is the cen¬
tre of the circle through C, A, D, andjfD is —• 4- CD.
But FC is =r -4 CV. Therefore F /is \ of VD.
But because DV : VP — DC : VC, and DC is very
little greater than VC when the aperture AB is mode¬
rate, DV is very little greater than VP, and Ff is
very nearly equal to 4- of VP.
AV'
242 ] TEL
The aberration will be different according as the re- TeW#p(
fraction is made towards or from the perpendicular j'-—y—,
that is, according as r is less or greater than r. ihey
Cor. 1. The longitudinal abberration is
PV
, AV*
very nearly =
4CV
TJ f°r
Cor. 2. The lateral aberration FG is =:
AV*
2CV*
are in the ratio of —.to —,
d 1 dr
of rz to i3. The ab¬
erration therefore is always much diminished when the
refraction is made from a rare into a dense medium.
The proportion of the sines for air and glass is nearly
that of 3 to 2. When jhe light is refracted into the
glass, the aberration is nearly y of PV j and when the
light passes out of glass into air, it is about f- of PV.
Cot'. 1.
AP
‘AP2 . C
———: nearly, and it is also =r —
2CV J a*
AP*
X r.TT-, because PV — —. T7 nearly, and
2 r V 2 C V
CV.
i-.d = FV
Cor. 2. Because /P : PArrFf : FG
or FV : -AV-Ff : FG nearly,
AV
we have FG, the lateral aberration, — Yfy. —
For
X
AV3
2FV2’
= — X
1
AV3
2C V2
FG : F / = AP : Pyj = AV : 4 CV nearly, and there-
. w AV3 2 AV3
fore FG - ^ X cv- 2CVi‘
2. In Refractions.
Fij. 4.or;. Let AVB (fig. 4. or 5.) be a spherical surface sepa¬
rating two refracting substances, C the centre, V the
vertex, AV the semi-aperture, AP its sine,. PV its
versed sine, and F the focus of parallel rays infinitely
near to the axis. Let the extreme ray a A, parallel to
the axis, be refracted into AG, crossing CF in f which
is therefore the focus of extreme parallel rays.
. The rectangle of the sine of incidence, by the differ¬
ence of the sines of incidence and refi'action, is to the
square of the sine of refraction, as the versed sine of the
semi-aperture is to the longitudinal aberration of the
extreme rays.
Call the sine of incidence i, the sine of refraction r,
and their difference d.
Join CA, and about the centre f describe the arch
AD.
The angle ACV is equal to the angle of incidence,
and CA/is the angle of refraction. Then, since the
sine of incidence is to the sine of refraction as VF to
CF, or as A/to Cf, that is, as Dyto C/J we have
cf : fv — cy;yD
by conversion CF : CV — C f: CD
altern. conver. CF—C f: CV—CDrrCF : CV
or Fy: VD—CF : CV, = r : d.
AP* AP2 AP*
Now P V-—nearly, and PD =7——
AP2 AP* J
= J/T nearly’:= ypV near1y* Therefore P V : PD
= FV : CV, and DV : PV-CF : FV nearly.
We had above Y f : VDrrr : d;
and now - VD : PVnrCF r FV — r : i •
therefore - Fy : PV—r* : d i,
and Fy=r X PV. Q. E. D.
FG
Cor. 3. Because the angle F-Ayis proportional to
very nearly, we have the angular aberration F A f — —
AV3  r* _ AVa
x yETV “7r X icv3'
In general, the longitudinal aberrations from the fo¬
cus of central parallel rays are as the squares of the
apertures directly, and as the focal distances inversely j
and the lateral aberrations are as the cubes of the aper¬
tures directly, and the squares of the focal distances in¬
versely ; and the angular aberrations are as the cubes of
the aperture directly, and the cubes of the focal distances
inversely.
The reader must have observed, that to simplify the
investigation, some small errors are admitted. P\ and
PD are not in the exact proportion that we assumed
them, nor is Dy equal to FV. But in the small aper¬
tures which suffice for optical instruments, these errors
may he disregarded.
This spherical aberration produces an indistinctness
of vision, in the same manner as the chromatic aberra¬
tion does, viz. by spreading out every mathematical
point of the object into a little spot in its picture ^
which spots, by mixing with each other, confuse the
whole. We must now determine the diameter of the
circle ol diflusion, as we did in the case of chromatic
dispersion.
Let a ray g at (fig. 6.) be refracted on the other side plit*
of the axis, into «, H <p, cutting Af G in FI, and draff
the perpendicular EH. Call AV a, « V «, Vy (or VF, •F
or V <p, which in this comparison may be taken as equal)
~f Yf=b, andyE=<p .f.
AV* :«V2—Fy: I'if (already demonstrated) andF<P
^ l / r \ 7 a*/ ^
= ffb, and Fy—Fp, (or/p) = b -b,
Xa2—«*, =A x a + * X a—*. Also Yf :
TEL
ilj -=/E : EH, or/: a=x : j, = EH
TTTT r av ax
— EH : E (p, ov Ct:j : —
J *
[ -
And P 7t : V <p
ftp _ \-x’ —
Cl <36 X
, = - X « + «•
a
a 4-X a + * X a—x, and - =-
1 u* a a
x — X « (c—a)- Therefore x is greatest when
aX«—<*■ is greatest j that is, when x—l a. Therefore
EH is greatest when P sr is equal to the half of AP.
When this is the case, we have at the same time — X «
43 1 T E L
w c are indebted to Father Boscovich for the elegant Telescope,
determination of this distribution, which we have given v——'
in the article Optics. From this it appears, that the
= E <p. Therefore light in the margin of the circle of spherical aberra¬
tion, instead of being incomparably rarer than in the
spaces between it and the centre, is incomparably denser.
The indistinctness therefore produced by the intersec¬
tion of these luminous circumferences is vastly great,
and increases the whole indistinctness exceedingly. By
a gross calculation which we made, it appears to be in¬
creased at least 500 times. The proportional indistinct¬
ness therefore, instead of being ipoo2 to 1, is only
I900* , „
or nearly 7220 to I ; a proportion still sum-
Therefore — X
a
X a-
and
—«) — — x f o*j and b, or EHrrJ EG. That
is, the diameter of the circle of aberration through which
the whole of the refracted light must pass, is £ of the
diameter of the circle of aberration at the focus of pa¬
rallel central rays. In the chromatic aberration it was
y ) so that in this respect the spherical aberration does
not create so great confusion as the chromatic.
We are now able to compare them, since we have
now the measure of both the circles of aberration.
It has not been found possible to give more than four
inches of aperture to an object glass of 100 feet focal
distance, so as to preserve sufficient distinctness. If we
compute the diameter of the circle EH corresponding
to this aperture, we shall find it not much to exceed
 ^ of an inch. If we restrict the circle of chfo-
120.000
matic dispersion to 7fo of the aperture, which is hardly
the fifth part of the whole dispersion in it, it is E_
ofi an inch, and is about 1900 times greater than the
other.
The circle of spherical aberration of a plano-convex
lens, with the plane side next the distant object, is equal
to the circle of chromatic dispersion when the semi-aper¬
ture is about I C° : For we saw formerly that EH is ^
r» AP®
of FG, and that FG is = , and therefore
2 AC*
EG--
X
AP
=/
AP*
8 A CP
AP
This being made “ —— , gives us
8 PAG*
which is nearly
AC
and
53 7,‘ . ’ 4 -r
sponds to an aperture of 30° diameter, if r be to 1 as
3 to 2.
Sir Isaac Newton was therefore well entitled to say,
that it was quite needless to attempt figures which
should have less aberration than spherical ones, while
the confusion produced by the chromatic dispersion re¬
mained uncorrected. Since the indistinctness is as the
squares of the diameters oi the circles oi aberration, the
disproportion is quite beyond our imagination, even
when Newton has made such a liberal allowance to the
chromatic dispersion. But it must be acknowledged,
that he has not attended to the distribution ot the light
in the circle of spherical aberration, and has hastily
supposed it to be like the distribution ot the coloured
light, indefinitely rare in the margin, and denser in the
centre.
500
ciently great to warrant Newton’s preference of there-
fleeting telescope of his invention. And we may now
observe, that the reflecting telescope lias even a great
advantage over a refracting one of the same focal di¬
stance, witli respect to its spherical aberration : For
we have seen (Cor. 2.) that the lateral aberration is
r2 AV3
P 2 CV2* ^ ^or a P^ano'convex glass is nearly
9 AV 3
4 2CV
is one-fourth of this, or
And the diameter of the circle of aberratioB
AV*
16 2 C V
the lateral aberration of a concave mirror is
In like manner,
AV*
the diameter of the circle of dispersion is
2 CV2 ’
AV*
8 CV2 ’
and
and
therefore if the surfaces were portions of the same sphere,
the diameter of the circle of aberration of refracted ray s
would be to that of the circle of aberration of reflected
rays as to -5, or as 9 to 4. But when the refracting
and reflecting surfaces, in the position here considered,
have the same focal distance, the radius of the refracting
surface is four times that of the reflecting surface. The
proportion of the diameters of the circles of spherical
aberration is that of 9 X 4* to 4, or of 144 to 4, or 36
to I. The distinctness therefore of the reflector is
36 X 36, or 1296 times greater than that of a plane-
convex lens (placed with the plane side next the distant
object) of the same breadth and focal distance, and will
therefore admit of a much greater magnifying power.
This comparison is indeed made in circumstances most
favourable to the reflector, because this is the very worst
position of a plano-convex lens. But we have not as
yet learned the aberration in any other position. Iu
another position the refraction and consequent aberra¬
tion of both surfaces are complicated.
Before we proceed to the consideration of this very
difficult subject, avc may deduce from what has been al¬
ready demonstrated several general rules and maxims in
the construction of telescopes, which will explain (to
such readers as do not wish to enter more deeply into
the subject), and justify the proportion which long prac¬
tice of the best artists has sanctioned.
Indistinctness proceeds from the commixture of ti e
circles of aberration on the retina of the eye : For any
one sensible point of the retina, being the centre of a cir¬
cle of aberration, will at once be affected by the ad¬
mixture of the rays of as many different pencils of light
as there are sensible points in the area of that circle,and
will convey to the mind a mixed sensation of as many
H h 2 visible
r E L [ 244 ] TEL
lYk'^cope. visilile paints of the object. This ntmiber wi!i be as the
> v-~—^ a pea of the circle of aberrations, whatever be the size of
a sensible point cl the retina. Now in vision with tele¬
scopes the (bamcter ot the circle of aberration on the
retina is as the apparent magnitude of the diameter of
the corresponding ciide in the focus of the eye-glass 5
that is, as the angle •subtended by this diameter at the
centre of the eye-glass ; that is, as the diameter itself
directly, and as the local distance of the eye-glass in-
versely. And the area of that circle on the retina is as
the area of the circle on the focus of the eye-glass di¬
rectly, and as the square of the focal distance of the eye¬
glass inversely. And this is the measure of the apparent
indistinctness.
Cor. In all sorts of telescopes, and also in compound
microscopes, an object is seen equally distinct when the
local distances of the eye-glasses are proportional to the
diameters of the circles of aberration in the focus of the
object-glass.
Here we do not consider the trifling alteration which
well constructed eye-glasses may add to the indistinct¬
ness of the first image.
In refracting telescopes, the apparent indistinctness
is as the area of the object-glass directly, and as the
s-quaie of the focal distance of the eye-glass inversely.
For it has been shown, that the area of the eiicle of
dispersion is as the area of the object-glass, and that the
spherical aberration is insignificant when compared with
this.
Therefore, to make reflecting telescopes equally di¬
stinct, the diameter of the object-glass must be propor¬
tional to the focal distance of the eye-glass.
But in reflecting telescopes, the indistinctness is as
the sixth power of the aperture of the object-glass di¬
rectly, and as the fourth power of the focal distance of
the object-glass and square of the focal distance of the
eye-glass inversely. This is evident from the dimen¬
sions of the circle of aberration, which was found pro-
. , AV3
portional to 77^77.
V *
Therefore, to have them equally distinct, the cubes
of the apertures must be proportional to the squares of
the focal distance multiplied by the focal distance of
the eye-glass.
By these rules, and a standard telescope of approved
goodness,an artist can always proportion the parts ofany
instrument he wishes to construct. Mr Huyghens made
one, of which the object-glass had 30 feet focal distance
and three inches diameter The ete-glass had 3.3
inches focal distances. And its performance was found
superior to any which he had seen } nor did this appear
owing to any chance goodness of the object-glass, be¬
cause he found others equally good which were con¬
structed on similar proportions. This has therefore been
adopted as a standard,
It does not at first appear how there can be any diffi¬
culty in this matter, because we can always diminish the
aperture of the object-glass or speculum till the circle of
aberration is as small as we please. But by diminishing
this aperture, we diminish the light in the. duplicate
ratio of the aperture. Whatever he the aperture, the
brightness is diminished by the magnifying power, which
spreads the light over a greater surface in the bottom of
the eye. The apparent brightness must be as the square
el the aperture ot the telescope directly, and the square
of the amplification of the diameter of an object inverse- Tike-,
ly. Objects therefore will be seen equally bright if the '—v~.
apertures oi the telescopes be as the focal distances of
the object-glasses directly, and the fecal distances of the
single eye-glass (or eye-glass equivalent to the eve-piece!
inversely. Therefore, to have telescopes equally distinct
and equally bright, we must combine these proportions
with the former. It is needless to go farther into this
subject, because the-construction of refracting telescopes
has been so materially changed by the correction of the
chromatic aberration, that there can hardly be given
any proportion between the object-glass and eye-glasses.
I'.veiy thing now depends on the degree in which wc
can correct the aberrations of the object-glass. We
have been able so far to diminish the chromatic aberra¬
tion, that we can give very great apertures without its
becoming sensible. But this is attended with so great
an increase ol the aberration of figure, that this last be¬
comes a sensible quality. A lens which lias 30° for its
semi-aperture, has a circle of aberration equal to its
chromatic aberration, fortunately we cun derive from
the very method of contrary refractions, which we em¬
ploy for removing the chromatic aberrations, a correction
ol the other. We are indebted for this contrivance also
to the illustrious Newton.
We call this Newton’s contrivance, because he was
the first who proposed a construction of an object-glass
in which the aberration was corrected by the contrary
aberrations of glass and water.
Huyghens had indeed supposed, that our all-wise
Creator had employed in the eyes of animals many re¬
fractions in place of one, in order to make the vision
more distinct j and the invidious detractors from New¬
ton’s lame have catehed at this vague conjecture as an
indication of his knowledge of the possibility of destroy¬
ing the aberration ol figure by contrary refractions. But
this is very ill-founded. Uuyghens has acquired suffi¬
cient reputation by his theory of aberrations. The scope
ot his writing in the passage alluded to, is to show that,
by dividing any intended refraction into parts, and pro¬
ducing a certain convergence to or divergence from the
axis ol an optical instrument by means of two or three
lenses instead of one, we diminish the aberrations four or
nine times, i his conjecture about the eye was therefore
m the natural train of his thoughts. But he did not
think of destroying the aberration altogether by oppo¬
site refractions. Newton, in 1669, says that opticians
need not trouble themselves about giving figures to their
glasses other than spherical. If this figure were all the
obstacle to the improvement of telescopes, he could show
them a construction ol an object-glass having spherical
surfaces where the aberration is destroyed j and acccrtl-
jnf^y gives the construction of one composed of glass and
water, in which this is done completely by means of
contrary refractions.
The general principle is this: When the radiant
point R (hg. 7.), or focus of incident rays, and its con-Fig
jugate locus F of refracted central rays, are on opposite
sides of the refracting surface or lens V, the conjugate
locus./of marginal rays is nearer to R than Fis. But
when the focus of incident rays IB lies cn the same side
with its conjugate focus F7 for central rays, Wf is
greater than R' F'.
Now fig. 8. represents the contrivance for destroy-Fif'
ing the colour produced at F, the principal focus of the
convex
TEL ,[ 545 ]
TEL
lean?, convex lens "V, of crown glass, by means of live con-
■n, —1 trary refraction of the concave lens v of Hint glass. The
incident parallel rays are made go converge to F hy 'the
first lens. This convergence is diminished, but not en¬
tirely destroyed, by the concave lens v, and the focus is
formed in F. F and F' therefore are conjugate foci of
the concave lens. If F be the focus of V for central
rays, the marginal rays will be collected at some point/’
nearer to the lens. If F be now considered as the focus
of light incident on the centre of v, and F' be the con¬
jugate focus, the marginal ray p F would be refracted
to some pointy' lying beyond F'. Therefore the mar¬
ginal ray pf may be refracted to F, if the aberration
of the concave be properly adjusted to that of the
convex.
This brings tis to the most difficult part of our sub¬
ject, the compounded aberrations of different surfaces.
Our limits will not give us room for treating this in the
same elementary .and perspicuous manner that we em¬
ployed for a single surface. We must try to do it in a
compendious way, which will admit at once the different
surfaces and the different refractive powers of different
substances. This mast naturally render the process more
complicated 5 but we hope to treat the subject in a way
easily comprehended by any person moderately acquaint¬
ed with common algebra ; and vve trust that our attempt
will he favourably received by an indulgent public, as
; it is (as far as we know) the only dissertation in our lan-
. guage on the construction of achromatic instruments.
We cannot but express our surprise at this indifference
about an invention which has done so much honour to
our country, and w'hich now constitutes a very lucrative
| branch of its manufacture. Out artists infinitely surpass
I all the performances of foreigners in this branch, and
I supply the markets of Europe without any competition ;
yet it is from the writings on the continent that thev
derive their scientific instruction, and particularly from
the dissertations of Clairant, who Iras wonderfully sim¬
plified the analysis of optical propositions. We shall
freely borrow from him, and from the writings of Abbe
Boscovich, who has considerably improved the first
views ol Clairaut. We recommend the originals to the
curious reader. Clairaut’s dissertations are to be found
in the Memoirs of the Academy, of Paris, 1756, &c.;
those of Boscovich in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Bologna, and in his five volumes of Opi/scuta, published
! at Bassano in 1785. To these may be added D’Alem¬
bert and Euler. The only thing in our language is the
translation of a very imperfect work by Schacrfer.
is nearly equal to and MH is nearly equal Wleseope.
MX3
to
-|-XfI.
2XTI
Prop. I. Let the ray m M, incident on the spfeericaP
surface AM, converge to G; that is, let G be the focus
ot incident rays. It is required to find the focus F of
refracted rays ?
Let w express the ratio of the sine of incidence and
refraction ; that is, let m be to 1 as the sine of inci¬
dence to the sine of refraction in the substance of the
sphere.
Then - MG : GSrrsin. MSB : sin. SMG,
and - m : 1 =sin. SMG : sin. SMH;
therefore m X MG : GSzrsin. MSH : sin. SMH.
NowS,MSH : S, SMH—Mfl; IIS. Therefore, finally
mMG : GS—Mil : IIS.
Now let MS, the radius of the refracting surface, he
called a. Let AG, the distance of the focus of incident
rays from the surface, be called ?\ And let AH, tho^
focal distance of refracted rays, be called#. Lastly, let
the sine MX of the semi-aperture be called e. Ob¬
serve, too, that o, r, #, are to be considered as positive
quantities, when AS, AG, AH, lie from the surface in
the direction in which the light is supposed to move.
If therefore the refracting surface be concave, that is
having the centre on that side from which the light
comes ; or if the incident rays are divergent, or the re¬
fracted rays are divergent 5 then o, r, x, are negative
quantities.
It is plain that HS—v—a; GS=r—a; also AX
= -nearly. HX=«—GX~/'—Now add
2« 2a 2a
to HX and to GX their differences from MH and MG,
e* e*
w-hich (by the Lemma) are — and —. We get MH
2r
. —_j_ _ and MG—r— —
2a 2x 2a
X
e*
2r
In order to
shorten our notation, make k~-—-. This will make
a r
MG—r—
2
Now substitute these values in the final analogy at
the top of this column, viz. MH : HS—m.MG : GS 5
. 1 £ £^
it becomes x ; —a—rnr — :r—a (oc
a r &,) because A —
2a ' 2x
r—a
and a r k~r—a. Now mul-
;• 5.
Lemma 1. In the right-angled triangle MXS (fig. 9.),
of which one side MX is very small in comparison of
either of the others j the excess of the hypothenuse MS,
above the side XS, is very nearly equal to —ryn or to
MX2
2MS
^or a^ou,: the centre S, with the radius SM,
we describe the semicircle AMO, we have AX X XO
—MX*. Now AX—MS—SX, and XO, is nearly
equal to 2MS or 2XS ; on the other hand, MS is
icajly equal to XS-fc —j and in like manner MG
ZAS
tiply the extreme and mean terms of this analogy. It
is evident that it must give us an equation which will
give us a value of .r or AH, the quantity sought.
But this equation is quadratic. We may avoid the
solution by an approximation which is sufficiently accu-
rate, by substituting for # in the fraction — (which is
2X
very small in all cases of optical instruments), an ap¬
proximate very easily obtained, and very near the truth.
This is the focal distance ot an infinitely slender pencil
of rays converging to G. This we know by the com¬
mon optical theorem to be —(—n 1.. Let this be
m~\ rr±za
called;
TEL
t 246 ]
TEL
^|legcope.^ cajje(j ^ we suljStJtute k in place of- , this va-
n 111
lue of <p becomes =r
m—a k ’
■a k'
I m—a h
— must be “ ,
<j5 am
m
a ?7i
a i
We
am a m
may even express it more simply, by expanding and
1
. . ill
it becomes — =r 
cp a 771 a
Now put this value of- in place of the - in the ana-
<?> r a;
logy employed above. The first term of the analogy
^>2 g* ho* he*
becomes x { , or x . The ana-
1a la i77i 1m
h O* T7t h 6*
logy now becomes x : xazzm r : a r k.
1 771 2
mk e1 x
Hence we obtain the linear equation mrx
T.kae1 . arke'
m r a-\-
—a rhx
finally deduce
77i r a—\ m a k e*-
X—-
2 m
a r k* e*
from which we
2 m
771 r —a r k 
We may simplify this greatly by attending to the
elementary theorem in fluxions, that the fraction
differs from the fraction — bv the quantity
y+y y ' H J
^—t~~'i this being the fluxion ofTherefore
y y y+y
x yx—xy
Now the preceding formula is near-
y . y. .
ly in this situation. It may be written thus j
r x L * ark*e'\
ra (— \ m a k t I
1771 /
-, when the last terms
m r—a r k — 771 k e*
of the numerator and denominator are very small in
comparison with the first, and may be considered as the
a; and y while mr a is the x, and 771 r—ark is the y.
Treating it in this way, it may be stated thus:
771 r—ark
{jnr a') \mk e1— (/« r—a r k) 771 k a c* -\-
a r k3
2 77i
ra (771—a k)3
tTt r a
or x~
r(/7i—a k)
{tti r a) m k— (/;i r—a r k) (m k a-{■
ark1'
r* (tw—a k)z
_ 771 r a
I he first term — —, or
r(m—a k) m
7/1 a
——p is evidently rr
the focal distance of an infinitely slender pencil.
4
Therefore the aberration is expressed by the second Teles(n
term, which we must endeavour to simplify. 1—y—
If we now perform the multiplication indicated by—-
ark1'
This gives us, by the by, an easily remembered ex¬
pression (and beautifully simple) of the refxacted focus
of an infinitely slender pencil, corresponding to any di¬
stance r of the radiant point. For since <p “
d t* h* \
{ni r—a r £) X ^ a — y, it is plain that —
X m ka destroys the first term mray^mk of the nu¬
merator of our small fraction, and there remains of this
a3 r3 k
Or r k \
numerator Cm a* r k1— ) fe3. which i
m /
equal to 77i*a3^
r k*
k3
m
rj ^3
)i^.
m 77T a m*
The denominator was r* {771—a ^)*, and the fraction
m3 a3 f k3 k3 k* \
now becomes
{771—a k)
( k*
is evidently =r<pl(
3\mr
, _f.—-Iff* which
m3 a ' m3J
k3
3
11 k^ k3 / \ 1 \
lect that k— . Therefore (   ) —
a r m3 m3 \ a r)
Now recol-
h* h* r . h*
— —. Therefore, instead of write —
m1 a m1 r m3 a m3
k3 . (k3 k3 k3
—- —, and we get the fraction <p2( —    L
wr’ 6 r \m3 m3 m3r “
k3 k3
k3
m r
Y-M
k3 mk3 m k1
equal to (p1-
771 k3
Y~-r
m3 r
\ e3 . ,
)—, which is
/ 2
1
mPXe3 771-
and finally to —(p3——
/ 2 771'
Therefore the focal distance of refracted raysisAmi^
-rm-=y[r- rLY
\t7p \ r /1
This consists of two parts. The first <p is the focal di¬
stance of an infinitely slender pencil of central rays, and
, . m— I / mk3 \e3 . , ., .
the other — <p3 —— ( k3 ) - is the aberration
ni3 \ r I 1
arising from the spherical figure of the refracting sur¬
face.
Our formula has thus at last put on a very simple
form, and is vastly preferable to Dr Smith’s for prac¬
tice.
This aberration is evidently proportional to the square
of the semi-aperture, and to the square of the distance
but in order to obtain this simplicity, several quantities
were neglected. The assumption of the equality of AX
e7, .
to — is the first source of error. A much more ae-
2a
curate value of it would have been —Lf f* _ ) for it is
really =3
la—AX
If for AX we substitute its
proximated value —, we should have AX=
2a
2 a—
20
2 a e3
To have used this value would not have
4 «* — *
much complicated the calculus 5 but it did not occur to
us till we had finished the investigation, and it would
have required the whole to be changed. The operation
Jn page 246. col. 1. par. 3. is another source of error.
But these errors are very inconsiderable when the aper¬
ture
TEL [ 247 ]
tore !s moderate. They increase for the most part with from N #).
i an increase of aperture, hut not in the proportion of
any regular function of it } so that we cannot improve
the formula by any manageable process, and must be
contented with it. The errors are precisely the same
with those of Dr Smith’s theorem, and indeed with those
of any that we have seen, which are not vastly more
complicated.
As this is to be frequently combined with subsequent
operations, we shorten the expression by putting 0 for
—7-^A:3 —^^ . Then (p2$ will express the aber¬
ration of the first refraction from the focal distance of an
infinitely slender pencil j and now the focal distance ot
refracted rays isf=<p—p2 6- Ik3'
If the incidentrays are parallel, rbecomes infinite,and
0— ——— k3 — . But in this case k becomes = —, and T-’
TEL
Also let x be the thickness of the lens.
Then observe, that the focal distance of the rays re¬
fracted by the first surface, (neglecting the thickness of
the lens and the aberration of the first surface), is the
distance of the radiant point for the second refraction, or
is the focal distance of rays incident on the second sur¬
face. In place of r therefore we must take <p j and as
in order to abbreviate the calcu-
we made k~ 
a r
lus, let us now make l— —■—
b <p
as we made -- —  
<t> a ni
and make -r.~~ —m /,
J b
Lastly, in place of d
n,ake
r J 2 \ m / \ n iq>/
AAV
V <P / 2
nr
Vi¬
nt a
m—1
and <p—
and becomes
a
x^-x
a3
This
O—O
is the ab-
m° u° 2 (2w—i)ma
erration of extreme parallel rays.
We must now add the refraction of another surface.
Lemma 2. If the focal distance AG be changed by
a small quantity G'g, the focal distance AH will also'
be changed by a small quantity H h, and we shall have
m • AG1 : AH^Gg :
Draw M g, M h, and the perpendiculars G 1, H k~
Then, because the sines of the angles of incidence are in
a constant ratio to the sines of the angles of refraction,
and the increments of these small angles are proportion¬
al to the increments of the sines, these increments of the
angles are in the same constant ratio. Therefore,
We have the angle CMg- to HM A as m to 1.
Now G^ : G f ~ AG : AM,
and G i \ h k — m’ AG : HA,
and h k \ Wh'zz, MA : AH :
therefore Gg : H. k z= m'AG2 : AH*
The easiest and most perspicuous method for obtain¬
ing the aberration of rays twice refracted, will be to
consider the first refract ion as not having any aberration,
and determine the aberration of the second refraction.
Then conceive the focus of the first refraction as shifted
by the aberration. This will produce a change in the
focal distance of the second refraction, which may be
determined by this Lemma.
Prop. II. Let AM, BN (fig. 10.) be two spherical
surfaces, including a refracting substance, and having
their centres C and c in the line AG. Let the ray a A
pats through the centres, which it will do without re¬
fraction. Let another ray m M, tending to G, be re¬
fracted by the first surface into MH,. cutting the se¬
cond surface in N, where it is farther ref racted intoNI.
It is required to determine the focal distance BI?
It is plain that the sine of incidence on the second
surface is to the sine of refraction into the surrounding
air as 1 to m. Also BI may be determined in relation
to BH, bv means of BH, N #, Be, and —, in the same
way that AH was determined in relation to AG, by
means of AG, MX, AC, and m.
Let the radius of the second surface be b, and let e
still express the semi-aperture, (because it hardly differs
m \ / 2
Thus we have got an expression similar to the other;
and the focaPdistance BI, after two refractions, becomes
BI =/_/><'.
But this is on the supposition that BH is equal to <p,
whereas it is really <p—<p* 0—x. This must occasion a
change in the value just now obtained of BI. The
source of the change is twofold. 1st, Because in the
, I I 1 1 , ,
value -7 , we must put —   , an* be-
b <p' v b $ — p 0 — x
cause we must do the same in the fraction  . In
? . .
the second place, when the value of BH is diminished
by the quantity <p2 0-\-x, BI will suffer a change in the
proportion determined by the 2d Lemma. The first
difference may safely be neglected, because the value of
e*
t is very small by reason of the coefficient — being
very small, and also because the variation bears a very
small ratio to the quantity itself, when the true value of
(p differs but little from that of the quantity for which
it is employed. The chief change in BI is that which
is determined by the Lemma. Therefore take from BI
the variation of BH, multiplied by ^which is very
,
nearly — ——
J <p*
The product of this multiplication is
7/* H
m f2
for the value of BI f-
This being taken from f leaves us
f2 m x
—/* (m O-J-O').
In this value /is the focal distance of an infinitely
slender pencil of rays twice refracted by a lens having
tn /*
no thickness, x is the shortening occasioned by the
thickness, and f* {rn 0-\-0') is the effect of the two ab¬
errations arising from the aperture.
It will be convenient, for several collateral purposes,,
to exterminate from these formulae the quantities k, l
and <p. For this purpose
make —:
11
 -r. We have
a b
,7 11 1 1 1 1
already k— ; and -= 
J a r (pa
ma mr
and l —
i_ 2 _i__i , l L,
£ <p’ a ‘ ma mr
Now for -—- write —
b a n
and.
TEL
Ttlescope. ,
, . ami we
get /=-
m l (by construction, page 347
X. 1 r m m 1 1
 }—-( ,— 1 ,
o a r n n r n
Therefore —-7 —
y h
Prop. II.) becomes —
m— 1 1
248 ]
_ m—1 /m*
^ m \ n3
4 m 4-4 3 W-f- 2
TEL
2 W* -j- m w -f- 2
-f-
)f
Tel
Jiescojj
This last value of -j (the reciprocal of the focus of a
slender pencil twice refracted), viz. ^—j 38 the
a r n r n
The focal distance therefore of rays twice refracted,
reckoned from the last surface, or BI, corrected for
aberration, and for the thickness of the lens, is f—f
mu
~-l -f* q, consisting of three parts, viz. f, the focal
simplest that can be imagined, a„d makes n as a substi- d;stance of cenlra| rays . ^ COTrectinn fot lk
tute for ; a most useful symbol, as we shall fre-
a b ■
V1
q^iently find in the sequel. It also gives a very simple
expression of the focal distance of parallel rays, which
we may call the principal focal distance of the lens, and
distinguish it in future by the symbol p ; for the expres¬
sion —:
-ri, 1 t?i-
-f— becomes—rr 
r p n
when the inci¬
dent light is parallel. And this gives us another very-
simple and useful measure of f; for 4. becomes rr —
j P
—and
+
These equations—= —
P
— deserve therefore to be made very familiar
to the mind.
We may also take notice of another property of n.
It is half the radius of an isosceles lens, which is equi¬
valent to the lens whose radii are a and b : for suppose
the lens to he isosceles, that is a—b; then n— -——.
' a a
Now the second a is negative if the first be positive, or
positive if the first he negative. Therefore -—4=
a b
14-6 „+a 212 , « -kt ,
—t-— —I— = -, and - =r~, and n~-. N ow the focal
n a1 a n a 2
. 171— I
distance of this lens is , and so is that of the other,
and they are equivalent.
But, to proceed with our investigation, recollect that
m—1/ m k*\cs
r (/c
r J 2
Therefore m 6 —
And 6' was ~7——^ (—m* l3
m \
Therefore in 6 -f 6, the aberration (ne-
\m r
glecting the thickness of the lens) is f-
m l2 \ e*
/3 +
If we now write for £, /, and (p, their values as de-
termined above, performing all the necessary multipli¬
cations, and arrange the terms in such a manner as" to
collect in one sum the coefficients of n, «, and r, we shall
find 4 terms for the value of in 0, and 10 for the value
o.1 6'‘ TIie 4 arc destroyed by as many with contrary
signs in the value of 6', and there remain 6 terms to ex¬
press the value of 010+6', which we shall express by one
symbol pj and the equation stands thus :
5
thickness of the lens; and q, the aberration.
The formula at the top of this column appears very
complex, but is of very easy management, requiring
only the preparation of the simple numbers which form
the numerators of the fractions included in the parenthe¬
sis. When the incident rays are parallel, the terms va¬
nish which have r in the denominator, so that only the
three first terms are used.
We might here point out the cases which reduce the
aberration expressed in the formula last referred to, to
nothing; but as they can scarcely occur in the object-
glass of a telescope, we omit it for the present, and pro¬
ceed to the combination of twTo or more lenses.
Lemma 3. If AG he changed by a small quantity
Gg, BI suffers a change I i, and G g- : I izrAG*:
HI*- For it is well known that the small angles CM g
and IN 1 are equal; and therefore their subtenses G Ay.
I n are proportional to MG, NI, or to AG, AI nearly,
when the aperture is moderate. Therefore w'e have
(nearly)
G k
I n
G rr
I n : AG
I zrrAM
GA—AG
Therefore G g : I rrAG*
BI
BI
AM
BI*
Prop. III. To determine the focal distance of rays
refracted by two lenses placed near to each other on a
common axis.
Let AM, BN (fig. 11.) be the surfaces of the first Fig. i1
lens, and CO, OP he the surfaces of the second, and
let /S be the thickness of the second lens, and $ the in¬
terval between them. Let the radius of the anterior
surface of the second lens be a', and the radius of its
posterior surface he b'. Let m! he to I as the sine of in¬
cidence to the sine ot refraction in the substance of the
second lens. Lastly, letp' be the principal focal dis¬
tance of the second lens. Let the extreme or marginal
ray meet the axis in L after passing through both lenses,
so that DL is the ultimate focal distance, reckoned from
the last surface,
It is plain that DL may be determined by means of
a', b', in', p', and Cl, in the same manner that BI was
determined by means of a, b, m, p, and AG.
The value of BI is f—m «  f2 q.
Take from
f*
/ 2
this the interval and we hav e CI~,4—m tt'—r•—o—
J <j3*
f'
f* q- Let the small part — in ^— ^—j1 q ne'
gl. ct( d for the present, and let C 1 be supposed = /.
As we formed and q, by means of a, b, m, «, and
TEL
•ope. r> let us now forni /', and q', for
by means of a', //, ?/, and r'. <p' will
be the focal distance of a slender pencil refracted by
the farst surface,jT will be the focal distance of this pen¬
cil after two refractions, and q' will be the coefficient
of the aberration, neglecting the thickness and interval
of the lenses.
[ 249 1 TEL
the second lens, ace vastly more manageable than those employed by Telescope.
Luler or D’Alembert. AVe have calculated trigone- —v—-
metrically the progress of the rays through one of the
glasses, which will be given as an example, giving it a
very extravagant aperture, that the errors offfie formu¬
las might be very remarkable. We found the real aber¬
ration exceed the aberration assigned by the formula by
Proceeding in this way, DL will be = f
-/"?•
m (3
r
from/'—m /S7—q>.
But because Cl is really less than / by the
quantity m « — -{-$ -f/* /, we must (by Lemma 3.)
subtract the product of this quantity, multiplied by ~,
(which is nearly’L- ' *”•— 4't — ^7
By this process we shall have
The first term / of this value of DI is the focal dis¬
tance of a slender pencil of central rays refracted by
both lenses, neglecting their thickness and distance; the
second term, —/ -fi. + ) |3 the correction
necessary for these circumstances ; and the third term,
~/a ('/-f </'), is the correction for the aperture 2 e.
And it is evident that q1 is a formula precisely similar
no more than th part, a difference which is quite in¬
significant. 'I he process here given derives its simplici¬
ty from the frequent occurrence of harmonic propor¬
tions in all optical theorems. This enabled Mr Claii aut
to employ the reciprocals of the radii and distances
with so much simplicity and generality.
We consider it as another advantage of Mr Clairaut’s
method, that it gives, by the way, formulae for the
more ordinary questions in optics, which are of wonder¬
ful simplicity, and most easily remembered. The chief
problems in the elementary construction of optical in¬
struments relate to the focal distances of central rays.
This determines the focal distances and arrangement of
the glasses. All the rest may be called the refinement
of optics ; teaching us how to avoid or correct the in¬
distinctness, the colours and the distortions, which are
produced in the images formed by these simple construc¬
tions. AA'e shall mention a few of these formula; which
occur in our process, and tend greatly to abbreviate it
when managed by an experienced analyst.
Let m be to 1 as the sine of incidence to the sine of
refi action ; let a and be the radii of the anterior and
posterior surfaces of a lens; let r be the distance of the
radiant point, or the focus of incident central rays, and
^ 2T andr'1, ^ ^ ^ °f the -"jugate focus 5""/let^ffie
ing only by the m1, a', and r', employed in place of
m, <7, n, and r.
It is also evident, that, if there be a third lens, we
shall obtain its focal distance by a process precisely si¬
milar to that by which we obtained DL ; and so on for
any number of lenses.
Thus have we obtained formulae by which the foci of
rays are determined in the most general terms, and in
such a manner as shall point out the connection of the
curvatures, thicknesses, and distances of the lenses,
with their spherical aberrations, and with the final aber¬
ration of the compound Jens, and give the aberrations in
separate symbols, so that we can treat them by them¬
selves, and subject them to any conditions which may
enable us to correct one of them by another.
AVe also see in general, that the corrections for the
nckness and distance of the lenses are exhibited in
terms which involve only the focal distances of central
lap, and have very little influence on the aberrations,
and still less on the ratio of the aberrations of the dif-
eient lenses. J his is a most convenient circumstance ;
01 we may neglect them wdiile we are determining o
and q, and in determining the ratio of the focal dis-
ances of the several lenses, on which the correction of
ice nematic abberration chiefly depends. Therefore,
m ie construction of a compound lens for uniting the
1 erent colours, we may neglect this correction for the
nc ness and distance till the end of the process. AArhen
e apply itj We shall find that it chiefly affects the final
°ca (istance, making it somewhat longer, but has
lar y any influence either on the chromatic or spherical
a lerration. AVe do not hesitate to say, that the final
( rmu ae here given are abundantly accurate, while they
'OL. XX. Parti. ^
principal focal distance of the lens, or the focal distance
of parallel rays. Make - equal to all -—4; let the same
n a b
letters a', b', r', &c. express the same things for a second
lens; and b", /■", &c. express them for a third ; and
so on.
Then
we
1
77 5
1
r
m"— 1
. I m—
have —~ 
/ n
I
/
+
&<
n” ‘ r'
Therefore when the incident light is parallel, and r
1 m—1 1 —r x
infinite, we
mn— 1 p
 77-, &c.
have —
P
And when several lenses are contiguous, so that their
intervals may be neglected, and thereforej, belong¬
ing to the first lens, becomes-, belonging to the second,
we have
j
1
77 — 77 > —
n
1 i?i
’.A'
m'
- H- -
r
1 1
— f“ “•
p r
w—1 , 1 I I I
VP'
1
11
1 1, 111 _ 1 .1,1.1
+ » +~+r'-yi+g+p+;-
Nothing can be more easily remembered than these
formulae, how numerous so ever the glasses may be.
Having thus obtained the necessary analysis and for-
f I i * mula,
V"
Tcic«ci>pe.
T E I
mula, it now remains to apply them to the construction
of achromatic lenses j in which it fortunately happens,
that the employment of several surfaces, in order to
produce the union of the differently refrangible rays,
enables us at the same time to employ them for correct¬
ing each other’s spherical aberration.
In the article Optics we gave a general notion of the
principle on which we may proceed in our endeavours
to unite the differently refrangible rays. A white or
compounded ray is separated by refraction into its com¬
ponent coloured rays, and they are diffused over a small
angular space. Thus it appears, that the glass used by
Sir Isaac Newton in his experiments diffused a white
ray, which was incident on its posterior surface in an
angle of 30°, in such a manner that the extreme red
ray emerged into air, making an angle of 50° 2iy with
the perpendicular 5 the extreme violet ray emerged in
an angle of 510 5 and the ray which was in the
confines of green and blue, emerged in an angle of 50“
48-f'. If the sine of the angle 30° of incidence be call¬
ed 0 5, which it really is, the sine of the emergence of
the red ray will he 0.77 ; tiiat of the violet ray will he
0.78 5 ami that of the intermediate ray will be 0.77-^,
an exact mean between the two extremes. This ray
may therefore be called the mean refrangible ray, and
the ratio of 77^ to 50, or of 1.55 to I, will very pro¬
perly express the mean refraction of this glass 5 and we
have for this glass OTrri.55. The sine of refraction,
being measured on a scale, of which the sine of incidence
occupies ico parts, will be 154 for the red ray, 155
for the mean ray, and 156 for the violet ray. This
number, or its ratio to unity, is commonly taken to re¬
present the refractive power of the glass./ There is
some impropriety in this, unless ive consider ratios as
measured by their logarithms : for if m be I, the sub¬
stance does not refract at all. The refractive power
can be properly measured only by the refraction which
it produces ; that is, by the change which it makes in
the direction of the light, or the angle contained be¬
tween the incident and refracted rays. If two substances
produce such deviations always in one proportion, we
-should then say that their refractive powers are in that
proportion. This is not true in any substances j but
the sines of the angles, contained between the refracted
ray and the perpendicular, are always in one proportion
when the angle of incidence in both substances is the
same. This being a cognisable function of the real re¬
fraction, has therefore been assumed as the only conve¬
nient measure of the refractive powers. Although it is
not strictly just, it answers extremely well in the most
usual cases in optical instruments : the refractions are
moderate ; and the sines are very nearly as the angles
contained between the rays and the perpendicular; and
the real angles of refraction, or deflections of the rays,
are almost exactly proportional to m—1. The most na¬
tural and obvious measure of the refractive powers would
therefore be m—1. But this would embarrass some
very frequent calculations; and we therefore And it
best, on the whole, to take m itself for the measure of
the refractive power.
The separation of the red, violet, and intervening
rays, has been called dispersion; and although this arises
merely from a diflerence of the refractive power in re¬
spect of the different rays, it is convenient to distinguish
tliis particular modification of the refractive power by a
TEL
name, and we call it the Dispersive Power of the xe]w,
refracting substance. -y.
It is susceptible of degrees ; for a piece of flint-glass
will refract the light, so that when the sine of refrac¬
tion of the red ray is 77, the sine of the refraction of
the violet ray is nearly 78 2 ; or if the sine of refraction of
the red ray, measured on a particular scale, is 1.54, the
sine of refraction of the violet ray is 1.57. The disper¬
sion of this substance, being measured by the diflerence
of the extreme sines of refraction, is greater than the dis¬
persion of the other glass, in the proportion of 3 to 2.
But this alone is not a sufficient measure of the abso¬
lute dispersive power of a substance. Although the ratio
of 1.54 to 1.56 remains constant, whatever the real mag¬
nitude of the refractions of .common glass may be, and
though we therefore say that its dispersive power is con¬
stant, we know, that by increasing the incidence and
the refraction, the absolute dispersion is also increased.
Another substance shows the same properties, and in a
particular case may produce the same dispersion ; yet it
has not for this sole reason the same dispersive power.
II indeed the incidence and the refraction of the mean
ray be also the same, the dispersive poiver cannot be said
to differ; but if the incidence and the refraction of the
mean ray be less, the dispersive power must be consider¬
ed as greater, though the actual dispersion be the same ;
because if we increase the incidence till it becomes equal
to that in the common glass, the dispersion will now be
increased. The proper way of conceiving the dispersion
therefore is, to consider it as a portion of the whole re¬
fraction ; and if ive find a substance making the same
dispersion with half the general refraction, we must say
that the dispersive quality is double ; because by ma¬
king the refraction equal, the dispersion will really be
double.
If th erefore we take m as a symbol of the separation
of the extreme rays from the middle ray,—E—Jsthena-
m—1
tural measure of the dispersive power. We shall express
this in the Leibnitzian notation, thus -- - that we
m—I
may avoid the indistinctness which the Newtonian nota¬
tion would occasion when m is changed for tn' or ri".
It is not unusual for optical writers to take the whole
separation of the red and violet rays for the measure of
the dispersive power, and to compare this with the re¬
fracting power with respect to one of the extreme rays.
But it is surely better to consider the mean refraction as
the measure of the refracting power: and the deviation
of either of the extremes from this mean is a proper
enough measure of the dispersion, being always half of
it. It is attended with this convenience, that being in¬
troduced into our computations as a quantity infinitely
small, and treated as such for the ease of computation,
while it is really a quantity of sensible magnitude; the
errors arising from this supposition are diminished great¬
ly, by taking one half of the deviation, and comparing
it with the mean refraction. This method has, how¬
ever, this inconvenience, that it does not exhibit at once
the refractive power in all substances respecting any
particular colour of light ; for it is not the ray of any
particular colour that suffers the mean refraction. D
common glass it is the ray which is in the confines of
the yellow and blue j in flint-glass it is nearly the mid'
[ 250 ]
TEL
ope. die blue ray $ and in other substances it is a different
r—J ray. These circumstances appear plainly in the different
proportions of the colours of the prismatic spectrum ex¬
hibited by different substances^ This will be considered
afterwards, being a great bar to the perfection of achro¬
matic instruments.
The way in which an achromatic lens is constructed
is, to make use of a contrary refraction of a second lens
to destroy the dispersion or spherical aberration of the
first.
The first purpose will be answered if ~be equal to
n
dm! x* . i
^ or, in order that the different coloured rays
may be collected into one point by two lenses, it is only
necessary 4hatjT, the reciprocal of the focal distance
of rays refracted by both, may be the same for the
extreme and mean rays, that is, that m+dm 1 _j_
m' -^dtr!— I
[ 251 ]
TEL
the same value with
r
n
m-
m'-
• -, which must happen if 4- —
r n ' n'
1 r’ ““iT™ 11 —1 it be =0, or
dm_ dm!
—— ~~n‘ ^ ”1S may seen an°ther way, more
comprehensible by such as are not versant in these dis¬
cussions. In order that the extreme colours which are
separated by the first lens may be rendered parallel by
the second ; we have shown already that n and ri are
proportional to the radii of the equivalent isosceles
lenses, being the halves of these radii. They are there-
foie (in these small refractions) inversely proportional to
the angles formed by the surfaces at the edges of the
lenses, n may therefore be taken for the angle of the
first lens, and n for that of the second. Now the small
refraction by a prism, whose angle (also small) is n\ is
™ 1 X n. The dispersive power being now substituted
for the refractive power, we have for this refraction of
the prism dinin'. This must be destroyed by the op¬
posite refraction of the other prism dm'y^n. Therefore
dmxn'—dm'yn^r—=r —. In like manner,
n n! ’
t-bis effect will be produced by three lenses if i ^m__
, ' n ^ n'
. dm!1
+ — be ~0, &c.
Lastly, the errors arising from the spherical figure,
which vve expressed by —R* (y-f-^) will be corrected
! 9*1'? he ~o. We are therefore to discover the ad¬
justments of the quantities employed in the preceding
‘Oinuda^ which will insure these conditions. It will
render the process more perspicuous if we collect into
one view the significations of our various symbols, and
the principal equations which we are to employ.
, ^ ^ he ratios to unity of the sines of mean
incidence in the different media are - rn* m".
2* The ratio of the differences of the sines
the extremes .
3- The ratio
m— 1
4. The radii of the surfaces a, b; a', b'; a", b". Telescope
5. The principal focal distances, or the focal ^
distances of parallel central rays,
6. The focal distance of the compound lens
7. The distance of the radiant point, or of
the focus of incident rays on each lens
8. 1 he focal distance of the rays refracted
by each lens -
9. The focal distance of rays refracted by
the compound lens ...
10. The half breadth of the lens
Also the following subsidiary values :
 i jr r 1
b 7 v! a' b'n''~ 17' 17''
P.
/>/,/'•
F.
e.
1 I
n a
 m—1 /mn
^ m \n*
a'
a n*
4(™ + i)
m ~h 2 , 3 m* -f w
a2n '* r n2
3»z-{-2\e*
atr^ 1 • And 7 and q" must he formed
in the same manner from m', o', o', r'; and from m" a",
n", r", as q is formed from ?», o, o, r.
3. Also because in the case of an object-glass, r is in¬
finitely great, the last term - in all the values of- —
r /*’
j x 1 1 J *
~jii' p» wil1 vanish, and we shall also have F=:P.
Therefore in a double object-glass :
= - -f-
And in a triple object-glass 1 _l
1 n" r n' ~
m—1 _ 1 1 1
n ’ p'^p'^p"
. Als°. ‘n a double object-glass, the correction of sphe¬
rical aberration requires q-j-q'=:v.
And a triple object-glass requires q-j-q'-J-q"—v.
For the whole error is multiplied by F*, and hy 4. ^ •
and therefore the equation which corrects this error
may be divided by Fa £ c*.
This equation in the fourteenth line from the top
of the column, giving the value of q, q\ q'\ may be
much simplified as folloYvs: In the first place, they mar
be divided by m, m\ or m", by applying them properly
to the terms within the parenthesis, and expunging them
from the denominatorof the general factors^—^ m 1
m m'
m" 1 rr>L- 1
~m'i—• -^his does not alter the values of 7, q\ and q".
In the second place the Yvhole equations may be after¬
wards divided by m—1. This Yvill give the values of
m’—\' m’—i' antl m'—V whIch wil1 8tl11 be etlual td
nothing i£ q-\-q'+q" be equal to nothing.
This division reduces the general factor—of o' t*
m *
—. And in the equation ior q yvc obtain, in place of
the general factor^—-, the factor --~r, or c. This
m m'—1
will also be the factor of the value of 7" when the tbini
lens is of the same substance with the first, as is general-
I I 2 J.y
TEL [
Telescope, ty t^e case. And, in the third place, since the rays in-
' v  cident on the first lens are parallel, all the terms vanish
I
from the value of q in which — is found, and there re-
r
mam only the three hrst, viz. —   —
J v> a ?i%
ifn
252 ] TEL
Let A be the coefficient of -L B that of —, C that Jetacopt.
ir a
of-L D that of -L and E the sum of the independent
a11 a
cCtn-\-2) ry , . .
— —  , Bz=c(2»i-{-1)>
Performing these operations, we have
q   /m1 2 m-j-i m + 2\e»
i'—1 \ w3 cr/P ' mifn) 2
quantity j that is, let A be :
„(my_2) n_
-, D—w* (2m'+ 2)-
/[u(m' 1) (m—1)
q'  / m'%
<i'—x \ n*
air mi
a' 11'2 ^ in'a'1 nf r* nr‘
and E = c w* -{- u* (3 m! -J- l) {tn—1)
?/(3 {.m—I)*
■ w3 m1
+
2 \ e*
11' r'1 n' J 2
i'—i \n"3
2m-i-I f»-}-2 3W + I (4»?-f-0
Our final equation becomes
A___ B_
a1 a a'- a'
C D■
7* T7 + E—O.
a" n"
m"a"rr'n"
+
3777 +
n" J 2
Let us now apply this investigation to the construc¬
tion of an object-glass j and we shall begin with a
double lens.
Construction of a Double Achromatic Object-glass.
Here we have to determine *four radii a, b, a', and b'.
Make 11—This greatly simplifies the calculus, by
exterminating it from all the denominators. This gives
, . dm dm' , . dm'
for the equation   j —“O, the equation dm A —
1 n n' n
d in' 1
—o, or dm— — ——, and-,:
The coefficients of this equation and the independent,
quantity are all known, from our knowledge of m,
m' dm, dm'; and we are to find the value of a and
a', and from them and to find the values of b
and b'.
But it is evidently an indeterminate equation, be¬
cause there are two unknown quantities ; so that there
may be an infinity of solutions. It must be rendered
determinate by means of some other conditions to which
it may be subjected. These conditions must depend
on some other circumstances which may direct our
choice.
One circumstance occurs to us which we think of
very great consequence. In the passage of light from
one substance to another, there is always a considerable
drn   ^ portion reflected from the posterior surface of the first
n' ' iv dm'* *' and from the anterior surface of the last; and this re-
we have iJ, the focal distance of the light incident on the flection is more copious in proportion to the refraction,
second lens, the same with the principal focal distance p This loss of light will therefore be diminished by mak-
of the first lens, (neglecting the interval, if any). Now ing the internal surfaces of the lenses to coincide ; that
1 m—1 . is> by making b—a'. This will be attended with ano-
’ "'Inch in the present case is —m 1. Also ^j]er a^vantage. If we put between the glasses a sub-
j j stance of nearly the same refracting power, we shall not
— is
P
:—ujn'—1), and ——m—1—u(m'—1 )=:«'.
Alake these substitutions in the values of
-, and we obtain the following equation :
e(2»i-f-i) c(/»-f-2)
m a*
• ul mn
u ( m' -f- 2)
m a1
2) —I)*
f7/2(3OTf-fx)(m—l)-f
4w(m'-}-l)(w—1)
Arrange these terms in order, according as they are
factors of —,
11
-7J, —, or independent quantities. It
only completely prevent this loss of light, but we shall
greatly diminish the errors which arise from an imper-
9_ ant| feet polish of the surfaces. We have tried this, and find
— 1 the effect very surprising. The lens being polished im¬
mediately after the figure has been given it, and while
it was almost impervious to light by reason of its rough¬
ness, which was still sensible to the naked eye, perform¬
ed as well as when finished in the finest manner.
N. B. This condition, by taking away one refrac¬
tion, obliges us to increase those which remain, and
therefore increases the spherical aberrations. And since
our formulae do not fully remove those (by reason of the
small quantities neglected in the process), it is uncer¬
tain whether this condition be the most eligible. We
have, however, no direct argument to the contrary.
Let us see what determination this gives us.
puts on this form :
c(w4-2) 1 .. N 1
——~— X —c'(2m-fi)x--
m cr a
u(m'A-2)
/X
a'*
In this case
a' b a
I I
• l. For because
n a
nr
^«*(2w'-{- 1)-
4«(w,-f. i)(w—1)
) X A-cm*4-u*
/ a
— and n—\, we have
b 1 b a
and ■—I*
b a
Therefore, in our final
( + 1) 0n—1) —u% m''
u($m'-\-2') (in—i)*
=0.
There fore -L = — — - -f-1 •
of* a* a
equation, put-E—- -}-i in place of —, and-—I *n
place
T E
L [ 253 ] T E L
A —C B + D—2C arch (that is, an arch of many degrees) is employed.
ax a No radius should be admitted which is much less than
4- of the focal distance.
■. place of —7-, and it becomes
■' a'
•fE-j-D — C=o.
All this process will be made plain and easy by an
Thus have we arrived at a common affected quadratic example.
. 1 . . _ , Very careful experiments have shown, that in corn-
equation, where - is the unknown quantity. It has the ni0n crown-glass the sine of incidence is to the sine of
common form p x*-\-qxwhere p is =z A—C, iefraction as 1.526 is to I, and that in the generality of
*1 *s equa' t0 2 ^ ^ r is equal to E-f-U—C, and flint-glass it is as 1.604 to 1. Also that 0.60 C4
. , 1 dm*
x is equal to -.
Divide the equation hy n, and we have a-*4--.r4-—
P ^ P
(J T
zzO. Make ^=-»and t =. —, and we have
P P
r
-J-troO. This gives us Anally-, or x = — 4-.yi±:
This value of - is taken from a scale of which the
a
unit is half the radius of the isosceles lens which is equi¬
valent to the first lens, or has the same focal distance
with it. We must then find (on the same scale) the
value of 6, viz.. 1, which is also the value of o'.
Having obtained o', we must find b' by means of the
equation and therefore 4 =   —
re a! U b a' n'*
But —Therefore —= —r+K, =-4-w—1.
Thus is our object-glass constructed j and we must
determine its focal distance,, or its reciprocal -E, This
is ~m—1—u (in'—1).
All these radii and distances are measured on a scale
of which n is the unit.. But it is more convenient to
measure every thing by the focal distance of the com¬
pound object-glass. This gives us the proportion which
all the distances hear to it. Therefore, calling P unity,
in order to obtain — on this scale, we have only to state
= u. Therefore m — 1 =: 0.526 $ m! — 1 = 0.604 $
m—i
c —~, :=0.87c86. By these numbers we can com-
m!—i' J
pute the coefficients of our final equation. We shall
find them as follows :
A =2.012
B =3.529
C =1.360
D =—0.526
E =1.8659
The general equation (p. 25 2. col. 2. lin. 8.), when sub¬
jected to the assumed coincidenceof the internal surfaces,
. A—C B + D—2C
is—  f-E + D — C=o. A—C is
or a ' 1
=0.652 j B-f-D—2 C is =0.283 ; and E-j-D—C is
=-—0 020 j and the equation with numerical coefiicients
. 0.652 0.283
is —  0.020=0, which corresponds to
cr a r
the equation p xx-\~q x-\-r~o. We must now make
7 °-283 , r 0.02
i=y a”d '=y =^- =°.°307.
the analogy m—1—n (ml—1) : 1:
-, and A is
the radius of our first surface measured on a scale of
which P is the unit.
If, in the formula which expresses the final equation
for-, the value of t should be positive, and greater than
the equation has imaginary roots; and it is not
possible with the gla-sses employed, and the conditions
assumed, to correct both the chromatic and spherical
aberrations.
If t is negative and equal to ^ s', the radical part of
the value is =0, and —= — -|,y. But if it be negative
or positive, but less than 4 the equation h as two real
roots, which will give two constructions. That is to
‘'e Preferred which gives the smallest curvature of the
sm aces ; because, since in our formula: which deter-
ttj'ne the spherical aberration some quantities are ne-
g ected, these quantities are always greater when a large
A
This gives us the final quadratic equation — —.-H
a
—0.0307=0. To solve this, we have —4 £=0.217,
and4s*—0.0471. From this take£, which is=—0.0307
(that is, to 0.0471 add 0.0307), and we obtain 0.0778,
the square root of which is =0.2789. Therefore,
finally, —=0.2170:^:0.2789, which is either 0.4959
or —0.0619. It is plain that the first must be preferred,
because tbe second gives a negative radius, or makes the
first surface of the crown-glass concave. Now as the
convergence of the rays is to be produced by the crown-
glass, the other surface must become very convex, and
occasion great errors in the computed aberration. Wa
therefore retain O.4959 for the value of -, and a is
= 1 , =2.0166.
0.4959
To obtain b, use the equation 4 = — —1, which elves
b a D
=—0.5041, and therefore a convex surface. b is
b
therefore
0-5°4
- = 1.9837.
g' is the same with b, and —= —0.5041.
To obtain l’, use the equation ^ = Now u=
0.6054, and — =
•0.5041.
The sum of these is
o*ica-3
TEL
[ 254 ]
TEL
Telescope. O.1013 } and since it is positive, the surface is concave.
y-
.1013
=9.872.
Lastly,^5 —m—1—u {ml—1) =0.1603, and 1’=
P
-, =0.2383.
0.1603
Now to obtain all the measures in terms of the focal
distance P, we have only to divide the measures already
found by 6.2383, and the quotients are the measures
wanted.
Therefore <z=
2.0166
= 0.32325
6.2383
6.2383
c'= - - =—0.31798
h,_ 9-872 __
~ 6.2383 ~
p= - I.
1.5825
this in a very perspicuous manner in his theory of his Teleseop
Catoptric Microscope. -y-
But although we cannot adopt this form of an object-
glass, there may be other considerations which may
lead us to prefer some particular form of the crown-glass,
or of the flint-glass. We shall therefore adapt our ge-
, . A B C D ^
neral equation — 77 — —4- L = o to this
u a' a a* a' 1
condition.
Therefore let h express this selected ratio of the two
radii of the crown-glass, making ^ =/« (remembering
always that a is positive and b negative in the case of a
double convex, and h is a negative number).
With this condition we have 7 = —. But when we
make n the unit of our formula of aberration,7- = x.
b a
If it be intended that the focal distance of the object-
glass shall be any number n of inches or feet, we have
only to multiply each of the above radii by //, and we
have their lengths in inches or feet.
Thus we have completed the investigation of the con¬
struction of a double object-glass. Although this was
intricate, the final result is abundantly simple for prac¬
tice, especially with the assistance of logarithms. The
only troublesome thing is the preparation of the nume¬
rical coefficients A, B, C, D, E of the final equation.
Strict attention must also be paid to the positive and ne¬
gative signs of the quantities employed.
We might propose other conditions. Thus it is na¬
tural to prefer for the first or crown-glass lens such a
form as shall give it the smallest possible aberration.
This will require a small aberration of the flint-glass to
correct it. But a little reflection will convince us that
this form will not be good. The focal distance of the
crown-glass must not exceed one-third of that of the
compound glass ; these two being nearly in the propor¬
tion of dm'—dm to d m'. Therefoi’e if this form be
adopted, and a be made about ^th of b, it will not ex¬
ceed yth of P. Therefore, although we may produce
a most accurate union of the central and marginal rays
by opposite aberrations, there will be a considerable
aberration of some rays which are between the centre
and the margin.
It is absolutely impossible to collect into one point
the whole rays (though the very remotest rays are united
with the central rays), except in a very particular case,
which cannot obtain in an object-glass j and the small
quantities which are neglected in the formula which we
have given for the spherical aberration, produce errors
which do not follow any proportion of the aperture
which can be expressed by an equation of a manageable
form. When the aperture is very large, it is better
not to correct the aberration for the whole aperture, but
lor about -g-ths of it. When the rays corresponding to
this distance are made to coincide with the central rays
by means of opposite aberrations, the rays which are be¬
yond this distance will be united with some of those
which are nearer to the centre, and the whole diffusion
wi .l. be considerably diminished. Dr Smith has illustrated
Therefore 1 =   l-, and - = —^-7. Now substitute
a a a 1—h
this for - in the general equation, and change all tbs
signs (which still preserves it =0), and we obtain
C , I) A , B
+ a' h (I—/*)* +l—
By this equation we are to find —, or the radius of
a
the anterior surface of the flint-glass. The equation is
of this form p x%-\-q *4.7-= o, and we must again make
n r J) j
.?=— and /= —. Therefore 5 = 77-, and t — —X
P P C’ C ^
(7~A —(Tr3)i-E)- Then, finally,
^•r: —}s=!= J is1—(.
It may be worth while to take a particular case of
this condition. Suppose the crown-glass to be of equal
convexities on both sides. This has some advantages:
M e can tell with precision whether the curvatures are
precisely equal, by measuring the focal distance of rays
reflected back from its posterior surface. These distances
will be precisely equal. Now it is of the utmost im¬
portance in the construction of an object-glass which is
to correct the spherical aberration, that the forms be
precisely such as are required by our formulse.
Vl/I I T V TV KJU
xu Lina case 01 a lens eqUauj
1 . 1 1 . . j _
„ 18 —— 7, = —. Substitute this value for — is the
a b 2 a
, . A B C D
general equation —   _i_ £ = ©, and
a* a a'1 rf ^ ’
cl A A B , B __ 1 ,
tnen—rr—j —becomes—. Now change ail the
a 4 a 2 6
signs, and we have -f _4- —r=o,hy
4 2
1.36c
wbjch we are to find (/. This in numbers is
tr
Wf'ic.
0.526
and ^ =
T E L
0.6044—0. Then s=z
—0.6044
-0.526
1.260
o.
1.360 "0,4444*
*=0.0374 i and |S*—t =:
: 255 ] TEL
$867, the final equation .t*-}-.y.v-j-/z=o, s —
C D \ . 1
B
A, and t =l. Tdescope-.
A A ~—*
Then 7^=0.19331 X(E_^—
and - —
a
:o.694i j so that —
= 0.19332^00.6941. This gives two real roots, viz.
0.8874, and —0.5008. If we take the first, we shall
have a convex anterior surface for the flint-glass, and
consequently a very deep concave for the posterior sur¬
face. We therefore take the second or negative root
—0.5008.
We find as before, by the equation T —- —
o' o’ u
C.1046, which will give a large value of b'.
We had -
« 2
and
and p-is the same as in the former case, viz. 0.1603.
Having all these reciprocals,we may find a, b, o', U,
am! P j and then dividing them by P, we obtain finally
a— 0.3206
b ——0.3206
a'——0.3201
h'= J-533
P= 1.
By comparing this object-glass with the former, we
may remark, that diminishing a a little increases b, and
in this respect improves the lens. It indeed has dimi¬
nished b\ but this being already considerable, no incon¬
venience attends this diminution. But we learn, at the
same time, that the advantage must he very small; for
we cannot diminish a much more, without making it as
small as the smallest radius of the object-glass. This
proportion is therefore very near the maximum, or best
possible ; and we know that in such cases, even con¬
siderable changes in the radii will make but small
changes in the result : for these reasons we are disposed
to give a strong preference to the first construction, on
account of the other advantages which we showed to
attend it.
As another example, we may take a case which is
very nearly the general practice of the London artists.
1 be radius of curvature for the anterior surface of the
convex crown-glass is |lths of the radius of the posterior
surface, so that h — This being introduced into the
determinate equation, gives
n= 0.2938 a' — —0.3443
6 =—0.3526 b= 1.1474
As another condition, we may suppose that the second
or flint-glass is of a determined form.
Ibis case is solved much in the same manner as the
former. Taking h to represent the ratio of u' and b', we
, 1 1
cave —= This value bein^ substituted in the
a 1 —h 0
1 .A B C II ,,
general equation      }- Kzro, gives us
a' a fl'2 a 1 D
^ B C D
r + E——— 7 — 0. This gives for
J tt,v
We might here take the particular case of the flint-
glass being equally concave on both sides. Then be-
cause — — —u, and in the case of equal concavities
2 1 . . j j
-. = = —U, it is sufficient to put u for—.
a' n 1 2 a'
This being done, the equation becomes — 5- —— 4-
a a 4 ‘
— [- E rr o. This gives s = , and t = — v
2 b A’ A
(iWrAL +E).
(I-/02 I—/*
We imagine that these cases are sufficient for show¬
ing the management of the general equation ; and the
example of the numerical solution of the first case affords
instances of the only niceties which occur in the process,
viz. the proper employment of the positive and negative
quantities.
We have oftener than once observed, that the formu¬
la is not perfectly accurate, and that in very large aper¬
tures errors will remain. It is proper therefore, when
we have obtained the form of a compound object-glass,
to calculate trigonometrically tbe progress of tbe light
through it 5 and if we find a considerable aberration,
either chromatic or spherical, remaining, we must make
such changes in the curvatures as will correct them.
We have done this for the first example ; and we find,
that if the focal distance of the*»compound object-glass
be 100 inches, there remains of the spherical aberration
nearly ^5-th of an inch, and the aberration of colour is
over corrected above ^th of an inch. The first aberra¬
tion has been diminished about 6 times, and the other
about 30 times. Both of the remaining errors will be
diminished by increasing the radius of the inner surfaces.
This will diminish the aberration of the crown-glass, and
will diminish the dispersion of the flint more than that of
the crown. But indeed the remaining error is hardly
worth our notice.
ft is evident to any person conversant with optical
discussions, that we shall improve the correction of the
spherical aberration by diminishing the refractions. If we
employ two lenses for producing the convergeney of the
rays to a real focus, we shall reduce the aberration to
•Jth. Therefore a better achromatic glass will he form¬
ed of three lenses, two of which are convex and of crown-
glass. The refraction being thus divided between them,
the aberrations are lessened. There is no occasion to
employ two concave lenses of flint-glass ; there is even
an advantage in using one. The aberration being con¬
siderable, less of it will serve for correcting tbe aberra¬
tion of the crown glass, and therefore such a form may
he selected as has little aberration. Some light is in¬
deed lost by these two additional surfaces ; but this is
much more than compensated by the greater apertures
which we can venture to give when the curvature of the
surface is so much diminished. We proceed therefore to
The Construction of a Triple Achromatic Object-glass-
It is plain that there are more conditions to be as¬
sumed
TEL
[ 256 ]
TEL
Telescope, sumed before we can render this a determinate problem,
' v ’ and that the Investigation must be more intricate. At
the same time, it must give us a much greater variety of
constructions, in consequence of our having more con¬
ditions necessary for giving the equation this determi¬
nate form. Our limits will not allow us to give a full
account of all that may be done in this method. We
shall therefore content ourselves with giving one case,
which will sufficiently point out the method of proceed¬
ing. We shall then give the results in some other eligi¬
ble cases, as rules to artists by which they may construct
such glasses.
Let the first and second glasses be of equal curva¬
tures on both sides j the first being a double convex of
crown-glass, and the second a double concave of flint-
glass.
Still making n the unit of our calculus, we have in the
first place a————a\ —b'. Therefore — — ^ ~ —
 7 ), or — — ——1. Therefore the equation
a bj n' n
m dm' dm" u 1
-I — -{ — = O becomes u— 1 + —r, —o, or - —
W 1 1 'll'1 7
It
rv ■ n"
•1. Let us call this value u'.
11
{m!-
-j- u' (i?i~ 1). Also — = 771—I ; —- —
(m'—1), ~m—m\ ~—C'.
The equality of the two curvatures of each lens gives
- = Therefore - = —^ =—- = j = 4 j and
a in a b a' b' ’
I   1 I   I
b" “~ ~d' ~U'
Substituting these values in the equation (p. 252.
col. 2. par. 1.), we obtain the three formulae.
c {m -j- 2)
1.
c mx—4 c(2»z-j-l)-|-
4?w
2.~m'2-}-4(2W*'+l)—“T^T + + O (w—1)
4 w
2(w/-fi) —1) (3m'-f-2) {m—l)a
ly.CU' 3 w*-
nv
cun (2^-f’1)
~d>
m
cu' (;«4-2')
(3m+,)+ + _
ma" m ~~
Now arrange these quantities according as they are
an<^ or independent quantities.
coefficients of ■
Let the coefficient of
be A, that of — he B, and
a"
the independent quantity be C, we have
A—cu'(m-\~i)   4c c'u' (m4-1^1
A— j li~cu1 (2m4-1 )—2 > ~ J
and (2w'+1) + (3w' -f 1)
—i) -f-c u -fi
c(n u' (3 w -f- 2)
We have — — m—I : — 1
P P'
+ =m~m' + u' (^—O-
And if we make m'—w=C, we shall have -p-=—C,
— 4 c(2m4-i) Je'Citoi
—1) —i)*
m'
4 m
—cc' u" (3OT4-1).
A B
Our equation now becomes —    -4-C—o.
a" a"
This reduced to numbers, by computing the values of
, - . . 1.312 1.207
the coefficients, is     0.321:7=0.
a!' a"
This, divided by 1.312, gives s——0.925 and/=—
0,24825 —46=0.46; 4 6z=0.2ii6 ; and 4V4 a1 — t
— =±=0.6781.
And, finally, =0.46=12:0.6781.
This has two roots, viz. 0.2181 and— 1.1381.
The last would give a small radius, and is therefore re¬
jected.
Now, proceeding with this value of —- and the we
a" 11"
get the other radius b", and then, by means of u\ we get
the other radius which is common to the four surfaces.
Then, by -L — _L —c', We get the value of P.
■0;
p
The radii being all on the scale of which u is the
unit, they must be divided by P to obtain their value on
the scale which has P for its unit. This will give us
a =—b, = —a1, ~b\ =0.530
c"= 1*215
b"— —0.3046
P=
This is not a very good form, because the last surface
has too great curvature.
We thought it worth while to compute the curvatures
for a case where the internal surfaces of the lenses coin¬
cide, in order to obtain the advantages mentioned on a
former occasion. The form is as follows :
The middle lens is a double concave of flint-glass;
ffie last lens is of crown-glass, and has equal curvatures
on both sides. The following table contains the di¬
mensions of the glasses for a variety of focal distances.
The first column contains the focal distances in inches;
the second contains the radii of the first surface in inches;
the third contains the radii of the posterior surface ot
the first lens and anterior surface of the second ; and
the fourth column has the radii of the three remaining
surfaces.
P
12
24
36
48
60
72
96
ic8
120
a
9-25
i8-33
27-33
36.42
45-42
54-5
63-5
72.6
81.7
9°-7
a’
.6.17
1 2.2 C
18.25
24-33
3°-33
36.42
43-5
48-5
54-58
60.58
b\ a", b"
12*75
25-5
S8-1?
50.92
63-58
76*33
101.75
114.42
127.17
We have had an opportunity of trying glasses of this
construction, and found them equal to any of the same
length, although executed by an artist by no means ex¬
cellent in his profession as a glass-grinder. This very
circumstance
TEL
j^pe. circumstance gave us the opportunity of seeing the good
——' effects of interposing a transparent substance between the
glasses. We put some clear turpentine varnish between
them, which completely prevented all reflection from
the internal surfaces. Accordingly these telescopes
were surprisingly bright *, and although the roughness
left by the first grinding was very perceptible by the
naked eye before the glasses were put together, yet
when joined in this manner it entirely disappeared, even
when the glasses were -viewed With a deep magnifier.
The aperture of an object-glass of this construction
of 30 inches focal distance was 3Jth inches, which is
considerably more than any of Mr Dollond’s that we
have seen.
If we should think it of advantage to make all the
three lenses isosceles, that is, equally curved on both sur¬
faces, the general equation will give the following radii:
0=4.0.639 a — — 0.5285 0"= 4 0.6413
b — —0.639 £' = 40.5285 b" =z — 0.6413
This seems a good form, having large radii.
Should we choose to have the two crown-glass lenses
isosceles and equal, we must make
o=40-64I2 «'= — 0.5227 «"= 4 0.6412
b——0.6412 £'= 4 0.5367 £" = —0.6412
This form hardly differs from the last.
Our readers will recollect that all these forms proceed
on certain measures of the refractive and dispersive
i powers of the substances employed, which are expressed
by m, m\ d m, and d m': and we may be assured that
the formulae are sufficiently exact, by the comparison
1 (which we have made in one of the cases) of the result
of the formula and the trigonometrical calculation of
the progress of the rays. The error was but ^-th of
the whole, ten times less than another error, which
unavoidably remains, and will be considered presently,
These measures of refraction and dispersion were care¬
fully taken 5 but there is great diversity, particularly
in the flint-glass. We are well informed that the ma¬
nufacture of this article has considerably changed of
late years, and that it is in general less refractive and
less dispersive than formerly. This must evidently
make a change in the forms of achromatic glasses. The
l proportion of the focal distance of the crown-glasses to
that of the flint must be increased, and this will occa¬
sion a change in the curvatures, which shall correct the
spherical aberration. We examined with great care a
parcel of flint-glass which an artist of this city got late¬
ly for the purpose of making achromatic object-glasses,
and also some very white crown glass made in Leith ;
and we obtained the following; measures:
f 257 1
TEL
m = 1.529
m' — 1.578
d m 142
0.64841.
d m' 219
We computed some forms for triple object-glasses
made of these glasses, which we shall subjoin as a spe¬
cimen of the variations which this change of data will
occasion.
If all the three lenses are made isosceles, we bave
a = 4 °i796
£ = — 0.796
«= 0.504
b =r — 1
’ <M°4
Vol. XX. Part I.
«' = — o-474
£' = 4 0.474
Or
«'= —0.475
b' ~ 0.475
a'
b"
4 0.502
— 0.502
a" — 4 °-793
£" = —0.793
If the middle lens he isosceles, the two crown glass Telescope.
lenses may be made of the same form and focal distance, 1 y—J
and placed the same way. This will give us
«= 4 0.705 a'= — 0.475 + 0-7°5
£ = — O.547 £'= 4 O.475 b" - — 0.547
7ST. B. This construction allows a much better form,
if the measures of refraction and dispersion are the
same that we used formerly. For we shall have
0=4 0.628
£ = —0.749
a' — — O.579
£'= 4 0.579
a" — 4 0.628
b" =r — 0.749
And this is pretty near the practice of the London op¬
ticians.
Wre may here observe, upon the whole, that an ama¬
teur has little chance of succeeding in these attempts.
The diversity of glasses, and the uncertainty of the
workman’s producing the very curvatures which he in¬
tends, is so great, that the object-glass turns out difier-
ent from our expectation. The artist who makes great
numbers acquires a pretty certain guess at the remain¬
ing error ; and having many lenses, intended to be of
one form, but unavoidably differing a little from it, he
tries several of them with the other two, and finding
one better than the rest, he makes use of it to complete
the set.
The great difficulty in the construction is to find the
exact proportion of the dispersive powers of the crown
and flint-glass. The crown is pretty constant; but
there are hardly two pots of flint-glass which have the
same dispersive power. Even if constant, it is difficult
to measure it accurately j and an error in this greatly
affects the instrument, because the focal distances of the
lenses must be nearly as their dispersive powers. The.
method of examining this circumstance, which we found
most accurate, was as follows :
The sun’s light, or that of a brilliant lamp, passed
through a small hole in a board, and fell on another
hoard pierced also with a small hole. Behind this was
placed a fine prism A (fig. 14.), which formed a spec-Fi;
trum ROV on a screen pierced with a small hole. Be¬
hind this was placed a prism B of the substance under
examination. The ray which was refracted by it fell on
the wall at D, and the distance of its illumination from
that point to C, on which an unrefracted ray would
have fallen, was carefully measured. This showed the
refraction of that colour. Then, in order that we might
be certain that we always compared the refraction of the
same precise colour by the different prisms placed at B,
we marked the precise position of the prism A when the
ray of a particular colour fell on the prism B. This was
done by an index AG attached to A, and turning with
it, when we caused the different colours of the spectrum
formed by A to fall on B. Having examined one prism
B with respect to all the colours in the spectrum formed
by A, we put another B in its place. Then bringing A
to all its former positions successively, by means of a gra¬
duated arch HGK, we were certain that when the in¬
dex was at the same division of the arch it was the very
ray which had been made to pass through the first prism
B in a former experiment. We did not solicitously en¬
deavour to find the. very extreme red and violet ravs •
because, although we did not learn the whole dispersions
of the two prisms, we learned their proportions, which is
the circumstance wanted in the construction of achroma-
M-
■
T E L [ 258 ] T E L
Telescope, tic glasses. It is in vain to attempt this by measuring
S——y 1 the spectrums themselves j for we cannot be certain ot
selecting the very same colours for the comparison, be¬
cause they succeed in an insensible gradation.
The intelligent reader will readily observe, that we
have hitherto proceeded on the supposition, that when,
by means of contrary refractions, we have united the
extreme red and violet rays, we have also united all the
others. But this is quite gratuitous. Sir Isaac Newton
would, however, have made the same supposition 5 for
he imagined that the different colours divided the spec¬
trum formed by all substances in the proportions of a
musical canon. This is a mistake. When a spectrum
is formed by a prism of crown glass, and another of pre¬
cisely the same length is formed by the side of it by a
prism of flint glass, the confine between the green and
blue will be found precisely in the middle of the first
spectrum, but in the second it will be considerably
nearer to the red extremity. In short, different sub¬
stances do not disperse the colours in the same propor¬
tion.
The effect of this irrationality (so to call it) of disper¬
sion, will appear plainly, we hope, in the following man-
Tig. 1: ner: Let A (tig. 12.) represent a spot of white solar
light falling perpendicularly on a wall. Suppose a prism
of common glass placed behind the hole through which
the light is admitted, with its refracting angle facing
the left hand. It will refract the beam of light to the
light, and will at the same time disperse this heteroge¬
neous light into its component rays, carrying the ex¬
treme red ray from A to K, the extreme orange from
A to O, the extreme yellow from A to Y, &c. and
will form the usual prismatic spectrum HOYGBPVC.
If the whole length KC be divided into icoo parts, we
shall have (when the whole refraction AR is small)
RO very nearly 125, RY=t200, RG=333, RBtz^ao
RP=:667, RV—778, and RC—iooo-, this being the
proportion observed in the differences of the sines of re¬
fraction by Sir Isaac Newton.
Perhaps a refracting medium may be found such, that
a prism made of it would refract the white light from A',
in the upper line of this figure, in such a manner that a
spectrum R'O'Y'G'B'P'V'C/ shall be formed at the same
distance from A', and of the same length, but divided
in a different proportion, We do not know that sucli a
medium has been found *, but we know that a prism of
flint-glass has its refractive and dispersive powers so con¬
stituted, that if A'H be taken about one third of AR, a
snot of white light, formed by rays falling perpendicu¬
larly at IP, will be so refracted and dispersed that the
extreme red ray will be carried from IT to R', and the
extreme violet from H' to C', and the intermediate co¬
lours to intermediate points, forming a spectrum resemb¬
ling the other, but having the colours more constipated
towards R', and more dilated towards C ; so that the
ray which the common glass carried to the middle point
B of the spectrum RC is now in a point B' of the spec¬
trum R'C', considerably nearer to IT.
Dr Blair has found, on the other band, that certain
fluids, particularly such as contain the muriatic acid,
when formed into a prism, will refract the light from
H" (in the lower line) so as to form a spectrum R"C"
equal to RC, and as far removed from A" as RC is from
A, but having the colours more dilated toward IT', and
gsore constipated toward C, than is observed in RC j so
that the ray which was carried by the prism of common Telesci
glass to the middle point B, is carried to a point B"con-'—r
siderably nearer to C".
Let us now suppose that, instead of a white spot at
A, we have a prismatic spectrum AB (fig. 13.), and11?1;
that the prism of common glass is applied as before, im¬
mediately behind the prism which forms the spectrum
AB. We know that this will be refracted sidewise, and
will make a spectrum ROA GBPC, inclined to the plane
of refraction in an angle of 45°? 80 drawing the
perpendicular RC', we have RC'zrC'C.
We also know that the prism of flint-glass would re¬
fract the spectrum formed by the first prism on EHF, in
such a manner that the red ray will go to R, the violet
to C, and the intermediate rays to points 0, y,g-, b, p, v,
so situated that O'o is = R'O' of the other figure ; Yy
is rr ICY' of that figure, Gg rrR'G', &c. These points
must therefore lie in a curve R 0 ij g bp v C, which is
convex towards the axis R'C'.
In like manner we may be assured that Dr Blair’s
fluid will form a spectrum R o' y'g' Up' v' C, concave
toward R'C.
Let it be observed by the way, that this is a very
good method for discovering whether a medium disperses
the light in the same proportion with the prism which is
employed for forming the first spectrum AB or LF. It
disperses in the same or in a different proportion, accord¬
ing as the oblique spectrum is straight or crooked *, and
the exact proportion corresponding to each colour is
had by measuring the ordinates of the curves R 6 C or
R b' C.
Having formed the oblique spectrum RBC by a prism
of common glass, we know that an equal prism of the
same glass, placed in a contrary position, will bring back
all the rays from the spectrum RBC to the spectrum AB,
laying each colour on its former place.
In like manner, having formed the oblique spectrum
II i C by a prism of flint-glass, we know that another
prism of flint-glass, placed in the opposite direction, will
bring all the rays back to the spectrum EHF.
But having formed the oblique spectrum RBC by a
prism of common glass, if we place the flint-glass prism
in the contrary position, it will bring the colour R back
to E, and .the colour C to Fj but it will not bring the
colour B to H, but to a point //, such that B h is equal
to b H, and b B to h H. In like manner, the other co¬
lours will not be brought back to the straight Hoe
EHF, but to a curve E h F, forming a crooked spec¬
trum.
In like manner, the fluids discovered by Di Blair>
when employed to bring back the oblique spectrum RBC
formed by common glass will bring its extremities back
to E and F, and form the crooked spectrum E h' F ly¬
ing beyond EHF.
Ibis experiment evidently gives us another method
for examining the proportionality of the dispersion of
different substances..
Having, by common glass, brought back the oblique
spectrum formed by common glass to its natural place
AB, suppose the original spectrum at AB to contract
gradually (as Newton lias made it to do by means ot a
lens), it is plain that the oblique spectrum will also con¬
tract, and so will the second spectrum at AB ; and d
will at last coalesce into a white spot. The effect will
be equivalent to a gradual compression of the whole
figure,
TEL [2
L. figui'e, bv wliicli the parallel lines AR and BC gradual-
n”1 ly approach, and at last unite.
In like manner, when the oblique spectrum formed
bv flint glass is brought back to EHF by a flint-glass
prism, and the figure compressed in the same gradual
manner, all the colours will coalesce into a white spot.
But when flint-glass is employed to bring back the
oblique spectrum formed by common glass, it forms the
crooked spectrum E /i F. Now let the figure be com¬
pressed. The curve E /i F will be doubled down on the
line H/i, and there will be form'd a compound sptc-
trum H/i, quite unlike the common spectrum, being
purple or claret-coloured at H by the mixture of the ex
treme red and violet, and green edged with blue at ft by
the mixture of the green and blue. The fluid prisms
would in like manner forma spectrum of the same kind
on the other side of H.
This is precisely what is observed in achromatic ob¬
ject-glasses made of crown-glass and flint: for the re¬
fraction from A to R corresponds to the refraction of
the convex crown-glass ; and the contrary refraction
from R to E corresponds to the contrary refraction of
the concave flint-glass, which still leaves a part of the
first refraction, producing a convergence to the axis of
the telescope. It is found to give a purple or wine-co¬
loured focus, and within this a green one, and between
these an imperfect white. Dr Blair found, that when
the eye-glass was drawn out beyond its proper distance,
a star was surrounded by a green fringe, by the green
end of the spectrum, which crossed each other within
the focus; and when the eye-glass was too near the ob¬
ject-glass, the star had a wine-coloured fringe. The green
rays were ultimately most refracted. N. B. We should
expect the fringe to be of a blue colour rather than a
green. But this is easily explained : The extreme vio¬
let rays are very faint, so as hardly to be sensible; there¬
fore when a compound glass is made as achromatic as
possible to our senses, in all probability (nay certainly)
these almost insensible violet rays are left out, and per¬
haps the extreme colours which are united are the red
and the middle violet rays. This makes the green to be
the mean ray, and therefore the most outstanding when
the dispersions are not proportional.
Dr Blair very properly calls these spectrums, H ft and
H ft', secondary spectrums, and seems to think that he is
the first who has taken notice of them. But Mr Clai-
rault was too accurate a mathematician, and too careful
an observer, not to be aware of a circumstance which
was of primary consequence to the whole inquiry. He
could not but observe that the success rested on this very
particular, and that the proportionality of dispersion was
indispensably necessary.
This subject yvas therefore touched on by Clairault;
and/h//y discussed byBoscovich, firstin his Dissertations
published at Vienna in 1759; then in the Comment.Bon-
oniensis; and, lastly, in his Opuscula, published in 1785*
Or Blair, in his ingenious Dissertation on Achromatic
Glasses, read to the Royal Society of Edinburgh in 1 793*
seems not to have known of the labours of these writers •,
speaks of it as a new discovery } and exhibits some of
the consequences of this principle in a singular point of
view, hs something very paradoxical and inconsistent
with the usually received notions on these subjects. But
they are by no means so. We are, however, much in¬
debted to bis ingenious researches, and his successful cn-
9 ] TEL
deavours to find some remedy for this imperfection of
achromatic glasses. Some of his contrivances are ex¬
ceedingly ingenious ; hut had the Doctor consulted
these writers, he would have saved himself a good deal
of trouble.
Boscovich shows how to unite the two extremes with
the most outstanding colour of the secondary spectrum,
by means of a third substance. When we have done
this, the aberration occasioned by the secondary spec¬
trums must be prodigiously diminished ; for it is evi¬
dently equivalent to the union of the points II and ft of
our figure. Whatever cause produces this must diminish
the curvature of the arches E ft and ft F : hut even if
these curvatures were not diminished, their greatest ordi¬
nates cannot exceed one-fourth of H/rj and we may say,
without hesitation, that by uniting the mean or most
outstanding ray with the two extremes, the remaining
dispersion will be as much less than the uncorrected co¬
lour of Dollond’s achromatic glass, as this is less than
four times the dispersion of a common object-glass. It
must therefore be altogether insensible.
Boscovicb asserts, that it is not possible to unite more
than two colours by the opposite refraction of two sub¬
stances, which do not disperse the light in the same pro¬
portions. Dr Blair makes light of this assertion, as he
finds it made in general terms in the vague and paltry
extract made by Eriestley from Boscovich in Ins Essay
on the History of Optics; but had he read this author
in his own dissertations, he would have seen that he was
perfectly right. Dr Blair, however, has hit on a very
ingenious and effectual method of producing this union
of three colours. In the same way as we correct the dis¬
persion of a concave lens of crown-glass by tbe opposite
dispersion of a concave lens of flint-glass, we may cor¬
rect the secondary dispersion of an achromatic convex
lens by the opposite secondary dispersion of an achroma¬
tic concave lens. But the intelligent reader will ob¬
serve, that this union does not contradict the assertion
of Boscovich, because it is necessarily produced by means
of three refracting substances.
The most essential service which the public has re¬
ceived at the hands of Dr Blair is the discovery of fluid
mediums of a proper dispersive power. By composing
the lenses of such substances, we are at once freed from
the irregularities in the refraction and dispersion of flint -
glass, which the chemists have not been able to free it
from. In whatever way this glass is made, it consists of
parts which differ both in refractive and dispersive power;
and when taken up from the pot, these parts mix in
threads, which n ay be disseminated through the mass in
any degree of fineness. But they still retain their pro¬
perties; and when a piece of flint-glass has been formed
into a lens, the eye, placed in its focus, sees the whole
surface occupied by glistening threads or broader veins
running across it. Great rewards have been offered for
removing this defect, but hitherto to no purpose. We
beg leave to propose the following method: Let the glass
be reduced to powder, and then melted with a great
proportion of alkaline salt, so as to make a liquor sili-
cum. When precipitated from this by an acid, it must
he in a state of very uniform composition. If again
melted into glass we should hope that it would be free
from this defect; if not, the case seems to be desperate.
But by using a fluid medium, Dr Blair was freed
from all this embarrassment; and he acquired another
E k 2 immense
TEL [260] TEL
Telescope, immense advantage, that of adjusting at pleasure both
■ I •••' the refractive and dispersive powers of his lenses. In
solid lenses, we do not know whether we have taken
the curvatures suited to the refractions till our glass is
finished 5 and if we have mistaken the proportions, all
our labour is lost. But when fluids are used, it is
enough that we know nearly the refractions. We suit
our focal distances to these, and then select our curva¬
ture, so as to remove the aberration of figure, preserv¬
ing the focal distances. Thus, by properly tempering
the fluid mediums, we bring the lens to agree precisely
with the theory, perfectly achromatic, and the aberra¬
tion of figure as much corrected as is possible.
DrBlairexamined the refractive and dispersive powers
of a great variety of substances, and found great varieties
in their actions on the different colours. This is indeed
what every well informed naturalist would expect. There
is no doubt now among naturalists about the mechanical
connection of the phenomena of nature 5 and all are a-
greed that the chemical actions of the particles of mat¬
ter are perfectly like in kind to the action of gravita¬
ting bodies ; that all these phenomena are the effects of
forces like those which we call attractions and repul¬
sions, and which we observe in magnets and electrified
bodies 5 that light is refracted by forces of the same
kind, but differing chiefly in the small extent of their
sphere of activity. One who views things in this way
will expect, that as the actions of the same acid for the
different alkalies are different in degree, and as the dif¬
ferent acids have also different actions on the same al¬
kali, in like manner different substances differ in their
general refractive powers, and also in the proportion of
their action on the different colours. Nothing is more
unlikely therefore than the proportional dispersion of the
different colours by different substances j and it is sur¬
prising that this inquiry has been so long delayed. It is
hoped that Dr Blair will oblige the public with an ac¬
count of the experiments which he has made. This will
enable others to co-operate in the improvement of achro¬
matic glasses. We cannot derive much knowledge
from what he has already published, because it was
chiefly with the intention of giving a popular, though
not an accurate, view of the subject. The constructions
which are there mentioned are not those which he found
most effectual, but those which would be most easily un¬
derstood, or demonstrated by the slight theory which is
contained in the dissertation ; besides, the manner 0! ex¬
pressing the difference of refrangibility, perhaps chosen
for its paradoxical appearance, does not give us a clear
notion of the characteristic differences of the substances
examined. Those rays which are ultimately most de¬
flected from their direction, are said to have become the
most refrangible by the combination of different sub¬
stances, although, in all the particular refractions by
which this effect is produced, they are less refracted
than the violent light. We can just gather this much,
that common glass disperses the rays in such a manner,
that the ray which is in the confine of the green and
blue occupies the middle of the prismatic spectrum ; but
. in glasses, and many other substances, which are more
dispersive, this ray is nearer to the ruddy extremity of
the spectrum. While therefore the straight line RC'
Fig. i3- (fig. 13-) terminates the ordinates Or/, YY', Gg7, &c.
which represent the dispersion of common glass, the or¬
dinates which express the dispersions of these substances
2
are terminated by a curve passing through R and C', hut Tele!
lying below the line RC'. When therefore parallel he- \
terogeneous light is made to converge to the axis of a
convex lens of common glass, as happens at F in fig. 6. Fig. 1
C, the light is dispersed, and the violet rays have a shor¬
ter focal distance. If we now apply a concave lens of
greater dispersive power, the red and violet rays are
brought to one focus F j but the green rays, not being
so much refracted away from F, are left behind at <p,
and have now a shorter focal distance. But Dr Blair
afterwards found that this was not the case with the mu¬
riatic acid, and some solutions in it. He found that the
ray which common glass caused to occupy the middle
of the spectrum was much nearer to the blue extremity
when refracted by these fluids. Therefore a concave
lens formed of such fluids which united the red and vio¬
let rays in F', refracted the green rays toj1.
Having observed this, it was an obvious conjecture,
that a mixture of some of these fluids might produce a
medium, whose action on the intermediate rays should
have the same proportion that is observed on common
glass ; or that two of them might be found which form¬
ed spectra similarly divided, and yet differing sufficiently
in dispersive power to enable us to destroy the dispersion
by contrary refractions, without destroying the whole
refraction. Dr Blair accordingly found a mixture of so¬
lutions of ammoniacal and mercurial salts, and also some
other substances, which produced dispersions proportional
to that of glass, with respect to the different colours.
And thus has the result of this intricate and laborious
investigation corresponded to his utmost wishes. He has
produced achromatic telescopes which seem as perfect as
the thing will admit of; for he has been able to give
them such apertures, that the incorrigible aberration
arising from the spherical surfaces becomes a sensible
quantity, and precludes farther amplification by the
eye glasses. We have examined one of his telescopes:
'Hie focal distance of the object-glass did not exceed 17
inches, and the aperture was fully 34 inches. We view¬
ed some single and double stars and some common ob¬
jects with this telescope; and found, that in magnifying
power, brightness, and distinctness, it was manifestly su¬
perior to one of Mr Dollond’s of 42 inches focal length.
It also gave us an opportunity of admiring the dexterity
of the London artists, who could work the glasses with
such accuracy. We had most distinct vision of a star
when using an erecting eye-piece, which made this tele¬
scope magnify more than a hundred times; and we found
the field of vision as uniformly distinct as with Dolloml'S
42 inch telescope magnifying 46 times. The intelligent
reader must admire the nice figuring and centering
the very deep eye-glasses which are necessary for tin*
amplification.
It is to be hoped that Dr Blair will extend his views
glasses of different compositions, and thus give us ob¬
ject-glasses which are solid; for those composed of fluids
have inconveniences which will hinder them from com¬
ing into general use, and will confine them to the ma-
senms of philosophers. We imagine that antimonial
glasses bid fair to answer this purpose, if they could be
made free of colour, so as to transmit enough of light1
We recommend this dissertation to the careful perusal at
our readers. Those who have not made themselves
much acquainted with the delicate and abstruse theory
ot aberrations, will find it exhibited in such a popular
TEL [2
spe form as will enable them to understand its general aim j
— and the well-informed reader will find many curious in¬
dications of inquiries and discoveries yet to be made.
We now proceed to consider the eye-glasses or glasses
of telescopes. The proper construction of an eye-piece
is not less essential than that of the object-glass. But our
limits will not allow us to treat this subject in the same
detail. We have already extended this article to a great
length, because we do not know of any performance in
the English language which will enable our readers to
understand the construction of achromatic telescopes j an
invention which reflects honour on our country, and has
completed the discoveries of our illustrious Newton.
Our readers will find abundant information in Dr
Smith’s Optics concerning the eye-glasses, chiefly de¬
duced from Huyghen’s fine theory of aberration (a).
At the same time, we must again pay Mr Dollond the
merited compliment of saying, that he was the first who
made any scientific application of this theory to the com¬
pound eye-piece for erecting the object. His eye-pieces
of five and six glasses are very ingenious reduplications
of Huyghen’s eye-pieces of two glasses, and would pro¬
bably have superseded all others, had not his discovery
of achromatic object-glasses caused opticians to consider
the chromatic dispersion with more attention, and point¬
ed out methods of correcting it in the eye-piece without
any compound eye-glasses. They have found that this
may be more conveniently done with four eye-glasses,
without sensibly diminishing the advantages which
Huyghens showed to result from employing many small
refractions instead of a lesser number of great ones. As
this is a very curious subject, we shall give enough for
making our readers fully acquainted with it, and con-
I tent ourselves with merely mentioning the principles of
the other rules for constructing an eye-piece.
Such readers as are less familiarly acquainted with op-
4 i tical discussions will do well to keep in mind the follow¬
ing consequences of the general focal theorem.
I; If AB (fig. 15.) be a lens, II a radiant point or focus
of incident rays, and « the focus of parallel rays coming
from the opposite side ; then,
x. Di -aw the perpendicular a a’ to the axis, meeting
the incident ray in o', and a' A to the centre of the lens.
The refracted rav BF is parallel to a' A j for R o' : a' A
(= 11 a 1 a A) = RB : BF (=RA : AF), which- is
the focal theorem.
2. An oblique pencil BP b proceeding from any point
P which is not in the axis, is collected to the point
where the refracted ray BF cuts the line PAy drawn
from P through the centre of the lens : for P a': a' A —
PB : B /i which is also the focal theorem.
The Galilean telescope is susceptible of so little im¬
provement that we need not employ any time in illus¬
trating its performance.
6r ]
TEL
The simple astronomical telescope is represented in Tclcseope.
fig. 16. The beam of parallel rays, inclined to the 1 v—
axis, is made to converge to a point G where it forms Gg. 10.
an image of the lowest point of a very distant object.
These rays decussating from G fall on the eye-glass;
the ray from the lowest point B of the object-glass falls
on the eye-glass at b ; and the ray from A falls on a;
and the ray from the centre O falls on 0. These rays
are rendered parallel, or nearly so, by refraction through
the eye-glass, and take the direction b i', 0 I, a i. If
the eye be placed so that this pencil of parallel rays may
enter it, they converge to a point of the retina, and
give distinct vision to the lowest point of the object. It
appears inverted, because the rays by which we see its
lowest point come in the direction which in simple vi¬
sion is connected with the upper point of an object.
They come from above, and therefore are thought to
proceed from above. We see the point as if situated in
the direction I 0. In like manner the eye placed at I,
sees the upper point of the object in the direction IP^
and its middle in the direction IE. The proper place
for the eye is I j if brought much nearer the glass, or
removed much farther from it, some, or the whole, of
this extreme pencil of rays will not enter the pupil. It
is is therefore of importance to determine this point. Be¬
cause the eye requires parallel rays for distinct vision,
it is plain that F must be the principal focus of the eye¬
glass. Therefore,-by the common focal theorem, OF :
OE = OE : Of, or OF r FE = OE : El.
The magnifying power being measured by the mag¬
nitude of the visual angle,, compared with the magni¬
tude of the visual angle with the naked eye, we have
° Q^t or ~~Qy for the measure of the magnifying power,-
° , OE OF
I his is very nearly = p-j-or, -pj-.
As the line OE, joining the centres of the lenses,
and perpendicular to their surfaces, is called the axis of
the telescope, so the ray OG is called the axis of the
oblique pencil, being really the axis of the cone of light
which has the object-glass for its base. This ray is
through its whole course the axis of the oblique pencil $
and when its course is determined, the amplification,
the field of vision, the apertures of the glasses, are all
determined. For this purpose we have only to consider
the centre of the- object-glass as a radical point, and
trace the process of a ray from this point through the
other glasses : this will be the axis of some oblique
evident, therefore, that the field of vision de¬
pends on the breadth of the eye-glass. Should we in¬
crease this, the extreme pencil will pass through I,
because O and I are still the conjugate foci of the eye¬
glass. .
(a) While we thus repeatedly speak of the theory of spherical aberration as coming from Mr Huyghens, we
we must not omit giving a due share of the honour of it to Dr Barrow and Mr James Gregory* Hie first of these
authors, in his OpticafLectures delivered at Cambridge,.has given every proposition- which is employed by Huy¬
ghens, and has even prosecuted the matter much further. In particular, his theory of oblique slender pencils is of
immense consequence to the perfection of telescopes, by showing the methods for making the image of an extended
surface as flat as possible. Gregory, too, lias given all the fundamental propositions-in bis Opt/ca Erormta. But
Huyghens, by taking the subject together, and treating it in a system, has greatly simplified it: and his manner-of
viewing the principal parts of it is incomparably more perspicuous than the performances of Barrow and Gregory,.
TEL
TEL [ 262 ]
Telescope, glass. On the other hand, the angle resolved on for
—V'~ the extent or field of vision gives the breadth of the
eye-glass.
We may here observe, by the way, that for all opti¬
cal instruments there must be two optical figures consi¬
dered. The first shows the progress of a pencil of rays
coming from one point of the object. I he various fo¬
cuses of this pencil show the places of the different
images, real or virtual. Such a figure is formed by
the three rays AG a i, OG 0 I, BG b z.
The second shows the progress of the axes of the
different pencils proceeding through the centre of the
object-glass. The focuses of this pencil of axes show
the places where an image of the object glass is formed 5
and this pencil determines the field of vision, the aper¬
tures of the lenses, and the amplification or magnifying
power. The three rays OG 0 1, QFJEI, Oil PI, form
this figure.
See also fig. 24. where the progress of both sets of
pencils is more diversified.
The perfection of a telescope is to represent an object
in its proper shape, distinctly magnified, with a great
field of vision, and sufficiently bright. But there are
limits to all these qualities; and an increase of one of
them, for the most part, diminishes the rest. The
brightness depends on the aperture of the object-glass,
and will increase in the same proportion (because zz7
will always be to AB in the proportion ot EF to 10),
till the diameter of the emergent pencil is equal to that
of the pupil of the eye. Increasing the object-glass
any more, can send no more light into the eye. But
we cannot make the emergent pencil nearly so large
as this when the telescope magnifies much ; for the great
aperture of the object-glass produces an indistinct image
at GF, and its indistinctness is magnified by the eye-
Slass*
A great field of vision is incompatible with the true
shape of the object; for it is not strictly true that all
rays flowing from O are refracted to I. Those rays
which go to the margin of the eye glass cross the axis
between E and I ; and therefore they cross it at a
greater angle than if they passed through I. Now had
they really passed through I, the object would have been
represented in its due proportions. Therefore since the
angles of the marginal parts are enlarged by the aberra¬
tion of the eye-glass, the marginal parts themselves will
appear enlarged, or the object appear distorted. Thus
a chess-board viewed through a reading glass appears
drawn out at the corners, and the straight lines are all
Fig*lC* changed into curves, as is represented in fig. 18.
The circumstance which most peremptorily limits
the extent of field is the necessary distinctness. If the
vision be indistinct, it is useless, and no other quality
can compensate this delect. The distortion is Very in¬
considerable in much larger angles of vision than we can
admit, and is unworthy of the attention paid to it by
optical writers. They have been induct d to take notice
of it, because the means of correcting it in a consider¬
able degree are attainable, and afford an opportunity of
exhibiting their knowledge ; whereas tire indistinctness
which accompanies a large field is a subject of most
difficult discussion, and has hitherto baffled all their
efforts to express by any inte l.gible or manageable for-
fttulffc. r
Qvccque tractata nitcsccre posse ^
Desperut relinquit.
This subject must, however be considered. The
image at GF of a very remote object is not a plain sur¬
face perpendicular to the axis ot the telescope, but is
nearly spherical, having O tor its centre. If a number
of pencils of parallel rays crossing each other in I fall
on the eye-glass, they will form a picture on the oppo¬
site side, in the focus F. But this picture will by no
means be flat, nor nearly so, but very concave towaids
E. Its exact torm is of most difficult investigation.
The elements of it are given by Dr Barrow ; and we
have given the chief of them in the article Optics,
when considering the foci of infinitely slender pencils
of oblique rays. Therefore it is impossible that the
picture formed by the object glass can be seen distinctly
in all its parts by the eye-glass. Even if it were flat,
the points G and H (fig. 16.) are too far from the eye-Fig-
glass when the middle F is at the psoper distance for
distinct vision. When, therefore, the telescope is so
adjusted that we have distinct vision of the middle of
the field, in order to see the margin distinctly we must
push in the eye-glass : and having so done, the middle
of the field becomes indistinct. When the field of vision
exceeds 12 or 15 degrees, it is not possible by any con¬
trivance to make it tolerably distinct all over; and we
must turn the telescope successively to the different parts
of the field that we may see them agreeably.
The cause of this indistinctness is, as we have already
said, the shortness of the lateral foci of lateral and ob¬
lique pencils refracted by the eye glass. The oblique
pencil h G o, by which an eye placed at I sees the
point G of the image, is a cone of light, having a cir¬
cular base on the eye-glass; of which circle a6 is one
of the diameters. There is a diameter perpendicular
to this, which, in this figure, is represented by the point
0. Fig. 17. represents the base of the cone as seen hypig.:
an eye placed in the axis of the telescope, with the ob¬
ject-glass as appearing behind it. The point b is form¬
ed by a ray which comes from the lowest point B of the
object-glass, and the point a is illuminated by a ray
from A. The point c at the right hand of the circular
base of this cone of light came from the point C on the
left side of the object glass ; and the light comes tod
from D. Now the laws of optics demonstrate, that the
rays which come through the points c and d are more
convergent after refraction than the rays which come
through a and b. The analogies, therefore, which as¬
certain the foci of rays lying in planes passing through
the axis do not determine the foci of the others. Of
this we may be sensible by looking through a lens to
a figure on which are drawn concentric circles crossed
by radii. When the telescope is so adjusted that v/e
see distinctly the extremity of one of the radii, we shall
not see distinctly the circumference which crosses the
extremity with equal distinctness, and vice versa. This
difference, however, between the foci of the rays
which come through a and b, and those which come
through r and d, is not considerable in the fields of vi¬
sion, which are otherwise admissible. But the same dif¬
ference of foci obtains also with respect to the dispersion
of llirht, a ml is more remarkable. Both d’Alembert
and Euler have attempted to introduce it into their for-
„ and* 7
Icfcpe
I
t
t I
e
!•
I |
t |
t« |
ti
(t
m
:t» r
\t 11
4
Jil'i]
* "
Inf .
^ ■
TEL [ 263 ] TEL
mulse j but they have made them useless for any prac¬
tical purpose by their inextricable complication.
This must serve as a general indication of the difli-
culties which occur in the construction of telescopes,
even although the object-glass were perfect, forming an
image without the smallest confusion or distortion.
There is yet another difficulty or imperfection. The
rays of the pencil a G b, when refracted through the
eye glass, are also separated into their component co¬
lours. The edge of the lens must evidently perform the
office of a prism, and the white ray G b will be so dis¬
persed that if b i be the path of its red ray, the violet
ray, which makes another part of it, will take such a
course b n that the angle i' b n will be nearly Tr^-th of
G' b The ray G « passing through a part of the lens
whose surfaces are less inclined to each other, will be
less refracted, and will be less dispersed in the same pro¬
portion very nearly. Therefore the two violet rays will
be very nearly parallel when the two red rays are ren¬
dered parallel.
Hence it must happen, that the object will appear
bordered with coloured fringes. A black line seen near
the margin on a white ground, will have a ruddy and
orange border on the outside and a blue border within :
and this confusion is altogether independent on the ob¬
ject-glass, and is so much the greater as the visual angle
b IE is greater.
Such are the difficulties: They would he unsurmount-
able were it not that some of them are so connected
that, to a certain extent, the diminution of one is ac¬
companied by a diminution of the other. What are cal¬
led the caustic curves are the geometrical loci of the
foci of infinitely slender pencils. Consequently the
point G is very nearly in the caustic formed by a beam
of liglit consisting of rays parallel to I 0, and occupying
the whole surface of the eye-glass, because the pencil of
ravs which are collected at G is very small. Any thing
therefore that diminishes the mutual inclination of the
adjoining rays, puts their concourse farther off. Now
this is precisely what we want: for the point G of the
image formed by the object-glass is already beyond the
focus of t!ie oblique slender pencil of parallel rays i a
and i' b; and therefore, if we could make this focus go
a little farther from a and b} we shall bring it nearer to
G, and obtain more distinct vision of tins point of tbe
object. Now let it be recollected, that in moderate re¬
dactions through prisms, two rays which are inclined to
each other in a small angle are, after refraction, inclin¬
ed to each other in the same angle. Therefore, if we
can diminish the aberration of the ray of, or 0 I, or
b i, we diminish their mutual inclination *, and conse¬
quently the mutual inclination of the rays- G o, G 0, G//,
and therefore lengthen tbe focus, and get more dis¬
tinct vision of the point G. Therefore we at once cor¬
rect the distortion and the indistinctness: and this is the
aim of Mr Huyghen’s great principle of dividing the
refractions.
Hie general method is as follows : Let 0 be the ob¬
ject-glass (fig 19.) and E tire eye-glass of a telescope,
and F their common foens, and fG the image formed
by the object-glass. The proportion of their focal dis¬
tances is supposed to be such as gives as great a magni-
iying power as the perfection of the object-glass will
admit. Let BI be the axis of the emergent pencil. It
is known by the focal theorem that GE is parallel to Telescope.
BI : therefore BGE is the whole refraction or deflec- y—
tion of the ray OH B from its former direction. Let
it be proposed to diminish the aberrations by dividing
this into two parts by means of twm glasses D and e, so
as to make the ultimate angle of vision bic equal to
BIE, and thus retain the same magnifying power and
visible field. Let it be proposed to divide it into the
parts BGC and CGE.
From G draw any line GD to the axis towards O }
and draw the perpendicular DH, cutting OG in Hj
draw H c parallel to CC, cutting GD in g ; draw gj'
perpendicular to the axis, and g e parallel to GE j draw
e b perpendicular to the axis ; draw D } parallel tp GC,
and d $ perpendicular to the axis.
Then if there be placed at D a lens whose focal dis¬
tance is D r/, and another at e whose focal distance is
the thing is done. The ray OH will be refracted
into H b, and this into b i, parallel to BI.
The demonstration of this construction is so evident
by means of the common focal theorem, that wre need
not repeat it, nor the reasons for its advantages.
We have the same magnifying power, and the same;
field of vision ; we have less aberration, and therefore
less distortion and indistinctness ; and this is brought
about by a lens HD of a smaller aperture and a great¬
er focal distance than BE. Consequently, if we are
contented with the distinctness of the margin of the
field with a single eye-glass, we may greatly increase
the field of vision } for if we increase DH to the size
of EB we shall have a greater field, and much greater
distinctness in the margin ; because HD is of a longer
focal distance, and will bear a greater aperture, pre¬
serving the same distinctness at the edge. On this
account the glass IID is commonly called the Field-
glass.
It must he observed here, however, that although
the distortion of the object is lessened, there is a real
distortion produced in the image fg. But this, when
magnified by the glass e, is smaller than the distortion
produced by the glass E, of greater aperture and shor¬
ter focus, on the undistorted image GF. But because
there is a distortion in the second image f g, this con¬
struction cannot be used for the telescopes of astronomi¬
cal quadrants, and other graduated instruments j be¬
cause then equal divisions of the micrometer would not
correspond to equal angles.
But the same construction will answer in this case by
taking the point D or. that side of F which is remote
from O (fig. 20.). This is the form now employed in
the telescopes of all graduated instruments.
The exact proportion in which the distortion and the
indistinctness at the edges of the field are diminished by
this construction, depends on tbe proportion in which
tbe angle BGE is divided by GC ; and is of pretty dif¬
ficult investigation. But it never deviates far (never
•^•tb in optical instruments) from the proportion of tbe
squares of the angles. We may, without any sensible
error, suppose it in this proportion. This gives us a
practical rule of easy recollection, and of most exten¬
sive use. When we would diminish an aberration by
dividing the whole refraction into two parts, we shall do
it most effectually by making them equal. In like man¬
ner, if we divide it into three parts by means of two ad¬
ditional!
TEL
[ 2^4 ]
TEL
5VIcscoi>e. ditional glasses, Ave must make eatli = -f of'the whole j
1 ^  and so on for a greater number.
This useful problem, even when limited, as we have
done, to equal refractions, is as yet indeterminate ; that
is, susceptible of an infinity of solutions : for the point
D, where the field-glass is placed, was taken at plea¬
sure $ yet there must be situations more proper than
others. The aberrations which produce distortion, and
those which produce indistinctness, do not follow the
same proportions. To correct the indistinctness, w'e
should not select such positions of the lens HD as will
give a small focal distance to b e $ that is, we should
'not remove it very far from F. Huyghens recommends
the proportion of 3 to I for that of the focal distances
of the lens HD and e b, and says that the distance D t?
should be = 2 F e. This will make e i ~ ^ e F, and
will divide the whole refraction into two equal parts,
as any one will readily see by constructing the com¬
mon optical figure. Mr Short, the celebrated impro¬
ver of reflecting telescopes, generally employed this
proportion j and we shall presently see that it is a very
good one.
It has been already observed that the great refrac¬
tions which take place on the eye-glasses occasion very
considerable dispersions, and disturb the vision by frin¬
ging every thing with colour's. To remedy this, achro¬
matic eye-glasses may be employed, constructed by the
rules already delivered. This construction, however, is
incomparably more intricate than that of object-glasses:
for the equations must involve the distance of the radiant
point, and be more complicated : and this complication
is immensely increased on account of the great obliquity
of the pencils.
Most fortunately the Huyghenian construction of ail
eye-piece enables us to correct this dispersion to a great
degree of exactness. A heterogeneous ray is dispersed at
TI, and the red ray belonging to it falls on the lens b e
at a greater distance from the centre than the violet ray
coming from H. It will therefore be less refracted (ce¬
teris paribus) by the lens b e; and it is possible that
the difference may be such that the red and violet rays
dispersed at H may be rendered parallel at A, or even
a little divergent, so as to unite accurately with the red
ray at the bottom of the eye. How this may be effect¬
ed, by a proper selection of the places and figures of the
lenses, will appear by the following proposition, which
we imagine is new, and not inelegant,
yj, 3I> Let the compound ray GP (fig. 21.) be dispersed by
the lens PC ; and let PV* PR be its violet and red rays,
cutting the axis in G and g. It is required to place an¬
other lens RD in their way, so that the emergent rays
R r, Vv, shall be parallel.
Produce the incident ray OP to Z. The angles ZPR,
ZPV, are given, (and RPV is nearly = and
the intersections G and g with the axis. ' Let F be the
focus of parallel red light coming through the lens RD
in the opposite direction. Then (by the common opti¬
cal theorem), the perpendicular F g will cut PR in such
a point g, that £ 1 will be parallel to the emergent ray
<Rr, and to V v. Therefore if ? D cut PV in u, and
«/be drawn perpendicular to the axis, we shall have
(also by the common theorem) the point /for the fo¬
cus of violet rays, and DFD/rz D £ : D 28 : l")
nearly, or in a given ratio.
The problem is therefore reduced to this, “ To draw
from a point D in the line CG a line D which shall
be cut by the lines PR and PV in the given ratio.”
The following construction naturally offers itself :
Make GM :£• Min the given ratio, and draw MK pa¬
rallel to P g. Through ant/ point D of CG draw the
straight line PDK, cutting MK in K. Join GK, and
draw D g parallel to KG. This will solve the problem ;
and, drawing g F perpendicular to the axis, we shall
have F for the focus of the lens RD for parallel red
lavs.
The demonstration is evident : for MK being parallel
to P.g, we have GM :gMzrGK : HK, =r g D : « D
—FD/D, in the ratio required.
This problem admits of an infinity of solutions j be¬
cause the point D may be taken anywhere in the line
-CG. It may therefore be subjected to such conditions
as may produce other advantages.
1. It may be restricted by the magnifying power, or
by the division which we choose to make of the whol#
refraction which produces this magnifying power. Thus,
it we have resolved to diminish the aberrations by mak-
king the two refractions equal, wre have determined the
angle R r D. Therefore draw GK, making the angle
MGK equal to that which the emergent pencil must
make with the axis, in order to produce this magnify¬
ing power. Then draw MK parallel to P g, meeting
GK in K. Then draw PK, cutting the axis in D, and
D ^ parallel to GK, and g F perpendiculartotheaxis. D
is the place, and DF the focal distance of the eye-glass.
2. Particular circumstances may cause us to fix on a
particular place D, and we only want the focal distance.
In this case the first construction suffices.
3. We may have determined on a certain focal di¬
stance DF, and the place must be determined. In this
case let
GF : F £ rr 1 : tan. G
F ? : fu == 1: tfz, m being — •§!
J u : f g — tan. g : 1
their GF : f g zr tan. g \ m tan. G
then GF—-f g : GI rr tan. £>•—m tan. G : tan. £
or G^-J-F/: GI zz tan. g-—tm tan. G : tan. £ ;
and
GF zzG e'-j-F f ——
a 1 J tan.
tan. g
.and is
^ -m tan. G
therefore given, and the place of F is determined ; and
since FD is given by supposition, D is determined.
The application ot this problem to our purpose is dif¬
ficult, il we take it in the most general terms 5 but tha
nature of the thing makes such limitations that it be¬
comes very easy. In the case of the dispersion of light,
the angle GPg is so small that MK may be drawn pa¬
rallel to PG without any sensible error. If the ray OP
were parallel to CG, then G would be the focus of th«
lens PC, and the point M would fall on C \ because the
focal distance of red rays is to that of violet rays in the
same proportion for every lens, and therefore CG : Cg
= DF : D/. Now, in a telescope which magnifies con¬
siderably, the angle at the object-glass is very small*
and CG hardly exceeds the focal distance; and CG i«
to C g very nearly in the same proportion of 28 to 27-
We may therefore draw through C (fig. 22.) a line C&fn
llel
para
TEL [ 265 ] TEL
hhpc. parallel to FG ; then draw GK' perpendicular to the
- ~—' axis of the lenses, and join PK/; draw K'BE parallel
to CG, cutting FK in B ; draw BHI parallel to GK,
cutting GK' in li : Join HD and PK. It is evident
that CG is bisected in F', and that K'BrzaF'D: also
K'H : HGrrK'B : BE, ~CI) : DG. Therefore DH
is parallel to CK', or to PG. But because PF'rrF'K/,
PD is rr DB, and Therefore ? DrrHB,
and ID—K'B, — 2 I'D j and FD is bisected in F'.
Therefore CD-—-1^ D.
2
That is, in order that the eye-glass HD may correct
the dispersion of the field-glass PC, the distance between
them must be equal to the half sum oftheirfocal distances
very nearly. More exactly, the distance between them
must be equal to the half sum of the focal distance of the
ci/e-g/ass, and the distance at which the f eld-glass would
form an image of the object-glass. For the point G is
the focus to which a ray coming from the centre of the
object-glass is refracted by the field-glass.
This is a very simple solution of this important pro¬
blem. Huyghens’s eye-piece corresponds with it ex¬
actly. If indeed the dispersion at P is not entirely pro¬
duced by the refraction, but perhaps combined with
some previous dispersion, the point M (fig. 21.) will not
coincide with C (fig. 22.), and we shall have GC
to GM, as the natural dispersion at P to the dispersion
which really obtains there. This may destroy the equa-
ti0„« „ J
Thus, in a manner rather unexpected, have we freed
the eye-glasses from the greatest part of the effect of dis¬
persion. We may do it entirely by pushing the eye¬
glass a little nearer to the field-glass, ’['his will render
the violet rays a little divergent from the red, so as to
produce a perfect picture at the bottom of the eye. But
by doing so we have hurt the distinctness of the whole
picture, because F is not in the focus of RD. We re¬
medy this by drawing both glasses out a little, and the
telescope is made perfect.
This improvement cannot he applied to the con¬
struction of quadrant telescopes, such as fig. 20. Mr
Ramsden has attempted it, however, in a very ingenious
way, which merits a place here, and is also instructive
in another way. The field-glass HD is a plano¬
convex, with its plane side next the image GF. It
is placed very near this image. The consequence of
this disposition is, that the image GF produces a verti¬
cal image g f, which is much less convex towards the
glass. He then places a lens on the point C, where
the red ray would cross the axis. The violet ray will
pass on the other side of it. If the focal distance of
this glass he J c, the vision will be distinct and free
from colour. It has, however, the inconveniency of
obliging the eye to be close to the glass, which is very
troublesome.
I his would be a good construction for a magic-lan-
tborn, or for the object-glass of a solar microscope, or
indeed of any compound microscope.
We may presume that the reader is now pretty fami-
iar with the different circumstances which must be con¬
sidered in the construction of an eve-niece, and proceed
Vol. XX. Part I.
to consider those which must be employed to erect the Telescope.
This may he done by placing the lens which receives
the light from the object-glass in such a manner, that a
second image'(inverted with respect to the first) may be
formed beyond it, and this may be viewed by an eye¬
glass. Such a construction is represented in fig. 23.
But, besides many other defects, it tinges the object pro¬
digiously with colour. The ray 0 d is dispersed at d
into the red ray dr, and the violet dv, v being farther
from the centre than ?■, the refracted ray v v' crosses /■ r'
both by reason of spherical aberration and its greater re-
frangihility.
But the common day telescope, invented by F. Rheita,
has, in this respect, greatly the advantage of the one
now described. The rays of compound light are dis¬
persed at two points. The violet ray in its course falls
without the red ray, but is accurately collected with
it at a common focus, as we shall demonstrate by and
by. Since they cross each other in the focus, the violet
ray must lall within the red ray, and he less refracted
than if it had fallen on the same point with the red
ray. Had it fallen there it would have separated from
it ; hut by a proper diminution of its refraction, it is
kept parallel to it, or nearly so. And this is one ex¬
cellence of this telescope: when constructed with three
eye-glasses perfectly equal, the colour is sensibly dimi¬
nished, and by using an eye-glass somewhat smaller, it
may he removed entirely.—We say no more of it at
present, because we shall find its construction included
in another, which is still more perfect.
It is evident at first sight that this telescope may
be improved, by substituting for the eye-glass the
Huyghenian double eye-glass, or field-glass and eye-glass
represented in fig. 19. and 20.; and that the first
of these may be improved and rendered achromatic.
This will require the two glasses ^’and g h to be in¬
creased from their present dimensions to the size of a
field-glass, suited to the magnifying power of the tele¬
scope, supposing it an astronomical telescope. Thus we
shall have a telescope of four eye-glasses. The three
first will he of a considerable focal distance, and two of
them will have a common focus at b. But this is consi¬
derably different from the eye-piece of four glasses which
are now used, and are far better. We are indebted for
them to Mr Dollond, who was a mathematician as well
as an artist, and in the course of his research discovered
resources which had not been thought of. He had not
then discovered the achromatic object-glass, and was
busy in improving the eye-glasses by diminishing their
spherical aberration. His first thought was to make the
Huyghenian addition at both the images of the day te¬
lescope. This suggested to him the following eye-piece
of five glasses.
Fig. 24. represents this eye-piece, but there is not Fig. 34.
room for the object glass at its proper distance. A pen¬
cil of rays coming from the upper point of the object is
made to converge (by the object-glass) to G, where it
would form a picture of that part of the object. But it
is intercepted by the lens A a, and its axis is bent to¬
wards the axis of the telescope in the direction «^. At
the same time, the rays which converged to G converge
to g, and there is formed an inverted picture of the ob-
iect at gf The axis of the pencil is again refracted at
j- LI b,
Plate
DXXX.
tig. 23.
TEL [ 266 ] TEL
Tele*eye. crosses tlie axis of the telescope in II, is reiracted
1 v  again at r, at r/, and at e, and at last crosses the axis in
J. 'I’he rays of this pencil, diverging from g, are made
less diverging, and proceed as if they came from g', in
the line The lens c C causes them to converge
to gJ, in the line G" Cg'. The lens e/D makes them
converge still more to G", and there they form an erect
picture G" F" 5 diverging from G", they are rendered
parallel by the refraction at c.
At II the rays are nearly parallel. Had the glass
II Z> been a little farther from A, they would have been
accurately so, and the object-glass, with the glasses A
and B, would have formed an astronomical telescope
with tlie Huyghenian eye-piece. The glasses C, I),
and E, are intended merely for bending the rays back
again till they again cross the axis in I. The glass C
tends chitfly to diminish the great angle BHZ>,- and
then the two glasses D and E are anotlier Huyghenian
eye piece.
The art in this construction lies in the proper adjust¬
ment of the glasses, so as to divide the whole bending.of
the pencil pretty equally among them, and to form the
last image in the focus of the eye-glass, and at a proper
distance from tlie other glass. Bringing B nearer to A
would bend the pencil more to the axis. Placing C
farther from B would do the same thing ; hut this would
be accompanied with more aberration, because the rays
would fall at a greater distance from the centres of the
lenses. The greatest bending is made at the field-glass
D ; and we imagine that the telescope would be im¬
proved, and made more distinct at the edges of the field,
by employing another glass of great focal distance be¬
tween C and D.
'I’liere is an image formed at H of the object-glasses,
and the whole light passes through a small circle in this
place. It is usual to put a plate here pierced with a
hole which has the diameter of this image. A second
image of the object-glass is formed at I, and indeed
wherever the pencils cross the axis. A lens placed at
H makes no change in any of the angles, nor in the
magnifying power, and affects only the place where the
images are formed. And, on the other hand, a lens
placed at /, or F", where a real image is formed, makes
no change in the places of the images, but affects the
mutual inclination of the pencils. This affords a ic-
source to the artist, by which he may combine properties
which seem incompatible.
The aperture of A determines the visible field and all
the other apertures.
We must avoid forming a real image, such as fg, or
F" G", on or very near any glass. For we cannot see
this image without seeing along with it every particle of
dust and every scratch on the glass. We see them as
making part of the object when the image is exactly
on the glass, and we see them confusedly, and so as
to confuse the object, when the image is near it.
For when the image is on or very near any glass, the
pencil of light occupies a very small part of its surface,
niul a particle of dust intercepts a great proportion
of it.
It is plain that this construction will not do for the
telescope of graduated instruments, because the micro-
metei cannot be applied to the second image f g, on ac-
count of its being a little distorted, as has been obser¬
ved ot the Huyghenian eye-piece.
Also the interposition of the glass C makes it difficult Xelcifo
to correct the dispersion. y.
By proper reasoning from tlie correction in the
Fluyghenian eye-piece, we are led to the best construc¬
tion of one with three glasses 5 which we shall now con¬
sider, taking it in a particular form, which shall make
the discussion easy, and make us fully masters of the
principles which lead to a better form. Therefore let
PA (fig. 25.) he the glass which first receives the light fij,
proceeding from the image formed by the object-glass, 5
and let OP be the axis of the extreme pencil. This is
refracted into PH, which is again refracted into Hr by
the next lens B r. Let be the focus of parallel ravs of
the second lens. Draw P B r. We know that A b :
6B=PB : B r, and that rays of one kind diverging
from P will be collected at r. But if PH, PV be a red
and a violet ray, the violet ray will be more refracted
at V, and will cross the red ray in some intermediate
point g of the line II r. If therefore the first image had
been formed precisely on the lens PA, we should have a
second image at f g free from all coloured fringes.
If the retractions at P and R are equal (as in the
common day telescope), the dispersion at V must be
equal to that at P, or the angle v V r—VPR. But eve
have ultimately RPV : Er YrzBC : AB, ( —B£ : Ab
by the focal theorem). Therefore g V r : g r V, (or
g r : g V, or C /:/ B) —B b : A b, and AB : A b—
llr.Rg.
This shows by the way the advantage of the common
day telescope. In this AB=2 A b, and therefore /’is
the place of the last image which is free from coloured
fringes. But this image will not be seen free from colour¬
ed fringes through the eye-glass C r, if f be its focus:
For had g r, g v been both red rays, they would have
been parallel after refraction j but v being a violet
ray, will be more refracted. It will not indeed be so
much deflected from parallelism as the violet ray, which
naturally accompanies the red ray (0 /•, because it falls
nearer the centre. By computation its dispersion is di¬
minished about ^th.
In order that g v may be made parallel to g i' after
refraction, the refraction at r must be such that the dis¬
persion corresponding to it may be of a proper magni¬
tude. How to determine this is the question. Let the
dispersion at g be to the dispersion produced by the re¬
fraction at r (which is required for producing (he in¬
tended magnifying power) as 1 to 9. Make 9 : 1 =
fP > ]' C, ~ f C : Cl), aad draw the perpendicular
D iJ meeting the refracted ray r r' in rk Then eve know
by tlie common focal theorem, that if / be the focus of
the lens C red rays diverging from g will be united
in r'. But the violet ray g v will be refracted into W
parallel to r?'. For the angle v r' r : vgr~ (ulti¬
mately)/^ : CD, —9 : 1. Therefore the angle v^r
is equal to the dispersion produced at r, and therefore
equal to iJ v v\ and v vf is parallel to r >'.
But by this we have destroyed the distinct vision of
the image formed at fg, because it is no longer at the
focus of the eye-glass. But distinct vision will be re¬
stored by pushing the glasses nearer to the object-glass.
This makes the rays of each particular pencil more di¬
vergent after refraction through A, hut scarcely makes
any change in the directions of the pencils themselves.
Thus the image comes to the focus _/', and makes no
sensible change in the dispersions..
TEL
?ipe. I*1 ^ie common day telescope, the first image is form-
r—j ed in the anterior focus of the first eye-glass, and the
second image is at the anterior focus of the last eye¬
glass. If we change this last for one of half the focal
distance, and push in the eye-piece till the image form¬
ed by the object-glass is half way between the first eye¬
glass and its focus, the last image will be formed at
the focus of the new eye-glass, and the eye-piece will
be achromatic. This is easily seen by making the
usual computations by the focal theorem. But the vi¬
sible field is diminished, because we cannot give the
same aperture as before to the new eye-glass j but we
can substitute for it two eye-glasses like the former,
placed close together. This will have the same focal
distance with the new one, and will allow the same
aperture tlmt we had before.
On these principles may be demonstrated the correc¬
tion of colour in eye-pieces with three glasses of the fol¬
lowing construction.
Let the glasses A and B be placed so that the poste¬
rior focus of the first nearly coincides with the antrrior
focus of the second, or rather so that the anterior focus
of B may be at the place where the image of the ob¬
ject-glass is formed, by which situation the aperture
necessary for transmitting the whole light will be the
smallest possible. Place the third C at a distance from
the second, which exceeds the sum of their focal di-
•tances by a space which is a third proportional to the
distance of the first and second, and the focal distance
of the second. The distance of the first eye-glass from
the object-glass must be equal to the product of the
focal distance of the first and second divided by their
sum.
Let O o, A a, Tib, C c, the focal distances of the
glasses, be O, c, A, c. Then make AB rr a-\-b nearly;
BC—i-j-c-J-t ; 0A= j-L. The amplification
or magnifying power will be ; the equivalent eye-
Cl c
glass — — ; and the field of vision = 3438' X
Aperture of A
foe. dist. ob. gl.
These eye-pieces will admit the use of a micrometer
at the place of the first image, because it has no distor¬
tion.
Mr Dollond was anxious to combine this achromatism
of the eye pieces with the advantages which he had
found in the eye-pieces with five glasses. This eye-piece
of three glasses necessarily has a very great refraction
at the glass B, where the pencil which has come from
the other side of the axis must be rendered again conver-
j k611*1* or at least parallel to it. This occasions consider¬
able aberrations. This may be avoided by giving part
ol this refraction to a glass put between the first and
second, in the same way as he has done by the glass B
put between A and C in his five glass eye-piece. But
this deranges the whole process. His ingenuity, how¬
ever, surmounted this difficulty, and he made eye pieces
of tour glasses, which seem as perfect as can he desired.
He has not published his ingenious investigation ; and
we observe the London artists work very much at ran¬
dom, probably copying the proportions of some of his
[ 267 ] TEL
best glasses, without understanding the principle, and fekicopa.
therefore frequently mistaking. We see many eye- v ,—
pieces which are far from being achromatic. We ima¬
gine therefore that it will be an acceptable thing to
the artists to have precise instructions how to proceed,
nothing of this kind having appeared in our language,
and the investigations of Euler, d’Alembert, and even
Boscovich, being so abstruse as to be inaccessible to
all but experienced analysts. We hope to render it
extremely simple.
It is evident, that if we make the rays of different
colours unite on the surface of the last eve-dass but
one, commonly called the field-glass, the thing will be
done, because the dispersion from this point of union
will then unite with the dispersion produced by this
glass alone ; and this increased dispersion may be cor¬
rected by the last eye-glass in the way already shown.
Therefore let A, B (fig. 26.) be the stations which 26,
we have fixed on for the first and second eye-glasses, in
order to give a proper portion of the whole refraction
to the second glass. Let b be the anterior focus of B.
Draw PB r through the centre of B. Make b \ b \i
= AB : BK. I) raw the perpendicular K r, meeting
refracted ray in r.
the refracted ray in r. We know by the focal theo¬
rem, that red rays diverging from P will converge to
r; hut the violet ray PY, being more refracted, will
cross Brin some point g.
Drawing the perpendicular
fg, we get fifor the proper place of the field-glass. Let
the refracted ray Hr, produced backward, meet the
ray OP coming from the centre of the object-glass in
O. Let the angle of dispersion RPV be called p, and
the angle of dispersion at V, that is, r V v, he i>, and
the angle V r B be r.
It is evident that OB : QV—p : v, because the dis¬
persions are proportional to the sines of the refractions,
which, in this case, are very nearly as the refraction*
themselves.
T OP/ op nB'
LelOK(0rp0r4B,
tap ; alsop \ r — BK : AB, =: & B : A &, and r:
AZ> '.Kb . '
or making Pi therefore v : r—m
- P B
b &
be made rr Then
A b
zm’
—p B : A A
The angle Rg- V — ^ V r -j-g r V — p . m n; and
Rg V : B ;• v r= li /•: B g, or m+n ; n -j=il r : II g, and
B JT =:B r :—. But B r is ultimately ~ BK = AB
b B
A b
AB
m -j- n
and B J—
. Therefore R g:
A B
AB
X
m-\-n m -j- n
m -j- «
This value of By is evidently — B X
AB
yB-{-A6*
Now b B being a constant quantity while the glass B is
the same, the place of union varies with —— —. Tf
j)R-\-Kb
w7e remove B a little farther from A, we increase AB,
and p B, and A b, each by the same quantity. This evi¬
dently diminishes By On the other hand, bringing
B nearer to A increases By If we keep the distance
between the glasses the same, but increase the focal di¬
stance b B, we augment B /, because this change aug-
L 1 2 menu
TEL [ 268 ] T E L
Telescope, ments the numerator and diminishes the denominator of
  v™,. , A B X AB
the traction —rr —r.
p B-j-A b
In this manner we can unite the colours at what di¬
stance we please, and consequent!)' can unite them in
the place of the intended field-glass, from which they
will diverge with an increased dispersion, viz. with the
dispersion competent to the refraction produced there,
and the dispersion/) X + ^ conjoined.
It only remains to determine the proper focal di¬
stances of the field-glass and eye-glass, and the place of
the eye-glass, so that this dispersion may be finally cor¬
rected.
This is an indeterminate problem, admitting of an in¬
finity of solutions. We shall limit it by an equal divi¬
sion of the two remaining refractions, which are neces¬
sary in order to produce the intended magnifying power.
Tliis construction has the advantage of diminishing the
aberration. Thus we know the two refractions, and
the dispersion competent to each ; it being nearly ^-th
of the refraction. Call this <j. The whole dispersion
at the field-glass consists of (j, and of the angle Kg-V of
fig. 19. which we also know to be Call
their sum s.
Tig. 27. Let fig. 27. represent this addition to the eye-piece.
Cg‘ is the field-glass corning in the place offg of fig. 26.
and Ilg- is the red ray coming from the glass BE.
Draw g s parallel to the intended emergent pencil from
the eye-glass 5 that is, making the angle C sg with the
axis correspond to the intended magnifying power. Bi¬
sect this angle by the line gK. Make sg : g q=s : q,
and draw <7 K, cutting C^ in t. Draw f2D, cutting
g k in and the axis in D. Draw i d and D r perpen¬
dicular to the axis. Then a lens placed in D, having
the focal distance D d, will destroy the dispersion at the
lens g c, which refracts the ray g w into g r.
Let g v be the violet ray, making the angle vg r—s.
It is plain, by the common optical theorem, that g 7'
will be refracted into r 1' parallel to i D. Draw g D ir
meeting rr1, and join vr'. By the focal theorem two red
rays g rg v, will be united in 7 '. But the violet ray g v
will be more refracted, and will take the path v v1, ma¬
king the angle of dispersion 7' vv~q, very nearly, be¬
cause the dispersion at v does not sensibly differ from
that at r. Now, in the small angles of refraction which
obtain in optical instruments, the angles r7J v, rgv are
very nearly as gr and ;V, or as gD and D r', or as
CD and D I ; which, by the focal theorem, are a-s C rf
and r/D: that is, Dr/ : dc=rgv : 7'1'v. But Dc/: c/C
= D £ : £ f, —sg : g q, —s : q. But i'g v~s ; there¬
fore rr' v = q, —r' vv\ and vvf is parallel to /V, and
the whole dispersion at g is corrected by the lens Dr.
The focal distance C c of C^ is had by drawing C *
parallel to K g, meeting K g in *, and drawing *c per¬
pendicular to the axis.
It is easy to see that this (not inelegant) construction
is not limited to the equality of the refractions wgrf
lv rr'. In whatever proportion the whole refraction w gs
is divided, we always can tell the proportion of the dis¬
persions which the two refractions occasion at g and r,
and can therefore find the values of s and q. Indeed this
solution includes the problem in p. 266. col. 2. par. ult.j
but it had not occurred to us till the present occasion.
Our readers will not be displeased with this variety ef Tele cm
resource. 1—^
The intelligent reader will see, that in this solution
some quantities and ratios are assumed as equal which
are not strictly so, in the same manner as in all the ele¬
mentary optical theorems. The parallelism, however,
of v v' and r r' may be made accurate, by pushing the
lens D r nearer to C g, or retiring it from it. We may
also, by pushing it still nearer, induce a small diver¬
gency of the violet ray, so as to produce accurate vision
in the eye, and may thus make the vision through a
telescope more perfect than with the naked eye, where
dispersion is by no means avoided. It would therefore
be an improvement to have the eye-glass in a sliding
tube for adjustment. Bring the telescope to distinct
vision 5 and if any colour be visible about the edges of
the field, shift the eye-glass till this colour is removed.
The vision may now become indistinct : but this is cor¬
rected by shifting the place of the whole eye-piece.
We have examined tiigonometrically the progress of
a red and a violet ray through many eye-pieces of Dol-
lond’s and Ramsden’s best telescopes ; and we have
found in all of them that the co’ours are united on or
very near the field-glass j so that we presume that a
theory somewhat analogous to ours has directed the in¬
genious inventors. WTe meet with many made by other
artists, and even some of theirs, where a considerable
degree of colour remains, sometimes in the natural or¬
der and often in the contrary order. This must hap¬
pen in the hands of mere imitators, ignorant of prin¬
ciple. We presume that we have now made this prin¬
ciple sufficiently plain.
I ig. 28. represents the eye-piece of a very fine spy-Fig.
glass by Mr Ramsden ; the focal length of its object-
glass is 8 |- inches, with i^th of aperture, 2° 05'of vi*
sible field, and 15.4 magnifying power. The distances
and focal lengths are of their proper dimensions, but the
apertures are ^ larger, that the progress of a lateral
pencil might be more distinctly drawn. The dimensions
are as follow :
Foe. lengths Aor:0.775 Bizz 1.025 Ccr=i.oi DJizo.79.
Distances AB—1.18 BC=zi.83 CD—1.105.
It is perfectly achromatic, and the colours are united,
not precisely at the lens C gt but about ^th of an inch
nearer the eye-glass.
It is obvious that this combination of glasses may be
used as a microscope j for if, instead of the image formed
by the object-glass at FG, we substitute a small object,
illuminated from behind, as in compound microscopes;
and if we draw the eye-piece a very small way from this
object, the pencils of parallel rays emergent from the
eye-glass D will become convergent to very distant
points, and will there loim an inverted and enlarged
picture of the object, which may be viewed by a Huy-
ghenian eye-piece } and we may thus get high magnify¬
ing powers without using very deep glasses. We tried
the eye-piece of which we have given the dimensions in
this way, and found that it might be made to magnify
180 times with very great distinctness. When used as
the magnifier of a solar microscope, it infinitely surpasses
every thing we have ever seen. The picture formed by
a solar microscope is generally so indistinct, that it is fit
only for amusing ladies ; but with this magnifier it seem-
Y-'
TEL
ed perfectly sharp. We therefore recommend
the artists as a valuable article of their trade.
The only thing which remains to be considered in the
theory of refracting telescopes is the forms of the differ¬
ent lenses. Hitherto we have had no occasion to con¬
sider any thing but their focal distances j but their aber¬
rations depend greatly on the adjustment of their forms
to their situations. When the conjugate focuses of a
lens are determined by the services which it is to per¬
form, there is a certain form or proportion between the
curvatures of their anterior and posterior surfaces, which
will make their aberrations the smallest possible.
It is evident that this proportion is to be obtained by
making the fluxion of the quantity within the paren¬
thesis in the formula at the top of col. 2. p. 248. equal to
nothing. When this is done, we obtain this formula fore/,
the radius of curvature for the anterior surface of a lens.
I 2 m* 4-w 4OT + 4 . . . • /
_ — L  L_i_? where m is the ratio of the
a 2 wr-{-4 2(?«-j-4)r
sine of incidence to the sine of refraction, and r is the
distance of the focus of incident rays, positive or nega¬
tive, according as they converge or diverge, all measur¬
ed on a scale of which the unit is n, — half of the radi¬
us of the equivalent isosceles lens.
It will be sufficiently exact for our purpose to suppose
3 # , 41 .lb
m—-, though it is more nearly 1—. In this case—~ —
2 20 a 1
to ^±70, Therefore a——
yr 49 r 42r+7
And
As an example, let it be required to give the radii of
curvature in inches for the eye-glass be of page 262.
col. 1. par. 4. which we shall suppose of l-J inches focal
distance, and that e c (=/■) is 3^111 inches.
The radius of curvature for the equivalent isosceles
lens is 1.5, and its half is c.75. Therefore r~
— 5 ; and our formula is a—
49 X 5
42 X5 + 70’
o 1 ^ ^ ^
0 875 5 and 7=
u a
0.125
and b—
0.875
‘0.875’ 0.125
These values are parts of a scale, of which the unit is-
0.75 inches. Therefore
«, in inches, =0.875x0.75, =0.65525
b, in inches, =7 X 0.75, =5-25.
And here we must observe that the posterior surface is
concave: for isa positive quantity, because 1—o is a
positive quantity as well as a ; therefore the centre of
sphericity of both surfaces lies beyond the lens.
And this determination is not very different from the
usual practice, which commonly makes this lens a plane
convex with its flat side next the eye : and there will
not be much difference in the performance of these two
lenses1, for in all cases of maxima and minima, even a
pretty considerable change of the best dimensions does
not make a sensible change in the result.
The same consideration leads to a rule which is very
[ 269 ] TEL
this to simple, and sufficiently exact for ordinary situations. Telescope.
This is to make the curvatures such, that the incident' 7 •" ■ *
and emergent pencils may be nearly equally inclined
to the surfaces of the lens. Thus in the eye-piece with
five glasses, A and B should be most convex on their
anterior sides ; C should be most convex on the posteri¬
or side j I) should he nearly isosceles 5 and E nearly
plano-convex.
But this is not so easy a matter as appears at first
sight. The lenses of an eye-piece have not only to bend
the several pencils of light to and from the axis of the
telescope j they have also to form images on the axes
of these pencils. These offices frequently require op¬
posite forms, as mentioned in par. 3. col. 2. p. 261.
Thus the glass A, fig. 28. should be most convex on the
side next the object, that it may produce little distortion 2S*
of the pencils. But it should he most convex next the
eye, that it may produce distinct vision of the image
EG, which is very near it. This image should have its
concavity turned towards A, whereas it is towards the
ohject-gbass. We must therefore endeavour to make the
vertical image /g-flatter, or even convex. This requires
a glass very flat before and convex behind. For similar-
reasons the object-glass of a microscope and the simple
eye-glass of an astronomical telescope should be formed*
the sarne way.
This is a subject of most difficult discussion, and re¬
quires a theory which few of our readers would relish j
nor does our limits afford room for it. The artists are
obliged to grope their way. The proper method of ex¬
periment would be, to make eye-pieces of large dimen¬
sions, with extravagant apertures to increase the aberra¬
tions, and to provide for each station A, B, C, and 1),
a number of lenses of the same focal distance, but of dif¬
ferent forms ; and we would advise making the trial
in the way of a solar microscope, and to have two eye¬
pieces on trial at once. Their pictures can he formed
on the same screen, and accurately compared ; whereas
it is difficult to keep in remembrance the performance
of one eye-piece, and compare it with another.
We have now treated the theory of refracting tele¬
scopes with considerable minuteness, and have perhaps*
exceeded the limits which some readers may think rea¬
sonable. But we have long regretted that there is not
any theory on this subject from which a curious person
can learn the improvements which have been made since
the time of Dr Smith, or an artist learn how to proceed
with intelligence in his profession. If we have accom¬
plished either of these ends, we trust that the public
will receive our labours with satisfaction.
We cannot add any thing to what Dr Smith has de¬
livered on the theory of reflecting telescopes. There ap¬
pears to be the same possibility of correcting the aber¬
ration of tire great speculum by the contrary aberration
of a convex small speculum, that we have practised in
the compound object-glass of an achromatic refracting
telescope. But this cannot be, unless we make the ra¬
dius of the convex speculum exceedingly large, which
destroys the magnifying power and the brightness.
This therefore must be given up. Indeed their per¬
formance, when well executed, does already surpass ail
imagination. Dr Herschel has found great advantages
in what he calls the fwrit view, not using a plane mir¬
ror to throw the pencils to one side. But this cannot
be-
3t
°'75
-EL? —
~28o’ “
Telesco3>e.
TEL [ 270 ] TEL
be practised in any but telescopes so large, that the loss
of light, occasioned by the interposition of the observer’s
head, may be disregarded.
Nothing remains but to describe the mechanism of
some of the most convenient forms.
To describe all the varieties of shape and accommo¬
dation which may be given to a telescope, would be a
task as trifling as prolix. The artists of London and of
Paris have racked their inventions to please every fancy,
and to suit every purpose. We shall content ourselves
with a few general maxims, deduced from the scientific
consideration of a telescope, as an instrument by which
the visual angle subtended by a distant object is greatly
magnified.
The chief consideration is to have a steady view of
the distant object. This is unattainable, unless the axis
of the instrument be kept constantly directed to the
same point of it : for when the telescope is gently shifted
from its position, the object seems to move in the same
or in the opposite direction, according as the telescope
inverts the object or shows it erect. This is owing to
the magnifying power, because the apparent angular
motion is greater than what we naturally connect with
the motion of the telescope. This does not happen
when we look through a tube without glasses.
All shaking of the instrument therefore makes the
object dance before the eye ; and this is disagreeable,
and hinders us from seeing it distinctly. But a tremu¬
lous motion, however small, is infinitely more prejudicial
to the performance of a telescope, by making the object
quiver before us. A person walking in the room pre¬
vents us from seeing distinctly; nay, the very pulsation
in the body of the observer, agitates the floor enough to
produce this effect, when the telescope has a great mag¬
nifying power: For the visible motion of the object is
then an imperceptible tremor, like that of an harpsi¬
chord wire, which produces an effect precisely similar
to optical indistinctness ; and every point of the object
is diffused over the whole space of the angular tremor,
and appears coexistent in every part of this space, just as
a harpsichord wire does while it is sounding. The more
rapid this motion is, the indistinctness is the more com¬
plete. Therefore the more firm and elastic and well
bound together the frame-work and apertures of our
telescope is, the more hurtful will this consequence be.
A mounting of lead, were it practicable, would be pre¬
ferable to wood, iron, or brass. This is one great cause
of tire indistinctness of the very finest reflecting teles¬
copes of the usual constructions, and can never be totally
removed. In the Gregorian form, it is hardly possible
to damp the elastic tremor of the small speculum, carried
by an arm supported at one end only, even though the
tube were motionless. We were witnesses of a great
Improvement made on a four feet reflecting telescope,
by supporting the small speculum by a strong plate of
lead placed across the tube, and led bv an adjusting
screw at each end. But even the great minor may vi¬
brate enough to produce indistinctness. Refracting te¬
lescopes are free from this inconveniency, because a small
angular motion of the object-glass round one of its own
diameters has no sensible effect on the image in its fo¬
cus. They are affected only by an angular motion of
the axis of the telescope or of the eye-glasses.
'Ibis single consideration gives us great help towards
3
judging of the merits of any particular apparatus. We Tc
should study it in this particular, and see whether its u-
form makes the tube readily susceptible of such tremu¬
lous motions. If it does, the firmer it is and the more
elastic it is, the worse. All forms therefore where the
tube is supported only near the middle, or where the
whole immediately or remotely depend on one narrow
joint, are defective.
Reasoning in this way, we say with confidence, that
of all the forms of a telescope apparatus, the old fashion¬
ed simple stand represented in fig. 29. is by far the best, p;,
and that others are superior according as the disposition
of the points of support of the tube approaches to this.
Let the pivots A, R, be fixed in the lintel and sole of a
window. Let the lour braces terminate very near to
these pivots. Let the telescope lie on the pin Y f, rest¬
ing on the shoulder round the eye-piece, while the far
end of it rests on one of the pins 1, 2, 3, &c. ; and let
the distance of these pins from F very little exceed the
length of the telescope. The trembling of the axis, even
when considerable, cannot affect the position of the
tube, because the braces terminate almost at the pivots.
The tremor of the brace Cl) does as little harm, because
it is nearly perpendicular to the tube. And it the ob¬
ject-glass were close at the upper supporting pin, and
the focus at the lower pin F, even the bending and
trembling of the tube will have no effect on its optical
axis. The instrument is only subject to horizontal tre¬
mors. These may be almost annihilated by having a
slender rod coming from a book’s joint in the side of
the window, and passing through such another joint
close by the pin F. We have seen an instrument of this
form, having AB parallel to the earth’s axis. The
whole apparatus did not cost 50 shillings, and we find
it not in the least sensible manner affected by a storm of
wind. It was by observations with this instrument that
the tables of the motions of the Georginm Sidus, pub¬
lished in the Edinburgh Transactions, were constructed,
and they are as accurate as any that have yet appear¬
ed. This is an excellent equatorial.
But this apparatus is not portable, and it is sadly de¬
ficient in elegance. The following is the best method
we have seen of combining these circumstances with the
indispensable requisites of a good telescope.
The pillar VX (fig. 30.) rises from a firm stand, and
lias a horizontal motion round a cone which completely
fills it. This motion is regulated by a rack-work w
the box at V. The screw of this rack work is turned
by means of the handle P, of a convenient length, and
the screw may be disengaged by the click or detent V,
when we would turn the instrument a great way at once.
The telescope has a vertical motion round the joint Q
placed near the middle of the tube. The lower end ot
the tube is supported by the stay OT. This consistsof
a tube RT, fastened to the pillar by a joint T, which
allows the stay to move in a vertical plane. Within
this tube slides another, with a stiff motion. This tube
is connected with the telescope by another joint O, aho
admitting motion in a vertical plane. The side M of
this inner tube is formed into a rack, in which works a
pinion fixed to the top of the tube RT, and turned by
the flat finger piece R. The reader will readily see the
advantages and the remaining defects of this apparatus.
It is very portable, because the telescope is easily disen¬
gaged from it, and the legs and stay fold up. R trie
TEL [2
V?. joint Q were immediately under A, it would be much
r-* freer from all tremor in the vertical plane. But no¬
thing can hinder other tremors arising from the long
pillar and the three springy legs. These communicate
all external agitations with great vigour. The instru¬
ment should be set on a stone pedestal, or, what is bet¬
ter, a cask filled with wet sand. This pedestal, which
necessity perhaps suggested to our scientific navigators,
is the best that can be imagined.
Fig. 31. is the stand usually given to n fleeting tele¬
scopes. The vertical tube FBG is fastened to the tube
by finger screws, which pass through the slits at F and
G. This arch turns round a joint in the head of the
divided pillar, and has its edge cut into an oblique rack,
which is acted on by the horizontal screw, furnished
with the finger-piece A. This sciew turns in a hori¬
zontal square frame. This frame turnsrouivla horizon¬
tal joint in the off-side, which cannot be seen in this
view. In the side of this frame next the eye there is a
finger-screw a, which passes through the frame, and
presses on the round horizontal plate D. Bv screwing
down this finger screw, the frame is brought up, and
presses the horizontal screw to the rack. Thus the ele¬
vation of the telescope is fixed, and may be nicely
changed by the finger applied to A, and turning this
| screw. The horizontal round plate D moves stiffly
i round on another plate of nearly equal diameter. This
i under plate lias a deep conical hollow socket, which is
nicely fitted by grinding to a solid cone formed on the
I top of the great upright pillar, and they may be firmly
| fixed in any position by the finger-screw E. To the
under plate is fastened a box c, containing a horizontal
screw C, which always works in a rack cut in the edge
j of the upper plate, and cannot he disengaged from it.
! When a great vertical or horizontal motion is wanted,
! the screws a and E are slacked, and by tightening them
| the telescope maybe fixed in any position, and then any
I small movements may be given it by the fingerplates A
and C.
rl his stand is very subject to brisk tremor, either from
external agitation of the pedestal, or from the immedi-
‘ ate action of the wind ; and we have seldom seen dis¬
tinctly through telescopes mounted in this manner, till
I one end of the tube was pressed against something that
was very steady and unelastic. It is quite astonishing
what a change this produces. We took a very fine te-
I lescope made liy James Short, and laid the tube on a
great lump of soft clay, pressing it firmly down into it.
Several persons, ignorant of our purpose, looked through
it, and read a table of logarithms at the distance of 3 10
j yards. We then put the telescope on its stand, and
pointed it at the same object 5 none of the company
could read at a greater distance than 23 5 yards, al¬
though they could perceive no tremor. They thought
the vision as sharp as before *, but the incontrovertible
proof of the contrary was, that they could not read at
such a distance.
tlm round plates were of much greater dimensions j
and if the lower one, instead of being fixed to the pillar,
were supported on four stout pillars standing on another
plate; and if the vertical arch had a horizontal axis
turning on two upright frames firmly fixed to the upper
p ate -the instrument would be much freer from tre-
Wior. Such stands were made formerly; but being much
71 ] TEL
more bulky and inconvenient for package, they have Telesceo?.
gone into disuse. u—v j
The high magnifying powers of Dr Herschel’s tele¬
scopes made all the usual apparatus for their support ex¬
tremely imperfect. But his judgment, and his inge¬
nuity and fertility in resource, are as eminent as his
philosophical ardour. He has contrived for his reflect¬
ing telescope stands which have every property that
can he desired. 1 he tubes are all supported at the two
ends. The motions, both vertical and horizontal, are
contrived with the utmost simplicity and firmness. We
cannot more properly conclude this article than with a
description of his 40 feet telescope, the noblest monu¬
ment of philosophical and of princely munificence that
the world can boast of.
Fig. 32. represents a view of this instrument in a me- Pj*te
ridional situation, as it appears when seen from a con- ^ ,,
venient distance by a person placed to the south-west of g' ’
it. The foundation in the ground consists of two con¬
centric circular brick walls, the outermost of which is
42 feet in diameter, and the inside one 21 feet. They
are two feet six inches deep under ground ; two feet
three inches broad at the bottom, and one foot two
inches at the lop ; and are capped with paving stones
about three inches thick, and twelve and three quarters
broad. The bottom frame of the whole apparatus rests
upon these two wails by twenty concentric rollers III,
and is moveable upon a pivot, which gives a horizontal
motion to the whole apparatus, as well as to the tele¬
scope.
The tube of the telescope, A, though very simple in
its form, which is cylindrical, was attended with great
difficulties in the construction. This is not to be won¬
dered at; when its size, and the materials of which it is
made, are considered. Its length is 39 feet four inches ;
it measures four feet ten inches in diameter; and every
part of it is of iron. Upon a moderate computation,
the weight of a wooden tube must have exceeded an
iron one at least 3000 pounds; and its durability would
have been far inferior to that of iron. It is made of
rolled or sheet iron, which has been joined together
without rivets, by a kind of seaming well known to
those who make iron funnels for stoves.
Very great mechanical skill is used in the contri¬
vance of the apparatus by which the telescope is sup¬
ported and directed. In order to command every alti¬
tude, the point of support is moveable ; and its motion
is effected by mechanism, so that the telescope may be
moved from its most backward point of support to the
most forward, and, by means of the pulleys GG sus¬
pended from tlie great beam II, be set to any altitude,
up to the very zenith. The tube is also made to rest
with the point of support in a pivot, which permits it to
be turned sidewise.
The concave face of the great mirror is 48 inches of
polished surface in diameter. The thickness, which is
equal in every part of it, remains now about three
inches and a half; and its weight, when it came from
the cast was 2118 pounds, of which it must have lost a
small quantity in polishing. To put this speculum into
the tube, it is suspended vertically by a crane in the
laboratory, and placed on a small narrow carriage,
which is drawn out, rolling upon planks, till it
comes near the back of the tube; here it is again
suspended
TEL [ 27
Telescope suspended and placed in the tube by a peculiar appa¬
ll ratus.
Teller. The method of observing by this telescope is by what
' v * Dr Herschel calls i\\e front vit w ; the observer being
placed in a seat C, suspended at the end ot it, with his
back towards the object he views. There is no small
speculum, but the magnifiers are applied immediately to
the first focal image.
From the opening of the telescope, near the place of
the eye-glass, a speaking pipe runs down to the bottom
of the tube, where it goes into a turning point •, and al¬
ter several other inflections, it at length divides into
two branches, one going into the observatory D, and
the other into the work-room E. By means of the
speaking pipe the communications of the observer are
conveyed to the assistant in the observatory, and the
workman is directed to perform the required motions.
In the observatory is placed a valuable sidereal time¬
piece, made by Mr Shelton. Close to it, and of the
same height, is a polar distance-piece, which has a dial-
plate of the same dimensions with the time-piece: this
piece may be made to show polar distance, 7.enith di¬
stance, declination, or altitude, by setting it differently.
The time and polar distance pieces are placed so that
the assistants sit before them at a table, with the speak¬
ing pipe rising between them ; and in this manner ob¬
servations may be written down very conveniently.
This noble instrument, with proper eye-glasses, mag¬
nifies above 6000 times, and is the largest that has ever
been made. Such of our readers as wish for a fuller ac¬
count of the machinery attached to it, viz. the stairs,
ladders, and platform B, may have recourse to the se¬
cond part of the Transactions of the Royal Society lor
1-795 5 in which, by means of 18 plates and 63 pages ot
letter-press, an ample detail is given of every circum¬
stance relating to joiner’s work, carpenter’s work, and
smith’s work, which attended the formation and erection
of this telescope. It was completed on August the 28th
1-789, and on the same day was the sixth satellite of Sa¬
turn discovered.
TELL, William, an illustrious Swiss patriot, chief
instrument of the revolution which delivered the Swiss
cantons from the German yoke in 1307. Grisler, the
governor of these provinces for the emperor Albert, ha¬
ving ordered him, under pain of death, to shoot at an
apple placed on the head of one of his children j he had
the dexterity, though the distance was very considerable,
to strike it olf without hitting the child. The tyrant,
perceiving he had another arrow concealed under his
cloak, asked him for what purpose P To which he bold¬
ly replied, “ To have shot you through the heart, if I
had had the misfortune to kill my son.” The enraged
governor now ordered him to be hanged ; but bis fel¬
low-citizens, animated by his fortitude and patriotism,
flew to arms 5 attacked and vanquished Grisler, who was
shot to death by Tell; and the association for the inde¬
pendency took place that instant.
Tell- Tale, a name sometimes given to the Perpe¬
tual-Loo. See that article.
TELLER, an officer of the exchequer, in ancient
records called tallier. There are four of these officers,
whose duty is to receive all sums due to the king, and
to give the clerk of the pells a bill to charge him there¬
with. They likewise pay all money due from the king,
! ] T E M
by warrant from the auditor of the receipt; and make
weekly and yearly books both of their receipts and pay- ||
ments, which they deliver to the lord treasurer. Temper.
TEL LINA, a genus of shell-fish. See Coxcho- ^
LOGY Index.
TEMISSA, a large town in Africa, about 120
miles north-east of Mourzouk, the capital of Fezzan.
Here the caravan of pilgrims from Bornou and Nigri-
tia, which takes its departure from Mourzouk, and
travels by the way of Cairo to Mecca, usually provides
the stores of corn and dates, and dried meat, that are
requisite for its dreary passage.
TEMPE, in Ancient Geography, a most pleasant
place or valley of Thessaly. 'I hat it was there, appears
from the epithets of Thcssalica (Livy), Thessala(fA\‘\&).
The doubts respecting the situation of this celebrated
valley have been completely removed by Dr Clarke,
who found its name in a Roman inscription on the face
of the rock. It is the narrow and steep defile through
which the Peneus escapes from the Thessalian plain.
This defile is formed by Mount Olympus on the north,
and Mount Ossa on the south. It is richly wooded,
while lofty precipices present their bare fronts of va¬
rious colours, amidst the trees. The village of Ampe-
lakia, celebrated for its manufacture of Turkey red fits
within this valley on the south side. The Peneus, ac¬
cording to Pliny, running down between Ossa to the
south and Olympus to the north for 500 stadia, is for
half that space navigable : in the direction of this
course lies what is called Tempe, extending in length
for five miles, in breadth for about an acre and a half,
with gentle convexities rising on the right and lelt
hand. Within glides the pure stream of the Peneus,
charming in the grass on its banks, and harmoniously
vocal with the music of birds. In this description
Strabo and ./Elian agree ; the last adding, that it has
an agreeable variety of places of retreat ; and that it
is not the work of man’s hand, but the spontaneous
production of nature ; and Strabo says, that formerly
the Peneus formed a lake in this spot, being checked-
in its course by the higher grounds about the sea ; but
that an opening being made by an earthquake, and
Mount Ossa torn from Olympus, the Peneus gained a
free course between them. But Livy, who calls Tempo
a grove, remarks a degree of horror rather than
amenity, with which the Roman army was struck on
marching over the narrow pass; for, besides the dehle,
difficult to go over, which runs on for five miles, there
are steep rocks on each hand, down which the prospect
is apt to cause a dizziness, heightened by the noise and
depth of tlie interfluent Peneus.
TEMPER, in a mechanical sense. See Tempering.
Temper, in a moral sense, the disposition of mind,
whether natural or acquired. The word is seldom used
by good writers without an epithet, as a good or ba&
temper, though one of the most beautiful poems in the
language is entitled The Triumphs of 'Temper.
It is well observed by an elegant Essayist, that more
constant uneasiness arises from ill temper than from ill
fortune ; as a bad temper embitters every sweet, and
converts a paradise into a place of torment. For sub¬
duing the heart to softness, and preserving a due balance
of the passions, a proper culture of the understanding
and of the taste is the best method. He who employ®
,
•mxscori:
/‘Mm mm
TELESCOPE.
PLATE DXXK.
■
e 11 Sculp
acr,
^ra¬
il.
T E M [273 r
l)is time in the studies of elegant littrature, or the fine old age, and in males.
arts, has almost always a good temper 5 whilst the man
who is absorbed in the pursuits of profound science is apt
to acquire a severity of disposition, little less disagree¬
able, though generally much less pernicious, than the
capriciousness of the idler. Music, painting, and poetry,
teach the mind to select the agreeable pafts of those ob¬
jects which surround us, and by habituating it to a pure
and permanent delight, gradually superinduce an habi¬
tual good humour. It is of infinite importance to hap¬
piness to accustom the mind, from infancy, to turn from
deformed and painful scenes, and to contemplate what¬
ever can be found of moral and natural beauty.
So much of the happiness of private life depends on
the government of the temper, that the temper ought
to be a principal object of regard in a well-conducted
education. The suffering of children to tyrannize with¬
out controul over servants and inferiors, is the ruin of
many an amiable disposition. The virtues of humanity,
benevolence, humility, cannot be too early enforced j
at the same time, care should be taken that an infant
of two or three years old should never be beaten or
spoken to harshly for any offence which it can possibly
commit.
TEMPERAMENT, among physicians, the same
with constitution, or a certain disposition of the solids
and fluids of the human body, by which it may be pro¬
perly denominated strong, weak, lax, &c.
In every person there are appearances of a tempera¬
ment peculiar to himself, though the ancients only took
notice of four, and some have imagined these were de¬
duced from the theories of the four humours or four
cardinal qualities $ but it is more probable that they
were first founded on observation, and afterwards adapt¬
ed to those theories, since we find that they have a real
existence, and are capable of receiving an explanation.
I he two that are most distinctly marked are the sangui¬
neous and melancholic, viz. the temperaments of youth
and age.
1. Sanguineous. Here there is laxity of solids, dis¬
coverable by the softness of hair and succulency ; large
system of arteries, redundancy of fluids, florid com¬
plexion ; sensibility of the nervous power, especially to
pleasing objects j irritability from the plethora ; mobi¬
lity and levity from lax solids. These characters are
distinctly marked, and are proved by the diseases inci¬
dent to this age, as hsemorrhagies, fevers, &c. but
these, as they proceed from a lax system, are more easily
cured.
2. Melancholic Habit. Here greater rigidity of so¬
lids occurs, discoverable by the hardness and crispature
cl the hair; small proportion of the fluids, hence dry¬
ness and leanness; small arteries, hence pale colour ;
'enous plethora, hence turgescency of these, and livi-
d>ty j sensibility, frequently exquisite j moderate irrita-
uity, with remarkable tenacitv of impressions ; steadi¬
ness in action and slowness of motion, with great
strength ; for excess of this constitution in maniacs gives
jIe most extraordinary instance of human strength we
n°w. riiis temperament is most distinctly marked in
T E M
The sanguineous temperament Temptra-
of youth makes us not distinguish the melancholic till incut,
the decline of life, when it is very evident, fiom dis-
eases of the veins, haemorrhoids, apoplexy, cachexy, ob¬
structions of the viscera, particularly of the liver, drop¬
sies, affections of the alimentary canal, chiefly from
weaker influence of the nervous power. So much for
the sanguineous and melancholic temperaments 5 the
other two are not so easily explained. The choleric
temperament takes place between youth and manhood..
In the
3. Choleric, the distribution of the fluids is more ex?
actly balanced ; there is less sensibility, and less obesity,
with more irritability, proceeding from greater tension,
less mobility and levity, and more steadiness in the
strength of the nervous power. As to the
4. Phlegmatic. This temperament cannot be distin¬
guished by any characters of age or sex. It agrees
with the sanguineous in laxity and succulency. It dif¬
fers from that temperament, and the melancholic, by
the more exact distribution of the fluids. Again, it
differs from the sanguineous, by having less sensibility,
irritability, mobility, and perhaps strength, though
sometimes indeed this last is found to be great.
These are the ancient temperaments. The tempera¬
ments, indeed, are much more various j and very far
from being easily marked and reduced to their genera
and species, from the great variety which is observable
in the constitutions of different men.
Temperament of the Musical Scale, is that modi- Definition
fication of the sounds of a musical instrument, by which
these sounds may be made to serve for different degrees
of different scales. See Music, Chap. VII.
Temperament, though intimately connected with mu¬
sic, is not, properly speaking, a part of that science.
The objects of music, as a science, are, to ascertain the
laws of musical sound, as depending on the powers of
the human voice. The purpose of temperament is, to
regulate, in a way least adverse to these laws, a certain
departure from them, rendered necessary by the imper¬
fections of instruments.
Although the temperament of the scale of instruments
be practically familiar, the true principles on which it
depends have been much disputed. Various opinions
have been hazarded, and systems proposed. We offer
an abridged view of that which appears to us to merit
a preference (a).
Before consideration of the tempered scale, a short^ature of
review of the nature of the true scale is necessary. the true
From the conformation of the vocal organs, all na-scale.
tions, in singing, make use of the same inflections of^ ( 3
voice. These inflections, called notes, are said to be pitch
grave or acute, in proportion to the degree of hoarseness
or shrillness with which they are sung. The state of
voice with respect to gravity or acuteness with which
any one note is sung, is termed Its pitch.
Two notes having the same pitch are termed unisons, Unisons
or are said to be in unison to one another. The differ-ami inter-
ence of pitch between any note and another is denomi- va^s*
nated an interval.
In
(a) Amongst the very numerous authors on the subject of temperament, we have selected, for our chief guides,
ae ate Dr Robert Smith of Cambridge, and Professor John Robison of Edinburgh.
Vol. XX. Part I. 6 f Mm
Tempera¬
ment-
5
Key note
or funda¬
mental.
6
Natural
scale and
its degrees.
7
I>iffeience
of pitch of
the male
and female
voice.
8
Octave,
what ?
13
Different
voices re¬
quire dif¬
ferent
scales.
T E M [' 274* ] 1 T: E M
In all attempts to sing, the ear, either unconsciously,
or from the direction of recently hearing it, selects a
particular note, from the previous impression of which
the voice naturally forms other notes, at certain though
unequal intervals. The note, thus selected, is termed
the keij note or fundamental. When chosen, it instantly
assumes a particular and predominant character. The
ear involuntarily refers to it the intonation of all other
notes, readily recurs to it during performance, and is
dissatisfied unless the voice close upon it.
Where the singer has assumed a key note, arid, after
singing that note, sings the note nearest in acuteness to
it without forcing the voice, and so on, the series of
notes, thus naturally formed, constitutes what is called
the natural stale. The notes ,0! it are termed its
degrees; thus the key note is the. first degree of the
scale; the natural note next in acuteness to it,-is
named the second degree, or second of the scale, and so
on.
Two untaught men, attempting to sing the same scale
together, always sing in unison. But a man and a wo¬
man, making the same attempt, sing naturally in such a
diflerence of pitch, although they proceed by the same
intervals, that the eighth note only of the male voice
ascending, is in unison with the key note of the female
voice. Were the male voice to ascend to a ninth note,
it would be in unison with the second ot the female
voice j the tenth note of the former would be in unison
with the third of the latter, and so on.
We have thus two scales in succession, perfectly simi¬
lar in the relation of the degrees of each to their respec¬
tive keynotes', but differing in pitch by the interval
between these key notes.
This interval, comprehending seven smaller intervals
and eight degrees, is, from this lastcircumstance, called
an octave: and this term is also applied, somewhat in¬
accurately, to the series of the eigh^ degrees. Thus we
say, that the octave formed by the female voice is an
octave acuter than that which is produced by the male
voice ; meaning, that the eight degrees sung by the
woman are acuter by the interval of an octave, than Temper,
those sung by the man.
Not only are the natural octaves of the male and fe-'~v^
male voice exactly similar j but the same similarity is All ^
found in the extremes of the human voice, and, beyond are similar
them, as far as musical sounds can be produced. Many
men can sing the second octave below, and most women
the second octave above, a given key note common to
both voices. Yet the gravest octave of such a male
voice, and the acutest octave of such a female voice, are
equally similar in their relations (although they differ in
pitch by an interval of two octaves), as the two central
octaves are. I9i
All the different natural inflections of the human
voice are thus contained in one octave, since all other iu oneoo
octaves are only repetitions of the same inflections in ataveoftlit
graver or acuter pitch. natural
The octave, then, consists of eight degrees and sevensca*e'
intervals. Two of these intervals, those between the QctaTe
third and fourth, and the seventh and eighth degrees,cousistsof
are sensibly less different in pitch than the others. And eight de-
although we have no direct measur es of the pitch otSieesa^
sounds, we term these smaller intervals semitonic, andmtt‘
the others tonic intervals, presuming the latter to be
equal to each other, and a semitonic interval to be equal
to the half of a tonic one. n
The degrees of the natural scale are, by British musi-Represea-
clans, distinguished by the first seven letters of the al"
phabet. The letter C, for some reason less important ^ |etta,
than difficult to explain, has been appropriated to the
note most easily assumed as a key note by both the
male and female voice j the second of the scale is teru
ed D, and the third E, and so on. As the human von-,
and consequently most musical compositions, compi*
bend four octaves, we represent the ordinary octave «.
the male voice by Roman capitals, and that of the fe*
male voice by Roman minuscular letters. The graveA
male octave is distinguished by Italic capitals, and thfc
acutest female octave by minuscular Italics. The wU'.
natural scale may therefore be exhibited thus
Gravest Ordinary Ordinary Acutest
Male Octave. Male Octave. Female Octave. Female Octave.
C * D * EF * G*J*J3C* D sifEF'* G* A* B'c *d me{*g^a*bc*d^ef^g*a»6c.
1. 2. 34. 5. 6. 71. 2. 34. 5. 6. 71. 2. 34. 5. 6.71. 2. 34. 5. 6. 78.
In this exhibition, the juxtaposition of the thirds and
fourths, and of the sevenths and eighths or replicates of
the first degree, indicates the semitonic intervals ; and
the asterisks represent the tonic intervals of the natural
scale, or the artificial intercalary sounds, which, as we
shall presently see, it becomes necessary to substitute
in those intervals.
Were all voices of the same compass, and were musi¬
cal feelings satisfied with the natural scale, we might
rest here. Being furnished with a key note adapted to
all voices, and with instruments accurately tuned to that
key note, it would be unnecessary to examine whether
any other note of the natural scale could be assumed as
the key note of a different scale, and if it could, whe¬
ther any agreeable effect resulted from the discovery.
But the use of different scales, the key notes of which
are derived from the different degrees of the natural
scales, has been found not only to be one of the chief
sources of the pleasure imparted by musical perform¬
ances, but to be indispensably necessary from the phy¬
sical inequality of voices.
The central ‘c1 of the scale, called in music the tenor
C, can be produced by every species of voice. The
gravest male voices, termed bass, can form this note,
hut very few notes above it. The treble, or acuter
female voice also produces it, but seldom descends
farther. The acuter male voices, called tenor, have
this ‘c’ scarcely above the middle of their compass, and
it is not much below the middle of that of the counter¬
tenor or gravest female voices. Now it is obvious that
an air in the natural scale, which should rise above ‘c,
and fall below it in the same proportions, might be sung
by the tenor or counter-tenor voice, hut would be too
acute for the bass voice, and too grave for the treble*
Either of these voices, in order to execute the same air,
must assume a different key note from ‘c’ j and as all
eir era-
ait] t.
terary
an: ne-
ssa.
ath' a-
:al i ios
mu: al
atiosuf
e ocve
th ab
urth
T E M [ 275 ] T E M
tlie degrees of the scale are regulated by tbe key note,
the air must of course be executed in a scale different
from that of ‘c’.
Again, suppose a singer who can sing a given air
only in the scale of B, to be accompanied by an instru¬
ment tuned in the scale of ‘c’. Should the lyrist be¬
gin on his own key note, he is a semitone above the
key note of the singer j and should he begin on tbe
note which is in unison with the singer’s key note, the
next degree is wrong, being but a semitonic interval by
the instrument, and a tonic interval by the voice. In
short, all the degrees but one will be found wrong.
This is an evident consequence of the inequality of the
semitonic to the tonic intervals ; and if the tonic inter¬
vals, which we presume to be equal, be not exactly so,
the discordance will be still greater.
The remedy for this is apparently obvious. If the
semitonic intervals are each equal to half of any of the
tonic intervals, we need only to interpose other sounds
between each two of the degrees which form the tonic
intervals ; and then, in place of eight degrees and seven
unequal intervals, we shall have twelve degrees and
twelve equal intervals, each of them equal to a semitone.
An instrument thus furnished, appears to be adapted to
any voice, and to resemble the modern harpischord or
organ, which have twelve seemingly equal intervals in
tbe octave. Such were the practical resources of the
Greek musicians, sanctioned by tbe approbation of Ari-
stoxenus, and of all those who were satisfied with the
decision of the ear alone.
But philosophers and mathematicians ascertained the
existence of a certain connexion between musical inter¬
vals and mathematical proportions, and gradually open¬
ed the way to tbe discovery that tbe relations of tbe
musical scale, as naturally formed by tbe human voice,
depend on principles equally plain and certain with the
simplest geometrical propositions.
Pythagoras is said to have discovered, that if two
musical chords be in equal tension, and if one of them
be half the length of the other, the short one will sound
an octave above tbe long one ; if one-third shorter, it
will produce tbe fifth : if one-fourth shorter, it will give
the fourth. Thus the relation of the key to its octave
was discovered to correspond to the ratio of 2 : 1 5 that
of the key to its fifth to be in the ratio of 3:2; and
that of the key to its fourth to be in the ratio of 4 : 3.
For instance, if a chord of a given size and tension, and
12 inches long, produce ‘c’, another of the same size
and tension, but only six inches long, will give the oc¬
tave c ; one eight inches long will sound the fifth ‘g’ ;
and one nine inches long will produce the fourth ‘f\
Now as the string of eight inches giving the fifth, and
that of six inches producing the octave, are in the ratio
of 4 : 3, which is that of the fourth j it follows, that
the interval between the fifth and octave is a fourth :
and as the chord of nine inches producing the fourth,
and the octave of six inches, are in the ratio of 3 : 2, the
interval between the fourth and octave must he a fifth.
1 bus the octave ‘c’ c, is divided into a fifth ‘c g’, and a
fourth ‘g’ c, or into a fourth ‘c fand a fifth ‘P c, both
in succession. The two fourths ‘cf’, and'g’c, leave an Tempera-
interval ‘fg’, corresponding, as we have seen, to the ratio ment.
of 9 : 8. ' v '
YVe have thus the ratios of the octave, of the fifth, and
of the fourth ; and it does not appear that the ancient tjjp major
theorists proceeded farther. They seem to have pre- third, mi-
ferred the harmony of fourths and fifths to that of thirds nor third,
and sixths, so essential in modern harmony. By pur-an^ sem*'
suing the system of the mathematical ratios, we find t0Ue‘
that 5 : 4 gives the major third ‘c e\ x\nd the fifth‘g’
being already determined by the ratio 3 : 2, we hscer-
tain the ratio of the minor third ‘e g’ to be 6 : 5, which
is the difference between 3 : 2 and 5:4. In the same
way, the ratio of the third ‘e’ being 5 : 4, and that of
the fouith ‘f’ being 4 : 3, we ascertain the ratio of the
semitone ‘ef’ to he 16 : 15, or 4 : 3—5 : 4. l8,
A note in the ratio of 5 : 4, or that of a major third Ratio of
to ‘1’, gives ‘a’, the major sixth of the neutral scale j the major
and a note in the same ratio of 5 : 4 to ‘g’ produces ‘b’, s*x^1 al,<*
the major seventh of that scale. The ratio of ‘g a’ will se"
thus be 10 : 9, and that of‘ah’ 9 : 8, the same with that
ol ‘Ig’j and that of‘h’c will thus be 16 : 15 like ‘e f’. 19
We have in this way the mathematical ratios of all Ratio of
the degrees of the natural scale except that of the se-L^e major
cond ‘d\ Considering, however, the second to be a per- sec01ul‘
feet fourth graver than the fifth, and having ascertain¬
ed the fifth ‘g’ to he a perfect fourth below c, as 2 : I
is to 3 : 2 j so 3 : 2 gives 9 : 8, which we take for the
ratio of the second. ^
Thus have been formed two distinct systems of into-Aristoxe-
nation of the natural scale 5 that of mean tones and se-nvan and
mitones, founded on the rules of Aristoxenus, and the Pythago-
practice of ancient artists, and that of the ratios dedu-|,^sSy'
ced from the discoveries of Pythagoras, and the calcula¬
tions of mathematicians. 2I
The difference between the Aristoxenean system ofCircuiarre-
mean tones and semitones, and the Pythagorean system P.resenta'
of mathematical ratios, will best appear from the fol-tlie
lowing construction. Let the circumference of a circle pj"^
(fig. I.) be divided by dotted lines (according to the DXXXII.
principles of Aristoxenus) into five larger and equal in- fig. 1.
tervals, and two smaller intervals also equal. Let it al¬
so he divided by full lines into portions determined by
means of the musical ratios. Thus let the arches CD,
FG, and AB be proportional to the logarithm of 9 : 8,
GA and DE to those of 10 : 9, and EF and BC to
those of 16 : 15 (B). Let us divide another circle in
the same manner j but instead of having its points of
division marked C.D, &c. let them be marked ‘key’
2d, 3d, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th. This circle, which may be
described on a piece of card, is to be placed on the other,
and is to move round their common centre. 22
In whatever point of the outer circle tbe point ‘key’Insufficien-
of the inner one he placed, it is obvious that the other ey of the
points of the outer circle will shew what degrees of it, ,iatJiral
by corresponding with the other points 2d, 3d, &c. of^^4lion
the inner circle, will serve for degrees of the scale de-in different
termined by the point‘key’. By this we see clearly scales,
the insufficiency of the degrees of the natural scale, for
the performance of compositions in different scales, and
Mm2 the
(B) Me m ay make ' CD=6i0, 72 j €£=155°, 9; €£=3149°, 423 CG=2io°, 58; CA=265°, 3 j and
CB=326° 48.
T E M
[ 27
InefTicac)' of the Aristoxenean remedy of mean
tones.
23
'Galileo’s
discovery
of aei ial
.undulation.
24
I’itch of
sound de¬
le nui ncd
by aerial
undula¬
tions.
25'
Chords,
consonant
and disso-
aant.
26
Beals,
what.
But although the errors of the Aristoxeneans were de¬
monstrated by the certainty of the ratios, and although
the dependence of musical intervals on the latter he said
to have been known since the days of Pythagoras, the
nature of that relation remained unknown for ages.
Galileo discovered that the ratios express the frequency
of the aerial undulation, by which the several sounds
ate generated. He demonstrated that the vibrations ot
two chords, of the same matter and thickness, and of
equal tension, will be in the ratio of their lengths, and
that the number of oscillations made in a given time
will he inversely as their lengths. The frequency of
the sonorous undulations of the air is therefore inversely
as the length of the string. Thus 2 : 1 being the ratio
of the octave, the undulations which produce the acuter
sound are twice as frequent as those which generate the
‘graver. The ratio of the fifth, 3 : 2, indicates that in
the same time that the ear receives three undulations
from the upper sound, it receives only two from the
lower. This is not peculiar to sounds produced by the
vibration of strings: those, produced from the vibration
of hells, and from the undulation of the air in pipes, are
regulated by the same law.
Thus, it is demonstrated that the pitch of musical
sound is determined by the undulations of the air j and
that a certain frequency of undulations produces a cer¬
tain and unalterable musical note. It has been found
that any noise whatever, if repeated 240 times in a se¬
cond, at equal intervals, produces the tenor ‘c’ ; if 360
times, the ‘g\ or fifth above. It had been imagined that
musical sound was only to be produced by those regular
undulations, which are occasioned by the vibrations of
elastic bodies. We are assured that the same effect will
be produced by any noise, if repeated not less than 30
or 40 times in a second j and that the experiment has
been tried with a quill snapping against the teeth of a
wheel.
By Galileo’s discovery, the principles on which the
just intonation of the natural scale depends, are shown
to he certain and plain. To proceed in our search of
an exact measure of temperament of this perfect intona¬
tion, we must consider the nature and effects of con¬
sonant and dissonant chords.
A chord is a combination of two or more simultane¬
ous musical sounds. If the coalescence be so complete
that the compound sounds cannot be distinguished, the
chord is said to be consonant j if the separate sounds are
distinctly heard, the chord is termed dissonant.
All consonances are pleasing, although some are more
so than others. All dissonances are unsatisfactory, and
some are very harsh.
In consonances, no inequality of sound is perceptible.
In dissonances, the ear is sensible of an alternate increase
and diminution of the strength of the sound, without
variation of pitch. This is occasioned by the alternate
coincidence and bisection of the vibrations of the com¬
ponent sounds. For example, suppose two perfect uni¬
sons produced from two pipes each 24 inches long.
Eash sound has 240 vibrations in a second, either exact¬
ly coincident, or exactly alternate. In either case, the
vibrations are so frequent and uniform as not to be di¬
stinguishable, and the whole appears one sound. But
6 'i T E M
let one of the pipes he only 23 inches and seven-tenths
long, it will give 243 vibrations in a second. There- men
fore the 1st, the 80th, the 160th, and the 240th vibra-'T
tion of the longer pipe, will coincide with the 1st, the
81 st, the l62d, and the 243d of the shorter. In the
instant of coincidence, the aerial agitation produced by
the one vibration is reinforced by that produced by the
other. The deviations from coincidence gradually in¬
crease till the 40th vibration of the longer pipe, which
will commence in the middle of the 41st vibration of the
shorter one. The vibrations here bisecting each other,
the aerial agitations of both will be weakened. The
compounded sound will consequently be stronger at the
coincidences and weaker at the bisections of the vibra¬
tions. The increase of strength, which is termed the
beat, will recur thrice in every second. Thus the vi¬
brations aie in the ratio of 80 : 81, or of a comma; and
the compounded sound now supposed is an unison im¬
perfect by a comma.
If a third pipe, tuned a perfect fifth to the longer of
the two former, be sounded at the same time with the
shorter, the dissonance will beat nine times in a second j
and is thus shown to be a fifth imperfect by a comma.
The perfection or imperfection of any consonance
may thus be ascertained with equal facility and preci¬
sion : and by this method, anv perfect consonance may
be altered to any acquired state of temperament. ^
The theory of beats is therefore valuable, as givingBcatsa
us the management of a phenomenon intimately con-Ionian
nected with perfect harmony, as affording us precise andactni”
practicable measures of all deviations from it, and asp^iel
thus forming the basis of the most accurate system of
temperament.
For the preparatory process of determining the exact
degrees of the scale, let us attend to the following in¬
genious and amusing experiment. 2j
Let two harpsichord wires be exactly tuned in unison pundan
at the pitch of the tenor ‘o’, to be acted on simultane-tai eqi
ously by a wheel rubbed with rosin, like that of a viclle, mem‘
Let a scale of 240 equal parts be described under one of
the strings, equal in length to the sounding part of it,
and numbered from the end at which the wheel is
applied. Let a moveable bridge be placed under this
string, but so as not to alter the tension of it in the
least.
The two open strings being in perfect unison, with¬
out any beating whatever, let the moveable bridge be
advanced slowly from the nut, while the wheel is ap¬
plied to both strings, All kinds of chords, consonant
and dissonant, will of course be successively heard. Be¬
tween the consonances there will be a beating, which
will increase as we approach the consonance, cease on
our reaching it, appear again as we leave it, diminish
as we recede from it, and again increase as we approach
to the succeeding consonance.
After this general view, let us more particularly ex*
amine the several degrees of the scale.
On placing the moveable bridge at 120, we shall
bear a perfect octave, without any beating. If the <l>‘0Ci8«
vision be not quite exact, there will be a little beatmgj
but by shifting the bridge very gently to either side, the j
increase or diminution of the beating will guide us toI>fter
the true place, where it will entirely cease. )erfec
On placing the bridge at 160, the perfect concord of'^
the
me
■*■*> —'
3
itemia-
in c iie
rfec
irtb
3
Her na-
m o lie
ajoi
ird.
3.'
eter na-
m o tie
tnnr i
ird.
iter la¬
in o ie
:ond
3S
eterr a
in of
inor
36
etei
on of
ajor
37
rtern
on of e
vent
T E M f 277
tlie key and fifth will be heard. Any alteration of
the bridge to either side will produce a disagreeable
beating.
A rapid flutter in the vicinity of 180 will cease at
that point, and give place to the consonance of the key
and fourth.
On approaching 192, an angry waspish beating is
succeeded at that point by the animating concord of the
key and major third.
As we leave 192, the beating assumes a melancholy
character, and ceases at 200, the place of the plaintive
consonance of the key and minor third.
Between that point and the nut, we have only a suc¬
cession of discords. As we were at a loss to ascertain
the mathematical ratio of the second of the scale (art. 19),
so we have some difficulty in determining its just place
by the theory of beats, and the experiment under con¬
sideration. We are uncertain whether we shall fix it at
a minor tone, or at a major tone above the key. Both
form a harsh dissonance with the key. The major tone,
however, is thought less disagreeable : it admits of five
more concords in the octave than the minor; and the
ratio of it 9 : 8, is that suggested by the similarity of
its interval with the fifth, to the interval of the fifth and
octave (art. 19). On these accounts we prefer it; and
its place in the division under our precise consideration
is 2134.
Let the bridge now be placed near, and slowly mo¬
ved to 150: the beating subsides into a consonance,
slightly pleasing, that of the key and minor sixth.
At 144, we have the agreeable concord of the key
and major sixth. From 144 to 1 20 we hear nothing
but discord.
In this interval, however, we have to find the place
of the sensible note or major seventh. The ear informs
us, that the interval between the major seventh and the
octave, must be similar to that between the major third
and the fourth. Applying to the former interval the
ratio of the latter, that of 16 : 15, we place the move-
able bridge at 128; for as 15 is to 16, so 120 gives
128. We also feel, that the interval between the fifth
and major seventh is exactly similar to that between the
key and major third, of which the ratio is 5 : 4. Now,
applying tbe same ratio to 160, the place of the fifth,
] T E M
we find 5 : 4 :: 160 : 128. We thus determine 128 Tempera-
to be the place of the major seventh of the scale. ment.
The interval or difference between the minor tone v ‘
jo : 9, and the major tone 9 : 8, is 81 : 80, termedRatj'^ 0f
comma. This interval is not employed in practical nui-simpie jn.
sic, but must be distinctly understood by theorists, andtervals,
particularly in treating of temperament.
There are therefore four descriptions of simple inter¬
vals ; that is, intervals which do not include more than
a major tone. These are, comma, of which the ratio is
81 : 80; hemitone, or 16.: 15 ; minor tone or 10 : 9;
and major tone, or 9 : 8 (c). ^
We have now to consider how far the perfect intona-Tempera-
tion of the natural scale must be departed from in key-ment n*-
ed instruments, such as the organ and harpsichord ; so^ess^ m
that the same sound may serve for different degrees of^r^'raoTtek
different scales.
These instruments have twelve sounds in every oc¬
tave ; that is, they have the eight natural degrees and
four intercalary sounds, viz. between C and D, D and
E, F and G, G and A, and A and B.
The purpose of these intercalary sounds is, that an
air may be performed in any pitch ; that is, that any
sound may be taken for a key note, and that other
sounds may be found to form the scale of that key
note, at intervals corresponding to those of the natural
scale.
Thus, if instead of C, the key note of the natural
scale, we take B for the key note required ; A, which
is the seventh to B, will by no means answer for the
seventh of the assumed scale; for the interval between
A and B is a major tone, of which the ratio is 9:8,
whereas the interval between the seventh of the scale
and the octave, can only be a hemitone, the ratio of
which is 16 : 15. We must therefore employ the in¬
tercalary sound between A and B, which in this em¬
ployment we call A>&, or A. sharp. But we shall pre¬
sently see that we cannot tune even this sound in the
ratio of 16 : 15 with B. For, let us take F for the key
note of another scale, we find that B will not serve for
the fourth of that scale, being a major tone above A
the third ; whereas the fourth of the scale is only a he¬
mitone above the third. We must therefore have re¬
course to our intercalary sound between A and B,
which
(c) I he logarithmic measures of these intervals, and of the compound intervals determined in the way wbicki
we have described, are
Comma,
Hemitone,
Minor tone,
Major tone.
Minor third,
Major third,
Fourth,
Fifth,
Minor sixth,
Major sixth,
Seventh,
Octave,
54
280
458
51*
792
969
1249
1761
2041
2219
2730
3010
The octave being thus divided into 3010 equal parts, a circle of which the circumference is divided into 30J
degrees, and a concentric moveable circle having a nonius subdividing each into ten parts, will form a convenient
instrument for examining all temperaments of the scale.
5
Tempera¬
ment.
T E M [ 278 ] T E M
which we must here call Bfr, or B flat, and which
ought in this state to be tuned a hemitone above A, or
in the ratio of 16:15 with that note. Now, this in¬
tercalary sound cannot be both in the ratio of 16 : 15
with A, and in the same ratio of 16 : 15 with B. This
would extend the whole interval between A and B, to
the ratio of about 8:7-, whereas it should only be in
that of 9 : 8. We must therefore tune the intercalary
sound in such a diminished relation to A and to B, that
it may serve either for A or B [?.
But, even independent of these intercalary notes,
some temperament of the natural scale is necessary.
Let the four-fifths, ‘c g’, ‘g’d, ld a\ and ‘o e\ be
tuned all perfect. Then tune the two perfect octaves
from downwards, ‘e £■’, le : e\ The major third
‘c e’ resulting from this process, will be too sharp; by a
comma, or 81 : 80, and will beat 15 times in a second.
The minor third ‘e g’ and the major sixth ‘c a’ will be
still more discordant.
It is therefore impossible to have perfect fifths, and
at the same time perfect thirds and sixths. Now, al¬
though a perfect fifth, occasionally employed, be plea¬
sing, yet the ear does not relish a succession of perfect
fifths j such a succession not only renders the harmony
languid, but creates a doubt as to the'key, which is un¬
satisfactory. On the other hand, an alternate succession
of major and minor thirds and sixths constitutes the
chief and most brilliant part of our harmonics. We
therefore find it necessary to sacrifice somewhat of the
perfect harmony of the fifths to that of the third and
sixths.
It is this accommodation which is properly called
Temperament ; and to this system of it, by which the
fifths are diminished, and the thirds and sixths preser¬
ved perfect, we give the preference.
We have just seen that four consecutive perfect fifths
compose an interval, greater, by a comma, than two
octaves and a major third. But in the tuning of our
instruments requiring temperament, these intervals must
be rendered equal. Because, as we have seven hemi-
tonic intervals in the fifth, twelve in the octave, and
four in the major third ; so the interval of four fifths -p
contains twenty-eight hemitonic intervals, and that of
two octaves and major third contain also twenty-eight,1"
being twenty-four for the two octaves, and four for the
major third. The real difterence being, however, a
comma, it is plain, that if we keep the major thirds
perfect, we must diminish or flatten each of the four-
fifths one-fourth of a comma.
It is not easy to ascertain with perfect exactness the
quarter comma by which the first fifth ‘c g1 is to be di¬
minished. We shall, however, be sufficiently accurate
for practical purposes if we flatten ‘g’ till a beating of 9
beats in four seconds is produced (d).
Having in this manner tuned ‘g’, we diminish the
next fifth ‘g’ r/, one-fourth of a comma, by flattening d
till ‘g’d beat half as first again as ‘c g’, or 13^ beats in
four seconds (e).
The next fifth, da, must be diminished in the same
proportion by flattening a till ‘r/ a’ beat 15 times in six
seconds.
Instead of tuning upward the fifth ere, tune down¬
ward (f) the octave a ‘a’, and then tune upward the
fifth ‘a’ e, and flatten it till it beat 15 times in eight
seconds.
If we take 15 seconds for the common period of all
these beats, rve shall find
The beats of ‘c g’ — 34
G ‘d’ nr 25
‘d a’ = 37*
‘a e’ = 28
On tuning downwards the octave e ‘e’ we have the
major third ‘c e’ perfect without any beating ; and we
proceed, tuning upwards a fifth flattened by one-fourth
of a comma, and when the beating becomes too quick,
tuning downward an octave. We may do this till we
reach ‘b’ $, which should be the same with c, a perfect
octave above ‘c’.
It will be better, however, to stop at ‘g’ %, and then
to tune fifths downward from ‘c’ and octaves upwards,
when we get too low. Thus we have ‘c’ F, F ‘f’, ‘f’ B[),
‘ B
• . Y/l , . ,
(d) If any concord, whose perfect ratio is — (m being the greatest term of the smallest integers expressing
that ratio), be tempered sharp by the fraction — of a comma, and if M and N be the pulses made by the acute and
grave notes of the concord during any number of seconds, the number b of beats made in the same time by this
, , 2 « N 2 <7»M , , . n , . 2 <7 m N Ian M ,
concord will be = -7- , or —^—*7— •, and it it be tempered flat, then b~  , or —^ —. (omitli s
161 p—q
Harm. 2d edit. p. 82, &c.).
161 p-\-q‘
Ibip+q lGlp—q'
of a comma, and N=‘c’ or 240 pulses in a second. Therefore,
— 2.25 beats
Now, let — be the ratio of the fifth j <7=1, P—A j therefore, - one-fourth
2 7mN, _ 2x3X240 _ 1440
161 y.pJtq~ 161 X4 + 5 — 645
in four seconds very nearly.
(e) Because fifths, being in the ratio to each other of 3 : 2, N in this fifth rr 360.
(f) The grave octaves of the upper terms of each of these tempered fifths may be determined with perfect ac¬
curacy, by making the grave octave beat with the lower term of the tempered fifth as often as the upper term
does with it; for instance, by making G ‘c’ beat as often as ‘c g’, &c. For, it has been demonstrated by Dr
Smith, that the upper term of a minor concord beats equally with the lower term, and with the acuter octave of
that term ; but that the upper term of a major concord beats twice as fast with the acuter octave of the lower
term, as it does with the lower term itself. Therefore, as ‘g’ beats twice as fast with c as with V, and is vvitk
its grave octave G in the ratio of 2 : 1, G ‘c’ beats precisely as often as ‘c g\
T- E- M • [ 279 ] T E M .
‘B ]) ‘b ‘b b e {?’ j anil this method is preferable, be- most frequently employed as major thirds, and the ma-
cause the notes marked $ or [?, are, when tuned in this jor third is the harmonic interval most in use (g).
J way, in the best relation to those with which they are Another system of temperament is that which divides
the
Tempers-
ment.
(g) The process of temperament thus recommended, will be greatly facilitated by employing a pendulum made
of a ball of about two ounces weight, sliding on a light deal rod, having at one end a small ring. Let this pen¬
dulum be hung by the ring on a peg, and the ball adjusted so as to make 20 vibrations in 15 seconds. This
done, mark the rod at the upper edge of the ball, and adjust it in the same manner for 24, 28, 32, 36, 40, 44,
and 48 vibrations. Then having calculated the beats of the different fifths, set the ball at the corresponding
mark, and temper the sound till the beats keep pace exactly with the pendulum.
In order to discover, should it be necessary, the number of pulses made in a second by the tuning fork, by which
we tune the tenor ‘c’ of our instrument, let a wire be stretched by a weight till it be unison or octave below the
fork ; let -^th then be added to the weight. Being thus tempered by a comma, the contemporaneous sounding
of the fork and wire will produce a heating; and on multiplying the beats by 80, the product gives the number
of pulses of the fork, and consequently of the ‘c’ of the instrument tuned from it. But the common V tuning forks
are so nearly consonant to 240 pulses, that this process is scarcely necessary.
On the system of temperament now proposed, Dr Smith makes the following useful observation and deduction.
The octave consisting of five mean tones and two limmas, it is obvious that by enlarging the tones we diminish
the limmas, and that the increment of the tone is two-fifths of the contemporaneous diminution of the limma.
Let v represent any minute variation of this temperament: the increment of a mean tone is 2 v, and the contem¬
poraneous diminution of the limma—jv. Again, if the tone be diminished by —2 v, the limma will increase by
—5 v. Let us observe the variations of the intervals in the latter case.
The perfect fifth consisting of three tones and a limma, its variation will be —6 ^-f-5 v or —v. That is, the
fifth is flattened by the quantity v. Consequently the fourth is sharpened by that quantity.
The second, being a tone above the key note, and being therefore flattened by —2 v, the minor seventh is in¬
creased by 2 v.
The minor third consisting of a tone and a limma, its variation is —2 f-{-5 v or 3 v. Accordingly, that of
the major sixth is —3 v.
The major third, or two tones, is therefore diminished by—4 v. Consequently the minor sixth is increased by
4 v.
The major seventh, being the inversion of the limma, is therefore varied by -—5 v.
The tritone being diminished —6 v, the false fifth is accordingly 6 v.
On this observation, Dr Smith has founded the following geometrical construction : Divide the straight line CE
(fig. 2.) into six equal parts Cg,g cl, d a, a JL, 1L b, b t, and intersect the points of division with the six parallel
lines g G, 1/ D, &c. representing the intervals arranged according to the system of mean tones and limmas.
Let any length gG, on the first line to the right of the line CE, represent a quarter of a comma, G will thus
mark the place of the perfect fifth, and g that of the tempered fifth, flattened by a comma.
Take f/D, double of gG, on the second parallel also on the right hand ; D will mark the place of the perfect
second, and d that of the tempered second, flattened by the half comma d D.
By setting off a A on the third parallel to the left, equal to g G, we have A' the perfect major sixth, and a the
transferred major sixth, sharpened by the quarter comma A a.
The major third being in the system of mean tones kept perfect, the place of that degree will be e.
By taking 6 B on the fifth line, on the right, equal to g G, we find B to be the place of the perfect major
seventh, and b to be that of the tempered major seventh flattened by the quarter comma b B.
And by making tT on the sixth line, to the right, equal to d D, we have the contemporaneous temperament
of the tritone flattened by the half comma t T, and of the false fifth, sharpened by that quantity.
Any other straight line C t' drawn from C, across these parallels, will represent, by the intervals g' G, d' D, &c.
the temperaments of another system of mean tones and limmas. Since it is plain that the simultaneous variations
gg1 d d, &c. from the former temperament are in the just proportions to each other. Ihe straight line thus em¬
ployed, (C e', or C e"), has therefore been termed the temperer.
As the arrangement of the sounds of keyed instruments having only twelve keys for an octave, and meant to be
used in different scales, must approach nearly to a system of mean tones, or rather mean limmas, this construction
of Dr Smith’s is very useful. The temperer points out, not only all the temperaments of the notes with the key¬
note, but also the temperaments of the harmonic concords. rI hus it will be seen, that the temperament of the
minor third forming the interval between the major third and fifth, is in all cases the same with that of the major
sixth and octave, and that the temperament of the major third forming the interval between the fourth and major
sixth, is equal to that of the key and major third of the scale.
It has been proposed, in order to render Dr Smith’s construction still more useful, that it should be drawn of
such a size as to admit of the following supplementary scales.
x. A scale ofgG divided into thirteen parts and a half, expressing the logarithmic measures of the tempera¬
ments mentioned in the note (c), a comma being = 54.
2. A scale of g G divided into 36 parts, giving the beats made in 16 seconds by the notes c, g, when temper-
«d by any quantity G g’.
3- A
T E M
Tempera- the alterations between the fifths and major thirds, flat-
ment, tening the fifths and sharpening the major thirds j and
Temper- both beat equally fast along with the key: and
ance* since enlarging the fifth increases the tone, and conse-
qnently diminishes the limma, the intercalary sounds be¬
come thus better suited for their double service of the
sharp of the note below, and the flat of the note above.
Much, however, is lost in the brilliancy of the major
thirds, which are the most effective concords. The
fifths are not much improved, and the sixths are evi¬
dently hurt by this temperament (h).
These methods of tuning by beats are incomparably
more exact than by the ear. We cannot mistake above
one beat, that is, in the fifth 1^Tth, and in the major
third Troth of a comma.
We have oflered a short view of what appears to us
to be the preferable system of temperament. It has
been deduced from the observations of the most able the¬
orists, and will greatly assist a tuner; but to him there
are farther necessary, as to a musical performer, a cor¬
rect ear, patient attention, and long practice.
TEMPERANCE, that virtue which a man is said
to possess who moderates and restrains his sensual appe¬
tites. It is often, however, used in a much more gene¬
ral sense, as synonymous with moderation, and is then
applied indiscriminately to all the passions.
Temperance (says Mr Nelson) is the virtue that
bridles our irregular desires ; it is nearly allied to pru¬
dence, and has a close connection with justice ; it calms
revenge, and quenches the fire of unjust resentment; it
checks the epicure, and stops the riotous hand of the
Bacchanalian ; it extinguishes or abates the flames of
lust, and banishes every lawless action ; it silences the
T E M
flippant detracting tongue, and gives in its stead a plea- -]
sing moderation of speech ; it shuts the door against
avarice, and proves experimentally, that happiness does u
not consist in the eager pursuit or acquisition of riches,
but in a contented mind ; it curbs the strongest of all
other passions, gaming, and distinguishes justly the ab¬
surdity and folly of making that a dangerous trade,
which was only designed as a relaxation and an amuse¬
ment : temperanee, in a word, is the parent of many
virtues; the parent of peace, prosperity, health, and joy.
Nothing can be more strange to all observation than
the practice of forsaking temperance ; since every day’s
experience proves to us, that intemperance produces the
opposite to what we seek. Suppose, when a child is
Iwrn, we ask the parents what it is they wish in that
child; they will answer, life. But as life alone, that is,
mere existence, may, by infirmity or other accidents, be
very wretched, they will naturally wish for health and
happiness. Well then, life, health, and happiness, are
the general wishes of parents for their children. Now
let us see how their wishes are likely to succeed. Their
first step is usually a shameful neglect of the food of na¬
ture, the breast; the next, a blind gratification of their
will; the third, an almost total neglect of their man¬
ners ; and a fourth, the cherishing them in every irre¬
gular affection. Where then is the wonder that parents
are disappointed ? Life and health depend on proper
food and other judicious management on one part; and
if sick, an obedience to remedies on the other part: and
happiness essentially depends in the first place on health;
in the next, on the due government of our senses, affec¬
tions, and passions. See here how much mankind de¬
viate from themselves; how far they depart from their
own
[ '280 ]
3. A scale of g G divided into 60 parts, for the beats of the major third C e.
4. A scale of g G divided into 72 parts, for the beats of the minor third C e b.
5. A scale of g G divided into 48 parts, for the beats of the fourth c f.
6. A scale of g G divided into 89 parts, for the beats of the minor third g e.
7. And, g G divided into 80 parts, for the beats of the major third fa.
Thus provided, and having determined by Dr Smith’s construction, the temperament cf ‘g’ ‘d’, ‘a’, ‘e’, ‘b’, and
•f’, the accurate tuning of the whole octave as a system of mean tones with perfect major thirds may be completed
as follows.
Let ‘f be tuned a perfect major third above ‘d’; ‘g )&’ a perfect major third above ‘e’, and c% a perfect ma¬
jor third above ‘a’.
Let ‘b b’ be tuned a perfect major third below ‘d’ and ‘e b’ a perfect major third below ‘g’.
(h) To adjust the temperer to this mode, let EG (fig. 2.) be divided in p, so that E jo may be top G, as 3 to
5. Then draw Cp, cutting^ C in gJ, and C t' shall be the temperer required. It will be found that E e' and
Qg' are each of them 32 of their respective scales.
^ Let therefore ‘c g’ beat 32 times in 16 seconds
3Z ’
24 $
24, and tune ‘b’ b ;
36, and tune a ‘a’
36>
27;
27;
40^, proving ‘b’ b ;
21-5-, and tune F ‘P ;
21 t, proving A ‘a1;
284-, and tune B b ‘b b’
GV
G ‘d’
G‘b’
‘d’ a
‘d’ w
‘a’ e
‘a’ c %
e b
F ‘c’
FA
B b ‘f’
‘e b b b’
*€’ c perfect.
\
\ '
T E M [281
own principles. But wliat is the remedy ? Nothing
more obvious. Let parents exercise their reason in all
the steps they take for their children’s welfare ; let them
examine right and wrong j let them not only avoid
passion, but labour to correct their own errors of judge¬
ment, that they may he the better enabled to prevent
them in their children ; but, particularly, let them
fix in them the knowledge, love, and habit, of tem¬
perance.
TEMPERING, in the mechanic arts, the preparing
of steel and iron, so as to render them more compact,
hard, and firm ; or even more soft and pliant, according
to their respective occasions.
TEMPLARS, Teaifiers, or Knights of the Tetn-
pie, a religious order instituted at Jerusalem in the be¬
ginning of the 1 2th century, for the defence of the holy
sepulchre and the protection of Christian pilgrims. They
were first called The pool- of the Holy City, and after¬
wards assumed the appellation of Templars, because
their house was near the temple. The order was found¬
ed by Baldwin II. then king of Jerusalem, with the
concurrence of the pope; and the principal articles of
their rule were : That they should hear the holy office
throughout every day ; or that, when their military du¬
ties should prevent this, they should supply it by a cer¬
tain number of pater nosters : that they should abstain
from flesh four days in the week, and on Fridays from
I
T E M
eggs and milk-meats: that each knight might have
three horses, and one esquire: and that they should nei¬
ther hunt nor fowl. Alter the ruin of the kingdom of
Jerusalem about 1186, they spread themselves thiough
Germany and other countries of Europe, to which they
were invited by the liberality of the Christians. In the
year 1228, this order acquired stability, by being con¬
firmed in the council ot Troves, and subjected to a rule
of discipline diawn up by St Bernard. In every nation
they had a particular governor, called master of the
Temple, or of the militia of the Temple. Their grand¬
master had his residence at Pari«.
The order of Templars flouri-hed for some time, and
acquired,.by the valour of its knights, immense riches
and an eminent degree of military renown : but as their
prosperity increased, their vices were multiplied, and
their arrogance, luxury, and cruelty rose at last to such
a monstrous height, that their privileges were revoked,
and their order suppressed with the most terrible circum¬
stances of infamy and severity. Their accusers were two
of their own hotly, and their chief prosecutor Philip the
lair of 1 ranee, who addressed his complaints to Cle¬
ment V. The pope, though at first unwilling to pro¬
ceed against them, was under a necessity of complying
with the king’s desire ; so that, in the year 1307, upon
an appointed day, and for some time afterwards, all the
knights, who were dispersed throughout Europe, were
seized and imprisoned, and many of them, after trials
lor capital crimes, were convicted, and put to death. In
12, the whole order was suppressed by the council of
Vienne. A part of the rich revenues they possessed was
bestowed upon other orders, especially on the knights of
fit John, now of Malta, and the rest confiscated to the
respective treasuries of the sovereign princes in whose
dominions their possessions lay.—The knights Templars,
111 or(ler to justify the severity with which they were
boated, were charged with apostasy to the Saracens,
and holding correspondence with them, with insulting
Vol. XX. Part I. f
the majesty of God, turning into derision the gospel of Templm,
Christ, and trampling upon the obligation of all laws Temple,
human and divine. Candidates, it is said, upon ad- '-T—-'
mission to this order, were commanded to spit, in token
of contempt, upon an image of Christ, and after ad¬
mission to worship either a cat or a wooden head crown¬
ed with gold. It is farther affirmed, that, among them,
the odious and unnatural act of sodomy was a matter of
obligation ; and they are charged with other crimes too
horrible to be mentioned, or even imagined. However,
though there he reason to believe, that in this order, as
well as others of the same period, there were shocking
examples of impiety and profligacy; yet that the whole
order was thus enormously corrupt, there is no reason to
believe. 'The pope indeed, though he acted with seve¬
rity, acted with justice. He sent two cardinals to Paris,
who, publishing his bull against the order, condemned
those Templars who had made the voluntary confession
to be burnt by a slow fire. 'The criminals recanted their
former confessions, but acknowledged themselves worthy
ot death, because they bad unjustly accused the order of
crimes of which they were innocent. Several authors
of those times wrote in defence of the order; and Boc-
cace alleges, that its extirpation was owing to the ava¬
rice of the king of Fiance, who coveted the rich pos¬
sessions the Templars then enjoyed in France.
The king of Arragon was much pressed to treat the
Templars in his kingdom as they had been treated in
France ; but bis constant answer was, “ We must be
first convinced of their guilt, and it will be then time
enough to talk of their punishment.” The people, how¬
ever, were in general so provoked against them, that
they were compelled to shut themselves up in the for¬
tresses belonging to their order, to prevent their being
torn in pieces; which precaution was represented to the
king of Arragon as an act of rebellion. He marched,
therefore, with a corps of troops against one of these
fortresses. The knight who commanded surrendered
immediately, and told the king the truth, assuring him
that they desired nothing hut a fair trial; with which
declaration the king was extremely moved, took the
whole order into his protection, and forbade any to
abuse or insult them under the heaviest penalties. At
the same time he declared he was ready to receive any
informations against them that were supported bv proofs;
but if the informers failed therein, he would punish them
as they deserved.
These facts plead strongly for the innocence of the
Templars, or at least they prove that their guilt must
have been exaggerated ; and if we add, that many of
the accusations advanced against them flatly contradict
each other, and that many members of this unfortunate
order solemnly avowed their innocence while languish¬
ing under the severest tortures, and even with their dying
breath—it would seem probable, that King Philip set
on foot this bloody tragedy, with a view to gratify his
avarice, and glut his resentment against the Templars,
and especially against their grand-master, who had high¬
ly offended him. The principal cause of his invincible
hatred against them was, that in his quarrel with Boni¬
face VIII. the knights espoused the cause of the pope,
and furnished him with money to carry on the war.
They originally wore a white habit, with red crosses
sewed upon their cloaks as a murk of distinction.
TEMPLE, Sir William, was born in London in
N n the
T E M [ 282 ] T E M
Tempic. year 1628. The family from which he sprang was
—-v—— ancient, and is said to have assumed the surname of Tem¬
ple from the manor of Temple, in the hundred of Spar-
ken-Hall, in Leicestershire. He was first sent to school
at Pensehurst, in Kent, under the care of his uncle, the
celebrated Dr Hammond, then minister of that parish 5
but at the age of ten he was removed thence to a school
at Bishop-Stortford, in Hertfordshire. When he had
acquired a sufficient knowledge of the Greek and La¬
tin, he returned home at the age of fifteen ; and, two
years after, he rvent to Cambridge, where he was placed
under the tuition of the learned Dr Cudworth, then fel¬
low of Emanuel college. His father, Sir John Temple,
being a statesman, seems to have designed him for the
same way of life ; and on this account, after residing at
Cambridge two years, which were principally spent in
acquiring a competency of French and Spanish, both
languages exceedingly useful for his intended pursuits,
he w’as sent abroad to finish his education.
Mr Temple began his travels by visiting France in
1648. As he chose to pass through the Isle of Wight,
where his majesty was detained a prisoner, he there ac¬
cidentally met with the second daughter of Sir Peter
Osborn of Chicksand, in Bedfordshire, then governor
of Guernsey for the king ; and his lady being on a
journey with her brother to St Maloes, where their fa¬
ther then rvas, our young traveller joined their party.
This gave rise to an honourable attachment, which, at
the end of seven years, concluded in a happy marriage.
Having resided two years in France, and learned the
French language perfectly, Mr Temple made a tour
through Holland, Flanders, and Germany, during which
he became completely master of the Spanish. In 1654
he returned from the continent, and, marrying Miss
Osborn, passed his time in retirement with his father,
his two brothers, and a sister, then in Ireland, happy in
that perfect harmony which has been so often remarked
in their family.
As he rejected all offers made him of employment
under Cromwell, the five years which he lived in Ire¬
land were spent chiefly in improving himself in history
and philosophy j but at the Restoration, in 1660, being
chosen a member of the convention there, while others
were trying to make their court to the king, Mr Tem¬
ple opposed the poll-bill with so much spirit, that his
conduct soon attracted the attention of the public, and
brought him into notice. In the succeeding parliament,
in 1661, he was elected with his father for the county
of Carlow ; and in the year following, he was chosen
one of the commissioners to be sent from that parliament
to the king, which gave him an opportunity of waiting-
on the duke of Ormond, the new lord lieutenant, then
at London. Soon after he went back to Ireland, but
with a resolution of quitting that kingdom, and of re¬
moving with his family to England.
On his return he met with a vex-y favourable recep¬
tion from the duke of Ormond 5 and soon acquired such
a considerable share in his esteem, that the duke com¬
plained of him as the only man in Ireland that had ne¬
ver asked any thing from him. When he mentioned
his design of carrying his family to England, his grace
said, that he hoped he would at least give him leave to
write in his favour to the two great ministers, Clarendon
then lord chancellor, and the earl of Arlington, who
was secretary ol state. This the duke did in such strong
2
terms, as procured him the friendship of these two noble- Tea
men, as well as the good opinion of the king. Mr1—"*
Temple, however, made no other use of this advantage
than to tell Lord Arlington, that if his majesty had
any employment abroad, which he was fit for, he should
be happy to undertake it; but, at the same time, he re¬
quested that he might not be sent into any of the north¬
ern climates, to which he had a very great aversion.
Lord Arlington replied, he was very sorry he had made
such an objection, as there was no other employment
then undisposed of except that of going envoy to Swe¬
den. However, in 1665, about the beginning of the
first Dutch war, Lord Arlington sent a messenger to ac¬
quaint him that he must immediately cGme to his house;
which he did, and found that his lordship’s business was
to tell him, that the king had occasion to send some
person abroad upon an affair of the utmost importance,
and that he had resolved to make him the first offer;
but that he must know, without delay, and without tell¬
ing him what it was, whether he would accept of it, and
that he must be ready to set out in two or three days,
without mentioning it to any of his friends. After a
little consideration, Mr Temple told his lordship, that,
as he took him to be his friend, and as he had advised
him not to refuse, as it would be an entrance into his
majesty’s service, he should consult no farther. This
business was to carry a secret commission to the bishop
of Munster ; which he set out with on the second of
August, and executed it so much to the satisfaction of
Charles II. that, on his return to Brussels, his majesty
appointed him resident there, and created him a ba¬
ronet. As Brussels was a place which he had long
wished to resident, in April 1666 he sent for his family;
but, before their arrival, he had been again obliged to
depart upon business to the prelate’s court : for the bi¬
shop having listened to terms of accommodation with
France, Sir William wrote two letters to dissuade
him from that alliance ; and these not having the de¬
sired effect, he went in disguise to Munster, where,
though he arrived too late to secure the prince in his
first engagement, yet he prevailed on him to permit five
or six thousand of his best troops to enter into the Spa¬
nish service. In this journey he passed for a Spanish
envoy, having twenty Spanish guards to attend him.
In this manner he first went to Dusseldorp, where the
duke of Newburgh, though in the French interest, gave
him a guard to Dortmund ; but when he reached that
place, finding the gates shut, he was forced to proceed
to a village, at the distance of a league, which being full
of Brandenburgh troops, he was under the necessity ol
lodging in a barn, upon a straw bed, with his page for
a pillow. Next day he rvas entertained at a castle be¬
longing to the bishop of Munster, by one Gorges a
Scotch lieutenant-general in that prelate’s service, with
what he calls a very episcopal way of drinking. The
general coming to the large hall, in which stood a great
many flaggons ready charged, he called for wine to
drink the king’s health. A silver hell, that might hold
about two quarts, was upon this brought him ; and, as
soon as he received it, he pulled out the clapper, and
giving it to Sir William, to whom he intended to drink,
ordered the bell to be filled. W hen he was done, ho
drank off the contents to his majesty’s health; and asked
Sir w illiam for the clapper, put it on, and turning
down the bell, rang it, to show that he had drank fain*
T E M t 283 ] T E M
aucl left nothing in it. He then took out the clapper,
desired Sir William to give it to whomsoever he plea¬
sed ; and, ordering the bell to be filled again, presented
it to Sir William : but as the latter seldom used to
drink, he had generally some gentleman with him to
supply his place in this respect whenever it might be
necessary. Having finished his business at Munster, he
returned to Brussels, where he passed a year with great
pleasure and satisfaction.
Two months after the conclusion of the peace with
the Dutch at Breda, Sir William’s sister, who resided
with him at Brussels, being very desirous of seeing Hol¬
land, he went thither incognito to gratify her desire ;
but while he was at the Hague, he paid a private visit
to Mr De Witt, in which he laid the foundation of
that close intimacy which afterwards subsisted between
them.
In the spring of 1667, a new war breaking out be¬
tween France and Spain, which exposed Brussels to the
danger of falling into the hands of the former, Sir Wil¬
liam sent his lady and family to England; but he him¬
self remained there with his sister till the Christmas fol¬
lowing, when he rvas ordered by the king to come over
privately to London. Taking the Hague in his way,
he paid another visit to De Witt, and, pursuant to his
instructions, proposed those overtures to him which pro¬
duced the triple alliance. Soon after his arrival at the
British court, he returned, on the 16th of January 1668,
with the character of envoy extraordinary and plenipo¬
tentiary to Holland; where a conference being opened,
he brought that treaty to a perfect conclusion in the
short space of five days. The ratifications of this alli¬
ance being exchanged on thei 5th of February, he repair¬
ed to Brussels ; and a treaty being set on foot between
France and Spain at Aix-la-Chapelle, he set out for that
place on the 24th of April in quality of his majesty’s am¬
bassador extraordinary and mediator. Here he arrived
on the 27th : and it was chiefly owing to his assistance
that the Spaniards were brought to sign the articles of
that peace on the second of May. This service being
completed, he returned to Brussels, with a view of re¬
maining there in his former station of resident ; but he
received letters from the earl of Arlington, with tire
king’s order to continue as ambassador, and to serve
his country in that quality in Holland, as on account
ot the late alliances, his majesty wTas resolved to renew a
character which the crown of England had discontinued
there since the time of King James. Sir William being
now left at liberty to return to England, embraced the
opportunity; and, upon his arrival at London, he was
received with every possible demonstration offavourboth
by the king and the court.
Setting out again for Holland, with his new charac¬
ter of the king’s ambassador, he arrived at the Hague
In fhe end of August 1668. Here he enjoyed the con¬
fidence of that great minister De Witt, and lived in
great intimacy with the prince of Orange, who was
Eien only eighteen years of age ; but, in September
he was hurried back to England by Lord Arling¬
ton, who ordered him to put his foot in the stirrup as
soon as he should receive his letter. When Sir Wil-
kam waited on the earl, he found that Ire had not one
Wild to say to him •, for, after making him attend along
tune, he only asked a few indifferent questionsrespecting
ms journey. Next day he was received as coolly by the
king; but the secret soon came out, and he pressed
to return to the Hague, and pave the way for a war
with Holland. Hus, however, he excused himself from
having any hand in ; which so much provoked the lord
treasurer Chflord, that he refused to him an arrear of
two thousand pounds due from his embassy. Disgusted
with Arlington’s behaviour, which was so unlike the
friendship he had formerly professed, Sir W illiam now
retired to his house at Sheen near Richmond, in Surry;
and in his retreat, when free from the hurry of business.
Ire wrote bis Observations on the United Provinces, and
one part of bis Miscellanies, in the time of the second
Dutch war. About the end of summer, however, 1673,
the king wishing to put an end to the war, scut for Sir
M illiam, and desired him to go to Holland to negociate
a peace ; but powers having been sent from thence at
this time to the Marquis de Fresno, the Spanish am¬
bassador at London, Sir William was ordered to confer
with him ; and a treaty was accordingly concluded in
three days, and the point carried respecting the supe¬
riority of the British flag, which had been so long con¬
tested. In June 1674 he was again sent ambassador to
Holland to ofler the king’s mediation between France
and the confederates, then at war, which was accepted
not long after ; Lord Berkeley, Sir William Temple,
and Sir Leoline Jenkins, being declared ambassadors
and mediators ; and Nimeguen, which Sir William had
proposed, was at length agreed upon by all parties to be
the place of treaty. During his stay at the Hague, the
prince of Orange, who was fond of the English lan-
guage, and of the plain English way of eating, con¬
stantly dined and supped once or twice a week at his
house ; and by this familiarity he so much gained the
prince’s confidence and esteem, that be had a consi¬
derable band in his marriage with the Princess Alary,
daughter of James II.
In July 1676 he removed bis family to Nimeguen,
where he spent the remainder of that year without ma¬
king any progress in the treaty; and the year following
bis son was sent over with letters from the lord treasu¬
rer, ordering him to return, and succeed Mr Coventry
as secretary of state. In consequence of this order, Sir
Willi am came over to England in the spring of 1677 ;
and though the affair of the secretary’s place was drop¬
ped at his desire, he did not return to Nimeguen that
year. About this time, the prince having the king’s
leave to come over, he soon after married the Princess
Alary ; and this gave occassion for a new coolness be¬
tween Lord Arlington and Sir William, as he and the
lord treasurer Osborn, who was related to Sir William’s
lady, were only privy to that affair. After the prince
and princess were gone to Holland, as the court always
seemed inclined to favour France, the king wished to
engage Sir William in some negociations with that
crown : but he was so ill satisfied with this proposal,
that he offered to give up all pretensions to the office of
secretary; and desiring the lord-treasurer to acquaint
his majesty with his intentions, retired to Sheen, in
hopes of being taken at his word. Upon a discovery,
however, of the French designs not to evacuate the
Spanish towns agreed by the treaty to he delivered up,
the king commanded him to go upon a thn'd embassy
to the states ; with whom he concluded a treaty : by
which England engaged, in case France refused to eva¬
cuate the towns in forty days, to declare war immedi-
N n a ately
T E M [ 284 ] T E M
Temple, atelv against that nation ; but before half that time was
“-“V"" 1' elapsed, one Du Cross was sent from the English court
to Holland upon a business which damped all the good
humour excited by the treaty there, and which produ¬
ced such sudden and astonishing changes in this coun¬
try, as gave Sir William a distaste for all public em¬
ployments.
In 1679 ^ie went back to Nimeguen, where the
French delayed to sign the treaty till the last hour j
but having concluded it, he returned to the Hague,
whence he was soon after sent for to enter upon the se¬
cretary’s office, which Mr Coventry at length resolved
to resign. He accordingly come over, and went to
court, as all his friends hoped, with a lull intention of
assuming his office j but he started some difficulty, be¬
cause he had not a seat in the house ol commons, think¬
ing that, by his not being a member, the public busi¬
ness would suffer at such a critical time, when the con¬
tests between the two parties ran so high that the king
thouerbt fit to send the duke of York into Flanders, and
the parliament to put the lord-treasurer Danby into the
’Tower. After this his majesty still pressed Sir William
to be secretary of state •, using as an argument for his
compliance, that he had nobody to consult with at a
time when he had the greatest need of the best advice.
Notwithstanding all this, Sir William declined the
king’s offer, advising him to choose a council in whom
he could confide, and upon whose abilities he could de¬
pend. 'This advice the king followed j and the choice
of the persons being concerted between bis majesty and
Sir William, the old council was dissolved lour days al¬
ter, and the new one established, ol which the latter was
a member.
In 1680 the councils began again to be changed, on
the king’s illness, at the end of summer, and the duke
of York’s return privately to court. In this juncture
Sir William, endeavouring to bring to the king’s favour
and business some persons to whom his majesty had ta¬
ken a dislike, if not an aversion, he met with such treat¬
ment from them as gave him a fresh distaste to the court,
at which he seldom made his appearance j so that he re-
sided principally at Sheen. Soon after this the king
sent for him again 5 and having proposed that he should
go as ambassador into Spam, Sir William consented .
but when his equipage was almost ready, and part ot
the money paid down tor it, the king changed his mind,
and told him that he would have him defer his journey
till the end of the session of parliament, in which he was
chosen a member for the univeisity of Cambridge. In
this session the spirit of party ran so high that it was im¬
possible to bring the house to any kind of temper. The
duke was sent into Scotland ; but this would not satisfy
them, nor any thing but a bill of exclusion ; which Sir
William strenuously opposed, saying, that “ His endea¬
vour ever should be to unite the royal family, and that
he would never enter into any councils to divide them.”
Not long after this period, the parliament being dissolv¬
ed 1)v Ids majesty, without the advice of bis privy coun¬
cil, and contrary to what be had promised, Sir William
made a bold speech against it ; for which be was very
ill used by some of those friends who had been most
earnest in promoting the last change in the ministry.
Upon this be grew quite tired of public business, declin¬
ed the offer he had of again serving for the university in
the next parliament, that was soon after called, and met
3
at Oxford •, and seeing his majesty resolved to govern xt
without his parliament, and to supply his treasury through l—
another channel, he retired to Sheen a few days after,
whence he sent word by his son, that “ he would pass
the rest of his days like a good subject, but would never
more meddle with public affairs.” from that time Sir
William lived at this place till the end of that reign
and for some time in the next *, when having purchased
a small seat, called Moor Park, near Farnham in Surry,
which he conceived a great fondness for, on account of
its solitude and retirement, and its healthy and pleasant
situation, and being much afflicted with the gout, and
broken with age and infirmities, he resolved to spend
the remainder of his life in this agreeable retreat. In
his way thither, therefore, he waited on King James,
who was then at Windsor, and begged his favour and
protection to one “ that would always live as a good
subject, but, whatever might happen, never again enter
upon any public employment $” desiring his majesty to
give no credit to any thing he might hear to the con¬
trary. The king, who used to say that Sir William
Temple’s character was always to be believed, promised
him whatever be desired, gently reproached him for not
entering into his service, which, he said, was his own
fault •, and kept his word as faithfully to Sir William as
Sir William did to his majesty, during the surprising
turn of affairs that soon after followed by the arrival of
the prince of Orange. At the time of this happy re¬
volution, in 1688, Moor Park becoming unsafe, as it
lay in the way of both armies, be went back to the
bouse at Sheen, which he had given up to his son ; to
whom he refused leave, though importunately begged,
to go and meet the prince of Orange at his landing:
but after King James’s abdication, when the prince
reached Windsor, he went thither to wait upon his high¬
ness, and carried his son along with him. The prince
pressed him to enter into his service, and to he secretary
of state •, hut his age and infirmities confirming him in
the resolution he had made not to meddle any more with
public affairs, he was satisfied that his son alone should
enjoy his majesty’s favour. Mr John Temple was up¬
on this appointed secretary at war ; but lie bad hardly
been a week in that office, when he resolved to put an
end to his own existence ; which he did on the 14th ot
April 1689, by throwing himself out of a boat, hired
for that purpose, in shooting London bridge ; having
first put stones into his pocket to make him sink
speedily.
In 1694 Sir William had the misfortune to lose his
lady, who was a very extraordinary woman, as well as
an affectionate wife. He was then considerably turned
of sixty ; at which age he prac tised what he had so often
declared to fie his opinion, that “ an old man ought
then to consider himself of no farther use in the world
except to himself and his friends.” After this he lived
four years veiy much afflicted with the gout; and his
strength and spirits being worn out by the infirmities of
age, lie expired in the month of January 1698. H®
died at Moor-Park, where his heart was buried in a sil¬
ver box under the sun dial in bis garden, opposite to a
window from which be used to contemplate and admire
the works of nature, with his sister, the ingenious Lady
Gifford. This was according to his will ; in pursuance
of which his body was privately interred in Westminster
Abbey, and a marble monument erected in 1722, after
the
T E M
,1^. t!ie death of Lady Gifford, who resembled him in ge-
i—^nius as well as in person, and left behind her the cha¬
racter of one of the best and most constant friends in the
world.
Sir William Temple’s principal works are, I. Me¬
moirs from 1672 to 1692: They are very useful for
those who wish to be acquainted with the affairs of that
period. 2. Remarks upon the State of the United Pro¬
vinces. 3. An Introduction to the History of England :
This is a Sketch of a General History. 4. Letters writ¬
ten during his last embassies. And, 5. Miscellanies,
which contain a great many curious pieces that display
considerable depth of thought. He was an accomplish¬
ed gentleman, a sound politician, a patriot, and a great
scholar. And if this great idea should perchance be
shaded by some touches of vanity and spleen, the reader
will be so candid as to consider, that the greatest, wisest,
and the best of men, have still some failings and imper¬
fections which are inseparable from human nature.
Temple, Templum, a public building, erected in ho¬
nour of some deity, either true or false j and wherein
the people meet to pay religious worship to the same.
The word is formed from the Latin templum, which
some derive from the Greek signifying the same
thing; and others from abscindo, “ I cut off, I
separate,” in regard a temple is a place separated from
common uses; others with more probability derive it
from the old Latin word tanplare, “ to contemplate.”
It is certain the ancient augurs gave the name templa to
those parts of the heavens which were marked out for
' the observation of the flight of birds. Their formula
was this: Templa tesqua sunto. Temples were origi¬
nally all open, and hence received their name. See Phil.
I runs. N° 471. sect. 5. where we have an account of
an ancient temple in Ireland of the same sort as our fa¬
mous Stonehenge. The word templum, in its primary
sense among the old Romans, signified nothing more
than a place set apart and consecrated by the augurs,
whether inclosed or open, in the city or in the fields.
Clemens Alexandrinus and Eusebius refer the origin
of temples to the sepulchres built for the dead. This
notion has been lately illustrated and confirmed by a
variety of testimonies by Mr Farmer in his Treatise on
the Worship of Human Spirits, p. 373, &c. Herodo¬
tus and Strabo will have the Egyptians to have been
toe first who built temples to the gods. The first erec-
ted in Greece is ascribed to Deucalion, by Apollonius,
Argonaut, lib. iii. In antiquity we meet with many
people who would not build any temples to their gods
for fear of confining them to too narrow bounds. They
performed their sacrifices in all places indifferently, from
a Persitasion that the whole world is the temple of God,
and that he required no other. This was the doctrine
0 ^ ™agi» followed by the Persians, the Scythians,
Lie Numidians, and many other nations mentioned by
eiodotus, lib. i. Strabo, lib. xv. and Cicero in his se¬
cond oration against Verres.
Hie Persians, who worshipped the sun, believed it
W0U 1 wl'ong his power to inclose him in the walls of a
-tnip e, who had the whole world for his habitation;
an 'once, when Xerxes ravaged Greece, the magi ex-
i0m? 'I.ni to destroy all the temples he met with.
V r> lcyon'ans would build no temple to their god-
53 oronts; nor the Athenians, for the like reason,
T E M
erect any statue to Clemency, who, they said, was to Temple,
live in the hearts of men, not within stone walls. 1—y-—»
The Bithynians had no temples but the mountains to
worship on ; nor had the ancient Germans any other
but the woods.
Even some philosophers have blamed the use and
building of temples, particularly Diogenes, Zeno, and
his followers the Stoics. But it may be said, that if
God hath no need of temples, men have need of places
to meet in for the public offices of religion : according¬
ly temples may be traced back even into the remotest
antiquity. See Hospinian de Origine Templortim.
1 be Romans bad several kinds of temples; whereof
those built by the kings, &c. consecrated by the au¬
gurs, and wherein the exercise of religion was regularly
performed, were called, by way of eminence, templa,
“ temples.” Those that were not consecrated, were
called cedes. The little temples, that were covered or
roofed, they called cedi cube. Those open, sacella. Some
other edifices, consecrated to particular mysteries of re¬
ligion, they called fana and delubra.
All these kinds ol temples, Vitruvius tells us, had
other particular denominations, according to the form
and manner of their construction, as will be hereafter
specified.
Indeed the Romans outdid all nations with regard to
temples: they not only built temples to their gods, to
their virtues, to their diseases, &c. but also to their em¬
perors, and that in their life time ; instances whereof we
meet with in medals, inscriptions, and other monuments.
Horace compliments Augustus hereupon, and sets him
above Hercules and all the heroes of fable ; because
those were admitted into temples only after their death,
whereas Augustus had his temples and altars while li-
ving.
Free send dbi maturos largimur honores ;
Jurandasquc tuum per nomen ponimus aras.
Epist. ad Aug.
Suetonius, on this occasion, gives an instance of the mo¬
desty of that emperor, who would allow of no temples
being erected to him in the city ; and even in the pro¬
vinces, where he knewr it was usual to raise temples to
the very proconsuls, refused any but those erected in
the name of Rome as well as his own.
The most celebrated temples among the Romans were
the Capitol and Pantheon. They had also the temple
of Saturn, which served for the public treasury ; and
the temple of Janus.
The temple at Jerusalem was similar in its plan to
the Tabernacle. The first temple was begun by So¬
lomon about the year of the world 2992, and before
Christ 1012 according to some chronologers, and finish¬
ed in eight years. Great mistakes have been commit¬
ted respecting the dimensions of this temple, by con¬
founding the emblematical description of Ezekiel with
the plain account of it in the books of Kings and Chro¬
nicles. It consisted of the. holy of holies, the sanctuary,
and a portico. The holy of holies was a square room
of 20 cubits; the sanctuary, or holy place, was 40 cu¬
bits long and 20 broad, consequently the length of both
these together was 60 cubits. The portico, which stood
before the sanctuary, was 20 cubits long and 10 cubits
broad. Whether the portico was separated by a wall
[ 285 ]
T E M
[ 286 ]
T E M
Temple.
froth the rest of the temple or nor, is net mentioned in
scripture. If it was, the whole length of the temple,
computing the cubit at 22 inches, did not exceed no
feet in length and 36 feet 8 inches in breadth. In the
portico stood the two brazen pillars called Jochtn and
Boa*, which, upon comparing and reconciling the seem¬
ingly different accounts in different places, -appear to
have been 40 cubits high and about 4 cubits diameter.
The court probably at first extended all round the temple.
Now we are told, that the court about the tabernacle
'was 100 cubits long and 50 broad j and as Solomon
made every part of the temple about twice as large as
the corresponding part in the tabernacle, we have rea¬
son to conclude, that the court around the temple was
200 cubits long and 100 broad. According to this
-description, which is taken from the scripture history,
the temple of Solomon was by no riieans so large, as it
is commonly represented. Still, however, it w'as very
magnificent in size and splendid in ornament. It was
■plundered of its treasures in the reign of Rehoboam, and
repaired by Joash $ it was again spoiled in the time of
Ahaz and of Hezekiah $ and after being restored by
Josiah, was demolished by Nebuchadnezzar in the year
-of world 3416, after it had stood 476 years accord¬
ing to Josephus, and according to Usher 428 years.
The second temple wras built by the Jews, after their
Teturn from the Babylonish captivity, under the direc¬
tion and influence of Zerubbabel their governor, and of
Joshua the high-priest, with the leave and encouragement
of Cyrus the Persian emperor, to whom Judea was now
become a tributary kingdom. According to the Jews,
this temple was destitute of five remarkable appendages,
• which were the chief glory of the first temple *, viz. the
ark and mercy-seat, the Shechinah, the holy fire on the
altar, which had been first kindled from heaven, the
tirim and thummim, and the spirit of prophecy. This
temple was plundered and profaned by Antiochus Epi-
phanes, who also caused the public worship in it to cease 5
and afterwards purified by Judas Maccabgeus, who re-
-stored the divine worship *, and after having stood 50b
years, rebuilt by Herod, with a magnificence approach¬
ing to that of Solomon’s. Tacitus calls it immensce opu-
lentice templum; and Josephus says, it was the most asto¬
nishing structure he had ever seen, as well on account of
its architecture as its magnitude, and likewise the rich¬
ness and magnificence of its various parts and the re¬
putation of its sacred appurtenances. This temple,
which Herod began to build about 16 years before the
birth of Christ, and so far completed in nine years and
s, half as to be fit for divine service, was at length de¬
stroyed by the Romans on the same month and day of
the month on which Solomon’s temple was destroyed by
the Babylonians.
Maurice's The Indian temples, or pagodas, are sometimes of a
Indian An- prodigious size. They are commonly erected near the
tiquities, banks of the Ganges, Kistna, or other sacred rivers, for
the benefit of ablution in the purifying stream. Where
no river flows near the foot of the pagoda, there is in¬
variably in the front of it a large tank or reservoir of
water. These are, for the most part, of a quadrangular
form, are lined with freestone or marble, have steps re-
gularly descending from the margin to the bottom, and
Sketches * Crauford observed many between three and four
▼ol. i. ’ hundred feet in breadth. At the entrance of all the
g. i©(J. more considerable pagodas there is a portico, supported
yoI. iii
?• 353
by rows of lofty columns, and ascended by a haiubcme i
flight of stone steps; sometimes, as in the instance of1-
Tripetti *, to the number of more than a hundred. Un-*
der this portico, and in the courts that generally inclose**
the whole building, an innumerable multitude assemble*01
tit the rising of the sun *, and, having bathed in the stream
below, and in conformity to an immemorial custom over
all the East, having left their sandals on the border of
the tank, impatiently await the unfolding of the gates
by the ministering brahmin. The gate of the pagoda
universally fronts the east, to admit the ray of the solar
orb; and, opening, presents to the view an edifice par¬
titioned out, according to Mr Thevenot in bis account
of Chitanagar, in the manner of the ancient cave-temples
of Elora, having a central nave or body ; a gallery ran¬
ging on each side; and, at the farther end, a sanctuary,
or chapel of the deity adored, surrounded byastonebal-
lustrade to keep oft’ the populace. Those who wish to
peruse a more particular account of the Indian temples
may consult Maurice’s Indian Antiquities. See also
Pagoda and Seringham.
Temple, in Architecture. The ancient temples were
distinguished, with regard to their construction, into va¬
rious kinds ; as, Temple in antce, JEdes in antis. These,
according to Vitruvius, were the most simple of all
temples, having only angular pilasters, called antce-(tv
parastatce, at the corners, and two Tuscan columns on
each side of the doors. Temple tetrastyle, or simple fe-
trasfyle, was a temple that had four columns in front,
and as many behind. Such was the temple of Fortuna
Virilis at Rome. Temple prostyle, that which had on¬
ly columns in its front or foreside; as that of Ceres at
Eleusis in Greece. Temple amphiprostyle, or double
prostyle, that which had columns both before and behind,
and which was also tetrastyle. Temple periptere, A\vX
which had four rows of insulated columns around, and
was hexastyle, i. e. had six columns in front; as the
temple of Honour at Rome. Temple dfptere, that which
had two wings and two rows of columns around, and
was also octostyle, or had eight columns in front; as
that of Diana at Ephesus.
Temples, among us denote two inns of court in Lon¬
don, thus called, because anciently the dwelling-honse j
of the knights templars. At the suppression of that
order, they were purchased bv the professors of the coni- 1
mon law, and converted into hospilia or inns. They ;
are called the inner and middle temple, in relation to I
Essex-house; which was also a part of the house of the
templars, and called the outer temple, because situated
without Temple-Bar. In the middle temple, during ,
the time of the templars, the king’s treasure was kept;
as was also that of the kings of France in the house of the I
templars at Paris. The chief officer was the masterof ,
the temple, who was summoned to parliament in 47
Hen. III. and from him the chief minister of the temp
church is still called master of the temple.
Temples, in Anatomy, a double part of the head, j
reaching from the forehead and eyes to the two ears. ;
The temples are chiefly formed of two bones called o&tf i
temporis. These parts, according to physicians, were
called tempora, from their showing the age or time of a j
man by the colour of the hair, which turns white in th^
part before any other; which Homer seems to have
been aware of, by his calling men poliocrotapht, q- .
“ grey-templed.” .r
0 7 f temporal,
ijjra-
''
T EM l 2
TEMPORAL, a terar generally used for secular, as
a distinction from ecclesiastical. Tims we say temporal
lords, and spiritual or ecclesiastical lords.
TEMPORALITIES of Bishops, are the reve¬
nues, lands, tenements, and lay-fees, belonging to bi¬
shops, as they are barons and lords of parliament.
I he custody oi the temporalities ot bishops forms a
branch ot the king’s ordinary revenues (see. Rev£N(je)4
Ihese, upon the vacancy ot the bishopric, are immedi¬
ately the right ot the king, as a consequence of his pre¬
rogative in church matters: whereby he is considered
as the founder of all archbishoprics and bishoprics, to
whom, during the vacancy, they revert. And for the
same reason, before the dissolution of abbeys, the kino-
had the custody of the temporalities of all such abbeys
and priories as were of royal foundation (but not of
those founded by subjects), on the death of the abbot or
prior. Another reason may also be given why the po¬
licy of the law hath vested this custody in the king;
because, as the successor is not known, the lands and
possessions of the see would be liable to spoil and devas¬
tation if no one had a property therein. Therefore the
law has given the king, not the temporalities them¬
selves, but the custody of the temporalities, till such
time as a successor is appointed j with power of taking
to himself all the intermediate profits, without giving
any account to the successor; and with ,the right of
presenting (which the crown very frequently exercises)
to such benefices and other preferments as fall within
the time of vacation. This revenue is of so high a na¬
ture, that it could not be granted out to a subject, be¬
fore or even after it accrued : but now, by the statute
15 i-lw. II I. stat. 4. cap. 4. and 5. the king may, after
the vacancy, lease the temporalities to the dean and
cnapter; saving to himself all advowsons, escheats, and
the like. Our ancient kings, and particularly William
were not only remarkable for keeping the bishop¬
rics a long time vacantj.Tor the sake of enjoying the
temporalities, but also committed horrible wastes oil the
woods and other parts of the estate 5 and to crown all,
would never, when the see was filled up, restore to the
bishop his temporalities again, unless he purchased them
at an exorbitant price. To remedy which, King Hen. I.
granted a charter at the beginning of his rei^n, pro¬
mising neither to sell, nor let to farm, or take any
tlnng from, the domains of the church, till the successor
was installed. And it was made one of the articles of
■ e great charter, that no waste should be committed in
ie temporalities of bishoprics, neither should the cus-
°/ 0 t|iem sold. The same is ordained by the sta-
t tirir tm'nSter the first’ ur,d tlle statute 14 Ed-
yai II. stat. 4. cap. 4. (which permits a lease to the
ean and chapter) is still more explicit in prohibiting
ie ot ier exactions. It was also a frequent abuse, that
ie 'mg would, for trifling or no causes, seize the tem-
pora 1 ties °f bishops, even during their lives, into his
'n lands : but this is guarded against by statute
1 Kiw. HI. stat. 2. cap. 2.
0'r,1|S le.'jen“e king, which was formerly very
'ecT1 isnow fy a customary indulgence almost
• 1 Ce. lo no•'i)ing•, for, at present, as soon as the new
lie t'S 0o.nsecra^e^ ancl confirmed, he usually receives
[i'\S teniPoralities quite entire and un-
e rom the king j £vrc1 then, and not sooner, he has
87 ] ten
a fee-simple in his bishopric, and may maintain an ac¬
tion for the profits.
TENACITY, in Natural Philosophy, that quality
of bodies by which they sustain a considerable pressure
or force of any kind without breaking. It is the qua¬
lity opposite to fragility or brittleness. See Strength
of Materials.
IENACULUM, in Surgery, an instrument used in
amputation, tor pulling out bleeding vessels that are to
be tied by ligatures. See Surgery.
TENA1LLES and 1 See Fortification, Sect. I.
TENAILLIONS. $ § 3. and 5.
IE IN A NT, one that holds lands or tenements of
some lord or landlord, by rent, fealty, &c. See Te¬
nure.
"j^NAWIT. See Loxia, Ornithology Index.
^ee Cyprinus, Ichthyology Index.
IENDER, a small ship in the service of men of
war, for carrying men, piovisions, or any thing else that
is necessary.
. TENDONS, m Anatomy, are white,firm, and tena-'
Clous parts, contiguous to the muscles, and usually form-
ing their extremities. See Anatomy, N° 85. "
I ENEBRIO, in Natural History, a genus of insects-
belonging to the order of coleoptera. See Entomolo-1
Gy Index.
\ ^ fbOOb, in Ancient Geography, an island on the
coast oi Iroas, at. the distance of 40 stadia from the1
continent, and 80 in compass ; with a cognominal ^0-
. n town,, and a temple of Apollo Smintheus. Its ori¬
gin is derived from Tenues or Tenes, who beino- ex¬
posed m a coffer or bog by his father Cygnus the Thra¬
cian, at.the instigation of the mother-in-law, was by
i;lte £arried t0 tllls island, made king of it, and at length
worshipped as a god on account of his virtues. The*
island was famous for its earthen ware, for which pur¬
pose it had an excellent red clay ; and hence BochartT
would derive the appellation from tinedom, a “ red day.”
Tenedta seevris, is a proverbial saying to denote severity:’
Irom a law there passed, that persons found in the act of
adultery^should be put to death 5 a severity executed on'
the king’s son; and therefore, in the coins of Tenedos
on one side are two beads, in memorial of the king and’
his son, and on the reverse an axe, (Aristotle). This-
island still retains its ancient name ; and is one of the>
smallest islands of the Archipelago, situated near the
coast of Lesser Asia, west of the ruins of Troy. It is
chiefly rocky, but fertile, being remarkable for produ¬
cing the best Muscadine wine in the Levant; and its po¬
sition, thus near the mouth of the Hellespont, has given it
importance in all ages; vessels bound towards Constant^
nopie finding shelter in its port, or safe anchorage in the
road, during the Etesian or contrary winds, and in foul
weather. The emperor Justinian erected a magazine to
receive the cargoes of the corn ships from Alexandria,
when detained there. This was a lofty building, 280
feet long, and 90 broad. The voyage from Egypt was'
rendered less precarious, and the grain preserved" until if
could be transported to the capital. Afterwards, during
the troubles of the Greek empire, Tenedos experienced
a variety of fortune. The pirates, who infested these
seas, made it for many years their place of rendezvous •
and Ohman seized it in 1302, procured vessels, and'
thence subdued the other islands of the Archipelago.-
In
Tempora¬
lities
II
Tenedos.
TEN
Tenedos,
Teneriff.
Glat’s Uit-
[ 288
It lias continued in tlie possession of the Turks ever
since : and on the eastern side is a pretty large town,
seated at the foot of a mountain, with a fine harbour
commanded by a castle. E. Long. 26. O. N. Lat. 39.
42.
TENERIFF, an island of Africa, and one ot the
Canaries, being the most considerable for riches, trade,
and extent. It lies to the south ot the island ot Salva¬
ges, to the west ot the Grand Canary, to the north of
the island of Gomera, and to the east of that ot Palma.
It is of a triangular form, being about 45 miles in
length and 20 in breadth ; and in the centre is the fa¬
mous peak, called by the natives El Pico de leycle,^
which in clear weather may be seen at the distance of
120 or even 140 miles, like a thin blue vapour very
little darker than the sky.
The most frequented harbour is called Santa Cni'Z,
which is on the south side of the island, and where ships
with good anchors and cables may be sate in all wea¬
thers. At this port is the principal commercial town
in the island, called also Santa CW/2S, in the middle ot
which is a mole, built at a vast expence, for the conve¬
nience of landinir; between the mole and the torvn is a
fort called St Philip's, and near it is a steep rocky den
or valley, beginning at the sea shore, and running tar
inland, which would render the attack ot an enemy
very difficult j there are also other forts lor its detence,
all joined together by a thick stone wall, and mounted
with cannon.
* xz«- Santa Cruz.isalargetown, containingseveral churches
tot teal Ac- ancl convents, an hospital, and the best constructed pri-
buildings of any in the Canary islands. It con-
UUmds. tains about 7000 inhabitants 5 it is not fortified on the
land side, and all the country near it is dry, stony, and
barren.
About four leagues to the south of Santa Cruz, close
to the sea, there is a cave, with a church called the
chapel of our Lady of Cundtlaria, in which is an image
of the Virgin Mary,' that is held in as much reverence
here as that of Diana was at Ephesus. _ This chapel is
endowed with so many ornaments that it is the richest
place in all the seven islands. At a certain season ot the
year almost all the inhabitants go thither on pilgrimage,
and innumeiable and incredible stories are related and
universally believed concerning this image.
About four miles inland from Santa Cruz stands the
city of St Chrystobal de la Laguna, which is the me¬
tropolis of the island, and contains two parish churches
and five convents, but has no trade, being inhabited
principally by the gentry of the island. It contains, ac¬
cording to Humboldt, about 9020 inhabitants, and
stands in a plain 2200 feet above the sea, in which how¬
ever wheat is cultivated, There are many other towns
in the island which contain a great number of people,
but none are more than three leagues from the sea.
All the fertile ground within a league of the sea is
covered with vines-, that of the next league is sown with
corn, the third is ajdorned with woods, and above the
woods are the clouds, for the island gradually ascends
from the sea, rising on all sides till it terminates in the
peak, which is the centre. > ? n i 1
On the south east of the island inland from Landela-
ria is a town called Guimar, where there are some fa¬
milies which know themselves to be the genuine unmix-
] TEN
ed offspring of the original natives $ but they know no- t
thing of the manners of their ancestors, nor have they w
preserved any remains of their language. rIhey are
fairer than the Spaniards of Andalusia.
Teneriff contains about 96,000 persons, supposed to
be equal to the number of inhabitants of all the rest of
the seven islands put together. The peasants in gene¬
ral are wretchedly clothed ) when they do appear bet- tV,
ter, they are habited in the Spanish fashion. The men,
in a genteeler line, dress very gayly, and are seldom Wi
seen without long swords. It is remarked, that few ofjg,
them walk with dignity and ease ; which may be attri¬
buted to the long cloaks they usually wear. The wo¬
men wear veils j those worn by the lower ranks are of
black stuff, those of the higher of black silk-, and such
among the latter as have any claim to beauty are far from
being over careful in concealing their faces by them.
The young ladies wear their fine long black hair plait¬
ed, and fastened with a comb or a ribband on the top of
the head.
The common people, and in this they resemble the
inhabitants of most of the islands in the Pacific ocean
lately discovered, have, in them a strong tendency to
thieving ; they are besides lazv, and the most importu¬
nate beggars in the world. “ I observed likewise (says
Mr White) that the itch was so common among them,
and had attained such a degree of virulence, that one
would almost be led to believe it was epidemic there.
Some of the women are so abandoned and shameless,
that it would he doing an injustice to the prostitutes
met with in the streets of London to say they are like
them. The females of every degree are said to be of
an amorous constitution, and addicted to intrigue ; for
which no houses could be better adapted than those in
Teneriff.
“ 'fhe manufactures carried on here are very few,
and the product ot them little more than sufficient for
their own consumption. rl hey consist of taffeties,
gauze, coarse linens, blankets, a little silk, and curious
garters. The principal dependence of the inhabitants
is on their wine (their staple commodity), oil, coin,
and every kind of stock for shipping. With thpse the
island abounds } and, in their season, producesnot only
the tropical fruits, but the vegetable productions of the
European gardens, in the greatest plenty.”
The height of the peak of Teneriff has been variously
estimated and calculated by different travellers and geo¬
graphers. Dr Halley allows but two miles and a quarter
from the level of the sea to the summit of the sugar-loaf,^
whilst the Spanish account of the Canary islands, ti ansla-^
ted by Mr Glas in 1763, makes it no less than five nines.
Borda, however, found its height by trigonometuca
measurement to lie 1905 tnises, or 12,181 feet.
boldt has described the different zones characterised by
certain vegetables on the sides ot this mountain. -
the bottom lies a plain 3320 above the sea, to
vered chiefly with arborescent heaths, in which there is
a spring whose temperature is 6o° Fahrenheit. Above
this is the region of arborescent ferns, which 1S SI,C^
ceeded by one of junipers and pines. Next to this,11
the height of 9100 feet, is a sandy plain, characterise^
by the spartium nubigenum, a species of broom. ^
above this the surface is nearly covered with masses 0
obsidian and pumice j and a little higher, traces 0
O
feriffe
f isrs.
TEN [2
gelation almost entirely tlisappear. Near the summit,
and before sunrise, the travellers observed a singular
phenomenon; luminous points floating and moving in
the air, which proved to be the images of several stars,
magnified by vapours. Humboldt saw the sun rise from
a place near the summit, and found that the upper limb
of that luminary was visible 12 minutes 55 seconds
sooner than it should be in the plain by calculation.
The crater is surrounded by a parapet of compact lava,
and is of an elliptical form, 300 feet long by 200
broad. At the bottom the heat was perceptible only at
a few crevices, from which the aqueous vapours issued
with a buzzing noise. When thrust into these the
thermometer rose to 122 or 135 of Fahrenheit. The
valours consist of pure water. The depth of the crater
is about HO feet. The temperature at the summit was
37° in the middle of June. The air was extremely
clear, the sky of the deepest blue, and prospect most
magnificent.
TENESMUS, in Medicine, is a continual desire of
going to stool, but without any stool being ready to be
voided. See Medicine, N° hi.
TENIERS, David, the Elder, a Flemish painter,
born at Antwerp in 1582. He received the first rudi¬
ments of bis art from the famous Rubens, who highly
esteemed him for his promising genius, and with great
satisfaction examined and commended his designs. From
the school of that celebrated painter Teniers went to
finish his studies at Rome. He attached himself to A-
dam Elsheimer for six years ; and from the instructions
of two such incomparable masters, he formed to himself
a peculiar style, which his son cultivated so happily af¬
terward as to bring it to the utmost perfection. His
pictures were small; and his subjects usually shops, ela-
horatories, humorous conversations, and rural festivi¬
ties. The demand for his pieces was universal ; and
even his master Rubens thought them an ornament to
his cabinet. He died at Antwerp in 1640.
Teniers, David, the Younger, also an admirable
painter, was the son of the former, and was horn at
Antwerp in 1610. He obtained the name of Ape of
Painting, from his imitating the manner of different
painters with such exactness as to deceive even the
nicest judges. He improved greatly under his father,
and obtained such reputation as introduced him to the
favour of the great. The archduke Leopold William
made him gentleman of his bedchamber; and all the
pictures of his gallery were copied by Teniers, and en¬
graved by his direction. The king of Spain and Don
Juan of Austria set so high a value on his pictures,
that they built a gallery on purpose for them. Wil¬
liam prince of Orange honoured him with his friend¬
ship; and Rubens not only esteemed his works, but as¬
sisted him with his advice. His principal talent lay in
•andscapes, adorned with small figures. He also painted
men drinking and smoking, chemists elaboratories,
country fairs, and the like. His small figures are su¬
perior to his large ones. He died in 1694.
The works of the father and son are thus distinguish¬
ed The latter discover a finer touch and fresher pen-
greater variety of attitudes, and a better disposi¬
tion of the figures. The father retained something of
ke tone of Italy in his colouring, which was stronger
an ihe son’s; besides, the son used to put at the bot¬
tom of his pictures, David Teniers, junior.
Vol. XX. Part I. t
89 ] T E N
Abraham, another son of David the Elder, was Teniers
equal, it not superior, to his father and brother in the |1
expression of his characters, and his understanding the Tennis.
claro obscuro; though lie was inferior in tiie sprightli* v
ness of his touch, and the lightness of his pencil.
1ENISON, Dr Thomas, archbishop of Canter¬
bury, was horn at Cottenham in Cambridgeshire in
1636; and studied at Corpus Christ! college in Cam¬
bridge. In his youth, while the fanatical government
lasted, he applied himself to physic; but afterward went
into orders, and was some time minister of St Andrew’s
church, Cambridge; where he attended the sick during
the plague in 1665, "diich his parishioners acknowled¬
ged by the present of a piece of plate. He showed him¬
self very active against the growth of Popery, by his
writings both in King Charles’s and in King James’s
reigns: in 1680 he was presented to the vicarage of St
Martin’s jn the Fields, London, to which parish he made
several donations; and among others, endowed a free
school, and built a handsome library, which he furnish¬
ed with useful hooks. King William and Queen Mary,
in 1689, presented him to the archdeaconry of Lon¬
don ; in 1691, he was nominated to the see of Lincoln,
and in 1694 he succeeded Dr Tillotson as archbishop of
Canterbury. He performed all the duties of a good
primate for 20 years, and died in 1715.
TENNIS, a play at which a ball is driven by a
racket.
As many persons would become players at tennis, pro- Hoy’e's
vided they could easily understand the rudiments of the Ga^s I?7t'
game, so as to form some judgment of the players, or at^Tf^f ^
least to know who wins and who loses, we have here at- L
tempted to give so plain a description of it, that no one
can he at a loss, if ever he should belt or play. As to
the executive part, it requires great practice to make a
good player, so that nothing can he done without it;
all we presume to do is to give an insight into the game,
whereby a person may not seem a total stranger to it
when he happens to be in a tennis court.
The game of tennis is played in most capital cities in
Europe, particularly in France, from whence we may
venture to derive its origin. It is esteemed with many
to be one of the most ancient games in Christendom,
and long before King Charles I.’s time it was played in
England.
This game is as intricate as any game whatever ; a
person who is totally ignorant of it may look on for a
month together, without being able to make out how
the game is decided. Therefore we shall begin by de¬
scribing the court in which it is played.
The size of a tennis court is generally about 96 or
97 feet by 33 or 34, there being no exact dimension
ascribed to its proportion, a foot more or less in length
or width being of no consequence. A line or net hangs
exactly across the middle, over which the ball must he
struck, either with a racket or board to make the stroke
good. Upon the entrance of a tennis-court, there is a
long gallery which goes to the dedans, that is, a kind of
front gallery, where spectators usually stand, into which,
whenever a ball is struck, it tells for a certain stroke.
This long gallery is divided into different compartiments
or galleries, each of which has its particular name, as
follows ; from the line towards the dedans are thej^r.s£
gallery, door, second gallery, and the last gallery, which
is called the service side. From the dedans to the last
D 0 gallery
t
TEN [ 290 ] TEN
Tennis, gallery are the figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, at a yard distance
 v each, by which the chaces are marked, and is one of
the most essential parts of the game, as will appear in
the following description.
On the other side of the line are also the first gallery,
door, second gallery, and last gallery ; which is called the
hazard-side. Every ball struck into the last gallery on
this side reckons for a certain stroke the same as the de¬
dans. Between the second and this last gallery are the
figures 1, 2, to mark the chaces on the hazard-side.
Over this long gallery, or these compartiments, is a
covering, called the pent-house, on which they play the
ball from the service-side, in order to begin a set of ten¬
nis, from which it is called a service. When they miss
putting the ball (so as to rebound from the pent-house)
over a certain line on the service side, it is deemed a
fault, two of which are reckoned tor a stroke. It the
ball rolls round the pent-house, on the opposite side of
the court, so as to fall beyond a certain line described
for that purpose, it is called passe, reckons for nothing
on either side, and the player must serve again.
On the right-hand side of the court from the dedans
is what they call the tambour, a part of the wall which
projects, and is so contrived in order to make a variety
in the stroke, and render it more difficult to be returned
by the adversary 5 for when a ball strikes the tambour,
it varies its direction, and requires some extraordinary
judgment to return it over the line. The last thing on
the right hand side is called the grill, wherein if the
ball is struck, it is also 15, or a certain stroke.
The game of tennis is played by what they call sets ;
a set of tennis consists of six games : but if they play
what is called an advantage-set, two above five games
must be won on one side or the other successively, in or¬
der to decide ; or, if it comes to six games all, two
games must still be won on one side to conclude the set 5
so that an advantage-set may last a considerable time j
for which kind of sets the court is paid more than for
any other.
We must now describe the use of the chaces, and by
what means these chaces decide or interfere so much in
the game. When the player gives his service at the be¬
yinning of a set, his adversary is supposed to return the
ball ; and wherever it falls after the first rebound un¬
touched, the chace is called accordingly ; for example,
if the ball falls at the figure I, the chace is called at a
yard, that is to say, at a yard from the dedans : this
chace remains till a second service is given } and if the
player on the service side lets the ball go after his ad¬
versary returns it, and if the ball falls on or between any
of these figures or chaces, they must change sides, there
being two chaces; and he who then will be on the
hazard side, must play to win the first chace j which if
he wins by striking the ball so as to fall, after its first
rebound, nearer to the dedans than the figure 1, with¬
out his adversary’s being able to return it from its first
hop, he wins a stroke, and then proceeds in like manner
to win the second chace, wherever it should happen to
be. If a ball falls on the line with the first gallery
door, second gallery, or last gallery, the chace is like¬
wise called at such or such a place, naming the gallery,
door, &c. When it is just put over the line, it is called
a cbace at the line. If the player on the service- side re¬
turns a ball with such force as to strike the wall on the
hazard-side so as to rebound, after the first hop over the
line, it is also called a chace at the line.
4
The chaces on the hazard-side proceed from the ball Tt
being returned either too hard or not quite hard enough;
so that the ball after its first rebound falls on this side of
the blue line, or line which describes the hazard-side
chaces; in which case it is a chace at 1, 2, &c. provid¬
ed there is no chace depending. When they change
sides, the player, in order to win this chace, must put
the ball over the line anywhere, so that his adversary
does not return it. When there is no chace on the
hazard-side, all balls put over the line from the service-
side, without being returned, reckon for a stroke.
As the game depends chiefly upon the marking, it
will be necessary to explain it, and to recommend those
who play at tennis to have a good and unbiassed marker,
for on him the whole set may depend : he can mark in
favour of the one and against the other in such a manner,
as will render it two to one at starting, though even
players. Instead of which the marker should be very
attentive to the chaces, and not be anyway partial to
either of the players.
This game is marked in a very singular manner,
which makes it at first somewhat difficult to understand.
'I he first stroke is called 15, the second 30, the third
40, and the fourth game, unless the players get four
strokes each ; in that case, instead of calling it 40 all,
it is called deuce ; after which, as soon as any stroke is
got, it is called advantage; and incase the strokes be¬
come equal again, deuce again, till one or the other gets
two strokes following, which win the game ; and as the
games are won, so they are marked and called ; as one
game love, two games to one, &c. towards the set, of
which so many of these games it consists.
Although but one ball at a time is played with, a
number of balls are made use of at this game to avoid
trouble, and are handed to the players in baskets for
that purpose ; by which means they can play as long as
they please, without ever having occasion to stoop for a
ball.
There are various methods of giving odds at tennis,
in order to make a match equal; and that they may be
understood, we shall give the following list of them, with
their meanings, so that any person may form a judge¬
ment of the advantage received or given.
The lowest odds that can be given, excepting the
choice of the sides, is what they call a bisque, that is, a
stroke to be taken or scored whenever the player, who
receives the advantage, thinks proper: for instance, sup¬
pose a critical game of the set to be forty thirty, by tak¬
ing the bisque, he who is forty becomes game, and so in
respect of two bisques, &c.
The next greater odds are fifteen, that is, a certain
stroke given at the beginning of each game.
After these, half thirty, that is, fifteen one game, a,Ki
thirty the next. Then follow the whole thirty, forty, CLC'
There are also the following kind of odds which are
given, viz. _ .
Round services ; those are services given round toe
pent-house, so as to render it easy for the striker out
(the player who is on the hazard side) to return the bai •
Half court, that is, being obliged or confined to pla]f
into the adversary’s half-court; sometimes it is play-rt
straighlwise, and at other times across ; both whichar® j
great advantages given by him so confined, but thestrai1
half-court is the greatest.
Touch no-wall, that is, being obliged to play Wy11,11
the compass of the walls, or sides of the court. Tb|S ,s
TEN [ 291 ] TEN
a considerable advantage to him who receives it •, as all
the balls must he played gently, and consequently they
are much easier to take than those which are played hard,
or according to the usual method of play.
Barring the hazards, that is, barring the dedans, tam¬
bour, grill, or the last gallery on the hazard-side, or any
particular one or more of them.
These are the common kind of odds or advantages
given ; but there are many others, which are according
to what is agreed by the players : such as playing with
board against racket, cricket-bat against racket, &c.
The game of tennis is also played by four persons,
two partners on each side, fn this case, they are gene-
ally confined to their particular quarters, and one of
each side appointed to serve and strike out 3 in every
other respect, the game is played in the same manner as
when twm only play.
Any thing more to be said upon this subject would
be needless, as nothing can be recommended after read¬
ing this short account of tennis, but practice and atten¬
tion, without which no one can become a proficient at
the game.
TENOR, or Tenour, the purport or content of a
writing or instrument in law, &c.
Tenor, in Music, the first mean, or middle' part, or
that which is the ordinary pitch of the voice, when nei¬
ther raised to a treble nor lowered to a bass.
TENNESSEE, one of the United States of North
America. It is bounded on the north by Kentucky
and Virg inia 3 south by the states of Mississippi and
Georgia, and the territory of Alibama; east by North
Carolina; and west by the river Mississippi. The
parallel ot 350 and 36° 30' forms the southern and nor¬
thern boundaries. The area is about 40,000 square
English miles. In point of soil and climate this is one
of the most favoured states in the Union. In the eas¬
tern parts the country is mountainous, in the western
it is finely diversified with low hills 3 and every where
it is well watered, covered with excellent wood, and
aflording when broken up most productive crops.
Wheat, barley, rye, maize, flax, hemp, tobacco, indi¬
go, rice, and cotton, thrive luxuriantly. Lands of the
first and second quality are too rich for wheat till they
have been reduced by other crops. On Cumberland
river the common produce of Indian corn is 60 to 70
bushels an acre ; that of cotton is usually 800 pounds
an acre. Vegetation is six or seven weeks earlier than
in the eastern states. T he rivers are scarcely ever
frozen, and the snow seldom continues more than ten
or twelve days. In some of the low grounds bilious
fever prevails 3 but in general this state is one of the
healthiest in North America.
I he principal rivers are the Tennessee with its
branches, and the Cumberland. The former is naviga¬
ble for boats 500 miles, with one interruption, and by
its branches a considerable way farther. The latter is
navigable lor boats of 20 tons to Nashville, 200 miles
llp, and for small craft 150 miles farther.
^ Iron ores are abundant in this state, and lead ore is
a'S° found. Limestone is common 3 gypsum and slate
c'ist in some places. Nitre is found in prodigious
quantities in vast natural caves of a wonderful extent,
some ot which have large streams running through them.
e natural forests furnish wood of all kinds and of
excellent quality. The wild animals consist of deer,
jears, panthers, wolves, wild cats, racoons, foxes, bea¬
vers, &c. I he animals of prey are seldom seen near Tennessee
cultivated tracts. |j
inis state W'as first settled in 1774» und was admit- Tenter,
ted into the union in 1796. Its population in 1791 was
onl7 35^91 5 but in 1810 had increased to 261,727,
of whom 44,535 were slaves. The inhabitants are
good horsemen, expert in the use of the rifle, active
and enterprising, but addicted to gaming and fighting.
The legislature consists of a senate and house of^repre¬
sentatives, elected by all the free citizens of 21 years
of age, who have resided six months in the state. The
executive power is vested in a governor elected for two
yeais. 1 he judges are appointed by the legislature
during good behaviour. The religious denomination*
are Presbyterians, Baptists, Roman Catholics, Metho¬
dists, and Episcopalians. There are four colleges in
the state, none ot which have yet acquired much cele¬
brity. 1 he value of lands and houses in this state, as
ascertained by the assessment, in 1799 was 6,134,108
dollars 3 and in 1814 it was 24,233,750, exclusive of
slaves. The value ot the manufactures of this state,
which are chiefly domestic, was found to be, 3,611,029
in 1810. Tennessee being entirely an inland state, its
commerce is carried on chiefly through New Orlean®,
and hence the value of its exports does not appear.
They consist principally of saltpetre, tobacco, corn,
hogs, and cattle. The imports are dry goods, groceries,
tkc. Maple sugar is generally made by the farmers
themselves. A single tree on an average yields from 1 3
f'0 ^5 gallons of sap, from which four or five pounds of
sinjar is extracted. The quantity made in the state in
1810 amounted to 162,340 pounds.
TENSE, in Grammar, an inflection of verbs, where¬
by they are made to signify or distinguish the circum¬
stance of time in what they affirm. See Grammar.
TENT, in iFiar, a pavilion or portable house. Tents
are made of canvas, for officers and soldiers to lie under
when in the field. The size of the officers tents is not
fixed 3 some regiments have them of one size and some
of another 3 a captain’s tent and marquee is generallv
lo|- feet broad, 14 deep, and 8 high : the subalterns are
a foot less ; the major’s and lieutenant-colonel’s a foot
larger 3 and the colonel’s two feet larger. The subal¬
terns of fool lie two in a tent, and those of horse but
one. 'The tents of private men are 67 feet square, and
5 feet high, and hold five soldiers each. 'The tents for
horse are 7 feet broad and 9 feet deep : they hold like¬
wise five men and their horse accoutrements.—The word
is formed from the Latin tentorium,of tendo, “Istretch,”
because tents are usually made of canvas stretched out,
and sustained by poles, with cords and pegs.
Tent, in Surgery, a roll of lint made into the shape of
a nail with a broad flat head, chiefly used in deep wounds
and ulcers. They are of service, not only in conveying
medicines to the most intimate recesses and sinuses of the
wound, hut to prevent the lips of the wound from uniting
before it is healed fiom the bottom ; and by tbeir assis¬
tance grumous blood, sordes, &c. are readily evacuated.
TENTER, 'Trier, or Prover, a machine used in
the cloth manufactory, to stretch out the pieces of cloth,
stuff, &c. or only to make them even and set them
square.
It is usually about 44 feet high, and for length ex¬
ceeds that of the longest piece of cloth. It consists of
several long square pieces of wood, placed like those
which form the barriers of a manege 3 so, however, as
o 0 2 that
TEN [ 292 ] TEN
Tenter
Tenths
Mlackst.
Comment,
voI. i.
that the lower cross pieces of wood may be raised or
lowered as is found requisite, to be fixed at any height
by means of pins. Along the cross pieces, both the up¬
per and the under one, are hooked nails, called tenter¬
hooks, driven in from space to space.
To put a piece, of cloth on the Tenter. While the
piece is yet quite wet, one end is fastened to one ot the
ends of the tenter j then it is pulled by force of arms to¬
wards the other end, to bring it to the length required :
that other end being fastened, the upper list is hooked
on to the upper cross-piece, and the lowest list to the
lowest cross piece, which is afterwards lowered by force
till the piece have its desired breadth. Being thus well
stretched, both as tf> length ami breadth, they brush it
with a stiff hair brush, and thus let it dry. Then they
take it off 5 and, till they wet it again, it will retain the
length and breadth the tenter gave it.
TENTHREDO, the Saw-fly ; a genus of insects
belonging to the order of hymenoptera. See Entomo¬
logy Index.
TENTHS, and First Fruits of Spiritual Prcfer-
inc7its, a branch of the king’s revenue. See Revenue.
These were originally a part of the Papal usurpations
over the clergy of this kingdom j first introduced by
Pandulph the pope’s legate, during the reigns of King
John and Henry III. in the see of Norwich j and after¬
wards attempted to be made universal by the popes Cle¬
ment V. and John XXII. about the beginning of the
14th century. The first fruits, primitice or annates,
were the first year’s whole profits of the spiritual prefer¬
ment, according to a rate or valor made under the di¬
rection of Pope Innocent IV. by Walter bishop of Nor¬
wich in 38 Hen. III. and afterwards advanced in value
by commission from Pope Nicholas III. A. D. 1202, 20
Edw. 1.5 which valuation of Pope Nicholas is still pre¬
served in the exchequer. The tenths, or decimce, were
the tenth part of the annual profit of each living by the
same valuation ; which was also claimed by the holy see,
under no better pretence than a strange misapplication
of that precept of the Levitical law, which directs, that
the Levites “ should offer the tenth part of their tithes
as a heave offering to the Lord, and give it to Aaron
the highpriest.” But this claim of the pope met with
vigorous resistance from the English parliament^ and a
variety of acts were passed to prevent and restrain it,
particularly the statute 6 Hen. IV. c. 1. which calls it
a horrible mischief and damnable custom. But the Po¬
pish clergy, blindly devoted to the will of a foreign mas¬
ter, still kept it on foot j sometimes more secretly, some¬
times more openly and avowedly : so that in the reign of
Henry VIII. it was computed, that in the compass of 50
years 820,000 ducats had been sent to Rome for first
fruits only. And as the clergy expressed this willing¬
ness to contribute so much of their income to the head of
the church, it was thought proper (when in the same reign
the papal power was abolished, and the king was decla¬
red the head of the church of England) to annex this
revenue to the crown ; which was done by statute 26
Hen. VIII. c. 3. (confirmed by statute 1 Eliz. c. 4.) j
and a new valor benefeiorum was then made, by which
the clergy are at present rated.
By these last-mentioned statutes all vicarages under
ten pounds a-year, and all rectories under ten marks,
are discharged from the payment of first fruits : and if,
in such livings as continue chargeable with this payment,
the incumbent lives but half a year, he shall pay only
one quarter of his first fruits ; if but one whole year, -j
then halfof them ; if a year and a half, three quarters; '1
and if two years, then the whole, and not otherwise.
Likewise by the statute 27 Hen. VIII. c. 8. no tenths
are to be paid for the first year, for then the first fruits
are due : and by other statutes of Queen Anne, in the
fifth and sixth years of her reign, if a benefice be under
50I. per annum clear yearly value, it shall be discharged
of the payment of first fruits and tenths.
Thus the richer clergy being, by the criminal bigo¬
try of their Popish predecessors, subjected at first to a
foreign exaction, were afterwards, when that yoke was
shaken oft", liable to a like misapplication of their reve¬
nues through the rapacious disposition of the then reign¬
ing monarch j till at length the piety of Queen Anno
restored to the church what had been thus indirectly
taken from it. This she did, not by remitting the tenths
and first fruits entirely 5 but, in a spirit of the truest
equity, by applying these superfluities of the larger be¬
nefices to make up the deficiencies of the smaller. And
to this end she granted her royal charter, which was con¬
firmed by the statute 2 Ann. c. 11. whereby all the reve¬
nue of first fruits and tenths is vested in trustees forever,
to form a perpetual fund for the augmentation of poor li¬
vings. This is usually called Qpieen Anne'1 s bounty; which
has been still farther regulated by subsequent statutes.
TENURE, in Law, signifies the manner whereby
lands or tenements are held, or the service that the te¬
nant owes to his lord.
Of this kingdom almost all the real property is by the
policy of our laws supposed to be granted by, dependent
upon, and holden of, some superior lord, by and in consi¬
deration of certain services to be rendered to the lord by
the tenant or possessor of this property. The thing holden
is therefore styled a tenement, the possessors thereof te¬
nants, and the manner of their possession a tenure. Thus
all the lands in the kingdom are supposed to be holden,
mediately or immediately, of the king j who is styled the
lord paramount, or above all. Such tenants as held un-^te
der the king immediately, when they granted out por-Cow
tions of the lands to inferior persons, became also lordsTOk
with respect to those inferior persons, as they were still
tenants with respect to the king; and thus partaking of
a middle nature, were called mesne or tniddlelords. So
that if the king granted a manor to A, and he granted a
portion of the land to B, now B w as said to hold of A,
and A of the king ; or, in other words, B held his lands
immediately of A, but mediately of the king. The king
therefore,was styled lord paramount: A was both tenant
and lord, or was a mesne lord; and B was called tenant
paravail or the lowest tenant, being he who was supposed
to make avail or profit of the land. In this manner are
all the lands of the kingdom holden which are in the
hands of subjects : for, according to Sir Edward Coke,
in the law of England we have not properly allodium,
which is the name by which the feudists abroad distin¬
guish such estates of the subject as are not holden of any
superior. So that at the first glance we may observe,
that our lands are either plainly feuds, or partake verj
strongly of the foedal nature.
All tenures being thus derived, or supposed to be
derived, from the king, those that held immediately
under him, in right of his crown and dignity, vvere
called his tenants in capite, or in chief; which was tne
most honourable species of tenure, but at the same time
subjected the tenants to greater and more burdensome
J 6 service*
TEN [ 293 ]
T E N
services than inferior tenures tlid. And this distinc¬
tion ran through all the diflerent sorts of tenure.
There seem to have subsisted among our ancestors four
principal species of lay-tenures, to which all other maybe
reduced : the grand criteria of which were the natures of
the several services or renders that were due to the lords
from their tenants. The services, in respect of their qua¬
lity, were either free or base services: in respect of their
quantity and thetimeof exacting them, wereeitherccftora
or uncertain. Free services were such as were not unbe¬
coming the character of a soldier or a freeman to perform j
as to serve under his lord in the wars, to pay a sum of
money, and the like. Base services were such as were
fit only for peasants or persons of a servile rank *, as to
plough the lord’s land, to make his hedges, to carry out
his dung, or other mean employments. The certain ser¬
vices, whether free or base, were such as were stinted in
quantity, and could not be exceeded on any pretence j
as, to pay a stated annual-rent, or to plough such a field
for three days. The uncertain depended upon unknown
contingencies j as, to do military service in person, or
pay an assessment in lieu of it when called upon ; or to
wind a horn upon the appearance of invaders; which are
free services ; or to do whatever the lord should com¬
mand ; which is a base or villein service.
From the various combinations of these services have
arisen the four kinds of lay-tenure which subsisted in
England till the middle of the last century ; and three
of which subsist to this day. Of these Bracton (who
wrote under Henry III.) seems to give the clearest and
most compendious account of any author ancient or mo¬
dern ; ol which the following is the outline or abstract:
“ Tenements are of two frank-tenement, and vil-
ienage. And of frank-tenements, some are held freely
in consideration of homage and knight-service; others in
Iree-socage, with the service of fealty only. And again,
of villenages, some axe pure, and others privileged. He
that holds in pure villenage shall do whatsoever is com¬
manded him, and always be bound to an uncertain ser¬
vice. The other kind of villenage is called villein-soc-
oge; and these villein-socmen do villein services, but
such as are certain and determined.” Of which the
sense seems to be as follows ; first, where the service
was free, but uncertain, as military service with homage,
that tenure was called the tenure in chivalry, per servi-
tium mihtare, or by knight-service. Secondly, where
the service was not only free, but also certain, as by
iealty only, by rent and fealty, &c. that tenure was
called liberum socagium, ox free socage. These were the
only free holdings or tenements ; the others were ville-
nous or servile: as, thirdly, where the service was base
in its nature, and uncertain as to time and quantity, the
tenure was purum vitlenagium, absolute or pure villen-
age. Lastly, where the service was base in its nature,
but reduced to a certainty, this was still villenage, but
distinguished from the other by the name of privileged
alienage, villenagium privilegiatum; or it might be still
caked socage (from the certainty of its services), but de¬
graded by their baseness into the inferior title of villa-
num socagium, villein-socage.
lt fhe military tenure, or that by knight-service,
"as done away by stat. 12 Car. II. For an account
® this species of tenure see Feodal System, and
^IGUT-Service; and for its incidents, see Belief,
Rimer seisin, Wardship, Marriage, Fines, and
Escheat.
2. The second species of tenure or free-socage, not
only subsists to this day, but has in a manner absorbed
and swallowed up (since the statute of Charles the Se¬
cond) almost every other species of tenure. Se So¬
cage.
The other grand division of tenure, mentioned by
Bracton, is that of villenage, as contradistinguished
from liberum ienementum, or frank-tenure. And this
(we may remember) he subdivides into two classes, pure
and privileged villenage : from whence have arisen two
other species of our modern tenures.
3. From the tenure of pure villenage have sprung our
present copyhold tenures, or tenure by copy of court-
roll at the will of the lord ; in order to obtain a clear
idea of which, it will be previously necessary to consult
the articles Manor and Villenage.
As a farther consequence of what has been there ex¬
plained, we may collect these two main principles, which
are held to be the supporters of a copyhold-tenure, and
without which it cannot exist: 1. That the lands be
parcel of and situate within that manor under which it
is held. 2. That they have been demised, or demisable,
by copy of court-roll immemorially. For immemorial cus¬
tom is the life of all tenures by copy; so that no new
copyhold can, strictly speaking, be granted at this day.
In some manors, where the custom hath been to per¬
mit the heir to succeed the ancestor in his tenure, the
estates are styled copyholds of inheritance; in others,
where the lords have been more vigilant to maintain
their rights, they remain copyholds for life only ; for
the custom of the manor has in both cases so far super¬
seded the will of the lord, that, provided the services be
performed or stipulated for by fealty, he cannot in the
first instance refuse to admit the heir of his tenant upon
his death; nor, in the second, can he remove his present
tenant so long as he lives, though he holds nominally by
the precarious tenure of his lord’s will.
The fruits and appendages of a copyhold-tenure, that
it hath in common w'ith free tenures, are fealty, services
(as well in rents as otherwise), reliefs, and eschea.ts.
The two latter belong only to copyholds of inheritance ;
the former to those for life also. But, besides these,
copyholds have also heriots, wardship, and fines. He-
riots, vfliich are agreed to be a Danish custom, are a
render of the best beast or other good (as the custom
may be) to the lord on the death of the tenant. This
is plainly a relic of villein tenure ; there being original¬
ly less hardship in it, when all the goods and chattels
belonged to the lord, and he might have seized them
even in the villein’s lifetime. These are incident to
both species of copyhold ; but wardship and hues to
those of inheritance only. Wardship, in copyhold-
estates, partakes both of that in chivalry and that in so¬
cage. Like that in chivalry, the lord is the legal guar¬
dian, who usually assigns some relation of the infant
tenant to act in his stead: and he, like guardian in so¬
cage, is accountable to his ward for the profits. Of
fines, some are in the nature of primer-seisms, due ou
the death of each tenant, others are mere fines for ali¬
enations of the lands ; in some manors, only one of those
sorts can be demanded, in some both, and in others
neither. They are sometimes arbitrary and at the will
of the lord, sometimes fixed by custom; but, even when
arbitrary, the courts of law, in favour ol the liberty of
copyholders, have tied them down to be reasonable in
their extent; otherwise they might amount to disherison
of
Tenure.
TEN f 294. ] TEN
Tcnnre. of the estate. No fine therefore is allowed to be taken
——v——' upon descents and alienations (unless in particular cir¬
cumstances) of more than two years improved values of
the estate. From this instance we may judge of the
favourable disposition that the law of England (which
is a law of liberty) hath always shown to this species
of tenants, by removing, as far as possible, every real
badge of slavery from them, however some nominal ones
may continue. It suffered custom very early to get the
better of the express terms upon which they held their
lands j by declaring that the will of the lord was to be
interpreted by the custom of the manor ; and, where
no custom has been sufiered to grow up to the prejudice
of the lord, as in this case of arbitrary fines, the law it¬
self interposes in an equitable method, and will not suf¬
fer the lord to extend his power so far as to disinherit
the tenant.
4. There is yet a fourth species of tenure, described
by Bracton, under the name sometimes of 'privileged
villenage, and sometimes of villein socage. See Privi¬
leged Villen age.
Having in the present article, and those referred to,
taken a compendious view of the principal and funda¬
mental points of the doctrine of tenures, both ancient
and modern, we cannot but remark the mutual connec¬
tion and dependence that all of them have upon each
other. And upon the whole it appears, that, whatever
changes and alterations these tenures have in process of
time undergone, from the Saxon era to the 12 Car. II.
all lay-tenures are now in effect reduced to two species j
free tenure in common socage, and base tenure by copy
of court-roll. But there is still behind one other species
of tenure, reserved by the statute of Charles ]I. which is
of a spiritual nature, and called the tenure in Fbank-
Ahnoign ; see that article.
A particular account of the ancient tenures would to
many persons be highly amusing. We can only select a
few of the most singular, referring the curious reader for
more information to Anderson’s Origin of Commerce,
Henry’s History of Britain, and Blount’s Fragmenta
Antiquitates.
In the 19th of Henry III. Walter Gatelv held the
manor of Westcourt, in Bedington in Surry, yielding
yearly to the king one cross-bow, balistam, value twelve
pence.
Anno tertio Edw. I. Osbert de Lonchamp, knight,
held his lands of Ovenhelle, in Kent, for personally
guarding the king forty days into Wales at his own
expence, with one horse of five shillings value, one sack
worth sixpence, and one broch for that sack. N. B.
All personal services, or attendances on our kings in
those times, were limited to forty days, at their own
expence.
The like the same year of Laurence de Broke, who
for his hamlet of Benham in Middlesex, found the
king one soldier, a horse worth five shillings, a sack
worth fivepence, and a broch worth twopence (this
broch was a kind of cup, jug, pot, or bason), for forty
days, at bis own expence, wherever bis army shall be
within the four seas. This was settled (says Mr Blount)
at the Stone Cross, which stood near the May-pole in
the Strand, London, where the judges-itinerant used in
old times to sit.
Robert Maunsel’s tenure of lands in Peverel paid
the same service, and the horse, sack, and broch of the
same prices. v
lyno Edw. I. Henry de Averning’s tenure of the
manor of Morton in Essex, was to find a man, a horse
worth ten shillings, four horse-shoes, a leather sack, and
an iron broch.
The year following three persons held thirty acres of
land in Carleton in Norfolk, by the service of bringing
the king, whenever he shall be in England, twenty-four
pasties of fresh herrings at their first coming in.
Another held his manor in Norfolk of that king, by
annually supplying him at his exchequer with two ves¬
sels, called nines, of wine made of pearmains. “ Here
(says our author) it is worth observing, that in King
Edward the First’s time pearmain cyder was called
wineP This therefore seems to account for the men¬
tion of vineyards in old times in Kent, Sussex, and
other parts of England, which has so often puzzled ma¬
ny people to elucidate.
Another person, in the 21st of the said king, held
thirty acres of land, valued at ten shillings yearly in
the exchequer, or four-pence per acre, in Cambridge¬
shire, for furnishing a truss of hay for the king’s ne¬
cessary-house or privy, whenever he shall come into that
county.
Another, in the 34th of that king, held a manor in
Kent for providing a man to lead three greyhounds
when the king shall go into Gascony, so long as a pair
of shoes of fourpence should last.
And that we may not again recur to these old te¬
nures, we shall further add, from the same author, that
in the first year of King Edward II. Peter Spileman
made fine to the king for his lands by serjeanty, to find
one to serve as a soldier for forty days in England, with
a coat of mail 5 also to find straw for the king’s bed,
and hay for his horse.
This article of straw for the king’s bed we did not
so much wonder at, when we found it in an article in
Will iam the Conqueror’s time*, but it is somewhat more
remarkable so late as the days of King Edward II.
Several others, we find, held their lands of the crown
in those times by very different tenures. One, by pay¬
ing two white capons annually ; another, by carrying
the king’s standard whenever he happens to lie in the
county of Sussex ; another, by carrying a rod or batoon
before the king on certain occasions j another, by ser¬
ving the office of chamberlain of the exchequer, a very
good place at present ; another, by building and up¬
holding a bridge ; another, by being marethal [mere-
tricvni), i. e. as Mr Blount translates it, of the laun¬
dresses in the king’s army j another, by acting as a Ser¬
jeant at arms for the king’s army whilst in England;
one supplies a servant for the king’s larder; another,
for his wardrobe ; others, to find servants for this or
that forest ; another, a hawk ; one presents the king a
pair of scarlet hose annually ; others are bound to sup¬
ply soldiers with armour for certain days, for the keep¬
ing this or that castle ; one, viz. for the manor of Al¬
ston in Nottinghamshire, pays yearly rent of one pound
weight of cummin seed, two pair of gloves, and a steel
needle; another, is to repair the iron-work of the king’
ploughs ; Ela countess of Warwick, in the 13th yeav
of King Edward I. held the manor of Hokenorton in
Oxfordshire, in the baronv of D’Oylv, by the serjeanty
oi
ter [ 295 ] TER
fe of carving at the king’s table on Ills birth-clay, and she
to have the knife the king then uses at table.
»• TEOS, one of the twelve Ionian cities, was situated
on the south side of the Ionian peninsula, and distinguish¬
ed by being the place where the poet Anacreon and the
historian Hecataeus were born.
TEEAPHIM, or Theraphim, a word in the He¬
brew language, which has exercised much the ingenui¬
ty of the critics. It occurs 13 or 14 times in the Old
Testament, and is commonly interpreted idols. We
will not trouble our readers with the numerous conjec¬
tures which have been formed respecting the meaning
of this word. The only way to determine it, if it be at
all possible, would be to examine and compare all the
passages in which it occurs, and to consult the ancient
translations. Conjectures are useless j every man may
make a new one, which will have just as good a title
to belief as those which have been already proposed.
TERCERY, or Tercera, one of the largest islands
of the Azures, or Western islands, lying in the Atlan¬
tic ocean. It is about 40 miles in circumference 5 and
surrounded with craggy rocks, which render it almost
inaccessible. The soil is fertile, abounding in corn,
wine, and fruits ; and they have plenty of cattle to
supply the ships which call there. Their principal trade
is wood. The inhabitants are lively, addicted to gal¬
lantry, and are said to be extremely revengeful. It is
subject to Portugal j and Angra is the capital town.
W. Long. 27. I. N. Lat. 28. 45.
, TEREBELLA, the Piercer, a genus of insects
belonging to the class of vermes, and order of mollusca.
See Helminthology Index.
iEREBINTHUS. See Pistacia, Botany In¬
dex.
TEREDO, a genus of vermes belonging to the or¬
der of testacea. See CoNCHOLOGY Index.
TERENCE, or Publius Terentius Afer, a ce¬
lebrated comic poet of ancient Rome, was born at Car¬
thage in Africa. He was slave to Terentius Lucanus
the senator 5 who gave him his liberty on account of
his wit, his good mien, and great abilities. Terence,
on his becoming a freed man, applied himself to the
writing of comedies-, in the execution of which he imi¬
tated Menander and the other celebrated comic poets
ol Greece. Cicero gives him the most pompous eulo-
gmms, both lor the purity of his language and the per¬
spicuity and beauty of his compositions, which he con¬
siders as the rule and standard of the Latin tongue j and
observes, that they were esteemed so fine and elegant,
that they were thought to have been written by Scipio
and Lelius, who were then the greatest personages and
the most eloquent of the Roman people. Terence died
while on a voyage into Greece, about the 15th year
before the Christian era. There are six of his comedies
extant, of which the best editions are the Elzevir one
J635» 12010 ; that cum integris notis Donati, et scltciis
variorum, 1686, 8vo ; Westerhovius’s, in two vols 4(0,
; and that of Bentley the same year, 410. Madame
Lacier has given a beautiful French version of this au-
lhor; and a very good English translation was publish¬
ed in 4to, 1768, by Mr Colman.
TERM, in Law, is generally taken for a limitation
G rt’me 01' estate ; as, a lease for term of life or years.
term, however, is more particularly used for that time
wherein our courts of justice are open j in opposition to Term.,
which, the rest of the year is called vacation. v——y-—
Term, in Grammar, denotes some word or expres¬
sion in a language.
The word term, terminus, is borrowed metaphorically,
by the grammarians and philosophers, from the measur¬
ers or surveyors of lands : as a field is defined and di¬
stinguished by its termini, or limits, so is a thing or mat¬
ter spoken of by the word or term it is denoted by.
Term in the Arts, or Term of Art, is a word, which,
besides the literal and popular meaning which it has or
may have in common language, bears a further and pe¬
culiar meaning in some art or science.
Terms, the several times or seasons of the year,
wherein the tribunals, or courts of judicature, are open
to all who think fit to complain of wrong, or to seek
their rights by dive course of law, or action 5 and during
which the courts in Westminster-hall sit and give judge¬
ment. But the high court of parliament, the chancery,
and inferior courts, do not observe the terms ; only
the courts of king’s-bench, common-pleas, and exche¬
quer, which are the highest courts.at common law. In
contradistinction to these, the rest of the year is called
vacation.
Of these terms there are four in every year, during
which time matters of justice are dispatched. Hilary-
term, which, at London, begins the 23d day of January,
or if that be Sunday, the next day after j and ends the
1 2th of February following. Easter-term, which be¬
gins the Wednesday fortnight after Easter-day, and
ends the Monday next after Ascension-day. Trinity-
term, beginning the Friday next after Trinity-Sunday,
and ending the Wednesday fortnight after. Michael¬
mas-term, which begins the sixth day of November, and
ends the 28th of November following. Each of these
terms have also their returns. These terms are supposed
by Mr Selden to have been instituted by William the
Conqueror j but Sir H. Spelman hath shewn, that they
were gradually formed from the canonical constitutions
of the church ; being no other than those leisure seasons
of the year which were not occupied by the great festi¬
vals or fasts, or which were not liable to the general avo¬
cations of rural business. Throughout all Christendom,
in very early times, the whole year was one continual
term for hearing and deciding causes. For the Christian
magistrates, in order to distinguish themselves from thtt
heathens, who were very superstitious in the observation
of their dies fasti and nefasti, administered justice upon
all days alike; till at length the church interposed, and
exempted certain holy seasons from being profaned by
the tumult of forensic litigations; as, particularly, the
time of Advent and Christmas, which gave rise to the
winter vacation ; the time of Lent and Easter, which
created that in the spring; the time of Pentecost,
which produced the third ; and the long vacation, be¬
tween midsummer and Michaelmas, which was allowed
for the hay-time and harvest. All Sundays also, and
some peculiar festivals, as the days of the purification,
ascension, &c. were included in the same prohibition,
which was established by a canon of the church, A. D.
517, and fortified by an imperial constitution of the
younger Theodosius, comprised in the Theodosian code.
Afterwards, when our own legal constitution was esta¬
blished, the commencement and duration of our law-
terms-
Terftis.
TEE [ 296 ] TER
terms were appointed, with a view to thesfe canonical
prohibitions $ and it was ordered by the laws of King
Edward the Confessor, that from Advent to the octave
of the Epiphany, from Septuagesima to the octave of
Jiiaster, from the Ascension to the octave of Pentecost,
and from three in the afternoon of all Saturdays till
Monday morning, the peace of God and holy church
shall be kept throughout the whole kingdom.
And so extravagant was afterwards the regard paid
to these holy times, that though the author of the Mir¬
ror mentions only one vacation of considerable length,
containing the months of August and September, yet
Britton says, that in the reign of King Edward I. nd
secular plea could be held, nor any man sworn on the
Evangelists, in the time of Advent, Lent, Pentecost,
harvest, and vintage, the days of the great litanies, and
all solemn festivals. He adds, that the bishops and pre¬
lates granted dispensations for taking assizes and juries
Jn some of these holy seasons, upon reasonable occasions j
and soon after a general dispensation was established in
parliament by stat. Westm. 1. 3 Edvv. I. cap. 51. that
assizes of novel disseisin, mart d"1 ancestor, and darrein
presentment, should be taken in Advent, Septuagesima,
and Lent, as well as inquests *, at the special request of
the king to the bishops. The portions of time that
Were not included within these prohibited seasons fell
naturally into a fourfold division •, and from some festi¬
val, or saint’s day, that immediately preceded their
commencement, were denominated the terms of St Hi¬
lary, of Easter, of the Holy Trinity, and of St Michael:
which terms have been since regulated and abbreviated
by several acts of parliament; particularly Trinity-term
by stat. 32 Hen. VIH. cap. 2. and Michaelmas-term
by stat. 16 Car. I. cap. 6. and again by stat. 24 Geo. IT.
cap. 48.
Terms, Oxford. Hilary or Lent-term begins Ja¬
nuary 14th, and ends the Saturday before Palm-Sun-
day. Easter term begins the tenth day after Easter,
and ends the Thursday before Whitsunday. Trinity-
term begins the Wednesday after Trinity-Sunday, and
ends after the act, or 6th of July, sooner or later, as
the vice-chancellor and convocation please. Michael¬
mas-term begins October the 10th, and ends December
the 17th.
Terms, Cambridge. Lent-tcrm begins January the
14th, and ends Friday before Palm-Sunday. Easter-
term begins the Wednesday after Easter Week, and
ends the week before Whitsunday. Trinity-term be¬
gins the Wednesday after Trinity-Sunday, and ends the
Friday after the commencement, or 2d of July. Mi¬
chaelmas-term begins October the 10th, and ends De¬
cember the 16th.
Terms, Scottish. The court of session has two terms,
the winter and summer. The winter begins on 12th
November, and ends nth March, only there is a recess
of three weeks at Christmas. The summer term com¬
mences 12th May, and ends tjth July. The court of
exchequer has four terms: t. Candlemas term begins
15th January, and ends 3d February 5 2. Whitsuntide
term begins 12th May, and ends 2d June ; 3. Lammas
term begins 17th June, and ends 5th July; 4. Martin¬
mas term begins 24th November, and ends 20th De¬
cember.
Terms, Irish. In Ireland the terms are the same as
at London, except Michaelmas term, which begins
1
October the 13th, and adjourns to November the 3d, 7cn
and thence to the 6th. ||
TERMES, a genus of insects belonging to the order TcrPat
of aptera. See Entomorogy Index.
TERMINALIA, in antiquity, feasts celebrated by
the Romans in honour of the god Terminus.
TerminaLIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class polygamia. See Botany Index.
TERMINI, in Architecture, denote a kind of statues
or columns, adorned on the top with the figure of a
man’s, woman’s, or satyr’s head, as a capital ; and the
lower part ending in a kind of sheath or scabbard.
TERMINUS, in Pagan worship, an ancient deity
among the Romans, who presided over the stones or land¬
marks, called termini, which were held so sacred, that
it was accounted sacrilege to move them ; and as the
criminal became devoted to the gods, it was lawful for
any man to kill him. The worship of this deity wa<
instituted by Numa Pompilius, who, to render land¬
marks, and consequently the property of the people,
sacred, erected a temple on the Tarpeian mount to Ter¬
minus.
TERN. See Sterna, Ornithology Index.
TERNATE, the most northerly of the Molucca or
Clove islands in the East Indies. It abounds in cocoa-
nuts, bananas, citrons, oranges, and other fruits peculiar
to the torrid zone ; but cloves are the most valuable
produce. It is in the possession of the Dutch. Malaya
is the capital town. E. Long. 129. o. N. Lat. 1. 0.
TERNI, a town of Italy in the pope’s territories,
and in the duchy of Spoletto, with a bishop’s see. It is
but a small place ; though there are very beautiful ruins
of antiquity, it having been a very considerable Roman
colony. It is situated on the top of a high mountain,
and to the west of it are fields which are extremely fer¬
tile. E. Long. 12. 40. N. Lat. 42. 34.
TERNSTROMIA, a genus of plants belonging to
the class polyandria. See Botany Index.
TERPANDER, a celebrated Greek poet and musi¬
cian. The Oxford marbles tell ns that be was the son
of Derdeneus of Lesbos, and that he flourished in the
381st year of these records; which nearly answers to
the 27th Olympiad, and 671st year B. C. The mar¬
bles inform us likewise, that be taught the nomes, or
airs, of the lyre and flute, which he performed himself
upon this last instrument, in concert with other players
on the flute. Several writers tell us that he added
three strings to the lyre, which before his time bad but
four; and in confirmation of this, Euclid and Strabo
quote two verses, which they attribute to Terpander
himself.
The tetrachord’s restraint we now despise,
The seven-string’d lyre a nobler strain supplies.
Among the many signal services which Terpander is
said to have done to music, none wras of more importance
than the notation that is ascribed to him for ascertain¬
ing and preserving melody, which before was traditional,
and w'holly .dependent on memory. The invention, in¬
deed, of musical characters has been attributed by Aly-
pius and Gaudentius, two Greek writers on music, an
upon their authority by Boethius, to Pythagoras, wio
flourished full twro centuries after Terpander. R1'
Plutarch, from Heraclides of Pontus, assures us tnat
Terpander, the inventor of nomes for the cithara, i'1
hexameter
T E B [ 297 ] TER
hexameter verse, set them *0 music, as well as the verses
of Homer, in order to sing them at the public games :
—'Ami Clemens Alexandrines, in telling us that this mu¬
sician wrote the laws of Lycurgus in verse, and set them
to music, makes use of the same expression as Plutarch;
which seems clearly to imply a written melody.
After enumerating the airs which Terpander had
composed and to which he had given names, Plutarch
continues to speak of his other compositions 5 among
which he describes the proems, or hymns for the citha-
ra, in heroic verse. These were used in after-times by
the rhapsodists, as prologues or introductions to the
poems of Homer and other ancient writers. But Ter¬
pander rendered his name illustrious, no less by his per¬
formances upon the flute and cithara than by his com¬
positions. This appears by the marbles already men¬
tioned ; by a passage in Athenams, from Hellanicus,
which informs us that he obtained the first prize in the
musical contests at the Carnean games ; and by the
testimony of Plutarch, who says, that “ no other proof
need be urged of the excellence of Terpander in the art
of playing upon the cithara, than the register of the
Pythic games, from which it appears that he gained four
prizes successively at those solemnities. Of the works of
this poet only a few fragments now remain.
TERRA AUSTRALIS INCOGNITA, a name fora large
unknown continent, supposed to lie towards the south
pole, and which for a long time was sought after by na¬
vigators. The voyages of Captain Cook have ascer¬
tained this matter as much as it probably ever will he.
(See South Sea; Cook's Discoveries, N° 47, 48, 68,
6q ; and America, N° 4). On this subject Captain
Cook expresses himself as follows : “ I had now made
the circuit of the Southern ocean in a high latitude, and
traversed it in such a manner as to leave not the least
room for the possibility of there being a continent, unless
near the pole, and out of the reach of navigation. By
twice visiting the tropical sea, I had not only settled
the situation of some old discoveries, but made there
many new ones, and left, I conceive, very little more
to be done even in that part. Thus I flatter myself,
that the intention of the voyage has in every respect
been fully answered; the southern hemisphere sufficient¬
ly explored; and a final end put to the searching after
| a southern continent, which has at times engrossed the
attention of some of the maritime powers for near two
centuries past, and been a favourite theory amongst the
geographers of all ages. That there maybe a conti¬
nent, or large tract of land near the pole, I will not
deny: on the contrary, I am of opinion there is ; and
it is probable that we have seen a part of it. The ex¬
cessive cold, the many islands, and vast floats of ice, all
tend to prove that there must be land to the south ; and
lor my persuasion that this southern land must lie or ex¬
tend farthest to the north, opposite to the southern At¬
lantic and Indian oceans, I have already assigned some
reasons; to which I may add, the greater degree of cold
experienced by us in these seas than in the Southern
Pacific ocean under the same parallels of latitude.”
Terra Firma, in Geography, is sometimes used for
a continent, in contradistinction to islands.
Terra Firma, otherwise called New Castile, or Ca-
stcila del Oro, a country of America, bounded on the
north by. the North sea and part of the Atlantic ocean,
by the same sea and Guiana on the east, by the country
0i the Amazons and Peru on the south, and by the Pa-
V0L. XX. Part I. ' f
cifie ocean and Yeraguaon the west, including the pro¬
vinces better known under the name of Caraccas, Vene¬
zuela, Santa Martha, and Santa Fe, &c. It lies be¬
tween 62 and 82 degrees of west longitude, and between
the equatorand 12 degrees of north latitude. It had the
name ol Castella del Oro from the quantity of gold found
in the districts of Uraba and other parts; and was first dis¬
covered by the celebrated Columbus in his third voyage.
The climate is neither pleasant nor healthy ; the inha¬
bitants one part of the year being scorched by the most
intense and burning heat, and the other almost drowned
with perpetual floods of rain, pouring from the sky with
such violence as if a general deluge was to ensue.
In so large a tract of country the soil must necessarily
vary. Accordingly, in some parts it is a barren sand,
or drowned mangrove land, that will scarce produce
any kind of grain ; in others it yields Indian corn,
balms, gums, and drugs, almost all manner of fruits as
well ot Old as of New Spain, sugar, tobacco, Brasil
wood, and several other kinds of dyeing woods ; a va¬
riety of precious stones, particularly emeralds and sap¬
phires ; venison and other game. The plantations of
cacao, or chocolate nuts, in the district of the Caraccas,
are esteemed the best in America. The mountains
abound with tygers, and, according to some, with lions,
and great numbers of other wild beasts. The rivers,
seas, and lakes, teem with fish, and also with alligators ;
and the bowels of the earth were once furnished with
the richest treasures, now almost exhausted. The same
may be said of the pearl fisheries on the coast, which
are far from being so profitable now as formerly.
Terra Firma is a very mountainous country. Terra
Firma Proper, in particular, consists of prodigious high
mountains, and deep valleys flooded more than half the
year. The mountains in the provinces of Carthagena
and St Martha, according to Dampier, are the highest
in the world : being seen at sea 200 miles off: from
these runs a chain of hills of almost equal height, quite
through South America, as far as the straits of Magel¬
lan, called the Cordilleras des Andes. The province of
Venezuela also, and district ol the Caraccas, the most
northerly parts of South America, are almost a conti¬
nued chain of hills, separated by small valleys, pointing
upon the coast of the North sea. A chain of barren
mountains, almost impassable, runs through the province
of Popayan from north to south, some whereof are volca¬
noes ; but towards the shores ol the Pacific ocean it is q,
low country, flooded great part of the year.
The principal rivers of Terra Firma are, the Darien,
Chagre, Saul a Maria, Conception, Rio Grande or
Magdalena, Maricaibo, and Qroonoko,
Terra Firma contains the provinces of Terra Firma
Proper or Darien, of Carthagena, St Martha, Ilio de
la Hacha, Venezuela, Comana, New Andalusia or Fa¬
ria, New Granada, and Popayan.
Terra Firma Proper ties in the form c.f a crescent,
about the spacious hay of Panama, being the isthmus
which joins South and North America ; and extending
in lengtli between the tvvo seas300 miles, but in breadth,
where the isthmus is narrowest, only 60. Here are found
gold mines, gold sands, and fine pearls; and many fruitful
valleys. The chief places are Panama and Porto Bello.
This country has been the scene of a bloody contest,
since 1810, between the Spanish authorities and the in¬
habitants. The struggle has been greatest in the east¬
ern parts, in the province of Caraccas, but is now
Pp (1819)
TEE [ 298 ] T E S
Terra (1819) extended to Santa Fe, and may be expected
|] soon to issue in the total subversion of the Spanish
Terre p0VVer. See Caraccas, SUPPLEMENT.
■ te' . Terra Japonic a, or Catechu, a drug which was for¬
merly supposed to be an extract from the seeds of the
areca catechu, is obtained from the mimosa catechu.
See Materia Medica Index.
Terra Pu%%olana. See Puzzolana.
Terras Films, Son of the Earth, a student of the
university of Oxford, formerly appointed in public acts
to make satirical and jesting speeches against the mem¬
bers thereof, to tax them with any growing corruptions,
Stc.
TERRACE, a walk or bank of earth, raised in a
garden or court to a due elevation for a prospect. The
name is also given to the roofs of houses that are flat,
and whereon we may walk.
TERRAQUEOUS, in Geography, a name given to
our globe, because consisting of land and water.
TERRAS, or TaRRAS, in Mineralogy, a species of ar-
Kirwan's gillaceous earth, differing little from puzzolana, but in
Miner ala- jje|ng more compact and hard, porous and spongy. It
is generally of a whitish yellow colour, and contains
more heterogeneous particles, as spar, quartz, shoerl,
&c. and something more calcareous earth •, it effervesces
with acids, is magnetic, and fusible per se. When pul¬
verized, it serves as a cement, like puzzolana. It is
found in Germany and Sweden.
A species of red earth has been found in the parish
Society for 0f gj- E|jzabeth in Jamaica, which turns out to be an
excellent substitute fqr terras or puzzolana earth, and
may therefore be of great value to the inhabitants of
the West Indies.
One measure of this earth, mixed with two of well
slaked lime, and one of sand, forms a cement that an-
swers extremely well for buildings in water, for it soon
hardens and becomes like a stone.
TERRASON, Abbe John, a French writer, born
at Lyons in 1669. He distinguished himself in the dis¬
pute concerning Homer, between La Motte and Madame
Dacier, by writing a Dissertation contre Plliade. He
wrote a political and moral romance called Sethos, full
of learning and philosophy ; and another capital work
of his is a French translation of Diodorus Siculus. He
died in 1750.
TERRE Verte, in the colour-trade, the name of a
green earth much used by painters, both singly for a
good standing green, and in mixture with other colours.
The name is French, and signifies, “ green earth.”
It is an indurated clay, of a deep bluish green colour,
and is found in the earth, not in continued strata or beds,
as most of the other earths are, but in large flat masses of
different sizes, imbedded in other strata ; these break ir¬
regularly in the cutting, and the earth is generally
brought out of the pit in lumps of different sizes. It is of
a fine, regular and even structure, and not very hard. It
is of an even and glossy surface, very smooth to the
touch, and in some degree resembling the morochthus or
French chalk, but adhering firmly to the tongue. It
does not stain the hand in touching it 5 but being drawn
along a rough surface, it leaves an even white line, with
a greenish cast.
It does not effervesce with acids, and burns to a dusky
brown colour. It is dug in the island of Cyprus, and in
many parts of France and Italy. That from the neigh¬
bourhood of Verona has been esteemed the best in the
world j but of late there has been some dug in France
that equals it. There is also an earth dug on Mendip
Hills, in the sinking for coal, which, though wholly ^
unobserved, is nearly, if not wholly, of equal value.
When scraped, and the finer parts separated, it is ready
to be made up with oil for the use of the painters, and
makes the most true and lasting green of any simple
body they use.
TERRESTRIAL, something partaking of the na¬
ture of earth, or belonging to the globe of earth ; thus
we say, the terrestrial globe, &c.
TERRIER, a small hound to hunt the fox or bad¬
ger ; so called because he creeps into the ground, as fer¬
rets do into the coney-burrows, after the fox, &c.
TERRITORY, in Geography, denotes an extent or
compass of land, within the bounds or belonging to the
jurisdiction of any state, city, or other subdivision of a
country.
TERROR. See Fear and Fright.
TERTIAN fever. See Medicine, N° 126.
TERTULLIAN, or Quintus Septimus Florens
Tertullianus, a celebrated priest of Carthage, was
the son of a centurion in the militia, who served as pro-
consul of Africa. He was educated in the Pagan reli¬
gion *, but being convinced of its errors, embraced Chri¬
stianity, and became a zealous defender of the faith. He
married, it is thought, after his baptism. Afterwards
he took orders, and went to Rome ; where, during the
persecution under the emperor Severus, he published his
Apology for the Christians, which is, in its kind, a ma¬
sterpiece of eloquence and learning j and at the begin¬
ning of the third century he embraced the sect of the
Montanists. He lived to a very great age, and died
under the reign of Antoninus Caracalla, about the year
216. Many of his works are still extant, in all of
which he discovers a great knowledge of the Holy
Scriptures, a lively imagination, a strong, elevated, and
impetuous style, great eloquence and strength of reason¬
ing j but is sometimes obscure. His Apology and Pre¬
scriptions are most esteemed. The best editions of his
works are those of Rigault : especially that of Venice
in 1746, folio. Pamelius and Alix, Mr Thomas, and
the Sieur du Fosse, have written his life j and Rigault,
M. de PAube Epine, Father Petau, and other learned
men, have published notes on his works.
TERUNCIUS, in antiquity, a very small brass coin
in use among the Romans.
The inconvenience of such very small pieces being
soon found, the teruncius became disused, but its nams
is still retained in reckoning, and thus it became a mo¬
ney of account. The teruncius at first was a quarter of
the as, or libra-, hence, as the as contained twelve oun¬
ces, the teruncius contained three, whence the name,
which is formed of the Latin tres uncice. Teruncius
was also used for the quarter of the denarius j so that
when the denarius was at ten ases, the teruncius was
worth two and a half; and when the denarius was risen
to sixteen, the teruncius was worth four. See DenaRRIS*
TESSELATED PAVEMENTS, those of rich mosaic
work, made of curious square marbles, bricks, or tile",
called tesselde from their resembling dice.
TESSERA, in Roman antiquity, denoted in its pu-
rnary sense a cube or dye ; so called from the Greek
word nre-x^et or rta-a-i^u- four;, respect being hail to it4
number
T<
Vi
Te:
T E S r 299 ] T E S
ia Yi&rntjer of sides, distinct from the two hoYi^ontal planes
| above and below. And it was thus distinguished from
e the talus, which being round at each end, contained
^ only four planes or faces on which it could stand j and
therefore when thrown had no more than two side faces
in view. Hence ludere talis et ludere tesseris, are spoken
of by Roman writers as two different games. The syl¬
lable tes occurs often in Roman inscriptions. The
word tessera was applied to many other things, not so
much from a similitude in the figure, as from the rela¬
tion they bore to some other things of which they were
the sign or token ; as the points on the upper plane of
the dye denoted the goad or ill success of the cast.
The tessera Jiospitalis was either public or private. As
to the former, we find among the inscriptions published
by Gruter instances of two municipal towns which put
themselves under the patronage of the Roman governor ;
and the reciprocal engagement between them, engraved
on two copperplates, in the form of an oblong square,
with a pediment at the top is called in both tessera hos-
pitatis. The design of it was to cuhlvate or maintain a
lasting friendship between private persons and their fa<-
miiies ; and gave a mutual claim to the contracting par¬
ties and their descendants of a reception and kind treat¬
ment at each other’s houses, as occasion offered. For
which end those tesserre were so contrived as best to pre-
j serve the memory of that transaction to posterity. And
i one method of doing this was by dividing one of them
lengthwise into two equal parts j upon each of which
| one of the parties wrote his name, and interchanged it
with the other. From this custom came the prevailing
expression tesseram hospitalem confringcre, applied to
persons who had violated their engagements.
The tessercefrumentarice were small tallies given by
the emperors to the populace at Rome, entitling them
to the reception of a quantity of corn from the public at
stated seasons. The person who had the inspection of
these was called tesserarius. They were made of wood
and of stone.
There was another kind of tessera which intitled per¬
sons to a sight of the public games and other divei’sions,
usually made in the form of an oblong square.
The tessera militaris was a signal given by the gene¬
ral or chief commander of an army, as a direction to the
soldiers for executing any duty or service required of
them. Th is, upon urgent occasions, was only vocal j
but, in ordinary cases, it was written on a tablet, com¬
monly made of wood. Besides these civil and military
tesserae, there are others which relate to religious affairs,
and may be called sacred.
TESSON, or Teston. See Tester.
TESSOUWA, a considerable town in Africa, situa¬
ted east of Mourzouk, the capital of the kingdom of
Rezzan. Near this town a deep and rapid stream is
said to have existed, but was overwhelmed by the mov¬
ing sands so frequent in Africa.
TEST, a vessel used in metallurgy for absorbing the
scoriae of metallic bodies when melted. See Cupel,
under Ores, Reduction of.
Test-Act, in Laiv is the statute 25 Car. II. cap. 2.
which directs all officers, civil and military, to take the
oaths, and make the declaration against transubstantia-
tion, in the court of King’s Bench, or Chancery, the
next term, or at the next quarter-sessions, or (by subse¬
quent statutes) within six months after their admission j
and also within the same time to receive the sacrament Test,
of the Lord’s Supper, according to the usage of the —v—
church of England, in some public church, immediate¬
ly after divine service or sermon, and to deliver into
court a certificate thereof signed by the minister and
churchwarden, and also to prove the same by two cre¬
dible witnesses, upon forfeiture of 500I. and disability to
held the said office.
The avowed object of this act was to exclude from
places of trust all members of the church of Rome ; and
hence the dissenters of that age, if they did not support
the bill when passing through' the two houses of parlia¬
ment, gave it no opposition. For this part of their con¬
duct they have been often censured with severity, as ha¬
ving betrayed their rights from resentment to their ene- .
mies. But is tins a lair state of the case P W ere any
rights in reality betrayed ? That the dread of a popish
successor and of popish influence was the immediate and
urgent cause of passing the test-act, is indeed true; but
that the legislature, when guarding against an impend¬
ing evil, had not likewise a retrospect to another from
which they had so recently been delivered, is not so evi¬
dent. If it be proper to support an established church
as a branch of the constitution, and if the test-act be
calculated to afford that support to the church of En<r-
land, it is probable that the deliberations of parliament
were as much influenced by the dread of puritanic fury,
and a renewal of the covenant, as by apprehensions of
a persecution from a popish king and popish councils.
That the members of the church established by law in
England had as much reason to dread the effects of
power in the hands of Puritans as in the hands of Pa¬
pists, no impartial man will controvert, who is not a
stranger to that period of our national history ; and that
it was the duty of the legislature by every method in
their power to provide for the security of the constitu¬
tion against the machinations of both its enemies, will
be admitted by all but such as are in love with anarchy
on the one hand, or with despotism on the other.
Many people, when they talk or write of the test-act,
seem to think that it was framed in opposition to the
reZ/gfows opinions 0f the church of Rome ; and finding
the Protestant dissenters, who abhor these opinions, de¬
prived by it of their civil rights, they speak with indig¬
nation of a law which confounds the innocent with the
guilty. But all this proceeds from a palpable mistake
of the purpose of the test. As the legislature had no
authority to make laws against any opinions whatever,
on account of their being false in theology ; so it is not
to be supposed that, in their deliberations on the test-
act, the members of that august body took into their
consideration the comparative orthodoxy of the distin¬
guishing tenets of the Catholics and Puritans. As a re¬
ligious sect they might esteem the latter much more than
the former ; but if they found that both had combined
with their theological doctrines opinions respecting ci¬
vil and ecclesiastical government, inconsistent with the
fundamental principles of the English constitution, they
had an undoubted right to enact a law, by which none
should be admitted to offices, in the execution of which
they could injure the constitution, without previously
giving security that their administration should support
it in all its branches. It had not then been doubted,
nor is there reason to doubt yet, but that an established
religion is necessary, in conjunction with civil govern-
T’ P 2 ment;
T E 8 [ 3=
ment, to preserve tlie peace of society and therefore in
every well regulated state an established religion must
be supported, not because it is the duty of the civil ma¬
gistrate to conduct his subjects to future happiness, but
because he Cannot without such an establishment preserve
among them present tranquillity. The establishment
which must best answer this purpose, is that which, teach¬
ing the great and unchangeable duties of morality, is
most acceptable in its government and forms of worship
to the majority of the people 5 and therefore in giving
a legal establishment to one constitution of the church
in preference to all others, it is only this circumstance,
and not the comparative purity of the rival churchts,
viewed merely as ecclesiastical corporations, to which it
is the business of the legislature to pay attention. At
the time when theact passed the two houses of par¬
liament, the established church ot England was certain¬
ly more acceptable to the great body of the people and
to all ranks in the state, than any one of the sects, whe¬
ther Catholic or Protestant, which dissented from her;
and therefore it rvas the duty of the legislature to pre¬
serve to that church all her privileges and immunities,
and to prevent those hostile sectaries from doing her in-
jury in the discharge of any civil office with which they
might be entrusted. It was with this view that the test-
act was formed ; and it is with the same view that the
legislature has hitherto rejected every petition for its re¬
peal. In doing so, it deprives no man of his rights, far
less of l ights which conscience calls upon him to main¬
tain at every hazard ; for the rights of individuals to
hold civil offices are not inherent, but derived from the
legislature, which of course must be the judge upon what
terms they are to he held. The legislatuie of England
has excluded from many offices, civil and military, eve¬
ry man who will not give security, that in the discharge
of his public duty he will support the church establish¬
ed by law ; and as the test of his intention it requires
him, before he enters upon his office, to renounce the
doctrine of transubstantiation, and receive the sacrament
of the Lord's Supper in some public church, according
to the liturgy of the church of England. hether this
be the most proper test that could have been enacted,
may well be questioned ; but that in a country abound¬
ing with sectaries of various denominations, who agree
in nothing but venomous hostility to the religious esta¬
blishment, some test is necessary, seems incontroverti¬
ble, if it be the business of the legislature to preserve
the public peace.
To this it will be replied, That the public peace in
Scotland is preserved without a test, and that therefore
a test cannot be necessary in England. This is plausible,
but not conclusive. For 40 years after the Revolution,
there was in Scotland no denomination of Christians but
o ] T E S
those of the Presbyterian church, established by law,
the Protestant Episcopalians, whose church had been1—
established prior to that event, and the adherents to the
church of Rome. The Episcopalians and Papists were
effectually excluded from every office in which they
could injure the ecclesiastieal establishment, by the se¬
veral restrictions under which they were laid, on ac¬
count of their attachment, real or supposed, to the ab¬
dicated family of Stuart. The penal laws operated up¬
on them more powerfully than a religious te.'t. It is to
be observed too that in the church of Scotland, though
her clergy are better provided for than any other paro¬
chial clergy perhaps in Europe (a), there is nothing ot"
that splendour and temporal power which in England
excite envy to clamour against the establishment, under
the pretence of maintaining the cause of religious liber¬
ty. Yet even in Scotland a religious test is occasional¬
ly exacted of civil officers. In the royal boroughs of
that part of the united kingdom, no man can hold the
office of a magistrate without previously swearing the
burgess-oath (see Seceder, N° 8.) ; and every instruc¬
tor of youth, whether in schools or colleges, may be
called upon to qualify himself for his office, by subscrib¬
ing the established Confession of Faith. The hurgess-
oalb is a more effectual test than that which is required
of magistrates in England ; for a man might with a
safe conscience receive the sacrament of the Lord’s
Supper occasionally in a church “ at which he would
not swear to abide and defend the same to his life's
endy This test appears to us to be necessary in bo¬
roughs, where faction is commonly blended with fa¬
naticism ; and if those sectaries which, at their first
appearance in 1732, were insignificant, if not con¬
temptible, continue to multiply, and to imbibe princi¬
ples much more pernicious than those which were held,
by their fathers, it may perhaps be. found expedient to
extend some test over the whole country.
We do not, however, by any means, wish to see the
sacramental test introduced into Scotland. A test may
be necessary to secure to the church all her rights and
immunities ; hut to receive the sacrament can give her
no such security, whilst it leads inevitably to the pro¬
fanation of a sacred ordinance. A much better test
would be, to require every man, before he he admitted
to an executive office, to swear that in the discharge of
it he will be careful to maintain all the rights and pri¬
vileges of the church established by law. Such an oath
no sensible and peaceable dissenter could refuse ; for it
would not bind him to communicate with the establish¬
ed church ; and he cannot be ignorant that it belongs
not to the executive government, but to the legislature,
to determine what shall be the religion of the state. On
this account, we cannot help thinking that the members
(a) There are indeed many livings in the church of England, and probably in other churches, to which no¬
thing in the church of Scotland can tie compared in respect of emolument; but these rich benefices bear no pro¬
portion to the number of those which, in this age of unavoidable expence, cannot afford to the incumbents the
means of decent subsistence as gentlemen. In the church of Scotland many livings amount to 200I. each an¬
nually ; and we have reason to hope, that when the present plan for augmenting the stipends of the clergy naS
been extended over Scotland, very few will be below rook ; whilst in England the vicarages and small rectories,
from which we have reason to believe that the incumbents reap not 80I. a-year, greatly exceed in number all
the livings in Scotland. Nay we doubt if there be not upwards of a thousand livings in England and Wakr-
Ironi which the rector or vicar derives not above 50I. annually.
s [ 3
of the legislative body should be subjected to no religions
test whatever, that they may be at freedom to reform
'nt-the corruptions of the church, or to exchange one esta-
—j
to vindicate that clause of 25 Car. II. and of 1 Geo. i.
in which it is enacted, that no member shall vote or sit
• in either house of parliament, till he hath, in the pre¬
sence of the house, subscribed and repeated the declara¬
tion against transubstantiation, the invocation of saints,
and the sacrifice of the mass. The church of Home is
indeed a very corrupt society ; hut if it be not for the
purity of her doctrines and government that any church
is established in preference to all others, why should that
particular church be precluded from the possibility of
obtaining a legal establishment in Great Britain, even
though she were to become most acceptable to the ma¬
jority of all ranks in the kingdom ? The English Ca¬
tholics have unquestionably greater reason to complain
of this test, than either they or the dissenters have to
complain of the law which requires every civil and mi¬
litary officer to receive the Lord’s Supper in the esta¬
blished church.
Test for Acids and Alkalies. See Chemistry.
Test Liauorsf or W,incs. See \\ ine.
TESTACEA, in the Linnsean system, comprehends
the third order of vermes, or shell-fish. Sec Concho-
blisiiment for another, should they find such exchange
expedient. If this reasoning be just, it will be difficult
LOGY Index.
TESTACEOUS, in Natural Historyt an epithet
synonymous with Testacea. See above.
TESTAMENT, or Last Will. Testaments both
Justinian and Sir Edward Coke agree to be so called,
because they are testatio mentis: an etymon which seems
to savour too much of conceit ; it being plainly a sub¬
stantive derived from tbe verb testari, in like, manner as
juramentum, incrementum, and others, from other verbs.
The definition of the old Homan lawyers is much better
than their etymology , voluntatis nostreejusta sentenlia
deco, quod quispost mortem suamfieri velit: which may
be thus rendered into English, “ the legal declaration
of a man’s intentions, which he wills to be performed
after bis death.” It is called sententia, to denote tbe
circumspection and prudence with which it is supposed
to be made : it is voluntatis nostree sententia, because its
efficacy depends on its declaring the testator’s intention,
whence in English it is emphatically styled hi-s tv ill; it
is justa sententia; that is, drawn, attested, and publish¬
ed, with all due solemnities and forms of law: it is de
to,quod quispost mortem suam fieri velit, because a tes¬
tament is of no force till after the death of the testator.
These testaments are divided into two sorts *, written,
and verbal or nuncupative ; of which the former is com-
nutted to writing: the latter depends merely upon oral
evidence, being declared by the testator in extremis, be¬
fore a sufficientnumber of witnesses, and afterwards re¬
duced to Writing.
But as nuncupative wills and codicils (which were
tormerly more in use than at present when the art of
writing is become more general) are liable to great im¬
positions, and may occasion many perjuries, the statute
of frauds, 29 Car. II. c. 3. enacts, I. That no written
wdl shall be revoked or altered by a subsequent nuncu¬
pative one, except the same be in the lifetime of the
testator reduced to writing, and read over to him, ami
approved j and unless the same be proved to have been
1 ]
so (lone by the oaths of three witnesses at the least, who, Testament,
bv statute 4 and 5 Anne, c. 16. must be such as are ad- —v—
missible upon trials at common law. 2. That no nun¬
cupative will .shall in anywise he good, where the estate
bequeathed exceeds 30I. unless proved by three such
witnesses, present at the making thereof (the Homan
law requiring seven), and unless they or some of them
were specially required to bear witness thereto by the
testator himself} and unless it was made in his last sick¬
ness, in his own habitation or dwelling-house, or where
he had been previously resident ten days at the least,
except he be surprised with sickness on a journey, or
from home, and dies without returning to his dwelling.
3. That no nuncupative will shall be proved by the wit¬
nesses after six months from the making, unless it were
put in writing within six days. Nor shall it be proved
till fourteen days after the death of the testator, nor till
process hath first issued to call in the widow, or next of
kin, to contest it if they think proper. Thus hath the
legislature provided against any fraud in setting up nun¬
cupative wills, by so numerous a train of requisites, that
the thing itself has fallen into disuse} and hardly ever
heard of, but in the only instance where favour ought to
be shown to it, when the testator is surprised by sudden
and violent sickness. The testamentary words must be
spoken with an intent to bequeath, not any loose idle
discourse in his illness } for he must require the by¬
standers to hear witness of such his intention } the will
must be made at home, or among his family or friends,.,
unless by unavoidable accident, to prevent impositions
from strangers : it must be in his last sickness 5 for if he
recovers, he may alter his dispositions, and have time to
make a written will : it must not be proved at too long
a distance from the testator’s death, lest the wordsshould
escape the memory of the witnesses } nor yet too hastily
and without notice, lest the family of the testator should
be put to inconvenience or surprise.
As to written wills, they need not any witness of their
publication. We speak not here of devices of lands,
which are entirely another thing, a conveyance by sta¬
tute, unknown to the feudal or common law, and not
under the same jurisdiction as personal testaments. But
a testament of chattels, written in the testator’s own
hand, though it has neither his name nor seal to it, nor
witnesses present at its publication, is good } provided
sufficient proof can be had that it is his hand-writing*
And though written in another man’s hand, and never
signed by the testator, yet if proved to be according to
his instructions and approved by him, it hath been held
a good testament of the personal estate. Yet it is the
safer and more prudent way, and leaves less in the breast
of the ecclesiastical judge, if it be signed or sealed by
the testator, and published in the presence of witnesses}
which last was always required in the time of Bracton }
or rather he in this respect has implicitly copied the
rule of the civil law.
No testament is of any effect till after the death of
the testator : Nam oinne testamentum morte consum-
matum est, et voluntas testatoris est ambulaloria usque
ad mortem. And therefore, if there be many testaments,
the last will overthrows all the former } but the repub¬
lication of a former will revoke one of a later date, and
establishes the first again.
Regularly, every person hath full power and liberty -
to .inake a will, that is not under some special prohibition
5 ^
t i:
t
o J ^
]
T E S
Teslatnetil. by l.nv or custom : which prohibitions arc print ipaliy
w—  upon three accounts 5 for want of sufficient discretion
for want of sufficient liberty anti free-will ; and on ac¬
count of criminal conduct.
1. In the first species are to he reckoned infants, un¬
der the a<re of 14 if males, and 12 if females; which is
the rule of the civil law For though some of our com¬
mon lawyers have held that an infant of any age (even
four years old) might make a testament, and others have
denied that under 18 he is capable; yet as the ecclesi¬
astical court ill the judge of every testator’s capacity,
this case must be governed by therulesof theecclesiastical
law. So that no objection can be admitted to the will
of an infant of 14, merely for want of age ; but if the
testator w7as not of sufficient discretion, whether at the
atre of 14 or 24, that will overthrow his testament.
Madmen, or otherwise non compotes, idiots or natural
Idols, persons grown childish by reason of old age or di¬
stemper, such as have their senses besottedwith drunken¬
ness,—all these are incapable, by reason of mental dis¬
ability, to make any will so long as such disability lasts.
To this class also may he referred such persons as are
born deaf, blind, and dumb ; who, as they have always
wanted the common inlets of understanding, are incapa-
bie of having animum testandi, and their testaments are
therefore void.
2. Such persons as are intestable for want of liberty
< or freedom of will, by the civil law are of various kinds;
as prisoners, captives, and the like. But the law of Eng¬
land does not make such persons absolutely intestable;
hut only leaves it to the discretion of that court to judge
upon the consideration of their particular circumstances
of duress, whether or no such persons could be supposed
to have liberum animum testandi. And with regard to
feme-coverts, our laws differ still more materially from
the civil. Among the Homans there was no distinction;
a married woman was as capable of bequeathing as a
feme-sole. But with us a married woman is not only
utterly incapable of devising lands, being excepted out
of the statute of wills, 34 and 35 Hen. VIII. c. 5. hut
also she is incapable of making a testament of chattels,
without the license of her husband. For all her person¬
al chattels are absolutely his own ; and he may dispose
of her chattels real, or shall have them to himself, if
lie survives her: it would be therefore extremely in¬
consistent to give her a power of defeating that provision
of tlie law, by bequeathing those chattels to another.
The queen-consort is an exception to this general rule,
for she may dispose of her chattels by will, without the
consent of her lord ; and any feme-covert may make
her wall of goods which are in her possession in outer
droit, as executrix or administratrix; for these can never
be the property of the husband : and if she has any pin-
jnoney or separate maintenance, it is said she may dis¬
pose of her savings thereout by testament, without the
controul of her husband. But if a female sole makes
her will, and afterwards marries, such subsequent mar¬
riage is esteemed a revocation in law, and entirely va¬
cates the will.
3. Persons incapable of making testaments on account
of their criminal conduct, are in the first place all trai¬
tors and felons, from the time of conviction ; for then
their goods and chattels are no longer at their own dis¬
posal, but forfeited to the king. Neither can a felo de
se make a will of goods and chattels, for they are for-
feited by the act and manner of his death ; but he may j
make a devise of his lands, for they are not subject to Tcs
any forfeiture. Outlaws also, though it be but lor debt,
are incapable of making a will so long as the outlawry
subsists, for their goods and chattels are lorfeited during
that time. As for persons guilty of other crimes, short
of felony, who are by the civil law precluded from ma¬
king testaments (as usurpers, libellers, and others of a
worse stamp), at the common law their testaments may
be good. And in general the rule is, and has been so
at least ever since Glanvil’s time, quod libera sit cvjus-
cunque ultima voluntas.
Testaments may be avoided three ways: 1. If made
by a person labouring under any of the incapacilies be¬
fore-mentioned ; 2. By making another testament of a
later date ; and, 3. By cancelling or revoking if. For
though I make a last will and testament irrevocable in
the strongest words, yet I am at liberty to revoke it;
because mine own act or words cannot alter the dispo¬
sition of law, so as to make that irrevocable which is in
its own nature revocable. For this, saith Lord Bacon,
would be for a man to deprive himself of that which,
of all other things, is most incident to human condition;
and that is, alteration or repentance. It hath also been
held, that, without an express revocation, if a man, who
hath made his will, afterwards marries and hath a child,
this is a presumptive or implied revocation of his former
will which he made in his state of celibacy. The Ro¬
mans were also wont to day aside testaments as being z/z-
afficiosa, deficient in natural duty, if they disinherited of
totally passed by (without assigning a true and sufficient
reason) arty of the children of the testator. But if the
child had any legacy, though ever so small, it was a
proof that the testator had not lost his memory or his
reason, which otherwise the law presumed; but was then
supposed to have acted thus for some substantial cause:
and in such case no querela inrrfficiosi testamentiwas al¬
lowed. Hence probably has arisen that groundless vul¬
gar error of the necessity of leaving the heir a shilling,
or some other express legacy, in order to disinherit Imu
effectually; whereas the law of England makes no such
wild supposition of forgetfulness or insanity ; and there¬
fore, though the heir or next of kin be totally omitted,
it admits no inojjiciosi to set aside such a testament.
Testament, in Scots Law. See Law, N° clxxxi.
2. &c.
Testament, Old and New. See Bible and Scrip¬
ture.
TESTATOR, the person who makes his will
testament.
TESTER, Teston, the name of a coin struck in
France by Louis XII. in 1513, and in Scotland in the
time of Francis II. and Mary queen of Scotland, so call¬
ed from the head of the king, which was engraved up¬
on it. The silver it contained was 11 deniers 18 grains,
its weight seven deniers ily grains, and its value 10
sols. The coinage of it was prohibited by Henry Jib
in 1575, when the value of it was augmented to 14 sob
six deniers. The teston or tester among us was rated
at 12d. in the reign of Henry VIII. and afterward*
reduced to 6d.
TESTES, in Anatomy, the testicles. See the next
article. T r
testicle
T E T
TESTICLE (testis), a double part In animals of the
male kind, serving for the office of generation. See
Anatomy, N° 107.
TESTIMONY. See Logic, N° 29. and Meta¬
physics, N° 135—138.
Testimony, in Law. See Evidence.
TESTUDO, the Tortoise, a genus of animals, be¬
longing to the class ot amphibia, and order of reptilia.
See Erpetology Index.
Testudo, in antiquity, was particularly used among
the poets &c. lor the ancient lyre; because it was ori¬
ginally made by its inventor Mercury, of the back or
hollow of the testudo aquatica, or sea-tortoise, which he
accidentally found on the banks of the river Nile. See
Lyre.
Testudo, in the military art of the ancients, was a
kind of cover or screen which the soldiers, e. gr. a
whole company, made themselves of their bucklers, by
holding them up over their heads, and standing close
to each other. This expedient served to shelter them
from darts, stones, See. thrown upon them, especial¬
ly those thrown from above, when they ivent to the
assault.
Testudo, was also a kind of large wooden tower
which moved on several wheels, and was covered with
bullock-hides, serving to shelter the soldiers when they
approached the walls to mine them, or to batter them
with rams. It was called testudo, from the strength of
its roof, which covered the workmen as the shell does
the tortoise.
TETANUS, adreadful spasmodic disorder, in which
the whole body becomes rigid and inflexible. It most
commonly proves mortal. See MEDICINE, N° 279.
IE FHA S, a genus of insects belonging to the class
of vermes, and order of mollusca. See'Helmintho¬
logy Index.
TETRACERA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class polyandria 5 and in the natural system ranging un¬
der the doubtful. See Botany Index.
^ TETRADYNAMIA, (rsj-a-jsgs; “four,” and %VV0CfCC$
11 power”), four powers j the name of the 15th class in
Linnaeus’s Sexual System. See Botany Index.
TE TRAGONIA, a genus of plants belonging to
the class icosandria ; and in the natural method ranging
under the 13th order, succulentce. See Botany Index.
IE TRAGRAMMATION, TiT^xy^ccggciTtv, a de¬
nomination given by the Greeks to the Hebrew name
ot God rTi,-i\ “ Jehova” because in the Hebrew it con¬
sists of four letters.
lELRAGYNIA, (T£srs-#ggf, “ four,” and yvMj, “a
woman”) ; the name ot an order, or secondary division,
m the Sexual System. See Botany Index.
TETRANDRTA, (re-s-asgej, “ four,” and ctvw, “ a
oian or husband”) 5 the name of the fourth class in the
^*an System. See Botany Index.
El RAG, a genus of birds belonging to the order
° mv..1'136, See Ornithology Index.
El ROD ON, a genus of fishes arranged by Lin-
0sens under the class of amphibia, and order of nantes ;
,U by Cmelin under the class of pisces, and or-
* *V4tmhi0SU£i- ^ee Ichythyology Index.
DRARCH, a prince who holds and governs a
Uf 1 part of a kingdom. Such originally was the im-
Ru 0 the title but it was afterwards applied
any petty king or sovereign ; and became syno-
t 303 ]
T E' cr
nymous with ethnarch, as appears from the following
considerations: 1. That Pliny makes mention of six
tetrarchies within the city of Decapolis. 2. That He¬
rod’s kingdom was only divided into three parts, which
yet were called tetrarchies, and the sovereigns thereof,
Luke iii. x. tetrarchs. 3. Josephus tells us, that, after
the battle ot Philippi, Antony, going into Syria, v con¬
stituted Herod tetrarch ; and on medals the same Tie-
rod is called ct/march.
TLIRASTYLE, in the ancient architecture, a
building, and particularly a temple, with lour columns
in its front.
IE 1 (JAN, an ancient and pleasant town of Africa,
in the kingdom of Fez, and in the province ofHabata.
It is pretty w'ell built, and the inhabitants are about
15*000 in number, who call themselves Andalusians,
and almost all speak Spanish, but they are great pi¬
rates. Some say there are 30,000 Moorish inhabitants,
and 5000 Jews. W. Long. 5. 26. N. Lat. 35. 27.
TEUGRIUM, Germander, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the class didynamia j and in the natural sys¬
tem ranging under the 42d order, Verticillatce. See
Botany Index.
1EUIHIS, a genus of fishes belonging to the order
of abdominales. See Ichthyology Index.
TEUTONES, or Teutoni, in Ancient Geography,
a people always by historians joined with the Cimbri r,
both seated, according to IMela, beyond the Elbe, on
the Sinus Codanus, or Baltic j and there, it is supposed,
lay the country of the Teutones, now Ditmarsh; diver¬
sity of dialects producing the different terms Ten, Tut,
Hit, ha, and Ihod, which in the ancient German lan¬
guage signified ^gp/e’. Of these Teutonesy Virgil is to
be understood in tfie epithet Teutonicus, an appellation
which more lately came to be applied to the Germans
in general, and later still the appellation Alemanni,
The Teutones, in conjunction with the Cimbri and
Ambrones, made war on the Romans, and marched to¬
wards Italy in the year 101 B. C. We are told, that
the Teutones alone were so numerous, that they were
six whole days without intermission in passing by the
Roman camp. In Transalpine Gaul they engaged the
Roman consul Marius; but were defeated with incredi¬
ble slaughter ; 100,000 of them, according to the lowest
calculations, being killed on the spot. Accordin'-- to
others, the number of those killed and taken prisoners
amounted to 290,000. The inhabitants made fences for
vineyards of their bones. Their king Teutobochus, said
to be a monstrous giant, was taken prisoner and carried
to Rome. See Giant.
TEUTONIC, something belonging to the Teutones.
The Teutonic language is supposed to have been the
language of the ancient Germans, and hence is rec¬
koned amongst the mother-tongues. See Philology
N° 219.
IEUTOZtic Order, an order of military knights, esta¬
blished towards the close of the twelfth century, on the
following occasion.—When the emperor Barbarossa en¬
gaged in a crusade for the recovery of the Holy Land
out of the hands of Saladin, he was followed by great
numbers of German volunteers, who from various mo¬
tives enlisted under his banners. After the death of
Barbarossa, theGermans, who had signalized themselves
before Acre or Ptolemais, resolved to choose another
leader; and at last fixed their choice upon Frederic
duke
Tetrarch
11
Teutonic.
Josephus’s
Antiq. b.
xiv. c. 23°
TEX [ 3°+ 1 T H A
Teutonic duke of Suabia, second son to the emperor, and Henry
H duke of Brabant. Under these generals they behaved
Texture. w;ti, S() inuch bravery, that Henry king of Jerusalem,
W””~v ' the patriarch, and several other princes, determined to
reward their valour by instituting an order of knight¬
hood in their favour. This was accordingly done j and
our new knights had at first the title of the knights of
St Geoj'ge ; afterwards it was thought proper to put them
under the tutelage of the Virgin Mary, to whom there
was already an hospital dedicated on Mount Zion, for
the relief of German pilgrims. From this time they
were called Equites Marittni, or knights ol St Mary.
Laws, regulations, and statutes, were drawn up ior
them by the Christian kings in Syria and the patriarch j
and among other obligations it w'as required, that every
person admitted to the privileges of the order should be
of noble parentage j that the order should defend the
Christian religion and the Holy Land 5 that they should
exercise hospitality towards the Christians in general,
but particularly those of their own country ; and that
they should with all their power endeavour to propa¬
gate and extend the Christian faith and the religion of
Jesus. In the year 1190, having become rich by dona¬
tions from the superstitious, they elected their first grand¬
master, Henry Walpot, a German, who had distinguish¬
ed himself by his zeal and valour 5 and their choice was
confirmed by the emperor. The following year, Pope
Celestine IILconfirmed their privileges already granted,
giving them the title of the Teutonic knights of the hos¬
pital of St Mary the Virgin. By the conditions of this
bull, they vowed perpetual continence, obedience, and
poverty 5 obligations which it may well be imagined
were not very strictly kept. See Poland, N° 59, 61,
<5*7—69, and Prussia, N0 3, 4.
TEVVIT. See Tringa, Ornithology Index.
TEWKESBURY, a town in Gloucestershire, for¬
merly noted for its monastery, and containing 4820 in¬
habitants in 1811, with a magnificent church. It is seat¬
ed at the confluence of the rivers Severn and Avon, has
a cotton manufactory, and sends two members to parlia¬
ment. W. Lone. 2. 13. N. Lat. 52. O.
TEXEL, a town of the United Provinces, in North
Holland, seated at the mouth of the Zuyder-Zee, with
a good harbour, and a strong fort. It. is seated in a
fruitful island, known all over the world by the great
number of ships that pass this way every day from all
parts } it is about six miles long and five broad, lying a
little northward of the continent of Holland, between
Tfugenfs which and the island is one of the principal passages out
Grand of the Zuydev-Zee into the ocean. It is defended from
Tour, ti,e sea by saml hills and strong hanks. Most of the
T01- ** soil is applied to feed sheep, of which they have great
flocks ; and the cheese made of their milk is said to vie
with the Parmesan. This island contains several fair
villages, and a town on the east side, called Burch,
strongly fortified and garrisoned, and inhabited chiefly
by fishermen. N. Lat. 53. 8. E. Long. 4- 51,
TEXT, a relative term, contradistinguished to gloss
or commentary, and signifying an original discourse ex¬
clusive of any note or interpretation, 'i his word is par¬
ticularly used for a certain passage of Scripture, chosen
by a preacher to he the subject of his sermon.
TEXTURE, properly denotes the arrangement and
cohesion of several slender bodies or threads interwoven
or entangled among each other, as in the webs of spi¬
ders, or in the cloths, stuffs, &c.
Texture is also used in speaking of any union or con¬
stituent particles of a concrete body, whether by weav¬
ing, booking, knitting, tying, chaining, indenting, in¬
truding, compressing, attracting, or any other way. In
which sense we say, a close compact texture, a lax po¬
rous texture, a regular or irregular texture, &c.
THABOR. See Tabor.
THALES, a celebrated Greek philosopher, and the
first of the seven wise men of Greece, was born at Mi¬
letus about 640 B. C. In order to improve himself in
the knowledge of the sciences, he travelled into Egypt,
where he discoursed with the priests and other learned
men. Some say that he married ; but others observe,
that he eluded the solicitations of his mother on this
head, by telling her, when he was young, that it was
too soon j and afterwards that it was too late. Thales
acquired great reputation by Ins wisdom and learning:
he was the first among the Greeks who foretold eclipses
of the sun, and made extraordinary discoveries in astro¬
nomy. Thales was the author of the Ionian sect of phi¬
losophers, who were thus called from his being born at
Miletus, a city of Ionia. He maintained that water
was the principle of which all the bodies in the universe
are composed ; that the world was the work of God;
and that God sees the most secret thoughts in the heart
of man. He said, “ That the most difficult thing in
the world is to know ourselves 5 the most easy to advise
others j and the most sweet to accomplish our desires.
That, in order to live well, we ought'to abstain from
what we find fault with in others. I hat the bodily fe¬
licity' consists in health, and that of the mind in know¬
ledge. That the most ancient of beings is God, because
he is uncreated : that nothing is more beautiful than the
world, because it is the work of God ; nothing more
extensive than space, quicker than spirit, stronger than
necessity, wiser than time.” It was also one of his sen¬
tences, “ That we ought never to say that to any one
that may be turned to our prejudice ; and that we should
live with our friends as with persons that may become
our enemies.” He thanked God for three things; that
he was born of the human, not of the brute species; a
man, and not a woman ; a Greek, and not a barbarian.
Noneof the ancient philosophers ever applied themselves
more earnestly to the study of astronomy than 1 bales.
Diogenes Laertius reports, that leaving his lodging with
an old woman to contemplate the stars, he fell into a
ditch ; on which the good woman cried, “ How canst
thou know what is doing in the heavens, when thou
canst not perceive what is at thy feet ?” He went to see
Croesus, who was marching with a powerful army into
Cappadocia, and enabled him to pass the river Hal)*
without making a bridge. Thales died soon after, at
about 90 years of age. He composed several treatise?
in verse, on meteors, the equinoxes, &.c. but they aR
all lost.
THALIA, in Pagan mythology, one of the nine
muses. She presided over Comedy ; and is represente
crowned with a garland of ivy, holding a mask m ieI
hand, and wearing buskins on her feet.
Thalia, a genus of plants belonging to the c!a5S nl°
nandria ; and in the natural system ranging unne1 e
8t!i order, Scitamineee. See Botany Index. f
THALICTRUU’
L.
T H A
THALICTRUM, Meadow-Rue, a genus of plants
belonging to the class polyandria •, and in the natural
system ranging under the 26th order, MullisiliqiUE. See
Botany Index.
THAMES, the finest river in Great Britain, which
takes its rise from a copious spring, called Thames Head,
two miles south-west of Cirencester in Gloucestershire.
It has been erroneously said, that its name, is Isis till it
arrives at Dorchester, 15 miles below Oxford, when,
being joined by the Thame or Tame, it assumes the
name of the Thames, which, it has been observed, is
formed from a combination of the words Thame and
Isis. What was the origin of this vulgar error, cannot
now be traced. Poetical fiction, however, has perpe¬
tuated tliis error, and invested it with a kind of classical
sanctity. “ It plainly appears (says Camden), that the
river was always called Thames or Terns, before it came
near the Thame ; and in several ancient charters granted
to the abbey of Malmsbury, as wTell as that of Ensham,
and in the old deeds relating to Cricklade, it is never
considered under any other name than that of Thames.^
He likewise says, that it occurs nowhere under the name
of Isis. All the historians who mention the incursions
of Ethelwold into Wiltshire in the year 905, or of Ca¬
nute in 1016, concur likewuse in the same opinion, by
declaring, that they passed over the Thames at Crick¬
lade in Wiltshire. It is not probable, moreover, that
Thames Head, an appellation by which the source has
usually been distinguished, should give rise to a river of
the name of Isis j which river, after having run half its
course, should reassume the name of Thames, the appel¬
lation ol its parent spring. About a mile below the
source of the river is the first corn-mill, which is called
Kemble Mill. Here the river may properly be said to
form a constant current *, which, though not more than
mne feet wide in the summer, yet in the winter becomes
*uch a torrent as to overflow the meadows for many
miles around. But, in the summer, the Thames Head
is so dry, as to appear nothing but a large dell, inter¬
spersed with stones and weeds. From Somerford the
stream winds to Cricklade, where it unites with many
other rivulets. Approaching Kemsford, it again enters
its native county, dividing it. from Berkshire at Ingle-
sham. It widens considerably in its xvay to Lechlade ;
and being there joined by the Lech and Coin, at the
distance of 138 miles from London, it becomes navi¬
gable for vessels of 90 tons. At Ensham, in its course
north-east, to Oxford, is the first bridge of stone ", a
handsome one, of three arches, built by the earl of
Abingdon. Passing bv the. ruins of Godstow nunnery,
where the celebrated Fair Rosamond was interred, the
river reaches Oxford, in whose academic groves its poe-
'ical name of Isis has been so often invoked. Being ■
toere joined by the Charvvell, it proceeds south-east to
Abingdon, and tlienee to Dorchester, where it receives
(he lame. Continuing its course south-east by Wal¬
lingford to Reading, and forming a boundary to the
counties of Berks, Bucks, Surry, Middlesex, Essex, and
Lent, it washes the towns of Henley, Marlow, Maiden-
:e;u!, Windsor, Eton, Egliam, Staines, Lab ham, Chert-
sey, \\eybridge, Shepperton, Walton, Sunbury, East
and West Moulsey, Hampton, Thames Ditton, Kings-
leddington, Twickenham, Richmond, isleworth,
rent ford, Kew, Mortlake, Barnes, Chiswick, Hammer-
;mbh,Putney,Fulham,Wandsworth, Battersea,Chelsea,
' OL, XX. Part I. ' t
305 ] T H A
and Lambeth. Then, on the north bank of the river,
are Westminster and London, and, on the opposite side,
Sou thwark ; forming together one continued city, ex¬
tending to Limchouse and Deptford j and hence the
river proceeds to Greenwich, Frith, Greenhitbe, Gnu 's
Thurrock, Gravesend, and Leigh, into the ocean. Jt
receives in its course from Dorchester the rivers Ken.net,
Loddon, Coin, Wey, Mole, YVandle, Lea, Boding, Da-
rent, and Medway. The jurisdiction of the lord mayor
of London over the Thames extends from Coin ditch, a
little to the west of Staines, to Yendal or Yenlcot to the
east, including part of the rivers Medway and Lea ;
and he has a deputy, named the water bailiiT, who is to
search for and punish all oll’enders against the laws for
the preservation of the river and its fish. Eight times
a-year the lord mayor and aldermen hold courts of con-
servance for the lour counties of Surry, Middlesex,
Essex, and Kent. 1 hough the Thames is said to be
navigable 138 miles above the bridge, vet there are so
many flats, that in summer the navigation westward
would be entirely stopped, when the springs are low,
were it not for a number of locks. But these arc at¬
tended with considerable expence j for a barge from
Lechlade to London pays for passing through them
13I. 15s. 6d. and from Oxford to London 12I. 181.
This charge, however, is in summer only, when the wa¬
ter is low7 ; and there is no lock from London bridge to
Bolter’s lock; that is, for jxi miles above the bridge.
1 be plan of new cuts has been adopted, in some places,
to shorten and facilitate the navigation. There is one
near Lechlade, which runs nearly parallel to the old
river, and contiguous to St John’s bridge ; and there is
another a mile from Abingdon, which has rendered the
old stream toward Culham bridge useless. But a much
more important undertaking lias lately been accom¬
plished ; namely, the junction of this river with the Se¬
vern. A canal had been made, by virtue of an act of
parliament in 1730, from the Severn to Wallbridge,
near Stroud. A new canal now ascends bv Stroud,
through the vale of Chalford, to the height of 343 feet,
by means of 28 locks, and thence to the entrance of a
tunnel near Sapperton, a distance of near eight miles.
The canal is 42 feet in width at top and 30 at the bot¬
tom. The tunnel (which is extended under Sapperton
bill, and under that part of Earl Bathurst’s grounds
called Halleywood, making a distance of two miles and
three furlongs) is near 15 feet in width, and can navi¬
gate barges of 70 tens. The canal descending hence
134 feet, by 14 locks, joins the Thames at Lechlade, a
distance of above 20 miles. In the course of this vast
undertaking, the canal, from the Severn at Frcomlade
to Inglesbam, where it joins (lie Thames, is a distance
of more than 30 miles. The expence of it exceeded the
sum of 200.CO0I. of which 3000I. are said to have been
expended in gunpowder alone, used for the blowing up
of the rock. This new canal was completed in 1789,
in less than seven years from its commencement. A
communication, not only with the Trent, hot with the
Mersey, has likewise been effected by a canal from Ox¬
ford to Coventry J and an act of parliament has passed
to extend another canal from this, at Braunston, to the
Thames at Brentford. This is to be called The Grand
Junction Canal. On the extensive advantages resulting
from these navigable communications from the metro¬
polis with tlm ports of Bristol, Liverpool, Hull, &c,
Q 9 and
Thames.
T H A [ 3c6 ] THE
Thames, and tbe principal manufacturing towns in the inland
Thane, parts of the kingdom, it is needless to expatiate. The
 Vtide flows up the Thames as high as Richmond, which,
following the winding of the river, is 70 miles from the
ocean-, a greater distance than the tide is carried by
any other river in Europe. The water is esteemed ex¬
tremely wholesome, and fit for use in very long voyages,
during which it will work itself perfectly fine.
Thames is also the name of a river in the state of
Connecticut in America. See the article Connecti¬
cut.
THANE, or Thanus, a name given to the nobili¬
ty in Britain before the time of William the Conqueror.
It signifies a minister or honourable retainer, from the
verb thenian, “ to minister.” There were several de¬
grees of nobility among the Anglo Saxons j but those
most commonly mentioned are the king’s thanes and the
alderman’s thanes. The king’s thanes seem to have been
of three different degrees, according to their different
degrees of wealth or favour at court. The alderman’s
thanes seem to have been of the lowest degree of nobili¬
ty, and next to them those w’ho were promoted to that
dignity from their advancement in the church, from
their valour, success in agriculture or commerce : for if
a ceorl or farmer applied to learning and attained to
priests orders ; if he acquitted himself so well as to ob¬
tain from a nobleman five hythes of land, or a gilt
sword, helmet, and breast-plate, the reward of his va¬
lour ; or if by his industry he had acquired the property
of five hythes of land •, or if he applied to trade, and
made three voyages beyond sea in a ship of his own, and
a cargo belonging to himself, he was denominated a
thane.
The thanes, who were the only nobility among the
Anglo-Saxons, were a very numerous body of men,
comprehending all the considerable landholders in Eng¬
land, and filling up that space in society between the
ceorls or yeomanry on the one hand, and the royal fa¬
mily on the other j which is now occupied both by the
nobility and gentry. In times of war, they constituted
the flower of their armies, and in times of peace they
swelled the trains of their kings, and added greatly to
the splendour of their courts, especially at the three
great festivals of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide.
Henry'sHi-From this body all the chief officers, both civil and mi-
storif of litary, as aldermen, greeves, earls, heretogens, &c.
Great Bri- Were taken j and to obtain some of these offices was the
tam, vol. h. ^rea|. object of their ambition. Before they obtained an
office, their lands were their only support; and they liv¬
ed in greater or less affluence, according to the extent
of their estates. These they divided into two parts j
one of which they called their inlands, and the other
their outlands. Their inlands they kept in their own
immediate possession, and cultivated them by the hands
of their slaves and villains, in order to raise provisions
for their families ; their outlands they granted to ceorls
or farmers, either for one year, or for a term of years ;
for which they received a certain stipulated proportion
of their produce annually. These customs had long
prevailed among their ancestors in Germany, and
were adhered to by their posterity in England till the
conquest.
The thanes were under no obligations on account of
their lands, except the three following, which were in¬
dispensably necessary to the defence and improvement of
their country '• To attend the king with then followers f|,s
in military expeditions, to assist in building and defend- ||
ing the royal castles, and in keeping the bridges and Tliea
highways in proper repair. 1.0 these obligations all ' »
proprietors of land (even the churchmen for a long
time not excepted) were subjected 5 and these sen ices
were considered as due to their country, rather than
to the persons of their kings ; and were agreed to by-
all as being necessary to their own preservation and
conveniency.
This title of thane was abolished in England at the
conquest, upon the introduction ot the feudal system
by William. The titles of earl and baron were about
the same period introduced into Scotland by Malcolm
Can more, when the title of thane fell into disuse.
THANET, an island of the county of Kent, sur¬
rounded by the sea except on the north-east side, where
it is bounded by the branches of the river Stour, now
inconsiderable to what they were formerly. It con¬
tains several villages, and the sea port towns of Mar¬
gate and Ramsgate, and has the title of an earldom. It
is celebrated for being the spot through which arts, sci¬
ences, and divine knowledge, came into this happy isle.
The Britons called it Ric/tborovgh, from its vicinity to
the city of that name, now only a venerable ruin ; but
the Saxons called it Thanet, from fire, having so many
beacons erected on it. It is in the north-east part of the
county, lies open to the sea on the north and east, with
the river Wantsum on the w'est and south, is about 10
miles long from the North Foreland to Sarre-Bridge,
and about 8 broad from Westgate to Sandwich-Ferry.Engte
The north part of it is chiefly arable j and the south and
west parts consist of marsh or pasture-lands. The soil
is generally very fertile, especially in producing the
best barley, of which it is computed above 20,000
quarters are annually sent to London.
THAPSIA, the Deadly Carrot, a genus of plants
belonging to the class 'pentandria, and in the natural
system ranging under the 45th order VmbellatcE. See
Botany Index.
THAWING, the resolution of ice into its former
fluid state by the wrarmth of the air. See CONGELA¬
TION and Frost.
THEA. See Tea.
THEATINES, a religious order in the Romish
church, so called from their principal founder John Pe¬
ter Caraffa, then bishop of Theate, or Chieti, in the
kingdom of Naples, and afterwards pope, under thtf
name of Paul IV. The names of the other founders
were Gaetan, Boniface, and Consiglieri. These lour
pious men desiring to reform the ecclesiastical state, laid
the foundation of an order of regular clerks at Rome m
the year 1524. Pope Clement VII. approved the insti¬
tution, and permitted the brethren to make the three
religious vow's, to elect a superior every three years,
and to draw up statutes for the regulation ol the order.
They were the first who endeavoured, by their example,
to revive among the clergv the poverty of the apostles
and first disciples of our Saviour, and w ere also the first
who assumed the title of regular clerks.
THEATRE, a place in which shows or dramatic
representations are exhibited.
For the origin of the dramatic art we always turn
our eyes to Greece, the nursery of the arts and sciences.
It may indeed have been known among more ancieut
nations,
THE ^ [ 33
Tatre. nation?., but no records remain sufficient to support this
opinion. The different states of Greece asserted their
claim to the honour of having given it birth, but the
account of the Athenians is most genei’ally received. It
derived its origin from the hymns which were sung in
the festivals of Bacchus in honour of that deity. While
these resounded in the ears of the multitude, choruses
of Bacchants and Fauns, ranged round certain obscene
imageswhich they carried in triumphal procession, chant¬
ed lascivious songs, and sometimes sacrificed individuals
to public ridicule.
This was the practice in the cities ; but a still greater
licentiousness reigned in the worship paid to the same
litflpw. divinity by the inhabitants of the country, and espe-
is’s '-a-' cially at the season when they gathered the fruits of his
<-!s, .1. i. |3enehcence. Vintager’s, besmeared with wine-lees, and
intoxicated with joy and the juice of the grape, rode
forth in their carts, and attacked each other on the road
with gross sarcasms, revenging themselves on their
neighbours with ridicule, and on the rich by publishing
their injustice.
Among the poets who flourished at that time, some
celebrated the great actions and adventures of gods and
heroes, and others attacked with asperity the vices and
absurdities of individuals. The former took Homer for
their model, and supported themselves by his example,
of which they made an improper use. Homer, the
most tragic of poets, the model of all who have suc¬
ceeded him, had in the Iliad and the Odyssey brought
to perfection the heroic poem, and in his Margites had
employed pleasantry. But as the charm of his works
depends in a great measure on the passions and motion
with which he knew to animate them, the poets who
came after him endeavoured to introduce into theirs an
action which might excite emotion or mirth in the spec¬
tators ; some even attempted to produce both, and ven¬
tured certain rude essays, which have since been styled
indifferently either tragedies or comedies, because they
unite the characters of those two dramas. The authors
of these sketches have been distinguished by no dis¬
covery ; they only form in the history of the art a
succession of names which it would be useless to recal to
light.
The necessity and power of theatrical interest rvas al¬
ready known. The hymns in honour of Bacchus, while
they described his rapid progress and splendid conquests,
became imitative ; and in the contests of the Pythian
games, the players on the flute who entered into com¬
petition were enjoined by an express law to represent
successively the circumstances that had preceded, ac¬
companied, and followed the victory of Apollo over
Python.
Some years after this regulation, Susarion and Thes¬
pis, both born in a small borough of Attica, named
Icaria, appeared each at the head of a company of ac¬
tors, the one on a kind of stage, the other in a cart (a).
The former attacked the vices and absurdities of his
time; and the latter treated more noble subjects, which
he took from history.
The comedies of Susarion were in the same taste with
7 ] T H E
those indecent and satirical farces which were after* Theatre,
wards performed in some of the cities of Greece. They
were long the favourite entertainment of the country
people. Athens did not adopt this species of exhibition
until after it was brought to perfection in Sicily.
Thespis had more than once seen in the festivals, in
which as yet hymns only were sung, one of the singers,
mounted on a table, form a kind of dialogue with the
chorus. From this hint he. conceived the idea of intro¬
ducing into the tragedies an actor who, by simple reci¬
tals introduced at intervals, should give relief to the
chorus, divide the action, and render it more interesting.
This happy innovation, together with some other liber¬
ties in which he had allowed himself, gave alarm to the
legislator of Athens, who was more able than any other
person to discern the value or danger of the noveltv.
Solon condemned a species of composition in which the
ancient traditions were disguised by fictions. “ If we
applaud falsehood in our public exhibitions (said he to
Thespis), we shall soon find that it will insinuate itself
into our most sacred engagements.”
The excessive approbation and delight wuth which
both the city and country received the pieces of Thespis
and Susarion, at once justified and rendered useless the
suspicious foresight of Solon. The poets, who till then
had only exercised their genius in dithyrambics and li¬
centious satire, struck wdth the elegant forms which
these species of composition began to assume, dedicated
their talents to tragedy and comedy. Soon after a great¬
er variety was introduced in the subjects of the former
of these poems. Those who judged of their pleasures on¬
ly from habit, exclaimed, that these subjects were fo¬
reign to the worship of Bacchus ; but the greater num¬
ber thronged with still more eagerness after the new
pieces.
Phrynichus, the disciple of Thespis, made choice of
that kind of verse which is most suitable to the drama,
was the author of some other changes, and left tragedy
in its infancy.
JFschylus received it from his hands enveloped in a
rude vestment, its visage covered with false colours, or
a mask inexpressive of character, without either grace
or dignity in its motions, inspiring the desire of an inte¬
rest which it with difficulty excited, still attached to
the buffooneries which had amused its infant years, and
expressing its conceptions sometimes with elegance and
dignity, but frequently in a feeble and low style, pol¬
luted with gross obscenities.
In his first tragedies he introduced a second actor;
and afterwards, copying the example of Sophocles, who
had just entered on his theatrical career, he admitted a
third, and sometimes even a fourth. By this multipli¬
city of personages, one of his actors became the hero of
the piece, and attracted to himself the principal inte¬
rest ; and as the chorus now held only a subaltern sta¬
tion, vFschylus took care to shorten its part, and per¬
haps even carried this precaution too far.
He is censured for having admitted mute characters
into his drama. Achilles, after the death of his friend,
and Niobe, after the destruction of her children, appear
Q q 2 on
(a) Susarion represented his first pieces towards the year 5^ before Christ, Some years after, Thespis made
his first attempts in tragedy, and acted his Alcestis in 53^*
THE [ 3c8 j T H E
Theatre, on tlie sta^o, and remain during several scenes motion-
  w~-—; less, with their heads covered with a veil, and without
uttering a word j hut it their e\ es had ovei tlown with
tears, and they had poured lorth the lutterest lamenta¬
tions, could they have produced an etlect so terrible as
this veil, this silence, and this abandonment to griel P
It was not sufficient that the noble and elevated style
of tragedy should leave in the minds ol the auditors a
strong impression of grandeur j to captivate the multi¬
tude, it was requisite that every part ol the spectacle
should concur to produce the same efiect. Jt was then
the general opinion that nature, by bestowing on the
ancient heroes a more lofty stature, had impressed on
their persons a majesty which procured them as much
respect from the people as the ensigns of dignity by
which they were attended. ^Eschylus thcrelore raised
his actors on high stilts or buskins. He covered their
features, which were frequently disagreeable, with a
mask that concealed their irregularity. He clothed
them in flowing and magnificent robes, the form of which
was so decent, that the priests of Ceres have not blush¬
ed to adopt it. The inferior actors were also provided
with masks and dresses suited to their parts.
Instead of those wretched scaffolds which were for¬
merly erected in haste, he obtained a theatre furnished
with machines, and embellished with decoration*. Here
the sound of the trumpet was reverberated, incense was
seen to burn on the altars, the shades of the dead to a-
rise from the tomb, and the furies to rush from the
gulfs of Tartarus. In one of his pieces these infernal
divinities appeared, for the first time, with masks of a
horrid paleness, torches in their hands, serpents inter¬
twined in their hair, and followed by a numerous reti¬
nue of dreadful spectres. It is said that, at the sight
of them, and the sound of their terrific bowlings, terror
seized on the whole assembly, women miscarried, and
children expired with fear ; and that the magistrates,
to prevent similar accidents in future, commanded that
the chorus should consist only of filteen actors instead
of fifty.
The effect of so many new objects could not hut asto¬
nish the spectators j nor were they less surprised and
delighted at the intelligence displayed in the perform¬
ance of the actors, whom zEschylus almost always ex¬
ercised himself. He regulated their steps, and taught
them to give additional force to the action by new and
expressive gestures.
The progress of the art was extremely rapid. i£s-
chylus was born 525 years before Christ, 11 years after
Thespis had acted his Alcestis. He had for competi¬
tors Chcerilus Pratenas, and Phrvnichus, whose glory
he eclipsed, and Sophocles, who rivalled his own. So¬
phocles was horn about the year 497 B. C. about 14
years before Euripides. These carried tragedy to the
highest perfection to which it attained among the
Greeks. /Eschylus painted men greater than they can
he, Sophocles as they ought to he, and Euripides as
they are.
Invented towards the 50th Olympiad (about 580
B. C ) and adapted to the rude manners of the rustics,
comedy ventured not to approach the capital ; and if
by chance some companies of actors, who were uncon¬
nected with any others, found their way into the city,
and performed their indecent farces, they were less au¬
thorised than tolerated by the government. It was not
till after a long infancy that this species or drama he- The
gan suddenly to make a rapid improvement m Sicily.1—
Instead of a succession of scenes without connection or
tendency, the philosopher Epicharmus introduced an
action, all the parts of which had a dependence on each
other •, and conducted his subject, without wandering
from it, through a just extent to a determinate end,
11 is pieces, subjected to the same laws ot tragedy, were-
known in Greece, where they were considered as mo¬
dels j and comedy soon shared with her rival the suf¬
frages of the public, and the homage clue to genius.
The Athenians, especially, received her with the same-
transports as they would have testified at the news of a
victory : many of their poets exercised their genius in
this novel species of composition ; and their names adorn
the numerous list of writers who have been distinguish¬
ed in comedy from the time of Epicharmus. Such were,
among the more ancient, Magnes, Cratinus, Crates,
Pherecrates, Eupolis, and Aristophanes. They all
flourished in the age of Pericles.
If we pen^e the comic pieces which have come down
to us, we shall be convinced that the sole object ol the
authors was to please the multitude. The gods and
heroes were travestied, gross and obscene language was
often employed, and virulent invectives were often
thrown out against individuals ol the first rank lor ge¬
nius and virtue. Towards the end ol the Peloponnesian
war the licentiousness of cornedv was restrained. Ihe
chorus was laid aside, because the rich citizens were a-
larmcd, and would no longer contribute money to sup¬
port it, nor provide masks with portraits lor exposing
individuals.
The poets being thus restrained from mentioning
names of living persons on the stage, invented false
names. They still exposed real and known characters j
and thus gave a more exquisite gratification to the spec¬
tators, who were highly amused W'ith finding out the
persons intended. The consequence of the law was
only to make that done with delicacy which was for¬
merly done in the most indecent and scurrilous manner.
Aristophanes, in some ot his latest pieces, has given us
some good examples of this kind of comedy, which is
sometimes called the middle comedy.
Comedy was still liable to abuse, and therefore re¬
quired farther reformation. As the use of real names
had formerly been prohibited, real subjects were also
forbidden ; and comedy from that time was no longer a
fury armed with torches, or a firebrand scattering mis¬
chief, hut a pleasing and instructive companion. Uns
is called the new comedy. The most eminent among
the Greeks in this improved species was Mcnandei.
His writings are now lost j but we may form a good
estimate of their merit from the comedies of Terence,
which are said to have been borrowed from Menander,
and to have nearly resembled the original, though infe¬
rior in that vis vomica bv which the elegant Grecian
was distinguished. The comedy of Menander is diat
which has been cultivated in modern times.
To give some idea of a Grecian theatre, we shall de¬
scribe very shortly the theatre of Bacchus in Athens,
which was built hy the famous architect Philos in the
time of Per icles. The part intended for the spectators
was of a simicircnlar form, at the diameter ot whica
was erected the stage. The orchestra occupied t,e
space where the pit in modern theatres situated, wu«I[‘
THE [ 309 ] THE
d
the music, the choru
\va? fuur ieet elevated above the grouat!. 'i he specta¬
tors were arranged in three galleries round all the sides
of the 01 chesti a except that next the stage, each gallery
containing eight rows oi seats. At the iarlher end ot
the orchestra, where the stage is erected in modern the¬
atres, stood thethymeie or logeon, hut projecting a lit¬
tle towards the audience. It was a little higher than
the orchestra, and did not extend the whole breadth of
it. In some theatres it was only six feet square. Here
the principal part of the chorus made their recitations,
and in comical interludes the inimi ptrfcrmed. Behind
the thymele appeared the stage or prosetnion, consider-
aldy elevated. No part of this theatre was covered ex¬
cept the stage, and a high gallery called cirrys set apart
for the women. The Atiienians, being exposed to the
weather, came usually with great cloaks, to secure them
from the rain or the cold-4 and for defence against the
sun they had the sciudio/i, a kind of parasol, which the
Homans used also in the theatres by the name of um-
bella; but when a sudden storm arose, tiie play was in-
Urropted, and the spectators dispersed.
A sort of tent work over the entire area of the edifice
might have been contrived as a shelter fiom the rain
and a shade from the sun. Such a covering would have
obviated tiie inconveniences of roofed theatres, which
obstruct the free communication of the air, and of un¬
roofed theatres, which do not keep out the weather.
At Athens the plays were always represented in the
daytime, which made the unroofed theatres less incon¬
venient.
Plays were represented only dm ing the three festivals
solemnized in honour of Bacchus. The first of these
tint.
- Rhc
was celebiated at the Piraeus, where some of Euripides’s
pieces were first performed. The second, which lasted
only one day, was kept at the end of January or be gii -
ning of February. The third, called the greater Dio-
r.ynuu was celebrated a month after. It continued se¬
veral days, and attracted a great multitude oi spectators.
In the iestivals which lasted only one day, five or six
dramatic pieces, either tragedies or comedies, were per¬
formed. But in the greater Dionysia, which continued
longer, 12 or 15, and sometimes more, were acted.
Ihe performance began early in the morning, and some¬
times lasted the whole day.
The chorus, according as the subject demanded, was
composed of men and women, old men or youths, citi¬
zens or slaves, priests, soldiers, &.c. to the numlnr of
15 111 tragedy, and 24 in comedy. The chorus came
upon the stage preceded by a flute-player, who regula¬
ted their steps ; sometimes one after the other, hut in
tragedy more frequently three in front and five in depth,
or five in front and three in depth.
I he same persons performed both in tiagedy andco-
medy •, but, as among ourselves, it was rare to meet
with any who excelled in both. The pay of those who
had acquired great ri potation was considerable. Poles
gained a talent in two days (equal to 22^1. steiling*).
I layers of eminence were solicited by different actors of
Greece to attend their festivals. If, after making an
ei>gagement, they failed, they were obliged to pay a
certain sum of money 4 and if they were absent during
•he festivals of their own republic, they were condemn¬
ed to a heavy fine.
^he actors had habits and symbols suited tq their
parts. Kings ware a diadem, leaned on a sceptre which Theatre.
supported an eagle on its top, and were dressed in long ✓—
robes of purple or other spletuled colours ornamented
with gold. Heroes, besides having their stature fre¬
quently increased to six feet English f, and their hulk f Aribt. in
in proportion, weie frequently covered with the skin ofitan,
a lion or a tyger, and armed with swords, quivers, and v-.1 aK-
clubs. All who sud’ered misfortunes wore u black, A l\. '
brown, or dirty white garment, which frequently hungt.ap ^
in tatters. There were various kinds of masks for tra¬
gedy, comedy, and satire. These certainly took away
the pleasure aiising from the expression of the counte¬
nance 4 but at any rate, little pleasure could he derived
from this circumstance in a Grecian theatre, from its
immense size, and the great distance of the audience
from the stage.
Dramatic entertainments were introduced at Rome in -
the year of the city 391. They were called huh scaiivij.
because they were first acted in a shade formed by the
branches and leaves of trees. They were borrowed im¬
mediately from Etruria, whence also they received their
first players. These Etnnians at first only danced to a
flute, without either singing or acting. The Roman
youth soon imitated them at their solemn festivals, add¬
ing raillery in rude verses, and gestures adapted to the
subject. These verses were called Fexccnnini, from Fes-
cennia, a city of Etruria. Livius Andronicus was the
first poet who wrote a regular play in Latin. This hap¬
pened in the year of Rome 512 or >14, about r 60 years
alter the death of Sophocles and Euripides, and 52 af¬
ter that of Menander. The Grecian model was after¬
wards introduced and cultivated much by succeeding
dramatic writers. This was the model of Menander,
lor the old and middle comedy was unknown at Rome.
As the Romans were only imitators of the Gretks m
the dramatic art, as well as in most of the arts and sci¬
ences, nothing more is necessary to he said in addition
to the account which we have already given of the Gre¬
cian stage.
The origin of the English stage is hid in obscurity.
It was not, however, copied from the Grecian or Ro¬
man 4 for it was evidently dillerent in form as well as in
matter, and may with more propriety lie deduced from
a Gothic original. It appears that there were theatrical
entertainments in England almost as early as the con¬
quest 4 for we are told by William Stephanides or Fitz - Gmtle-
Steplien, a monk, who in the reign of Henry II. wrote man's Ma-
his Descriptio jsobilisxhncc Civitatis Londonicc, thatfor
“ London, instead oi the common interludes ofthe the-G^ •
atve, had plays of a more holy kind 4 representations of
the miracles of confessors, and the sufferings of martyrs.”
At this time there weie also certain sets of idle people,
who travelled the countries, and were called Mummers,
a kind of vagrant comedians, whose excellence consisted
altogether in mimickry and humour.
It is probable that, soon after this time, the dramatic
representations called AfyAftrzW were exhibited : These
mysteries were taken from scripture-history : some repre¬
sented the creation ofthe world, with the fall of Adam
and Eve ; some the story of Joseph 4 and others even
the incarnation and sufferings ofthe Son of God. These fiber's
pieces were exhibited in a manner so ridiculous as to fa-
vour libertinism and infidelity, as appears by a petition //y/
ofthe chaunters of St Paul’s Cathedral to Richard II.
in 1378) praying, that “some unexpert people.,might
he*.
Theatre.
THE [ 31
be prohibited from representing the history of the Old
Testament to the prejudice of the said clergy, who had
been at great expence to represent it publicly at Christ*-
In the year 1390, the parish clerks of London are
said to have played interludes at Skinner’s-well on three
successive days in July j and, in 1409, to have acted
lor eight days successively a play concerning the crea¬
tion of the world, at the same place which thence ac¬
quired the name of Clerkenwell.
These Mysteries were succeeded by Moralities, in
which there were some rude traces of a fable and a mo¬
ral 5 and some also of poetry, the virtues, vices, and
other affections of the mind being frequently personilied.
After these Moralities came what were called Inter¬
ludes, which made some approaches to wit and humour.
Many of these pieces were written by John Hey wood,
jester to Henry VIH.
In the time of Henry VIII. one -or two pieces had
been published under the classical names of Comedy and
Tragedy, but they appear not to have been intended for
popular use. It was not till the religious ferments had
subsided that the public had leisure to attend to drama-
h'^ofArf- tic poetry. In the reign of Elizabeth, tragedies and co-
ciffntEirr- medies began to appear in form, and could the poets have
lish Poe- persevered, the first models were good. Gorboduc, a regu-
try.
o ] T H E
in a great number of the most eminent characters in ti
English history are drawn relating their own misfortunes.'—
This book was popular and of a dramatic cast j and
therefore, as an elegant writer has well observed, might
have its influence in producing historic plays. These
narratives probably furnished the subjects, and the an¬
cient mysteries suggested the plan.
That our old writers considered historical plays as
somewhat distinct from tragedy and comedy, appears
from numberless passages of their works. “ Of late days
(says Stow in his Survey of London), instead of those
stage plays have been used comedies, tragedies, inter¬
ludes, and histories, both true and fained.” Beaumont
and Fletcher, in the prologue to the Captain, say,
“ This is nor comedy, nor tragedy,
“ Nor history?''
lar tragedy, was acted in 1561; and Gascoigne, in 1566,
exhibited Jocasta, a translation from Euripides, as also
The Supposes, a regular comedy, from Ariosto, near 30
years before any of Shakespeare’s were printed.
The people, however, still retained a relish for their
old mysteries and moralities, and the popular dramatic
poets seem to have made them their models. The gra¬
ver sort of moralities appear to have given birth to our
modern tragedy •, as our comedy evidently took its rise
from the lighter interludes of that kind. And as most
of these pieces contain an absurd mixture of religion and
buffoonery, an eminent critic has well deduced from
thence the origin of our unnatural tragi-comedies. Even
after the people had been accustomed to tragedies and co¬
medies, moralities still kept their ground. One of them,
intitled The New Custom, was printed so late as 1573.
At length they assumed the name of masques, and, with
some classical improvements, became in the two follow¬
ing reigns the favourite entertainments of the court.
As for the old mysteries, which ceased to be acted
after the reformation, they seem to have given rise to a
third species of stage exhibition ; which, though now
confounded with tragedy or comedy, was by our first
dramatic writers considered as quite distinct from them
both: these were historical plays, or histories j a species
of dramatic writing which resembled the old mysteries
in representing a series of historical events simply in the
order of time in which they happened, without any re¬
gard to the three great unities. These pieces seem to
differ from tragedy just as much as historical poems do
from epic: as the Pharsalia does from the JEneid.
What might contribute to make dramatic poetry take
this turn was, that soon after the mysteries ceased to be
exhibited, there was published a large collection of poe¬
tical narratives, called the Mirror for Magistrates, where-
Polonius in Hamlet commends the actors as the best in
the world, either for tragedie, comedie, historic, pasto¬
ral, &c. And Shakespeare’s friends, Heminge and Con-
dell, in the first folio edition of his plays, in 1623, have
not only intitled their book “ Mr William Shakespeare’s
Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies,” but, in their table
of contents, have arranged them under those three seve¬
ral heads; placing in the class of histories, “King John,
Richard II. Henry IV. two parts, Henry V. Henry VI.
three parts, Richard III. and Henry VIII.”
This distinction deserves the attention of the critics:
for if it be the first canon of sound criticism to examine
any work by those rules the author prescribed for bis
first observance; then we ought not to try Shakespeare’s
histories by the general laws of tragedy and comedy.
Whether the rule itself be vicious or not, is another in¬
quiry ; but certainly we ought to examine a work only
by those principles according to which it was composed.
This would save much impertinent criticism.
Not fewer than 19 playhouses had been opened be¬
fore the year 1633, when Prynne published his Histrio-
mastix. From this writer we learn that tobacco, wine,
and beer, were in those days the usual accommodations
in the theatre, as now at Sadlex-s Wells. With regard
to the ancient prices of admission, the playhouse called
the Hope had five different priced seats, from sixpence
to half-a-crown. Some houses had penny benches. The
two-penny gallei'y is mentioned in the prologue to Beau¬
mont and Fletcher’s Woman-hater ; and seats of three¬
pence and a groat in the passage of Prynne last referred
to. But the general price of what is now called the
Titt seems to have been a shilling. The time ot exhi¬
bition was early in the afternoon, their plays being ge¬
nerally acted by day-light. All female parts were per¬
formed by men, no actress being ever seen on the pub¬
lic stage before the civil wars. And as for the play¬
house furniture and ornaments, they had no other scenes
nor decorations of the stage, but only old tapestry, an*
the stage strewed with rushes, with habits accordingl'i
as we are assured in a short Discourse on the Engh-
Stage, subjoined to Flecknoe’s Love''s-Kingdom, 16741
i2mo. , .
(b) For the state of the theatre during the time oi
Shakespeare, see Playhouse ; where a full account 0
(b) We have been anxious to give as full an account of the ancient English drama as we could: we must 1^
T H E
r. 3
it is given from the late valuable edition of our illustri¬
ous poet’s works by Mr Malone. During the whole
reign of James I. the theatre was in great prosperity and
reputation: dramatic authors abounded, and every year
produced a number of new plays 5 it became a fashion
for the nobility to celebrate their weddings, birthdays,
and other occasions of rejoicing, with masques and in¬
terludes, which were exhibited with surprising expence j
our great architect, Inigo Jones, being frequently em¬
ployed to furnish decorations, with all the luxuriance of
his invention and magnificence of his art. The king
and his lords, and the queen and her ladies, frequently
performed in these masques at court, and the nobility at
their private houses*, nor was any public entertainment
thought complete without them. This taste for thea¬
trical entertainment continued during great part of the
reign of King Charles I.; but, in the year 1633, it be¬
gan to be opposed by the Puritans from the press ; and
the troubles that soon after followed entirely suspended
them till the restoration of King Charles II. in 1660.
The king, at his restoration, granted two patents,
one to Henry Killigrew, Esq. and the other to Sir Wil¬
liam Davenant, and their heirs and assigns, for form¬
ing two distinct companies of comedians. Killigrevv’s
were called the King's Servants, and Davenant’s the
Duke's Company. About ten of the company called
the King's Servants were on the royal household esta¬
blishment, having each ten yards of scarlet cloth, with
a proper quantity of lace allowed them for liveries ; and
in their warrants from the lord chamberlain they were
styled gentlemen of the great chamber.
Till this time no woman had been seen upon the
English stage, the characters of women having always
been performed by boys, or young men of an effeminate
Uspect, which probably induced Shakespeare to make so
:ew of his plays depend upon female characters, as they
nust have been performed to great disadvantage. The
j principal characters of his women are innocence and
simplicity, such are Desdemona and Ophelia \ and his
specimen of fondness and virtue in Portia is very short.
But the power of real and beautiful women was now
rdded to the stage j and all the capital plays of Shake¬
speare, Fletcher, and Ben Jonson, were divided be-
ween the two companies, by their own alternate choice,
md the approbation of the court.
The king’s servants seem to have been allowed to be
he best company j and when the variety of plays be¬
wail to be exhausted, they drew the greater audiences,
slavenant, therefore, to make head against them, first
aided spectacle and music to action, and introduced a
lew species of plays, since called dramatic operas;
imong these were, The Tempest, Psyche, and Circe ;
vhich, with many others, were set oft with the most
^pensive decorations of scenes and habits, and with
he best voices and dancers.
I11 1684 ^ie two houses united, and continued toge-
her lor ten years. In 1690 the play began at four
elock *, and, we are told, the ladies of fashion used to
Ae the evening air in Hy de-park after the represen ta¬
ll ] THE
tion ; by which it appears that the exhibitions were in Theatre*
summer too. The principal actors were, Betterton, v
Montfort, Kynaston, Sandford, Nokes, Underhill, and
Leigh, commonly called Tony Leigh; the actresses
were, Mrs Betterton, Barry, Leigh, Butler, Montfort,
and Bracegirdle ; and to this company, in this year,
old Cibber was admitted as a performer in the lowest
rank. It was a rule with the patentees, that no young
person, who offered himself as an actor, should be ad¬
mitted into pay till after at least half a-year’s proba¬
tion ; and Cibber waited full three quarters of a year
before he was taken into a salary of 10s. a-week.
In 1695 a new theatre was opened with Mr Con¬
greve’s comedy of Love for Love, which had such ex¬
traordinary success (says Cibber) that scarce any other
play was acted there till the end of the season ; but
when the season ended, which appears to have begun
in June, he does not tell us, and it is indeed difficult
to guess 5 for though the company acted in summer, it
seems improbable that they should shut up the house in
winter, as it is difficult to conceive any reason for so
doing. Congreve was then in such high reputation,
that this company offered him a whole share (but into
how many shares the whole was divided Colley has not
told us) upon condition he would give them a new play
every year. This offer he accepted, and received the
advantage, though he never fulfilled the condition j for
it was three years before he produced the Mourning
Bride, and three more before he gave them the Way of
the World.
It is not necessary that we give in detail the remain¬
ing history of the English stage : those who are anxious
to be acquainted with it may consult Cibber’s history of
of the stage, continued by Victor, under the title of A
History of the Theatres of London and Dublin from
the year 1730. We shall only mention a few facts re¬
specting the salaries of the players about that period,
and the rise of the price of play tickets.
A difference having arisen in 1733 between the ma¬
nagers and actors, most of the actors set up for them¬
selves at the little theatre in the Haymarket. Upon
this the managers published the following account of
their salaries, to show the public how little room they
had to mutiny. To Mr Colley Cibber, from the time
of letting his share till he left the stage, 12I. 12s, per
week. Mr The. Cibber jl. and his wife’s whole salary
till her death, without doing the company any servicefer"
the greatest part of the winter j and his own also, dur-1733;
ing the time of his being ill, who performed but seldom
till after Christmas. Mr Mills jun. 3I. under the same
circumstances with regard to his wife. Mr Mills sen.
il. per day for 200 days certain, and a benefit clear of
all charges. Mr Johnston 5I. Mr Miller 5I. paid him
eight weeks before he acted, besides a present of 10
guineas. Mr Harper 4I. and a present of 10 guineas.
Mr Griffin 4I. and a present. Mr Shepard 3I. Mr
Hallam, for himself and father (though the latter is of
little or no service) 3I. Mrs Heron 5I. raised from
40s. last winter, yet refused to play several parts assigned
hert
mit, however, to inform our readers what Mr Malone says of the old plays, viz. that not one play published
etore 1592 will hear a second reading j and that exclusive of mysteries, moralities, and translations, there are
ut 34 pieces extant which were published before that period.
THE [ 31
TliT'ntre Iiei*. iind acted but seldom this season. AIrs Butler 3I.
d per week. By t^iese and other salaries, with the inci-
5 liebes. charges (besides clothes and scenes), the patentees
^ are at the daily charge of 49!. odd money, each acting-
day.
Till about the same time, the prices at the theatre
were 4s. the boxes, 2s. 6d. the pit, is. 6d. the first
gallery, and is. the second, except upon the first run
of a new play or pantomime, when the boxes were
5s. the pit 3s. the first gallery 2s. and the second is.
But Fleetwood thought fit to raise the prices for an
old pantomime, which was revived without expence.
This produced a riot lor several nights, and at la.^t a
number deputed by the pit had an interview with the
manager in the green room, where it was agreed,
that the advanced prices should be constantly paid at
the doors, and that such persons as did not choose to
stay the entertainment should have the advanced part
of their money returned. This was a very advanta¬
geous agreement for the manager j because, when the
audience had once paid their money, very lew went out
or demanded their advanced money, and at last it set¬
tled in the quiet payment of the advanced price, as at
this day.
It has been frequently a subject of debate, whether
the stage he favourable to morals. We do not mean
to enter into the controversy j but we shall make an
observation or two. It will be allowed by all, that
the intention of the players in acting, is to procure
money 5 and the intention of the audience in attend¬
ing the theatre, is to seek amusement. I he players
then will only act such plavs as they believe will an¬
swer their intention. And what sort ot plays are
these ? They are such as correspond with the opinions,
manners, and taste, ot the audience. II the taste oi
the audience be gross, therefore the plays will be gross ;
if delicate and refined, they will he the same. And
if we go back to the time of Shakespeare, we shall
find that this lias been uniformly the case. The con¬
clusion, we draw, is this, if the taste ol the audience be
pure, tree from licentiousness, tiie plays will lie tue
same, and the stage will be favourable to virtue.
For a view ot the progress ot the stage, and of
the principal dramatic writers, see Drama, Supple¬
ment.
THEBAID, a celebrated heroic poem of Statius,
the subject of which is the civil war of Thebes, between
the two brothers Eteocles and Polyniccs ; or Thebes
taken by Theseus.
THEBES, the name of.a celebrated city of ancient
Greece. It is supposed to have been built by Cadmus,
Account of about the year of the world 2555. I bis Cadmus, acv
Cadmus cording to the Greeks, was the son of Agenor king of
the found- f^don nr of Tyre •, but the Sidonians allow him to have
y1' ot’ i)eeri of no higher quality than bis cook, and tel! us that
ihc,>'JS |>is wife was a musician at court, with whom he ran
away into Greece. I he Greek writers tells us, that
being commanded bv his father to go in search of his
daughter Europa, whom Jupiter in the shape ol a bull
bad carried off, and forbid to return without her, he
built, or rebuilt, the city of Thebes, after having long
sought her in vain. He was at first opposed by the Ily-
antes and Amies •, the former of whom he defeated in
battle, and forced to retire into Locris 5 the latter sub¬
mitted, and were incorporated among his subjects.
5
2 ] THE
Those who endeavour to extract some truth from the ^
multitude of fables in which the early part of the Gre-
clan history is obscured, are of opinion that Cadmus was 2
one of the Canaanites expelled by Joshua •, and that he
was of the family of the Cadmonites mentioned by Moses
and Joshua. He is universally allowed to have intro-Canaa;
duced the Phoenician letters into Greece, setup the.first
schools, and introduced brass *, which, from him, had
the name of Cadmean given to it. The government of
Thebes continued for a long time monarchical; and the
names of a number of its kings have been transmitted to
us, with some account of their transactions ; hut very
much obscured by fable.
Though the Thebans had been famed in the early Tlic'i
period of their history for their martial achievements,*,a’1Ea
yet in process of time they seem to have degenerated.*™*
At the time of the invasion of Xerxes, they were thepie.
first people in Greece who were gained over to the Per¬
sian interest. On account of this conduct, they became
very obnoxious to the other states, especially to theA-
thenians, whose power and renown increased everyday,
and threatened at last to swallow them up altogether, ,
The Thebans being in no condition to oppose such
formidable power, put themselves under the protection*^
of the Spartans, who, out of jealousy of the Athenians,tcctio)
readily' forgave them ; and so grateful were the The-theSp
hands for the kindness shown them at this time, that du-tam.
ring the whole of the Peloponnesian war Sparta had not
a more faithful ally. By tliese means they not only re¬
covered the government of Bocotia, of which they had
been formerlyin possession, till deprived of it on account
of their siding with the Persians, hut their city became
one of the first in Greece. By this prosperity the The¬
bans were so much elated, that, when the peace of An-
talcidas came to he signed, they refused to agree to it,
as they were thus once more deprived of the govern-^ j
ment of Boeotia ; so that it was not without the utmost^,
difficulty that they were overawed into it by the other^tj
states. Not content with forcing them to give up thisged,j
point, however, the Spartans undertook to change the1^"
form of the Theban government, which at this time s
a democracy, and accomplished through the treachery of tan!!
those who had the care of the citadel.
The Thebans continued under the power of the Spar-'llie
tans for four years; at the ead of which term a conspi-^ J
racy being formed against them by some of the princi-^tyj
pal people in the city, among whom was a young no-Petof!
bleman named Pehpicfos, the Spartans were massacred
and driven out, and the citadel regained. During the
tumult Epaminondas, afterwards the celebrated gene¬
ral, with a number of the best citizens, joined the party
of Pelopidas ; and the latter having called a general
assembly of the Thebans, proclaimed liberty to them,
and exhorted them in the strongest manner to fight for
their country. This speed) was received with the great¬
est. acclamations ; Pelopidas was unanimously proclaim¬
ed the preserver of Thebes, and was charged with the
management of the war which was then to be declared
against Sparta.
These transactions so mods exasperated the Spartans Asl
that they immediately sent their king CleoinbrotussIJ
apainst them, though it. was then the depth of winter.
Tl it* Athenians, in the mean time, who had hitherto as¬
sisted the Thebans, declined any farther connection, lest
they should draw upon themselves the resent-meut B
^ ■ the
#•
8
S; r*
ieit-
r J : 0-
I.
THE [3
tbe Spartans. But they were soon after determined to
act again on the same side, by an attempt which the
Spartan general, Sphodnas, had rashly made on the Py-
rseus or harbour of Athens. Thus, by means of the
Athenians, a powerful diversion was made in favour of
the Thebans who gradually recovered all the towns of
Boeotia, and at length began to act offensively against
their enemies, and made a powerful invasion in Phocis.
They had now many sharp encounters with them j
which, though they did not amount to decisive battles,
yet did not fail to x’aise their courage, and depress that
of the Spartans. In these encounters Pelopidas always
signalized himself; and in the battle ofTanagra, where
the Lacedaemonians xvere entirely defeated by the Athe¬
nians and their allies, Pelopidas had a principal share in
the victory, and killed the Spartan general with his own
hand. Soon after this, with a body of only 300 The¬
bans, he entirely routed and dispersed near 1000 Spar¬
tans *, which was the greatest disgrace the latter had
ever known j for till that time, whether in war with the
Greeks or barbarians, they had never been overcome
by an equal, much less by such an inferior number of
troops.
These successes of the Thebans greatly alarmed the
Athenians, who continually sought to oppose their
growing power. In this opposition they were joined
by the Plataeans, who on this account became extreme¬
ly obnoxious to the Thebans, so that they at last came
to a resolution to surprise their city. This they accom¬
plished, and entirely destroyed it, together with Thes-
pia, another city extremely well affected to Athens.
Soon after this, the Thebans, encouraged by their suc¬
cess, began to think of enlarging their territories, and
of making encroachments on their neighbours, as they
saw other states had done before them. This spirit of
conquest is said to have been raised by their general
Pelopidas j in which he was seconded by Ep&minondas,
a person who, though like him endowed with all the
necessary qualities to make a complete captain or pa¬
triot, had till then preferred a private life, and lived in
a constant course of virtue and the study of philosophy.
He had as yet seldom appeared in public, except to get
himself excused from those state employments which
were so eagerly courted by others. This, however, had
not hindered him from contracting an intimate friend¬
ship with Pelopidas, which had been daily improved by
the correspondence of their tempers and principles, as
well as by that zeal which both displayed for the good
of their country ; which last had made them, even be¬
fore this time, appear together in action, and to such
advantage, that Epaminondas’s merit could be no longer
concealed, nor indeed suffer him to continue longer in
his beloved retirement: so that he saw himself, at length,
deservedly placed at the head of the Theban troops;
where he gave such early proofs of his future prowess
and abilities as justly gave him the next rank to Pelo¬
pidas. Both came now to be considered in the same
light, as generals in the field, as governors at home,
and as complete statesmen in the council. When the
general treaty for restoring peace to Greece came to be
proposed by the Athenians, and was upon the point of
being executed by the rest of the states, the Thebans
defused to agree to it, unless they were comprehended
in it under tbe name of Boeotians. This demand was as
strenuously opposed by the other contracting powers as
Vol. XX. Part I. f
13 ] THE
insisted on by Epaminondas, who was there as amhassa- Thsbes.
dor on the part of the Thebans. Agesilaus, in particu- (■—-v—. ■<
lar, told him in plain terms, that the Thebans ought to^
evacuate Boeotia, and leave the cities of it free and in-ence
dependent. To which it was answered by him, that Agesilaui
the Lacedaemonians would do well to set them the ex-king of
ample, by restoring Messenia to its ancient proprietors, Sparta,
and Laconia to its ancient freedom j for that the pre¬
tensions of the city of Thebes to Boeotia were as well
founded, at least, as those of Sparta to those two coun¬
tries. After this he went on, and showed how far
Sparta had aggrandized herself at the expence of her
neighbours : that peace might be indeed obtained, and
upon a solid and lasting footing*, but that this could not
be otherwise than by bringing all to an equality. This
bold though just remonstrance, in which not only
Thebes, but Greece in general was concerned, failed
not, however, to exasperate the haughty Spartan mo¬
narch 5 and the Athenians, who had till now looked
upon the Thebans as dependents either on them or on
the Macedonians, were not a little offended to hear their
ambassadors talk in such high terms. The result of the
conference was, thatAgesilausstruck the name of Thebes
out of the treaty, and declared war against them, about
the year 371 B. C. 1J
The Thebans were in no small consternation to see The spar-
themselves engaged in a war with the powerful Spar-tans declare
tans, without any ally to assist them j and the rest ofwar aSa*nst
the Grecian states having made peace with the latter, T^ebes'
began to look upon the ruin of the former as unavoid¬
able. However, they resolved to make the best defence
they could ; and put their army under the command of
Epaminondas, assigning him, at his own request, six
others to act as counsellors or assistants. The Theban
army consisted at most but of 6000 men, whereas that
of the enemy was at least thrice that number; but Epa¬
minondas trusted most to bis horse, wherein he had much
the advantage both in quality and good management :
the rest he endeavoured to supply by the disposition of
his men, and the vigour of the attack. He even refused
to suffer any to serve under him in the engagement, but
such as he knew to be fully resolved to conquer or die. ^
The two armies met at Leuctra, where the Spartans Are entire-
were defeated with great slaughter, as related under that ly defeated
article. " " at ^uctra.
The victorious general, desirous to improve this great
victory, sent an herald, crowned with garlands, to com¬
municate it in form to the Athenians, in hopes that this
would be an effectual means to reunite them to the The- ^
ban interest. But it proved quite otherwise. Athens, The Athe-
which now looked upon them with a jealous eye, andniansjea-
had then in view the sovereignty of Greece, chose ra-j^“s®^ie
ther, if they could not wholly obtain it, to share it with
Sparta, than to let the Thebans into tbe whole ; and
therefore even declined giving their herald audience.
However, the Thebans took care to strengthen them¬
selves by alliances ; and, besides the Arcadians and E-
leans, had got thePhocians, Locrians, Acarnanians, Eu-
bceans, and other states, under their dependence: so that 15
they were now in a condition to act offensively against Tkc-
the Spartans. Accordingly, under pretence of assisting p8,1?5
the Arcadians, they entered Peloponnesus with a gallant sus a"
army, with Epaminondas and Pelopidas at their head, formidable
Here they were joined by the Arcadian and other con- army, but
federate forces ; so that the whole amounted to 40,000,ar® rePui*
Rsecu
r ♦ some
THE [ 3x4 ] THE
,,, >7 .
T;ie Corin¬
thians de¬
feated.
Thebes, some say 50,000 men, besides great numbers of those
t..—v——x wi,0 followed the camp, rather for plunder than fight¬
ing, and were computed about 20,000 more. The
army was divided into four columns, and moved straight
towards Sellasia, the place of rendezvous, from which
they pursued their journey with fire and sword towards
Sparta. But here they were repulsed by Agesilaus,
who was then returned to that metropolis.
To repair, in some measure, this disgrace, and at
the same time to leave some lasting monument which
should redound as much to his glory as to the mortifi¬
cation of the Spartans, Epaminondas left not their ter¬
ritories till he had restored the posterity of the old
Messenians to their ancient dominions, out of which they
jg had been banished near 300 years j rebuilt their capi-
The Messe-tal, and left a strong garrison for its defence. He
mans resto-waSj however, nearly cut off in his return by Iphicrates,
Indent'd5*1 'v^om ^ie Athenians had sent with 12,000 men to in-
nxinions. tercept him; but this last loitered so long at Corinth,
that the Thebans had passed the defiles of Cenchreae,
the chief place where he could have obstructed his re¬
treat had he taken possession of it in proper time. Epa¬
minondas continued his march till he came in full view
of the city of Corinth. He found the roads choked
up with trees, rocks, stones, and every thing that could
render them impassable ; and the Corinthians well forti¬
fied, and resolute on a stout defence. But he came so
furiously upon them, notwithstanding all these difficul¬
ties, that they abandoned all their entrenchments and
outworks to the Thebans, and fled into the city. Thither
these pursued them sword in hand, and made an horrid
slaughter of them ; insomuch that Corinth must have
unavoidably fallen into their hands, had their generals
thought fit to pursue these advantages ; but whether
they were afraid of the Athenians falling upon them,
or apprehended some dangerous ambush in a country
with which they were but indifferently acquainted, or
whether the army was too much weakened through so
many fatigues, or, lastly, whether the coldness of the
season, it being then the depth of winter, would not
permit them to proceed farther, they immediately march¬
ed towards Boeotia. This gave such an advantage to
das and Pe-their enemies, that they met with a very mortifying re-
Jopidas dis- ception at their return to Thebes, where they were both
arrested, and seized as state-prisoners, for having pre¬
sumed to prolong their command four months longer
than the time limited by law, which time took in almost
the whole of their expedition from their first entrance
into Peloponnesus. However, at last, the judges being
ashamed to proceed any farther, they were both honour¬
ably acquitted.
This prosecution had been chiefly carried on and en¬
couraged by Meneclides a discontented Theban, and a
bold and able speaker, who, by his artful calumnies at
the trial, had so far prevailed with the judges as to get
Epaminondas deprived of the government of Bceotia for
a whole year, though he could not gain the same advan¬
tage against Pelopidas, who was a greater favourite of
the people, as being his senior.
By this delay the Spartans, with much difficulty, had
Wwe^withrecovere^ themselves from their great defeat at Leuctra,
bparla. aH<^ settled their affairs in as good a posture as they
could; but though they had repulsed the Thebans in
Peloponnesus, yet from the exploits they had performed
there, especially in the dismembering the whole king-
iS
Epaminon
graced at
Thebes.
19
War re-
dom of Messenia from them, they had still cause to fear xhi*
what their forces might do under two such generals, *—y-
and had accordingly taken due care to strengthen them¬
selves against them, and to provide themselves with a
great number of auxiliaries from other states, especially
from that of Athens, with whom they had renewed
their old treaty, and had agreed that each should have
the command five days alternately. Soon after this
treaty the Arcadians renewed the war, and took Pal-
lene in Laconia by storm, put the garrison to the sword,
and were presently assisted by the Argives and Eleans,
and especially by the Thebans, who sent to them 7000
foot, and 500 horse under the command of Epaminon¬
das. This so alarmed the Athenians likewise, that they
immediately sent Gobrias with some forces to oppose his
passage in good earnest; and he so behaved himself a-
gainst the Thebans, that they were forced to abandon
Peloponnesus a second time. This ill success gave fresh The Tk
occasion to the enemies of Epaminondas to blame his',8n,«I
conduct in the highest terms, notwithstanding thesin-8^
gular bravery with which he and his troops had forced
the pass. Even his friends could not but suspect him
of partiality for the Spartans, in not pursuing his ad¬
vantage over them, and making a greater slaughter of
them when he had it in his powrer ; whilst his enemies
made it amount to no less than treachery to his coun¬
try : so that their brave general was once more depriv-^^
ed of the government of Boeotia, and reduced to the da, ^
condition ol a private man. He did not continue longded.
under this disgrace, before an occasion ofl'ered to make
his services again of such necessity to the state, as to
give him an opportunity to retrieve his fame, and
wipe off the stain which his enemies had thrown upon
him.
The Thessalians, who had groaned some time under
the tyranny of the usurper Alexander, surnamed the jj
Phercean, sent an ambassy to Thebes to implore theirPekpidi
aid and protection ; upon which Pelopidas was imme-s^K^!
diately sent as ambassador to expostulate with him on^^
their behalf. He was then in Maeedon, from whence
he took the young prince Philip, afterwards the celebra¬
ted monarch, in order to protect and educate him; and,
upon his return, marched directly toPharsalus in Thes¬
saly, in order-to punish the treachery of some mercena¬
ries, who had deserted the Thebans in that expedition;
but when he came thither, he was surprised to be met
by the tyrant at the head of a numerous army before
that city, whilst his own was but as an handful of men
in comparison of it. However, whether he supposed, or
would be thought to do so, that Alexander came thither
to justify himself, and answer to the complaints alleged
against him, he went, with Ismenias his colleague, to
him unarmed and unattended, not doubting but his cha¬
racter as ambassador from so powerful a republic, joined
to his own character and authority, would protect them
from insult or violence: but he found bin self mistaken;
for Alexander had no sooner got them into his hands,
than he caused them to be seized and sent prisoners to
Pbersea.
The Thebans highly resenting the indignity ofleredA^^
to their ambassadors, sent immediately an army rnt0^ltJtl
Thessaly: but the generals were repulsed with great lossy^i
by the Pheruean usurper; and it was owing to Epanu-festf1'
nondas, who was among them only as a private ceiitinel,
that they were not totally cut off. For the Thebans,
finding
►idu
THE [ 3I
,])t. finding themselves in such imminent danger, which they
attributed to the incapacity of their generals, had imme¬
diately recourse to him, whose valour and experience
had been so often tried ; and, partly by persuasions and
4 intreaties, and partly by threats, obliged him to take
ll" ’ the command. This soon gave a different turn to their
affairs, and converted their flight into a safe and regular
retreat; for he took the horse and light-armed foot, and
placed himself at their head in the rear, and charged the
enemy with such vigour and bravery, that he obliged
them to desist from their pursuit.
However, as the army had suffered such loss before
as not to be able to pursue them in their turn, he was
obliged to return with them to Thebes, with their pu¬
sillanimous generals; where the latter were fined 12,000
drachms each, and the former was reinstated in the com¬
mand, and sent with a new reinforcement to repair the
late dishonour, and prosecute their revenge. The news
of his being in full march on this errand greatly alarm¬
ed the tyrant; but Epaminondas, preferring the safety
of his imprisoned colleague to all other considerations,
forbore pushing hostilities to extremes, for fear of pro¬
voking the enemy to wreak all his fury on him : to pre¬
vent which, he contented himself for a while hovering
about with his army, and now and then w ith such slight
skirmishes as should intimidate the tyrant, and bring him
the sooner to make some satisfactory offers. Alexander
being fully convinced of the superiority of the Theban
genera], was glad to accept of a truce of 30 days, and
to restore Pelopidas and Ismenias to him ; upon which
he immediately withdrew his forces, and returned with
them to Thebes.
By this time Thebes was raised to a sufficient height
of reputation and glory to begin to aim in earnest at the
sovereignty of Greece. The main obstacle to it was,
that the other states grew so jealous of her present great¬
ness, as to enter into the strongest alliances and confe¬
deracies to prevent its farther growth; so that not being
able now to procure many allies at home, they made no
difficulty to seek for them abroad ; and the Lacedaemo¬
nians, by leading the van, gave them a plausible pre¬
tence to follow tberr steps, and procure an alliance with
Persia, which at that time they found was ready to ac¬
cept of the offers on any terms; the only question was,
which of the three states should be preferred, Sparta,
Athens, or Thebes. At the same time, the Thebans
proposed to their new confederates to send likewise pro¬
per deputies to the Persian court, in order to support
their respective interests ; which they readily agreed to.
These were the Arcadians, Eleans, and Argives; at the
head of whose deputation Pelopidas was sent on the be-
.half of the Thebans ; which the Athenians being appris¬
ed of, appointed two on their part. These being all ar¬
rived at the Persian court, began to pursue each their
respective interests; but Pelopidas bad by that time gain¬
ed such credit there, both for his singular address and
his extraordinary exploits, that he was distinguished in a
particular manner from all the other deputies, and wTas
received by the king with manifest marks of honour
and esteem, who freely owned himself convinced that
the Thebans were the people on whom he could most
safely depend ; and after having greatly applauded the
equity ot his demands, ratified and confirmed them with
great readiness, to the no small mort ification of the other
states. The substance of them was, that the liberties
16
CSJ 0
pidai
ie Pe
5 ] THE
formerly granted to the other towns of Greece should Thebe*,
he confirmed , that Messenia, in particular, should con- ——y——»
tinue free and independent on the jurisdiction of Sparta;
that the Athenians should lay up their fleet ; and that
the Thebans should be looked upon as the ancient and
hereditary friends of Persia,
The Thebans took advantage of the dissensions which
prevailed among the Greeks as a pretence for increasing 27
their forces; and Epaminondas thought it a proper op-1*16 * he-
portunity for his countrymen to make a hold effort to *”0'
obtain the dominion at sea, as they had obtained it in ai uild a
great measure at land. He proposed it to them in a pub-fleet,
lie assembly, and encouraged their hopes from the expe¬
rience of the Lacedaemonians, who in Xerxes’s time had,
with ten ships only at sea, gained the superiority over the
Athenians, who had no fewer than 200 ; and added,
that it would be a disgrace now to Thebes to suffei two
such republics to engross the empire of so extensive an
element, without putting in at least for their share of it.
'J he people readily came into his proposal, not without
extraordinary applause, and immediately ordered 100
galleys to be equipped ; and in the mean while sent him
to Rhodes, Chios, and Byzantium, to secure those states
in their interest, and get what assistance he could from
them. His negociations had all the success that could
be wished for, notwithstanding the strenuous opposition
of the Athenians, and of their admiral Laches, who was
sent with a powerful squadron against him. But what
more effectually thwarted all his measures, was the
work that they found for him at land, and the obliging
the Thebans to take part in the quarrels that then reign¬
ed among their neighbours : so that whatever projects
they had concerted, proved abortive for the present;
and the death of Epaminondas, which happened not
long after, put an effectual stop to them.
During the absence of that general, and of his colleague
Pelopidas, the Orchomenians, being spirited upbysome
Theban fugitives, bad formed a design to change the
Theban government into an aristocracy; and 300 horse¬
men of the former had been actually sent to put it in exe¬
cution. Their project, however, was timely discovered
by the vigilance of the magistrates, who caused them to
be seized, and put immediately to death. They next c*ty
sent a sufficient force against the city of Orchomenos, J10s ni;4Cj
with orders to put all the men to death, and to sell the
women and children for slaves, which was punctually
done ; after which they razed that noble city to the ^
ground. Pelopidas was then on his way-to Thessaly, at Pelopidas
the head of a powerful army, whither he had been sent marches a-
to assist the Thessalians, who still groaned under the ty-Saijm
ranny of Alexander the Phersean, and had made several ^essa^tUl
brave efforts to recover their liberty, but had been stillt-rant
overpowered by that usurper. Being joined by the Thes¬
salians, be encamped in the face of the enemy, though
far superior in number, and consisting of above 20,000
men. A fierce engagement soon ensued, in which both
sides fought with uncommon bravery. The place where
the battle was fought was called Cynocephala, from se¬
veral little hills on it, between which there ran a large
plain. Both sides endeavoured at first to post themselves
on these eminences with their foot, whilst Pelopidas or¬
dered his cavalry to charge that of the enemy below :
which they did with such success, that they soon put
them to the rout, and pursued them over the plain. This
obliged the tyrant to gain the tops of the hills, where he
r 2 greatly
T H E
30
Is killed.
[ 31
Thebes, greatly annoyed the Thessalians that endeavoured to
——Y——J force those ascents ; so that Pelopidas was obliged to
give over his pursuit to come to their relief. This im¬
mediately inspired the Thessalians with fresh courage,
who began again to charge the enemy at several onsets ;
and soon threw them into such disorder, that they were
forced to give way. Pelopidas no sooner perceived the
advantage, than he began to look about for Alexander,
with a design of engaging him. Having found him out
as he was commanding his right wing, and endeavouring
to rally his men, he moved directly to him 5 and being
got near enough to be heard by him, challenged him to
decide the battle by single combat with him. Alexan¬
der, instead of accepting the offer, turned about, and
with all the speed he could ran to screen himself a-
mongst his guards. Upon this Pelopidas charged him
with such furious speed, that he obliged him to retire
farther, and shelter himself within the thickest ranks j
the sight of which made him attack with fresh vigour,
and fight more desperately against him. He tried in
vain several times to break through their ranks to reach
him, cutting down great numbers of those that came
forward to oppose him : his eagerness at length exposed
him so far to the darts that were shot at him at a di¬
stance, that some of them went quite through his ar¬
mour, and gave him a desperate wound or two, while
the rest advanced and stabbed him in the breast with
their spears.
It is scarcely possible for words to express the grief
and despair which not only his brave Thebans, but like¬
wise tbe Thessalians and other allies, showed at the
sight of their slain general : some of the latter, who had
perceived the danger he was exposed to, came down the
hill with all possible speed to his relief j but when they
perceived that they were come too late to save him, both
they and the rest of the little army thought on nothing
now but to revenge his death. They rallied according¬
ly both horse and foot, as quick as possible, and began to
charge the enemy afresh, and with such desperate fury,
„ t that they at length gained a complete victory over them,
Alexander and killed aboVe 3000 of them in the pursuit, besides
defeated, a much greater number which they had slain on the
field of battle, though they still looked upon all these
advantages as vastly too small to compensate the loss of
their brave general.
The news of his death had no sooner reached Thebes,
than the whole city was seen in as deep a mourning as
his army. However, they sent a reinforcement to it of
yoco foot and 700 horse, as well to revenge the death
of that general, as to improve the victory he had gained
over the enemy ; by the help of which they fell so fu¬
riously on them, that they quickly broke and totally de¬
feated the shattered remains of Alexander’s army. Here¬
upon be was forced to sue for peace, and to accept it on
such conditions as the conquerors thought fit to impose.
And at last He was at length dispatched in his bed by his wife
laairdered. Thebe, assisted by her brothers, about seven years after
his defeat. His body was afterwards dragged along
the streets, trodden under foot, and left a prey to the
dogs.
Ambition of w^e ^ie Thebans were watching to improve
the The- every commotion that happened, every success they met
with, to the forwarding of their then reigning and fa¬
vourite project, of increasing their power above all the
sest, and in their turn to give laws to Greece. Their
3
6 ] THE
late success in Thessaiy, and the rupture between the xhe!
hans.
Arcadians and Mantineans at the same time, about some y
consecrated money which the former had taken out of
the temple of Olympias to pay their troops employed a-
gainst the Eleans, and which the latter called a down¬
right sacrilege, besides other discords that reigned in the
other states of Greece, gave fresh encouragement to
Thebes to set up for arbitress in those disputes; and so
much the more, as those who had embezzled the sacred
money, and wanted rather to embroil matters than to
have them brought to light, sent that republic word that
the Arcadians were just upon the point of revolting to
the Spartans, and advised them to come and put an im¬
mediate stop to it. At the same time they dispatched
some private directions to a Theban officer at Tegea, to
apprehend several of their own people as disturbers of
the peace. This was accordingly done, and several emi¬
nent persons were confined as prisoners of state : they
were soon after discharged, and loud complaints wsre
made against such arbitrary and unjust proceedings. The
officer wms accused before the Theban senate of having
intermeddled in their affairs, and endeavoured to inter¬
rupt the good correspondence between the two states. It
was even insisted on by some of the Tegeans, that he
should be indicted and proceeded against by his princi¬
pals ; whilst the more moderate sort, who foresaw the
consequences that were likely to attend such appeals,
and that it would infallibly bring the Thebans upon
them, loudly protested against their marching into their
territories, and did all they could to prevent it. The
Thebans, however, were become too powerful and am¬
bitious to miss so fair an opportunity of getting once
more footing in Peloponnesus, as they had long ago pre¬
meditated ; and Epaminondas was so far from making a 34
secret of their design, that he told the Arcadian depu-ddi({
ties in justification of it, that as it was on their accountses the
that the Thebans engaged in the war, they had acted states 0
treacherously with them in making peace with AthensGre£C8,
without their consent: however, that when he had join¬
ed his army on his march into Peloponnesus to assist
his friends, he would soon see what proofs the Arca¬
dians would give of their fidelity. This speech did not
fail to alarm them greatly ; especially as it was spoken
in such a magisterial style and threatening tone. Even
those who were best affected to the Thebans could not
forbear expressing their dislike of it j and all that had
the welfare of Peloponnesus at heart readily agreed with
the Mantineans, that there was no time to be lost to
use all proper means to prevent the impending storm. ^
Athens and Sparta were accordingly applied to, and^COI11j,i
were easily prevailed upon to assist the Mantineans, and nation
to come into a strict confederacy against the Thebans ;again«t
and to prevent all disputes about the command ol the1 c
army, it was agreed that each state should have it in its
own territories ; which plainly shows how terrified they
all were at the apprehension of a fresh invasion of the
Thebans : for this was a point which neither the Spar¬
tans nor Athenians would have so readily given up to
the Arcadians, though these had formerly as strenuously
insisted upon it, even when they were almost reduced to
the last extremity, and had never been able to obtain it
till now. But Epaminondas was then in full march at
the head of his Boeotian troops, with some Euboean auxi¬
liaries, and a body of stout Thessalian horse j and was
moreover to be joined by the Messenians, Argives, and
several
THE
several other nations, as soon as he had entered Pelo-
——1 ponnesus. The confederate ai my against him had or¬
dered their rendezvous at Mantinea, the place which
they naturally concluded would be first attacked, as be¬
ing the chief seat of those who had revolted from the
pan on Thebans. But whilst they were securing themselves on
sn es that side, Epaminondas, who wisely considered how far
sftiit- confederacy and expedition must have drained the
iipi u city of Sparta of its main strength, broke up privately
art from Nemsea, where he had lain for some time encamp¬
ed, and marched all that night with a design to have
surprised that important capital : but, his project being
timely discovered, the vigilant king took care to discon¬
cert it j so that, though the Theban general made seve¬
ral vigorous assaults on that city, he was so stoutly re¬
pulsed, and the Spartans behaved with such intrepid va¬
lour, that he was forced to retire and turn his thoughts
against Mantinea, which he judged by this time to have
been quite defenceless. He judged rightly indeed ; for
the place was not only drained of its troops, but like¬
wise of its inhabitants, who took that opportunity, whilst
the scene of war was in Lacedaemon, to gather in their
idov harvest, and were scattered all over the country, so that
kniiia. he would not have met with any difficulty in gaining the
town, had not the Athenian auxiliaries come unexpect¬
edly to its relief, and given him a fresh repulse.
These two last defeats greatly exasperated the Theban
general, who had never beforeexperienced such disasters,
and could not but foresee that they would not only les¬
sen his reputation with his allies, but, if not timely re¬
trieved, would sully the glory of all his former exploits.
What added to his present difficulties was, that the time
allotted him for his expedition was almost expired ; so
that he had but a short space left to undertake some
brave achievement, which might recover his and bis
country’s honour, and keep up the spirits of his auxili¬
aries, and those under his protection. lie was moreover
got very far into his enemy’s country, and saw plain
enough how narrowly they w atched all his motions, and
how well prepared they were to oppose him whatever at¬
tempt he resolved upon, whether to attack them or to
retreat. Under all these difficulties, he rightly consider¬
ed, that he must immediately resolve upon a decisive
battle 5 in which, if his pristine fortune followed him,
3j! he might at once retrieve his affairs, and make himself
Saule master of Peloponnesus; or, if that failed him, as it late-
lautic., ly had done, fall honourably in the attempt. In this
engagement Epaminondas made the wusest disposition of
! his troops, attacked and fought with the most intrepid
j courage and conduct, and had opened himself a way
j through the Spartan phalanxes, thrown them into the
1 utmost confusion, and made a terrible slaughter of them,
insomuch that the field of battle was covered with their
wounded and slain, when, in the heat of the fight, ha¬
ving ventured himself too far in order to give them a
total overthrow, the enemy rallied again, pouring with
their whole fury three volleys of darts at him, some of
which he drew out and returned to them, till at length,
39 l,eing covered with wounds, and weakened with the loss
®P*mirL 80 much blood, he received a mortal wound from a
^sWl( javelin, and was with great difficulty rescued from the
enemy by his brave Thebans, and brought alive, though
speechless, into his tent. As soon as he had recovered
himself, he asked his friends that were about him-what
was become of his shield j and being told that it was
T H E
safe, he beckoned to have it brought to him, and kissed Thebes,
it. He next inquired which side had gained the vie-—y——»
tory ; and being answered, The Thebans 5 he replied,
Then all is well : and upon observing some of his friends
bewail his untimely death, and leaving no children be¬
hind him, he is said to have answered, Yes j I have left
two fair daughters, the victory of Leuctra, and this of
Mantinea, to perpetuate my memory. Soon after this,
upon drawing the point of the javelin out of his body,
he expired.
The consequence of this great general’s fall, and of
this bloody fight in which neither party could boast any
great advantage over the other, but a great loss of men
on both sides, insomuch that Xenophon makes it a
drawn battle, was, that both parties agreed on a cessation
of arms, and parted, as it were by consent, to take care
of their wounded and slain. Ti e Thebans indeed thus
far gained the greater share of glory, that they renewed
the fight, and after a most desperate contest, gained the
victory over those Spartans that opposed them, and re¬
scued the body of their dying general out of their hands.
However, an effectual end was put to this bloody war,
and a general peace agreed on by all but Sparta; who
refused it only because the Messenians were included in 40
it. But as to the Thebans, they had no great reason to Peace com.
boast of this dear-bought victory, since their power and
glory began to decline from that very time j so that it
may be truly said, that it rose and set with their great
general. _ ^
On the death of Epaminondas, the Thebans relapsed State of
into their former state of inactivity and indolence $ and Thebe* to
at last having ventured to oppose Alexander the Great, t|le PreEeMt
their city was taken, and the inhabitants slaughtered for timc‘
several hours, after which the buildings were destroyed.
It was rebuilt by Casander, but never afterwards made
any considerable figure among the states of Greece.
About the year 146 B. C. it fell under the power of
the Romans, under which it continued till the extinction
of their empire by the Turks. It is now called Thive,
and, according to Hr Clarke, is about two and a half
English miles in circumference. It contains about 300
houses, and many interesting antiquities. The present
population live chiefly within what was anciently the cita¬
del. The circuit of the walls can yet be traced, and
many parts of them are still standing. There are two
mosques in Thebes, and* great many Greek churches.
It is seated between two small rivers, at the south-west
side of a large plain, in E. Long. 23. 40. N. Lat. 38.
I7-
Thebes, in Egypt, one of the most renowned cities
of the ancient world. It was also called Diospolis, or
the city of Jupiter, and was built, according to some,
by Osiris, according to others by Busiris. Its length,-Ancient
in Strabo’s time, was 80 furlongs, or ten miles ; but this Universal
was nothing in comparison of its ancient extent, before^*
it was ruined by Cambyses, which, we are told was no
less than 420 stadia, or 52 miles and an half. The
wealth of this city was so great, that, after it had been
plundered by the Persians, what was found, on burning
the remains of the pillage, amounted to above 300 ta¬
lents of gold and 2300 of silver.
Mr Bruce visited the ruins of this celebrated city 5
but informs us that nothing now remains except four
temples, and these neither so entire nor magnificent as
some others at a place called Dendera. Thebes has
been*
[ j'7 1
THE [ 3iS ] THE
"TScItcs,
-Theft.
Bruce’s
■ Travels,
beeir celebrated by Homer for its bund red gates 5 but
Mr Bruce informs us, that no vestiges of these are now
remaining, neither can we discover the foundation of
any wall it ever had ; “ and as for the horsemen and
chariots it is said to have sent out, all the Thebaid sown
with wheat would not have maintained one half of them.
Thebes, at least the ruins of the temples Medinet
Tabu, are built in along stretch of about a mile broad,
most parsimoniously chosen at the sandy foot of the
mountains. The Ilarti Pensiles, or hanging gardens,
were surely formed upon the sides of these hills, then
supplied with water by mechanical devices. The utmost
is done to spare the plain, and with great reason ; for all
the space of ground this ancient city has had to main¬
tain its myriads of horses and men, is a plain of three
•quarters of a mile broad between the town and the ri¬
ver, upon which plain the water rises to the height of
four and five feet. AH this pretended populousness of
•ancient Thebes I therefore believe to be fabulous.”
Mr Bruce, after examining the ground on which
• Thebes is supposed to have stood, thinks that it had no
walls, and that consequently Homer’s story of its having
■an hundred gates is misunderstood. The mountains of
the Thebaid stand close behind the town, notin a ridge,
but standing single, so that you can go round each of
them. A hundred of these are said to be hollowed out
for sepulchres and other purposes. These, he thinks,
were the hundred gates of Homer ; in proof of this they
are still called by the natives Beeban el Meluke, “ the
ports or gates of the kings.”
All that is said of Thebes by poets or historians after
the days of Homer is meant of Diospolis, which was
built by the Greeks long after Thebes was destroyed,
as its name testifies; though Diodorus says it was built
by Busiris. It was on the east side of the Nile, whereas
ancient Thebes was on the west, though both are consi¬
dered as one city. Splendid descriptions of the anti-
equities of Thebes were published in T802 by Denon, and
several additions have been made by late travellers.
THEFT, or Simple Larceny, is “ the felonious
taking and carrying away of the personal goods of an¬
other.” This ofience certainly commenced then, when¬
ever it was, that the bounds of property, or laws of meum
-and tuuni, were established. How far such an oflence
can exist in a state of nature, Avhere all things are held
to be common, is a question that may be solved with
very little difficulty. The disturbance of any individual
in the occupation of what he has seized to his present
use, seems to be the only oflence of this kind incident to
such a state. But, unquestionably, in social communi¬
ties, when property is established, any violation of that
property is subject to be punished by the laws of society;
though how far that punishment should extend is matter
of considerable doubt.
By the Jewish law it was only punished with a pe¬
cuniary fine, and satisfaction to the party injured;
and, in the civil law, till some very late constitutions,
we never find the punishment capital. The laws of
Draco at Athens punished it with death : but his laws
were said to be written with blood ; and Solon after¬
wards changed the penalty to a pecuniary mulct. And
so the Attic law in general continued ; except that once,
in a time of dearth, it was made capital to break into a
garden and steal figs: but this law, and the informers
pgainst the offence, grew so odious, that from them all
2
malicious informers were styled sycophants; a name ^
which we have much perverted from its original mean-1 ^
ing. From these examples, as well as the reason of the
thing, many learned and scrupulous men have question¬
ed the propriety, if not lawfulness, of inflicting capital
punishment for simple theft. And certainly the natu¬
ral punishment for injuries to property seems to be the
loss of the ofl’ender’s own property ; which ought to be
universally the case, were all men’s fortunes equal. But
as those who have no property themselves are generally
the most ready to attack the property of others, it has
been found necessary, instead of a pecuniary, to substi¬
tute a corporal punishment ; yet how far this corporal
punishment ought to extend, is what has occasioned th«
doubt. Sir Thomas More and the Marquis Beccaria,
at the distance of more than two centuries, have very
sensibly proposed that kind of corporal punishment which
approaches the nearest to a pecuniary satisfaction, viz.
a temporary imprisonment, with an obligation to labour,
first for the party robbed, and afterwards for the public,
in works of tbe most slavish kind ; in order to oblige the
offender to repair, by his industry and diligence, the de¬
predations he had committed upon private property and
public order. But, notwithstanding all the remonstran¬
ces of speculative politicians and moralists, the punish¬
ment of theft still continues throughout the greatest part
of Europe to be capital : and Puffendorf, together with
Sir Matthew Hale, are of opinion that this must always
be referred to the prudence of the legislature : who are
to judge, say they, when crimes are become so enormous!
as to require such sanguinary restrictions. Yet both
these writers agree, that such punishment should be
cautiously inflicted, and never without the utmost ne¬
cessity.
The Anglo-Saxon laws nominally punished theft with
death, if above the value of twelvepence : but the cri¬
minal was permitted to redeem his life by a pecuniary
ransom ; as, among their ancestors the Germans, by a
stated number of cattle. But in the 9th year of Hen¬
ry I. this power of redemption was taken away, and all
persons guilty of larceny above the value of twelvepence
were directed to be hanged; which law continues in force
to this day. F'or though the inferior species of theft, or
petit larceny, is only punished by whipping at common
law, or (by stat. 4 Geo. 1. c. 11.) may be extended to
transportation for seven years, as is also expressly direct¬
ed in the case ol the Plate-glass Company ; yet the pu¬
nishment of grand larceny, or the stealing above the va¬
lue of twelvepence (which sum was the standard in the
time of King Athelstan, 800 years ago), is at common
law regularly death : which, considering the great in¬
termediate alteration in the price or denomination ofmo-
ney, is undoubtedly a very rigorous constitution: and
made Sir Henry Spelman (above a century since, when
money was at twice its present rate) complain, that
■while every thing else was risen in its nominal va¬
lue, and become dearer, the life of man had continually
grown cheaper. It is true, that the mercy of juries will
often make them strain a point, and bring in larceny to
be under the value of twelvepence, when it is really of
much greater value : but this, though evidently justifi¬
able and proper when it only reduces the present nomi¬
nal value of money to the ancient standard, is otherwise
a kind of pious perjury, and does not at all excuse our
common law in this respect from the imputation of se¬
verity,
THE
verity, but rather strongly confesses the charge. It is
likewise true, that by the merciful extensions of the be¬
nefit of clergy by our modern statute-law, a person who
commits a simple larceny to the value of thirteen pence
or thirteen hundred pounds, though guilty of a capital
offence, shall be excused the pains of death ; but this is
only for the first offence. And in many cases of simple
larceny the benefit of clergy is taken away by statute :
as from horse-stealing in the principals and accessories
both before and after the fact; theft by great and no¬
torious thieves in Northumberland and Cumberland j
taking woollen cloth from off the tenters, or linens,
fustians, calicoes, or cotton goods, from the place of ma¬
nufacture (whichextends, in the lastcase, to aiders, assis-
ters,procurers, buyers,and receivers); feloniously driving
away, or otherwise stealing one or more sheep or other
•attle specified in the acts, or killing them with intent to
steal the whole or any part of the carcase, or aiding or
assisting therein ; thefts on navigable rivers above the
value of forty shillings, or being present, aiding and as¬
sisting thereat; plundering vessels, in distress, or that
have suffered shipwreck; stealing letters sent by the post;
and also stealing deer, hares, and conies, under the pe¬
culiar circumstances mentioned in the Waltham black
act. Which additional severity is owing to the great
malice and mischief of the theft in some of these instances;
and in others, to the difficulties men would otherwise lie
under to preserve those goods, which are so easily carried
off. Upon which last principle the Roman law punished
more severely than other thieves the Abigei or stealers of
cattle, and the Balnearii or such as stole the clothes of
persons who were washing in the public baths ; both
which constitutions seem to be borrowed from the laws
of Athens. And so, too, the ancient Goths punished
with unrelenting severity thefts of cattle, or of corn that
was reaped and left in the field : such kind of property
(which no human industry can sufficiently guard) being
esteemed under the peculiar custody of heaven.
Theft-Bote (from the Saxon theof i. e. fur, and
bate, compensatio), is the receiving of a man’s goods
again from a thief, after stolen, or other amends not to
prosecute the felon, and to the intent the thief may
escape; which is an offence punishable with fine and im¬
prisonment, &c.
THELLGONUM, a genus of plants belonging to
the class moncecia, and order of polyandria ; and in the
natural system ranging under the 53d order, Scabridee.
See Botany Index.
THEME, denotes the subject of an exercise for
young students to write or compose on.
THEMISON, a physician of Laodicea, a disciple of
Asclepiades. He founded the methodic sect, with a
view to the more easily teaching and practising the art of
medicine. (See Medicine, N° 37.). Themison gave
the first account of diacodium, which was prepared of
the juice and decoction of poppy-heads and honey.
themistius, an ancient Greek orator and phi¬
losopher who flourished in the 4th century, was a na¬
tive of Paphlagonia. He had great interest and favour
with the emperors in his time, and though a heathen,
was of a very tolerating spirit. He taughtfor many years
at Constantinople, of which city he was made prtefect
by Julian and Theodosius ; and lived to a great age.
^Jore than 30 of his orations are still extant, beside com¬
mentaries omseveral parts of Aristotle’s works.
THE
THEMISTOCLES, the renowned Athenian admi¬
ral, general, and patriot, who gained the battle of Sa-
lamis against the Persians. Being banished his country
by his ungrateful fellow-citizens, he fled to Artaxerxes
king of Persia : but, in order to avoid taking up arms
against his country, he slew himself, 464 B. C. Set
Attica, N° 76, et seq.
THEOBALD, Lewis, the son of an attorney at Sit-
tingbourn in Kent, was a well-known writer and critic
in the early part of the 18th century. He engaged in
a paper called the Censor, published in Mist’s Journal,
wherein, by delivering his opinions with too little reserve
concerning some eminent wits, he exposed himself to their
resentment. Upon the publication of Pope’s Homer, he
praised it in terms of extravagant admiration, yet after¬
wards thought proper to abuse it as earnestly ; for which
Pope at first made him the hero of hisDunciad, though
he afterwards laid him aside for another. Mr Theobald
not only exposed himself to the lashes of Pope, but wa¬
ged war with Mr Dennis, who treated him more rough¬
ly, though with less satire. He nevertheless published
an edition of Shakespeare, in which he corrected, with
great pains and ingenuity, many faults that had crept
into that poet’s writings. This edition is still in great
esteem ; being in general preferred to those published by
Pope, Warburton, and Hanmer. He also wrote som*
plays, and translated others from the ancients.
JHEOBROMA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of polyadelphia, and order of pentandria ; and in
the natural system ranging under the 37th order, Column
niferce. See Botany Index.
THEOCRACY, in matters of government, a state
governed by the immediate direction of God alone:
such was the ancient government of the Jews before thi
time of Saul.
THEOCRI1US, the father of pastoral poetry, was
born at Syracuse in Sicily. Two of his poems ascertain
his age; one addressed to Hiero king of Syracuse, who
began his reign about 275 years before Christ; and th4
other to Ptolemy Philadelphus king of Egypt. Hiero;
though a prince distinguished in arms and political wis-
dong does not seem to have been a patron of learning.
This is supposed'to have given birth to the 16th Idyl-
lium. From Syracuse Theocritus went to Alexandria,
where he seems to have found a munificent patron in
Ptolemy Philadelphus, if we may judge from the pane¬
gyric which he composed on that prince (the 17th Idyl-
lium). It has been said that Theocritus was strangled
by Hiero, but we have not found evidence of this.
The compositions of this poet are distinguished, among
the ancients, by the name of Idylliums, in order to ex¬
press the smallness and variety of their natures : they
would now be called Miscellanies, or Poems on several
Occasions. The first nine and the eleventh are confessed
to be true pastorals, and hence Theocritus has usually
passed for nothing more than a pastoral poet; yet he is
manifestly robbed of a great part of his fame, if his
other poems have not their proper laurels. For though
the greater part of his Idylliums cannot be called the
songs of shepherds, yet they have certainly their respec¬
tive merits. His pastorals ought to be considered as the
foundation of his credit; upon this claim he will be ad¬
mitted for the finisher as well as the inventor of his art;
and will be acknowledged to have excelled all his imi¬
tators as much as originals usually do-their copies.
The
[ 319 1
THE [ 320 ] THE
/Theoeritu* The works of this poet were first published in folio by
|! Aldus Manutius at Venice in 1495. A more elegant
Theodore.^ antj correct edition was printed by Henry Stephens at
v Paris in 1566. An edition was published at Leipsic in
1765, with valuable notes by the learned Reiske. But
what will most highly gratify the admirers of pastoral
poetry, is an edition published in 1770, 2 vols. 4to, by
Mr Thomas Wharton. It is accompanied by the scho¬
lia of the best editors, and the different readings of 15
MSS.
THEODOLITE, a mathematical instrument for
measuring heights and distances. See Mensuration
and Surveying.
THEODORE, king of Corsica, Baron Nieuhofl’ in
the county of La Marc in Westphalia. He had his edu¬
cation in the French service, and afterwards went to
Spain, where he received some marks of regard from
the duke of Riperda and Cardinal Alberoni; but being
of an unsettled disposition, he quited Spain, and travel¬
led into Italy, England, and Holland, in search of new
adventures. He at last fixed his attention on Corsica,
and farmed the scheme of rendering himself sovereign
of that island. He was a man of abilities and address $
and having fully informed himself of every thing re¬
lating to Corsica, went to Tunis, where he fell upon
means to procure some money and arms ; and then went
to Leghorn, from whence he wrote a letter to the Cor¬
sican chiefs Giafferi and Paoli, offering considerable as¬
sistance to the nation if they would elect him as their
sovereign. This letter was consigned to Count Dome¬
nico Rivarola, who acted as Corsican plenipotentiary in
Tuscany, and he gave for answer, that if Theodore
brought the assistance he promised to the Corsicans, they
would very willingly make him king.
Upon this he, without loss of time, set sail, and landed
at Tavagna in the spring of the year 1736. He was a
man of a very stately appearance, and the Turkish dress
he wore added to the dignity of his mien. He had a
few attendants with him ; and his manners were so en-
gaging, and his offers so plausible, that he was pro¬
claimed king of Corsica before Count Rivarola’s dis¬
patches arrived to inform the chiefs of the terms upon
which he had agreed. He brought with him about 1000
zequins of Tunis, besides some arms and ammunition,
and made magnificent promises of foreign assistance j
whence the Corsicans, who were glad of any support,
willingly gave into his schemes. Theodore instantly
assumed every mark of royal dignity. He had his guards
and his officers of state •, he conferred titles of honour,
and struck money both of silver and copper. The sil¬
ver pieces were few in number, and can now hardly be
met with ; the copper coins have on one side T. R. that
is, “ Theodorus Rex,” with a double branch crossed, and
round it this inscription, Pro bono publico Re. Co.
r.hat is, “ lor the public good of the kingdom of Cor¬
sica on the other side is the value of the piece ; Cinque
solidi, or five sous.
The Genoese were not a little confounded with this
unexpected adventurer. I hey published a violent mani¬
festo against Theodore, treatinghimwithgreatcontempt;
but at the same time showing they were alarmed at his
appearance. Theodore replied in a manifesto, with all
tne calmness and dignity of a monarch ; but after being
about eight months in Corsica, perceiving that the peo¬
ple began to cool in their affections towards him, he as¬
sembled his chiefs, and declared he would keep them no Thcoii
longer in a state of uncertainty, being determined toTheodt
seek in person the support he so long expected. He set-’""V
tied an administration during his absence, recommended
unity in the strongest terms, and left the island with re¬
ciprocal assurances of fidelity and affection. He went to
Holland, where he was so successful as to obtain credit
from several rich merchants, particularly Jews, who
trusted him with cannon and other warlike stores to a
great value, under the charge of a supercargo. With
these he returned to Corsica in 1739; but by this time
the French, as auxiliaries to the Genoese, had become
so powerful in the island, that though Theodore threw
in his supply of warlike stores, he did not incline to ven¬
ture his person, the Genoese having set a high price on
his head. He therefore again departed ; and after many
unavailing attempts to recover his crown, at lengtbehose
for retirement a country where he might enjoy the par¬
ticipation of that liberty which he had so vainly endea¬
voured to give his Corsicans; but his situation in England
by degrees grew wretched, and he was reduced so low as
to be several years before his death a prisoner for debt in
the King’s Bench. At length, to the honour of some
gentlemen of rank, a charitable contribution was set on
foot for him in the year 1753. Mr Boswell observes,
that Mr Horace Walpole generously exerted himself for
the unhappy Theodore,and wrote a paper in The World
with great elegance and humour, soliciting a contribu¬
tion for the unhappy monarch in distress, to be paid to
Mr Robert Dodsley bookseller, as lord high treasurer.
This brought him a very handsome sum, and he was set
at liberty. That gentleman adds, that Mr Walpole has
the original deed, by which Theodore made over the
kingdom of Corsica in security to his creditors, and that
he has also the great seal of the kingdom. Theodore
died in 1756, and was buried in St Ann’s churchyard,
Westminster; where, in 1757, a simple unadorned monu¬
ment of marble was erected to his memory by a gentle¬
man, with an inscription, which, after mentioningsomeof
the above particulars, concludes with the following lines:
The grave, great teacher, to a level brings
Heroes and beggars^ galley-slaves and kings :
But Theodore this moral learn’d ere dead, T
, Fate pour'd its lesson on his living head, >•
Bestow’d a kingdom and deny’d him bread. J
THEODORET, bishop of St Cyricus in Syria, in
the 4th century, and one of the most learned fathers of
the church, was horn in the year 386, and was the dis¬
ciple of Theodorus Mopsuestia and St John Chrysostom.
Having received holy orders, he was with difficulty per¬
suaded to accept of the bishopric of St Cyricus, about
the year 420. He discovered great frugality in the ex-
pences of his table, dress, and furniture, but spent con¬
siderable sums in improving and adorning the city of
Cyricus. Fie erected two large bridges, public baths,
fountains, and aqueducts, and laboured with great zeal
and success in his diocese. Yet his zeal was not confi¬
ned to his own church : he went to preach at Antioch
and the neighbouring towns ; where he became admired
for his eloquence and learning, and had the happiness to
convert multitudes of people. He wrote in favour oi
John of Antioch and the Nestorians, against Cyril’s
Twelve Anathemas: he afterwards attacked the opinions
ol Nestorius, and was deposed in the synod held by the
Eutychians,
THE f 32i 1 THE
t, Eutycliians at Ephesus *, but was again restored by the
s.general council of Chalcedon, in which he was present,
Jin 451. It is thought that he died soon after; though
others say that he lived till the year 457. There are
still extant Theodoret’s excellent Commentary on St
Paul’s Epistles, and on several other books of the Holy
Scriptures. 2. His Ecclesiastical History from the time
of Arius to Theodosius the Younger. 3. The History
of the famous Anchorites of his time. 4. Epistles. 5.
Discourses on Providence. And, 6. An excellent trea¬
tise against the Pagans, entitled, De Ourandis Grce-
corum Affectibus; and other works. The best edition
of all which is that of Father Sirmond in Greek and
Latin, in 4 vols folio.
THEODOSIUS I. called the Great, was a native
bf Spain. The valour he had shown, and the great ser¬
vices he had done to the empire, made Gratian, when
attacked by the Goths and Germans, to admit him as a
partner in the government. He received the purple in
379, aged 43. See Constantinople, N° 77—88.
THEOGONY, from 0M5, God, and yam, “ seed,
offspring,” that branch of the heathen theology, which
taught the genealogy of their gods.
Hesiod gives us the ancient theogony in a poem un¬
der that title. Among the most ancient writers, Dr
Burne observes that theogony and cosmogony signified
the same thing. In effect, the generation of the gods
ot the ancient Persians, fire, water, and earth, is appa¬
rently no other than that of the primary elements.
THEOGNIS, an ancient Greek poet of Megara in
Achaia, flourished about the 59th Olympiad, 144 B. C.
We have a moral work of his extant, containing a sum¬
mary of precepts and reflections, usually found in the
collections of the Greek minor poets.
Theodosius
II .
Theognis.
THEOLOGY
m. IfS a Greek word (6ioXoytci), and signifies that science
1 which treats of the being and attributes of God, his
relations to us, the dispensations of his providence, his
will with respect to our actions, and his purposes with
respect to our end. The word was first used to denote
the fables of those poets and philosophers who wrote of
the genealogy and exploits of the gods of Greece. It
was afterwards adopted by the earliest writers of the
Christian church, who styled the author of the Apoca¬
lypse, by way of eminence, «' fooXoyo?, tAe Divine.
Although every pagan nation of antiquity had some
tutelary deities peculiar to itself, they may yet be con¬
sidered as having all had the same theology, since an in¬
tercommunity of gods was universally admitted, and the
heavenly bodies were adored as the dii majorum gen¬
tium over the whole earth. This being the case, we are
hapily relieved from treating, in the same article, of the
truths of Christianity and the fictions of paganism, as
we have elsewhere traced idolatry from its source, and
shown by what means “ the foolish hearts of men be¬
came so darkened that they changed the glory of the in¬
corruptible God into an image made like to corruptible
man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping
things.” See Polytheism.
The absurdities and inconsistency of the pretended
revelation of the Arabian impostor have been sufficient¬
ly exposed under the words Alcoran and Mahome-
Tanism ; so that the only theology of which we have to
treat at present is the Christian theology, which com¬
prehends that which is commonly called natural, and
that which is revealed in the scriptures of the Old and
New Testaments. These taken together compose a body
of science so important, that in comparison with it all
other sciences sink into insignificance; for without a
competent knowledge of the attributes of God, of the
several relations in which he stands to us, and of the
ends for which We were created, it is obvious that we
tnust wander through life like men groping in the dark,
strangers to the road on which we are travelling, as
well as to the fate awaiting us at the end of our journey.
. ^"t if this knowledge be necessary to all Christians,
*t is doubly so to those who are appointed to feed the
Vol. XX. Part I. f
3
flock of Christ,and to teach the ignorant what they are*? be stn'‘
to believe, and what to do, in order to work out their fjf,11 fare*
own salvation. The wisdom and piety of our ancestors those in-
have accordingly founded professorships of theology in tended for
all our universities, where the principles of our religion tile service
are taught in a systematic and scientific manner; and
the church has ordained, that no man shall be admitted C ^
to the office of a preacher of the gospel who has not at¬
tended a regular course of such theological lectures.
It must not, however, be supposed, that, by merely
listening to a course of lectures however able, any man
will become an accomplished divine. The principles of
this science are to be found only in the word and works
of God ; and he who would extract them pure and un¬
sophisticated, must dig for them himself in that exhaust¬
less mine. To fit a man for this important investiga- p1.evi^,ls
tion, much previous knowledge is requisite. He must knowledge
study the works of God scientifically before he can per-requisite
ceive the full force of that testimony which they bear101 'K6 Pro*
to the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of their au-
thor. Hence the necessity of a general acquaintance
with the physical and mathematical sciences before a
man enter on the proper study of theology, for he will
not otherwise obtain just and enlarged conceptions of
the God of the universe. See Physics, N° 115.
But an acquaintance with the physical and mathema¬
tical sciences is not alone a sufficient preparation for the
study of theology. Indeed it is possible for a man to
devote himself so wholly to any of these sciences, as to
make it counteract the only purposes for which it can
be valuable to the divine; for he who is constantly im¬
mersed in matter, is apt to suspect that there isnoothgr
substance; and he who is habituated to the routine of
geometrical demonstration, becomes in time incapable of
reasoning at large, and estimating the force of the vari¬
ous degrees of moral evidence. To avert these disagree¬
able consequences, every man, before he enters on the
study of that science which is the subject of the present
article, should make himself acquainted with the princi¬
ples of logic, the several powers of the human mind,
and the different sources of evidence; in doing which he
will find the greatest assistance fromBaeon’sOr-
S a ganum,
THEOLOGY.
322
Iiitroduc- ganum, Locke’s Essay on the Human Understanding,
tiou. lieid’s Essays on the Intellectual and Active Powers oj
' v_ " Man, and 'J'alham’s Chart and Scale oj Truth. These
works will teach him to think justly, and guard him
against a thousand errors, which tliosc who have not
laid such a foundation are apt to embrace as the truths
of God.
The man who proposes to study theology ought to
have it in view as the ultimate end of his labours, to
impart to others that knowledge which he may procure
for himself. “ Amongst the many marks which distin¬
guish the Christian philosopher from the Pagan, this
f IVarbuv- (says a learned writeri) is one of the most striking—
***• the Pagan sought knowledge in a selfish way, to se¬
cret it for his own use ; the Christian seeks it with
the generous purpose (first in view, though last in exe¬
cution) to impart it to others. The Pagan philosopher,
therefore, having cultivated the ar£ of thinking, pro¬
ceeds to that of speaking, in order to display his vanity
in the dexterous use of deceit. On the other hand, the
Christian philosopher cultivates the art of speaking, for
the sole purpose of disseminating the truth in his office
of preacher of the gospel.”
As every man, before he enters on the proper study
of theology, receives, at least in this country, the rudi¬
ments of a liberal education, it may perhaps be superflu¬
ous to mention here any books as peculiarly proper to
teach him the art of speaking : we cannot however for¬
bear to recommend to our student the attentive perusal
of Quintilian’s Institutions, and Dr Blair’s Lectures on
Rhetoric and the Belles Lettres. A familiar acquaint¬
ance with these works will enable him, if he be endow¬
ed by nature with talents fit for the office in which he
proposes to engage, to express his thoughts with cor¬
rectness and elegance ; a without which, it has been
well observed, that science, especially in a clergyman,
is but learned lumber, a burden to the owner, and a
nuisance to every body else.”
No man can proceed thus far in the pursuits of gene¬
ral science without having been at least initiated in the
learned languages •, but he who intends to make theolo¬
gy his profession should devote himself more particularly
to the study of Greek and Hebrew, because in these
tongues the original scriptures are written. He who is
incapable of consulting the original scriptures, must rest
bis faith, not on the sure foundation of the word of
God, but on the credit of fallible translators-, and if he
be at any time called on to vindicate revelation against
the scoffs of infidelity, he will have to struggle with
many difficulties which are easily solved by him who is
5 master of the original tongues.
Cautions to student having laid in this stock of preparatory
in auend ^'knowletl^e’ *s now *0 attend with advantage
jn<r the lec-th6 theological lectures of a learned professor-, but in
tures of a doing this, he should be very careful neither to admit
professor. nor reject any thing on the bare authority of his master.
Right principles in theology are of the utmost import¬
ance, and can rest on no authority inferior to that ot Intrt
the word of God. On this account we have long been tk
of opinion, that a professor cannot render his pupils so
much service by a systematical course of lectures, as by
directing their studies, and pointing out the road in
which they may themselves arrive in the shortest time at
the genuine sense, of the sacred scriptures. In this opi¬
nion we have the honour to agree with the ablest lec¬
turer J in theology that we have ever heard. The au-f T/h
thors of all systems are more or less prejudiced in behalf t)rCi
of some particular and artificial mode of faith. He,
therefore, who begins with the study of them, and after- Cl
wards proceeds to the sacred volume, sees with a jaun¬
diced eye every text supporting the peculiar tenets of
his first master, and acts as absurd a part as he who
tries not the gold by the coppel, but the coppel by the
gold. Before our young divine, therefore, sit down to
the serious perusal of any one of those institutes or bo¬
dies of theology which abound in all languages, and even
before he read that which the nature of our work com¬
pels us to lay before him, we beg leave to recommend
to his consideration the following
Preliminary Directions for the Study of’
Theology.
Christian theology is divided into two great parts, chrii
natural -And revealed ; the former comprehending thattheoli
which may be known of God from the creation of the
world, even his eternal power and Godhead -, the hit-
ter, that which is discovered to man nowhere but in theb
sacred volume of the Old and New Testaments.
Concerning the extent of natural theology many opi-First
nions have been formed, whilst some have contendedciple»
that there is no such thing. Into these disputes wedieol(
mean not at present to enter. We believe that one of^’j
them could have had no existence among sober and en¬
lightened men, had the contending parties been at due
pains to define with accuracy the terms which they used.
Whatever be the origin of religion, which we have en¬
deavoured to ascertain elsewhere (seeRELlGlON,N°6—
17.), it is obvious, that no man can receive a written
book as the word of God till he be convinced by some
other means that God exists, and that he is a Being ot
power, wisdom, and goodness, who watches over the
conduct of his creature man. If the progenitor of the
human race was instructed in the principles of religion
by the Author of his being (a fact of which it is diffi¬
cult to conceive how a consistent theist can entertain »
doubt), he might communicate to bis children, by na¬
tural means, much of that knowledge which he himself
could not have discovered had he not been supernatu-
rally enlightened. Between illustrating or proving a
truth which is already talked of, and making a disco¬
very of what is wholly unknown, every one perceives
that there is an immense difference (a).
To beings whose natural knowledge originates wholly
from
(a) I he discriminating powers of Aristotle will not be questioned j and in the following extract made by Cicero
from some of his works which are now lost, he expresses our sentiments on this important subject with his usual
precision : “ Praeclare ergo Aristoteles, si essent, inquit, qui sub terra semper habitavissent, bonis, et illustri-
bus domiciliis, quee essent ornata signis atque picturis, instructaque rebus iis omnibus, quibus abundant ii, qui beati
putantur, nec tamen exissent unquam supra terrara : Accepissent autem FAMA et auditione* esse quoddaM
< NUMEX,
T H E 0
flifriufY from SPiisation, ad cl whose minds cannot, but by much
Di -tions. discipline, advance from sense to science, a long series of
' revelations might be necessary to give them at first just
^ * notions o( God and his attributes, and to enable them
cai st to perceive the relation between the effect and its cause,
isoiIs by so as to infer by the powers of their own reason the ex-
repted Jstence of the Creator from the presence of his creatures.
m ■lons’ Such revelations, however, could be satisfactory only to
those who immediately received them. Whenever the
Deity has been pleased by supernatural means to commu¬
nicate any information to man, we may be sure that he
has taken effectual care to satisfy the person so highly
favoured that his understanding was not under the in¬
fluence of any illusion 5 but such a person could not
communicate to another the knowledge which he had
thus received by any other means than an address to his
rational faculties. No man can be required to believe,
no man indeed can believe, without proof, that another,
who has no more faculties either of sensation or intellect
than himself, has obtained information from a source to
which he lias no possible access. An appeal to miracles
would in this case serve no purpose ; for we must believe
in the existence, power, wisdom, and justice of God, be¬
fore a miracle can be admitted as evidence of any thing
but the power of him by whom it is performed. See
Miracle.
It is therefore undeniable that there are some princi-
;Pro-ples of theology which may be called natural; for
|jrjj though it is in the highest degree probable that the pa-
rents of mankind received all their theological know¬
ledge by supernatural means, it is yet obvious that some
parts of that knowledge must have been capable of a
proof purely rational, otherwise not a single religions
truth could have been conveyed through the succeeding
generations of the human race but by the immediate in¬
spiration of each individual. We indeed admit many
propositions as certainly true, upon the sole authority of
the Jewish and Christian scriptures, and we receive these
scriptures with gratitude as the lively oracles of God \
prm
LOGY. 323
hut it is self-evident that we could not do either the one Preliminary
or the other, were we not convinced by natural means Direction*,
that God exists, that he is a being of goodness, justice, v
and power, and that he inspired with divine wisdom the
penmen of these sacred volumes. Now, though it is
very possible that no man or hotly of men, left to them¬
selves from infancy in a desert world, would ever have
made a theological discovery j yet whatever propositions
relating to the being and attributes of the first cause and
the duty of man, can be demonstrated by human reason,
independent of written revelation, may be called natu¬
ral theology, and are of the utmost importance, as being
to us the first principles of all religion. Natural the¬
ology, in this sense of the word, is the foundation of
the Christian revelation j for without a previous know¬
ledge of it, we could have no evidence that the scrip¬
tures of the Old and New Testaments are indeed the
word of God. 1Q
Our young divine, therefore, in the regular order of Natural
his studies ought to make himself master of natural^^0^ **
theology before he enter upon the important task
searching the scriptures. On this subject many books
have been published in our own and other languages; of rcTela-
but perhaps there is none more worthy of attention thantion.
the Religion of Nature delineated, by Mr Wollaston (b).
It is a work of great merit, and hears ample testimony
to its author’s learning and acuteness : yet we think it
ought to he read with caution. Mr Wollaston’s theory B00j”re_
of moral obligation is fanciful, and groundless; andcommend-
whilst we readily acknowledge that he demonstrates
many truths with elegance and perspicuity, we cannot
deny that he attempts a proof of others, for which we
believe no other evidence can be brought than the de¬
clarations of Christ and his apostles in the holy scrip¬
tures. To supply the defects of his theory of morals,
we would recommend to the student an attentive perusal
of Cumberland on the Law of Nature, and Paley’s Ele¬
ments of Moral Philosophy. A learned author I af-j. }fari,ur_
firms of Cumberland, that “he excels all men in fixingiow.
the
NUMEK, ET VIM DEORUM ; delude aliquo tempore, patefactis terrte faucihus, ex illis abditis sedibus evadere in
htec loca, quae nos incolimus, atque exire potuissent: cum repente terram, et maria, coelumque vidissent : nubi-
um magnitudinem, ventorumque vim cognovissent, adspexissentque solem, ejusque turn magnitudinem, pnlchritu-
dinemque, turn etiam efficientiam cognovissent, quod is diem efficeret, toto coelo luce diflusa : cum autem terras
nox opacasset, turn coelom totum cernerent astris distinctum et ornatum, lunaeqne luminum varietatem turn cre-
*centis, turn senescentis, eorumque omnium ortus et occasus, atque in omni aeternitate ratos, immutahilesque cur-
sus: htec cum viderent, PROFECTO ET ESSE DECS, et HiEC TANTA OPERA DEORUM ESSE arhitrarentur.” De
Nut. Deorum, lib. ii. § 37.
Irom this passage it is evident, that the Stagyrite, though he considered the motions of the heavenly bodies,
the ebbing and flowing of the sea, and the other phenomena of nature, as affording a complete proof of the being
and providence of God, did not however suppose that from these phenomena an untaught barbarian would discover
this fundamental principle of religion. On the contrary, he expressly affirms, that before a man can feel the
force of the evidence which they give of this important truth, he must have heard of the existence and power
of God.
(b) It may not he improper to inform the reader, that Mr Wollaston, the author of the Religion of Nature,
was a different man from Mr Woolston, who blasphemed the miracles of our Saviour. J he former was a clergy¬
man of great pietv, and of such moderate ambition as to refuse one of the highest preferments in the church ot
England when it was offered to him ; the latter was a clergyman likewise, hut remarkable only for gloomy infide¬
lity, and a perverse desire to deprive the wretched of every source ot comfort. In the mind of the former, philo¬
sophy and devotion were happily united ; in the mind of the latter, there was neither devotion nor science. Yet
these writers have been frequently confounded ; sometimes through inadvertence from the similarity ot their names;
and sometimes, we are afraid, designedly, from a weak and bigotted abhorrence of every system of religion that
pretends to have its foundation in reason and in the nature of things.
S s 2
3H - THEO
Preliminary t.he true grounds of moral obligation, out of which na-
i)irections. tural law and natural religion both arise $” and we
have ourselves never read a work in which the various
duties which a man owes to his Maker, himself, and his
fellow-creatures, are more accurately stated or placed
on a surer basis than in the moral treatise of the arch¬
deacon of Carlisle.
As Wollaston demonstrates with great perspicuity,
the being and many of the attributes of God, it may
perhaps appear superfluous to recorpmend any other book
on that subject. The present age, however, having
among other wonderful phenomena, witnessed a revival
of Atheism, we w’ould advise our student to read with
much attention Cudworth’s Intellectual System, and to
read it rather in Mosheim’s Latin translation than in
the author’s original English. It is well known that
Cudworth wrote his incomparable work in confutation
of Hobbes’s philosophy j but instead of confining him¬
self to the whimsies of his antagonist, which were in a
little time to sink into oblivion, he took a much wider
range, and traced atheism through all the mazes of an¬
tiquity, exposing the weakness of every argument by
which such an absurdity bad ever been maintained. In
exhausting the metaphysical questions agitated among
the Greeks concerning the being and perfections of God,
he has net only given us a complete history of ancient
learning, as far a® it relates to these inquiries, but has
in fact anticipated most of the sophisms of our modern
atheists, who are by no means such discoverers as they
are supposed to be by their illiterate admirers.
The student having made hismself master of natural
theology', and carefully endeavoured to ascertain its li¬
mits, is now prepared to enter on the important task of
searching the scriptures. In doing this, he ought to di¬
vest himself as much as possible of the pre judices of edu¬
cation in behalf of a particular system of faith, and sit
I2 down to the study of the sacred volume as of a work to
How the which he is an entire stranger. He ought first to read
scriptures as a m0ral history of facts and doctrines, beginning
studied' 6 t^ie k0°ks of Moses, and proceeding through the
rest, not in the order in which they are commonly pub¬
lished, hut in that in which there is reason to believe
they were written (see Scriptures). If he be master
of the Hebrew and Greek languages, he will doubtless
prefer the original text to any version j and in this per¬
usal we would advise him to consult no commentator,
because his object at present is not to study the doctrines
contained in the bible, but merely to discover what are
the subjects of which it treats. Many histories of the
bible have been written j and were we acquainted with
a good one, we should recommend it as a clue to direct
the young divine’s progress through the various books
which compose the sacred volume. Stackhouse’s history
has been much applauded by some, and as much cen¬
sured by others. It is not a work of which we can ex¬
press any high degree of approbation ; but if read with
attention, it may no doubt be useful as a guide to the
•cries of facts recorded in the scriptures. Between the
Old and New Testaments there is a great chasm in the
history of the Jewish nation *, hut it is supplied in a very
able and satisfactory manner by Dr Prideaux, whose
Old and New Testament connected is one of the most
valuable historical works in our own or any other lan¬
guage. Shnckford’s Sacred and Profane History of the
World connected is likewise a work of merit, and may
LOG Y.
be read with advantage as throwing light on many pas-
sages of the Old Testament: hut this author is not in- Direc
titled to the same confidence with Prideaux, as his learn-"y
ing was not so great, and his partialities seem to have
been greater.
In thus making himself master of the history of the
Old and New Testaments, the student will unavoidably
acquire some general notion of the various doctrines
which they contain. These it will now be his business
to study more particularly, to ascertain the precise
meaning of each, and to distinguish such as relate to the
whole human race, from those in which Abraham and
his posterity were alone interested. He must therefore
travel over the sacred volume a second time j and still
we would advise him to travel without a guide. From
Walton’s Polyglot bible, and the large collection called
Critici sacri, he may indeed derive much assistance in
his endeavours to ascertain the sense of a difficult text ;
but \>e think he will do well to make little use of com¬
mentators and expositors, and still less of system-build¬
ers, till he has formed some opinions of his own respect¬
ing the leading doctrines of the Jewish and Christian
religions.
“ Impressed (says an able writer) with an awful sense
of the importance of the sacred volume, the philosophi¬
cal divine will shake oft" the bias of prejudices however
formed, of opinions however sanctioned, and of passions
however constitutional, and bring to the study of it the
advantage of a pure and impartial mind. Instead of
wasting all his labour upon a number of minute and less
significant particulars, and of refining away plain and
obvious sense by the subtleties of a narrow and corrosive
mind, his first object will be to institute a theological
inquiry into the general design of the written word, and
from principles fully contained and fairly understood, to
illustrate the true nattire and genius of the religious dis¬
pensation in all its parts. He will mark the dilference
between the first and second covenants, and observe the
connection that subsists between them. He will trace
the temporary economy of the Old Testament, and weigh
the nature and intent of the partial covenant with the
Jews ; observing with astonishment how it was made in¬
troductory of better things to come : and he will follow
it through the law and the prophets in its wonderful
evolutions, till he see this vast and preparatory machine
of providence crowned and completed in the eternal
gospel. This New Testament, the last and best part of
the religious dispensation, he will pursue through the
sacred pages of that gospel with redoubled atteation;
contemplating the divine foundation on which it claims
to he built, the supernatural means by which it was exe¬
cuted, and the immortal end which it has in viewf.” [TaiM
In the course of this inquiry into the import of tbef/wrU
sacred volume, the student will pay particular attention^8-
to the circumstances of the age and country in which itsi;
various writers respectively lived, and to the nature oi
the different styles, analogical and parabolical, in which
it is written. He will likewise keep in mind that Cod,
whom it claims for its author, is the parent of truth,
and that all his actions and dispensations must be con¬
sistent with one another. He will therefore compare the
different passages of the Old and New Testaments which
relate to the same doctrine, or to the same event, rea¬
sonably concluding that the bible must be the best inter¬
preter of itself; and though the opinions which be thus
form*
THEOLOGY.
325
Appned
sjste i of
diuii •
^ nary forms may often be erroneous, they will seldom be dan-
piniions. gerous errors, and may easily be corrected by mature
L-ilii — < reflection, or by consulting approved authors who have
treated before him of the various points which have
been the subject of his studies. Of this mode of pro¬
ceeding one good consequence will be, that, having
from the sacred scriptures formed a system of theology
for himself, he will afterwards study the systems of other
men without any violent prejudices for or against them ;
he will be so much attached to his own opinions as not
to relinquish them in obedience to mere human autho¬
rity, at the same time that he will be ready to give them
up when convinced that they are not well-founded $ and
if he have read the scriptures attentively, he will have
acquired such a love of truth as to embrace her where-
ever she may be found.
As we have supposed that every man, after having
formed a theological system of his own, will consult the
systems of others, it may perhaps be expected that we
should here recommend those which, in our opinion,
are most worthy of his attention. To do this, however,
would, we apprehend, be an interference with the rights
of private judgment. But lest we should be suspected
of wishing to bias the mind of the young student toward
the short system which we are obliged to give, we shall
just observe, that by the divines of what is called the
Arminian school, Episcopius’s Theologice Tnstituttones,
Limborch’s Theologia Christiana, and Locke’s Reason¬
ableness of Christianity, have long been held in the
highest esteem •, whilst the followers of Calvin have pre¬
ferred the Institutiones'of their master, Turretine’s In-
stitutio Theologice Elencticee, and Gill’s Body of Divi¬
nity. This last work has many merits and many defects.
Its style is coarse and tedious j and the author embraces
every opportunity of introducing the discriminating
tenets of his sect : but his book is fraught with profound
learning, breathes the spirit of piety, and may be read
with advantage by every divine who has previously
formed the outlines of a system for himself.
As the Jewish and Christian dispensations are closely
,je(jlinked together, being only part of one great whole, it
on tl Mo-is impossible to have an adequate notion of the latter
pen-without understanding the design of the former. Now,
'' though the Mosaic religion is nowhere to be learned
but in the Old Testament, it may be convenient for
our student, after he has formed his own opinions of it
from that sacred source, to know what has been writ¬
ten on the subject by others. For illustrating the ri¬
tual law, a learned prelate warmly recommends the
Ductor Dubitantium of Maimonides, and Spencer’s
book entitled De Lcgibus Hebrceorum Ritualibus. Both
works have undoubtedly great merit; but our young
divine will do well to read along with them Hermanm
Witsii TEgyptiaca, and Dr Woodward’s Discourse on
the Worship of the Ancient Egyptians, where some of
Spencer’s notions are shortly and ably refuted. On the
other parts of this dispensation, such as the nature of its
civil government j the rewards and punishments pecu-
Beolre-
saic
satio
liar to it (c) ; its extraordinary administration by ap- Preliniinnry
pointed agents, endowed with supernatural powers, and Directions,
with the gifts of miracles and prophecy ; the double u—
sense in which the latter is sometimes involved ; and the
language consequent on its nature and use—the reader
will find much erudition and ingenuity displayed in the
second partof Warburton’s Divine legation of Moses de¬
monstrated. That work is entitled to a serious perusal j
for it displays great learning and genius, and, we be¬
lieve, the heaviest censures have fallen on it from those
by whom it was never read. ts
Having proceeded thus far in the course, the student’s Inquiry to
next business should be to inquire seriously what evi-116 made
dence there is that the doctrines which he has so care-t^er^e"
fully studied were indeed revealed irt times past by God. vejalioa>
He must already have perceived, in the nature and
tendency of the doctrines themselves, strong marks of
their origin being more than human ; but he must like¬
wise have met with many difficulties, and he must pre¬
pare himself to repel the attacks of unbelievers. Here he
will find opportunities of exerting the utmost powers of
his reasoning faculties, and of employing in the service
of religion all the stores he may have arpassed of human
learning. The scriptures pretend to have been written
by several men who lived in different ages of the world j
but the latest of them in an age very remote from the
present. His first business therefore must be to prove
the authenticity of these books, by tracing them up by
historical evidence to the several writers whose names
they bear. But it is not enough to prove them authen¬
tic. They profess to have been written by men divinely
inspired, and of course infallible in what they wrote.
He must therefore inquire into the truth of this inspira¬
tion. The Bible contains a number of truths doctrinal
and moral, which are called mysteries, and asserted to
be the immediate dictates of God himself. To evince
this great point to roan, a number of supernatural tests
and evidences are inseparably connected with those my¬
steries $ so that if the former be true, the latter must be
so likewise. He must therefore examine these tests and
evidences, to establish the divinity of the Holy Scrip¬
tures j and in this part of his course he will find much
assistance from many writers whose defences of the truth
and divinity of the Christian religion do honour to hu¬
man nature. ^
The first step towards the embracing of any truth is>B00iJ. re_
to get fairly rid of the objections which are made to it j commended
and the general objections made by deistical writers toon that
the Christian revelation are by no writer more complete-sukject*
ly removed than by Bishop Butler, in his celebrated
work entitled The Analogy of Religion natural, andre-
vealed to the Constitution and Course of Nature. This
book therefore the student should read with attention
and meditate on with patience } but as it does not fur¬
nish a. positive proof of the divinity of our religion, he
should pass from it to Grotius de Veritate Religionis
Ckristiance, and Stillingfleet’s Origines Sacrce. Both
these works are excellentj and the latter, which maybe
considered
(C) On this subject the reader will find many excellent observations in Bishop Bull’s Uarmonia Apostolica, with
its several defences, and in a small book of Dr Wells’s, entitled A Help for the Right Understanding of the several
Divine Laws and Covenants, whereby man has been obliged through the several ages ot the world to guide hina-
*elf la order to salvation.
.•526
THEOLOGY.
to be stu¬
died,
Preliminary considered as an improvement of the former, is perhaps
Directions, the fullest and ablest defence of revelation in general
‘ » that is to be found in any language. In this part of
the united kingdom it is now indeed scarcely mention¬
ed, or mentioned with indifference 5 but half a century
ago the English divines thought it a subject of triumph,
and styled its author their incomparable Stilling fleet.
Other works, however, may be read with great advan¬
tage, and none with greater than Paley’s Evidences of
the Christian Religion, and Leslie’s Short Method with
the Deists ; which last work, in the compass of a very
few pages, contains proofs of the divinity of the Jewish
and Christian revelations, to which the celebrated Dr
Middleton confessed (d), that for 20 years he had la-
boured in vain to fabricate a specious answer (e).
Jcwisli Having satisfied himself of the truth of revelation in
controversy general, it may be worth the young divine’s while to
provide a defence of the Christian religion against the
objections of modern Judaism. In this part of his
studies he will need no other instruction than what he
may reap from Limborch’s work entitled De Veritate
Religionis Christianee arnica collatio cum erudilo Judceo.
“ In that disputation, which was held with Orobio, he
will find all that the stretch of human parts on the one
'■hand, or science on the other, can produce to varnish
error or unravel sophistry. All the papers of Orobio
in defence of Judaism, as opposed to Christianity, are
printed at large, with Limborch’s answers, section by
section ; and the subtilest sophisms of a very superior
rectiom for genius are ably and satisfactorily detected and ex-
the Study p0sei] by the strong, profound, and clear reasoning, of
this renowned remonstrant f.” See Orobio and Lim-
borch.
The various controversies subsisting between the se¬
veral denominations of Christians, about points which
separate them into different churches, ought next to be
studied in the order of the course ; for nothing is un-
fhemselves. important which divides the followers of that Master
whose favourite precept was love. It has indeed been
long fashionable to decry polemical divinity as an use¬
less, if not a pernicious, study ; but it is not impossible
that this fa 1)ion has had its origin in ignorance, and that
it tends to perpetuate those schisms which it professes to
lament. We are, however, far from recommending to
the young divine a perusal of the works of the several
combatants on each side of a disputed question, till he
has fitted himself for judging between them by a long
course of preparatory study \ and the only preparation
f Warbur-
ton's Di-
of Theo-
ogy.
r8
and tke va¬
rious con¬
troversies
among
Christians
which can fit him for this purpose is an impartial study
of ecclesiastical history. He who has with accuracyDirectii
traced the progress of our holy religion from the days u—v~
of the apostles to the present time, and marked the in¬
troduction of new doctrines, and the rise of the various
sects into which the Christian world is divided, is
furnished with a criterion within .himself by which to
judge of the importance and truth of the many contest¬
ed doctrines ; whilst he who, without this preparation,
shall read a multitude ot books on any religious contro¬
versy, will be in danger of becoming a convert to his
last author, if that author possess any tolerable share of
art and ingenuity.
There are many histories of the Christian church Impomi
which possess great merit, but we are acquainted withof«clej
none which appears to us wholly impartial. Mosheim’s351'1'3• **1
is perhaps the most perfect compend (f) : and one off0?’3"
its greatest excellencies is, that on every subject the bestcomHUB
writers are referred to for fuller information. Thesecd.
indeed should often be consulted, not only to supply the
defects necessarily resulting from the narrowness of the
limits which the author, with great propriety, prescribed
to himself; hut also to correct his partial obliquities;
for with all his merits, and they were many and great
he is certainly not free from the influence of prejudice.
Indeed there is no coming at the true history of the pri¬
mitive church, but by studying the works of the primi¬
tive writers ; and the principal works of the first four
centuries will amply reward the labour of perusing
th em (g). The rise and progress of the reformation in
general, the most important period of church-history,
may be best learned from Sleidan’s book Dc Statu Re¬
ligionis et Re ipublico;, Carolo V. Ccesare, Comment uni',
the History of the He format ion of the Church of Scot¬
land from Knox and Spotiswood ; and that of th#
Church of England from the much applauded work of
Bishop Burnet.
Alter this course of ecclesiastical history, tire young
divine may read with advantage the most important
controversies which have agitated the Christian world.
Jo enumerate these controversies, and to point out tine
ablest authors who have written on each, would be a
tedious, and perhaps not a very profitable task. On
one controversy, however, we are induced to recommend
a very masterly work, which is Chillingworth’s book a-
gainst Knott, entitled 1 he Religion of Protestants a safe
way to Salvation; in which the school jargon of that
Jesuit is admirably exposed, and the long dispute be¬
tween
(d) This piece of information we had from the late Dr Berkeley, prebendary of Canterbury, who had it from
Archbishop Seeker, to whom the confession was made.
(e) J o these defences of revelation we might have added the collection of sermons preached at Bovle’s lecture
from 1691 to 1732, published in three volumes folio, 1739; the works of Leland ; Bishop Newton’s Disserta¬
tions on Prophecy; and above all, Lardner’s Credibility of the Gospel History, with the Supplement to it. But
there would be no end of recommending eminent writers on this subject. We have mentioned such as we most
approve among those with whom we are best acquainted ; but we must, once for all, caution the reader against
supposing that we approve of every thing to he found in any work except the sacred Scriptures.
(F) The bishop of Landaff, in the catalogue of hooks published at the end of his Theological Tracts, recom¬
mends several other ecclesiastical histories as works of great merit; such as Dupin’s, Echard’s, Gregory’s, ami
oimey s, toget ler with 1 aul Ernesti Jublonski Institutiones Historiee Christiaiue, published at Frankfort in
three volumes, 1754-67.
• ^ a °,f UlIs rSiti(?n’ and foI a.iu&t e8timate of the value of the Fathers, as they are called, see the
iintroductiou to W arburton s Julian, and Kelt’s Sermons at Bampton’s Lectures.
>a r. T H E O
reli-iary tween the Popish and Reformed churches placed on its
)irc ons. proper ground, the Holy Scriptures.
One of the most plausible objections to the study of
!5 .on polemical divinity, is its tendency to give a rigid turn
' to the sentiments of those long engaged in it ; whilst
we know, from higher authority that “ the end of the
commandment is charity.” But for preserving charity
in the minds of Christians, there are better means than
absolute ignorance or indifference to truth. Charity is
violated only when a church unreasonably restrains the
inquiries of its own members, or exercises intolerance
towards those who have renounced its jurisdiction. The
injustice of the first species of ecclesiastical tyranny is
exposed in a very masterly manner by Jeremy Taylor
in his Liberty of Prophecying, and by Stillingfleet in his
Irenicum ; the injustice of the second, by Locke in his
celebrated Letters on Toleration. The man who shall
peruse these three works, and impartially weigh the
force of their arguments, will he in little danger of
thinking uncharitably of those from whose principles
the love of truth may "compel him to dissent.
In these directions for the study of theology, we
might have enumerated many more books on each
branch of the subject well deserving of the most atten¬
tive perusal 5 but he who shall have gone through the
course here recommended, will have laid a foundation
on which he may raise such a superstructure as will en¬
title him to the character of an accomplished divine.
His diligence must indeed be continued through life;
for when a man ceases to make acquisitions in any de¬
partment of learning, he soon begins to lose those which
he has already made ; and a more contemptible charac¬
ter is nowhere to he found than that of a clergyman un¬
acquainted with the learning of his profession. This
learning, however, is not to he acquired, and indeed is
scarcely to be preserved, by studying bodies or institutes
of theology; and though we have mentioned a few ge¬
nerally approved by two rival sects of Christians, and
must in conformity with the plan of our work, give
another ourselves, we do not hesitate to declare, that
the man who has carefully gone through the course of
study which we have recommended, though it be little
more than the outlines on which he is to work, may,
With no great loss to himself, neglect ours and all other
systems. For as an excellent writer*, whom we have
often quoted, well observes, “ to judge of the fact
whether such a revelation containing such a principle,
with its mysteries and credentials, was actually sent
from God, and received by man, by examining the evi-
Ttf-n.
LOOT. 327
deuces and circumstances which accompanied it—the Prelim in ary
time when, the place where, the manner how, it was Directions,
delivered—the form in which it descends to us—and in ' *
what it is contained—together with the particular sub¬
stance and burden ol it—and how every pait is to be
rightly understood: these are the various and extensive
subjects which constitute the sublime office of theolo-
gic reasoning and the proper study of Divini¬
ty.” On this account we shall pass over slightly, many1
things which every clergyman ought thoroughly to un¬
derstand, and confine ourselves, in the short compend
which we are to give, to the chief articles of Christian
theology. In doing this, we shall endeavour to divest
ourselves of party prejudices ; but as we are far from
thinking that this endeavour will be completely success¬
ful (for we believe there is no man totally free from
prejudice), we cannot conclude this part of the article
more properly than with the following solemn Charge, ^ Drfbiy-
with which a very learned divine J always prefaced
Theological Lectures. 3I
I. “ I do solemnly charge your, in the name of the A charge
God of Truth, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is theto
Way, the Truth, and the Life, and before whose judge-of 1 C0
ment seat you must in no long time appear, that in all
yonr studies and inquiries of a religious nature, present
or future, you do constantly, carefully, impartially, and
conscientiously, attend to evidence, as it lies in the
Holy Scriptures, or in the nature of things, and the
dictates of reason ; cautiously guarding against the
sallies of imagination, and the fallacy of ill-grounded
conjecture.
II. “ That you admit, embrace, or assent to no prin¬
ciple or sentiment by me taught or advanced, but only
so far as it shall appear to you to be supported and jus¬
tified by proper evidence from revelation or the reason
of things.
HI. “ That if, at any time hereafter, any principle
or sentiment by me taught or advanced, or by you ad¬
mitted or embraced, shall, upon impartial and faith¬
ful examination, appear to you to he dubious or false,
you either suspect or totally reject such principle or
sentiment.
IV. “ That you keep your mind always open to evi¬
dence : That you labour to banish from your breast all
prejudice, prepossession, and party-zeal : That you
study to live in peace and love with a l your fellow
Christians ; and that you steadily assert for yourself,
and freely allow to others, the unalienable rights of
judgment and conscience.”
PART I. OF NATURAL THEOLOGY.
Up /.
The „
God c
proved
from
Sect. I. Of the Being and Attributes of God-
HE who cometh to God, says an ancient divine-f-,
deeply read in the philosophy of his age, must believe
that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them who dili¬
gently seek him. This is a truth as undeniable as that
a man cannot concern himself about a nonentity. The
existence of God is indeed the foundation of all religion,
ami the first principle of the science which is the subject
of this article. It is likewise a principle which must
command the assent of every man who has any notion,
of the relation between effects and their causes, and
whose curiosity has ever been excited by the phenomena
of nature. This great and important truth we have
elsewhere endeavoured to demonstrate (see Metaphy*
SICS, Part III. Chap, vi.) ; but it may be proved by
arguments less abstracted than the nature of that article
required us to use. Of these we shall give one or two,
which w'e hope will be level to every ordinary capaci¬
ty ; while, at the same time, we earnestly recommend
to the young divine a diligent study of those books on
the
323
T H E O
Beiiu and the subject which we have mentioned in the preceding
Attributes directions.
of God. x\re see that the human race, and every other species
J of animals, is at present propagated by the co-operation
*3
propaga of two parents j but has this process continued from eter-
tion of ani-nity ? A moment’s reflection will convince us that it
raals has not. Let us take any one man alive, and let us
suppose his father and mother dead, and himself the
only person at present existing: how came he into the
world? It will be said he was produced mechanically or
chemically by the conjunction of his parents, and that
his parents were produced in the same manner by theirs.
Let this then be supposed j it must surely be granted,
that when this man was born, an addition was made to
the series of the human race. But a series which can
be enlarged may likewise be diminished j and by tracing
it backwards, we must at some period, however remote,
reach its beginning. There must therefore have been a
first pair of the human race, who were not propagated
by the conjunction of parents. How did these come into
the world ?
* See Bent- Anaximander tells us *, that the first men and all ani-
/««/’»Boy/e’*mals were bred in warm moisture, inclosed in crustace-
Lecturcs. ous shins like crab-fish or lobsters j and that when they
arrived at a proper age, their shelly prisons growing
Ary, broke, and made way for their liberty. Kmpedo-
cles informs us, that mother Earth at first brought forth
vast numbers of legs, and arms, and heads, &c. which
approaching each other, arranging themselves properly,
and being cemented together, started up at once full
grown men.
Surely those sages, ortheir followers, should have been
able to tell us why the earth has not in any climate this
power of putting forth vegetable men or the parts of
men at present. If this universal parent be eternal and
self-existent, it must be incapable of decay or the small¬
est change in any of its qualities j if it be not eternal,
we shall be obliged to find a cause for its existence, or
at least for its form and all its powers. But such a
cause may have produced the first human pair, and un-
24, doubtedly did produce them, without making them
and vege- spring as plants from the soil. Indeed the growth of
•tables. plants themselves clearly evinces a cause superior to any
vegetative power which can be supposed inherent in the
earth. No plant can be propagated but from seed or
slips from the parent stock ; but when one contemplates
the regular process of vegetation, the existence of every
plant implies the prior existence of a parent seed, and
the existence of every seed the prior existence of a pa¬
rent plant. Which then of these, the oak or the acorn,
was the first, and whence was its existence derived ? Not
from the earth j for we have the evidence of universal
experience that the earth never produces a tree but
from seed, nor seed but from a tree. There must there¬
fore be some superior power which formed the first seed
or the first tree, planted it in the earth, and gave to it
those powers of vegetation by which the species has
25 been propagated to this day.
and from Thus clearly do the processes of generation and vege-
ofattrae tat'on indicate a power superior to those which are usual-
tkm aucTre-called the powers of nature. The same thing ap-
puUioD,&e. pears no less evident from the laws of attraction and re¬
pulsion, which plainly prevail through the whole system
of matter, and hold together the stupendous structure.
Experiment shows that very few particles of the most
X
LOGY. PartI
solid body are in actual contact with each other (see Bein
Optics, N* 63—68. Physics, N° 23.) j and that there Attrib^,
are considerable interstices between the particles of of God.
every elastic fluid, is obvious to the smallest reflection. '“■‘V**
Yet the particles of solid bodies strongly cohere, whilst
those of elastic fluids repel each other. How are these
phenomena accounted lor ? To say that the former is
the effect of attraction and the latter of repulsion, is on¬
ly to say that two individual phenomena are subject to
those laws which prevail through the whole of the classes
under which they are respectively arranged j whilst the
question at issue is concerning the ORIGIN OF THE laws
themselves, the power which makes the particles of
gold colure, and those of air repel each other. Power
without substance is inconceivable ; and by a law of hu¬
man thought, no man can believe a being to operate
but where it is in some manner or other actually pre¬
sent : but the particles of gold adhere, and the particles
of air keep at a distance from each other, by powers ex-
cried where no matter is present. There must therefore
be some substance endowed with power which is not
material.
Of this substance or being the power is evidently im¬
mense. The earth and other planets are carried round
the sun with a velocity which human imagination can
scarcely conceive. That this motion is not produced by
the agency of these vast bodies on one another, or by
the interposition of any material fluid, has been shown
elsewhere (see Metaphysics, N°i96—200. and Op¬
tics, N° 67.) j and since it is a law of our best philo¬
sophy, that we arc not to multiply substances without ne¬
cessity y wre must infer that the same Being which formed
the first animals and vegetables, endowing them with
powers to propagate their respective kinds, is likewise
the cause of all the phenomena of nature, such as ro/ic*
sioHy repulsion^ elasticity and motion, even the motions
of the heavenly bodies themselves.
If this powerful Being be self-existent, intelligent,
and independent in his actions and volitions, he is an ori¬
ginal or first cause, and that Being whom we denomi¬
nate God. If he be not self-existent and independent,
there must be a cause in the order of nature prior and
superior to Him, which is either itself the first cause, or
a link in that series of causes and effects, which, how¬
ever vast we suppose it, must be traced ultimately to
some one Being, who is self existent, and has in himself
the power of beginning motion, independent of every
thing but his own intelligence and volition. In wain
have atheists alleged, that the series may ascend infi¬
nitely, and for that reason have no first mover or cause. ^
An infinite series of successive beings, involves an absur-
dity and contradiction (see Metaphysics, N° 288.).jni.
but not to insist on this at present, we shall only begnitestri**
leave to consider such a series as a whole, and see what of effecl*
consequence will flow from the supposition. That we
may with logical propriety consider it in this light, is
incontrovertible ; for the birth of each individual of the
human race shows that it is made up of parts ; but parts
imply a whole as necessarily as an attribute implies its
subject. As in this supposed series there is no cause
which is not likewise an eflect, nor any body moving
another which was not itself moved by a third, the
whole is undeniably equivalent to an infinite effect, or
an infinite body moved : but if a finite effect must ne¬
cessarily have proceeded from a cause, and a finite body
X
*r
There ■
only o»i
originall
taiise.
P.rtli. T H E 0
15einf d in motion must liavp been put into that state by a mo-
Atirif es ver, is there a human aiind which can conceive an inti-
nite effect to have proceeded from no cause, c.r an infi-
L T* nite body in motion to have been moved by nothing?
No, surely ! An infinite effect, were such a thing pos¬
sible, would compel us to admit an infinite cause, and
an infinite body in motion a mover of infinite power.
This great cause is God, whose wisdom, power, and
goodness, all nature loudly proclaims. That the phe¬
nomena which we daily see evince the existence of one
such Being, has just been shown ; and that we have no
reason to infer the existence of more than one, is very
evident. For, not to lay more stress than it will bear
on that rule of Newton’s, which forbids us to multiply
substances without necessity, such a harmony prevails
through the whole visible universe, as plainly shows it
to be under the government of one intelligence. That
on this globe the several elements serve for nourishment
to plants, plants to the inferior animals, and animals to
man *, that the other planets of our system are probably
inhabited, and their inhabitants nourished in the same
or a similar manner j that the sun is so placed as to erive
light and heat to all, and by the law of gravitation to
bind the whole planets into one system with itself—are
truths so obvious and so universally acknowledged, as
to supersede the necessity of establishing them by proof.
The fair inference therefore is, that the solar system and
all its parts are under the government of one intelligence,
which directs all its motions and all the changes which
take place among its parts for some wise purposes. To
suppose it under the government of two or more intel¬
ligences would be highly unreasonable ; for if these in¬
telligences had equal power, equal wisdom, and the same
designs, one of them would evidently be superfluous ;
and if they had equal power and contrary designs, they
could not be the parents of that harmony which we
clearly perceive to prevail in the system.
But the Being capable of regu!atir\g the movements
of so vast a machine, may well be supposed to possess
infinite power, and to be capable of superintending the
motions of the universe. That the widely extended sys¬
tem of nature is but one system, of which the several
parts are united by many bonds of mutual connection,
has been shown elsewhere (see Physics), and appears
daily more and more evident from our progress in phy¬
sical discoveries ; and therefore it is in the highest de¬
gree unreasonable to suppose that it has more than one
author, or one supreme governor.
As the unity of design apparent in the works of cre-
|owcr. w, ation plainly proves the unity of their Author, so do the
Ml' u*rimmensity of the whole, and the admirable adjustment
* of the several part* to one another, demonstrate His
| power and His wisdom. On this subject the following
1 beautiful reflections by Mr Wollaston are deserving of
the most serious attention.
“ In order (says that able writer*) to prove to any
a ur<kone the grandneas of this fabric of the world, one needs
only to bid him consider the .sun, with that insupport¬
able glory and lustre that surrounds it j to demonstrate
its vast distance, magnitude, and heat j to represent to
him the chorus of planets moving periodically, by uni¬
form law's, in their several orbits about it j guarded
iome of them by secondary planets, and as it were emu-
atingthe state of the sun, and probably all possessed by
proper inhabitants j to remind him of those surprising
Vol. XX. Part I. f
Of infiait
sect, v,
14.
LOG Y.
visits w hich the comets make to us, and the large trains
of uncommon splendour which attend them, the far coun¬
try from which they come, and the curiosity and horror
which they excite not only among us, but in the inha¬
bitants of other planets, who may also be up to see the
entry and progress of these ministers of fate ; to direct
his eye and contemplation through those azure fields and
vast regions above him up to l\w fixed stars, that radiant
numberless host of heaven ; and to make him understand
how unlikely a thing it is that they should be placed
there only to adorn and bespangle a canopy over our
heads j to convince him that they are rather so many
other suns, with their several systems of planets about
them ; to show him by the help "of glasses still more and
more of these fixed lights, and to beget in him an appre¬
hension of their inconceivable numbers, and those im¬
mense spaces that lie beyond our reach and even our
imagination : One. needs but to do this (continues our
author), and explain to him such things as are now
known almost to every body $ and by it to show, that
if the woild be not infinite, it is infinito similis, and un¬
doubtedly the work of all INFINITE ARCHITECT.
But if we would take a view of all the particulars
contained within that astonishing compass which we have
thus hastily run over, how would wonders multiply up¬
on us ? I.very corner, every part of the world, is as it
were made up of other worlds. If we look upon this
our earth, what scope docs it furnish for admiration ?
I he great variety of mountains, hills, vallevs, plains,
rivers, seas, trees, and plants ! 1 he many tribes of dif¬
ferent animals with which it is stocked ; the multifari¬
ous inventions and works of one of these, i. e. of us
men } with the wonderful instincts of others, guiding
them uniformly to what is best for themselves, in situa¬
tions where neither sense nor reason could direct tliem.
And yet when all these (heaven and earth) are survey¬
ed as nicely as they can be^iy the help of our unassisted
senses and of telescopes, we may discover by the assist¬
ance of good microscopes, in very small parts of mat¬
ter, as many neiv wonders as those already discovered,
new kingdoms of animals, with new and curious archi¬
tecture. 1S0 that as our senses and even conception faint¬
ed btfore in the vast journeys we took in considering
the expanse of the universe, they here again fail us in
our researches into the principles and minute parts of
which it is composed. Both the beginnings and the
ends of things, the least and the greatest, all conspire
to baflle us j and which way soever we prosecute oui'
inquiries, we still meet with fresh subjects of amaze¬
ment, and Irish reasons to believe that there are inde¬
finitely more and more behind, that will forever escape
our eagerest pursuits and deepest penetration.
“ In this vast assemblage, and amidst all the multifa¬
rious motions by which the several processes of genera¬
tion and corruption, and the other phenomena of na¬
ture, are carried on, we cannot but observe that there
aie stated methods, as so many forms of proceeding, to
which things punctually and religiously adhere. The
same causes circumstanced in the same manner produce
always the same effects; all the species of animals among
us are made.according to one general idea; and so are
those of plants also, and even of minerals. No new
species are brought forth or have arisen anywhere 5 and
the old are preserved and continued by the old ways.
“ it appears, lastly, beyond dispute, that in the part
’r 1 and
.329
Hein" nmt
Attribute!
of Gixl.
T H E O L O G Y.
Part I,
Being and an‘l of tl*6 world lliet c is a contrivance for nc-
Atlnbutes complisliing certain ends. Tlie sun is placed near the
ot God. CPntre of our system, for the more convenient dispensing
v~ of his benign influences to the planets moving about
him } the place of the earth’s equator intersects that of
her orbit, and makes a proper angle with it, in order to
diversify the year, and create an useful variety of sea¬
sons; and many other things of this kind will be al¬
ways observed, and though a thousand times repeated,
he meditated upon with pleasure by good men and true
philosophers. Who can observe the vapours to ascend,
especially from the sea, meet above in clouds, and lall
again after condensation, without being convinced that
this is a kind of distillation, in order to clear the water
of its grosser salts, and then by rains and dews to supply
the fountains and rivers with fresh and wholesome li¬
enor j to nourish the vegetables below by showers, which
descend in drops as from a watering pot upon a garden?
Who can view the structure of a plant or animal, the
indefinite number of its fibres and line vessels, the forma¬
tion of larger vessels, and the several members out of
them, with the apt disposition of all these ; the means
contrived for the reception and distribution of nutri¬
ment; the effect this nutriment has in extending the
vessels, bringing the vegetable or animal to its full
growth and expansion, continuing the motion of the se¬
veral fluids, repairing the decays of the body, and pre¬
serving Hje^ W ho can take notice of the %e\cxi\ facul¬
ties of animals, their arts of saving and providing for
themselves, or the ways in which they are provided for*,
the uses of plants to animals, and of some animals to
others, particularly to mankind ; the care taken that
the several species should be propagated, without confu¬
sion, from their proper seeds j the stiong inclination
planted in animals for that purpose, the love of their
young and the like.—Who (says our author) can ob¬
serve all this, and not see a design in such regular pie¬
ces, so nicely wrought and so admirably preserved ? If
there were but one animal in existence, and it could not
be doubted but that his eyes were formed that he might
see with them, his ears that he might hear with them,
and his feet to be instruments by which he might re¬
move himself from place to place •, if design and contri¬
vance can he much less doubted, when the same things
are repeated in the individuals of all the tribes of ani¬
mals } if the like observations be made with respect to
vegetables and other things j and if all these classes of
tilings, and much more the individuals comprehended
under them, be inconceivably numerous, as most un¬
questionably they are—one cannot but be convinced,
from what so plainly runs through the nobler parts of
the visible world, that not only they, but other things,
even those that seem to be less noble, have their ends
likewise, though not always perceived by capacities li¬
mited like ours. And since we cannot, with the Epi¬
cureans of old, suppose the parts of matter to have con¬
trived among themselves this wonderful form of a world,
to have taken by agreement each its respective post,
and then to have pursued in conjunction constant ends
by certain methods and measures concerted, there must
be some other Being, whose wisdom and power are equal
|o such a mighty work as is the structure and preser¬
vation of the world. There must he some Almighty
Mind who modelled and preserves it ; lays the causes
tif things so deep ; prescribes them such uniform and
steady laws ; destines and adapts them to certain pur- ijejU(rf.
poses ; and makes one thing to fit and answer another Aunbuu,
so as to produce one harmonious whole. Yes, ol God.
rr> • ' 'r—1
These are thy glorious works, Parent of good !
Almighty, thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair j Thyself how wondrous then!
How wondrous in wisdom and in power!”
But the goodness of God is not less conspicuous in
his works than His power or His wisdom. Contrivance*3
proves design, and the predominant tendency of the
contrivances indicates the disposition of the designer.
“ The world (says an elegant and judicious writer *) *DrMi/,
abounds with contrivances, and all the contrivances in
it with which we are acquainted are directed to benefi¬
cial purposes. Evil no doubt exists j but it is never
that we can perceive the object of contrivance. Teeth
are contrived to eat, not to ache •, their aching now and
then is incidental to the contrivance, perhaps insepara¬
ble from it ; hut it is not its object. This is a distinc¬
tion which well deserves to he attended to. In describ¬
ing implements of husbandry, one would hardly sav of
a sickle that it is made to cut the reaper’s fingers,
though from the construction of the instrument, and the
manner of using it, this mischief often happens. But
if he had occasion to describe instruments of torture or
execution, this, he would say, is to extend the sinews;
this to dislocate the joints j this to break the bones j
this toscorch the soles of the feet. Here pain and mi¬
sery are the very objects of the contrivance. Now no¬
thing of this sort is to be found in the works of nature.
AY e never discover a train of contrivance to bring about
an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discovered a sys¬
tem of organization calculated to produce pain and dis¬
ease } or, in explaining the parts of the human body,
ever said, this is to irritate, this to inflame, this duct
is to convey the gravel to the kidneys, this gland to se¬
crete the homour which forms the gout. If by chance
he came to a part of which he knows not the use, the most
that he can say is, lhat to him it appears to be useless:
no one ever suspects that it is put there to incommode,
to annoy, or to torment. If God had wished our mi¬
sery, he might have made sure of his purpose, by form¬
ing our senses to he as many sores and pains to us as
theyare now instruments of gratification and enjoyment;
or, by placing us among objects so ill suited to our
perceptions as to have continually offended us, instead
of ministering to our refreshment and delight. He
might have made, for instance, every thing we tasted
bitter, every thing we saw loathsome, everv thing we
touched a sting, every smell a stench, and every sound
a discord.”
Instead of this, all our sensations, except such as are
excited by what is dangerous to our health, are plea¬
sures to us: 1 he view of a landscape is pleasant; the
taste of nourishing food is pleasant ; sounds not too loud
are agreeable, while musical sounds are exquisite; and
scarcely any smells, except such are excited by effluvia
obviously pernicious to the brain, are disagreeable;
while some of them, if not too long indulged, are de¬
lightful. Our lives are preserved and the species is con¬
tinued by obeying the impulse of appetites; of which
the gratification is exquisite when not repeated too fre¬
quently, to answer the purposes of the Author of our
being. Since, then, God has called forth his consunv
matc
Pitt I.
Ucfc am
AtfDlltea
otpod.
THEOLOGY.
n;atf wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness,
331
and lias made those things which are necessary to our
existence and the continuance of the race sources of our
greatest sensual pleasures, who can doubt but that be¬
nevolence is one of his attributes ; and that, if it
were not impious to draw a comparison between them,
it is the attribute in which he himself most dcliVht-
eth ?
lint it is not from sensation only that we mav infer
the benevolence of the deity : He has formed us with
minds capable ot intellectual improvement, and he has
implanted in the breast of every man a very strong de¬
sire ot adding to his knowledge. J his addition, it is
true, cannot be made without labour ; and at first the
requisite labour is to most people irksome : but a very
short progress in any study converts what was irksome
into a pleasure of the most exalted kind ; and he who
by study, however intense, enlarges his ideas, experien¬
ces a complacency, which, though net so poignant per¬
haps as the pleasures of the sensualist, is such as endears
him to himself, and is what he would not exchange for
any thing else which this world has to bestow, except
the still sweeter complacency arising from the conscious¬
ness of having discharged his dutv.
I hat the practice ot virtue is attended with a pecu¬
liar pleasure of the purest kind, is a fact which no man
has ever questioned, though the immediate source of
that pleasure has been the subject ot many disputes. He
who attributes it to a moral sense, winch instinctively
points out to every man his duty, and on the perfor¬
mance of it rewards him with a sentiment of self-appro¬
bation, must of necessity acknowledge benevolence to
he one of the attributes of that Being who has so con¬
stituted the human mind. That to protect the inno¬
cent, relieve the distressed, and do to others as we w'ould
in like circumstances wish to be done by, fills the breast,
previous to all reflection, with a holy joy, as the com¬
mission of any crime tears it with remorse, cannot in-'
deed be controverted. Many, however, contend, that
this joy and this remorse spring not from any moral in¬
stinct implanted in the mind, but are the consequence
of early and deep-rooted associations of the practice of
virtue with the hope of future happiness, and of vice
with the dread of future misery. On the respective me¬
rits of these two theories we shall not now decide, but
only observe, that they both lead with equal certainty
to the benevolence of the Deity, who made us capable
of foiming associations, and subjected those associations
to fixed laws. I his being the case, the moral sense,
with all its instantaneous effects, aflords not a more con¬
vincing proof of Iuh goodness, than that principle in our
nature by which remote circumstances become so linked
together, that the one circumstance never occurs with¬
out bringing the other also into view. It is thus that
the pleasing complacency, which was perhaps first ex¬
cited by the hopes of future happiness, conies in time to
be so associated with the consciousness of virtuous con¬
duct, the only thing entitled to reward, that a man ne¬
ver performs a meritorious action without experiencing
the most exquisite joy diffused through his mind, though
his attention at that instant may not be directed either
to heaven or futurity. Were we obliged, before we
could experience this joy, to estimate by reason the nie-
nt ol every individual action, and trace its connection
to heaven and future h ippiness through a long train of
intermediate reasoning, we should he in a great me- n iiA ,n!
sure deprived of the present reward of virtue; and AitnMins
therefore this associating principle contributes much Oi God.
to our happiness. But the benevolence of a Be- ' ^—
ing, who seems thus anxious to furnish us with both
sensual and intellectual enjoyments, and who has made
our duty our greatest pleasure, cannot be questioned ;
and therefore we must infer, that the Author of Nature
wishes the happiness of the whole sensible and intelligent
creation.
To such reasoning as this in support of the Divine 0uie£OIU
Benevolence many objections have been made. Some
of them appear at first sight plausible, and are apt to
s^aSger the faith ol him who has bestowed no time on
the study of that branch of general science which is cal¬
led physics if see Physics). To omit these altogether in
such an article as this might he •on.'tti tied into neglect;
while it is certain that there is in them nothing wor¬
thy the attention of that man who is qualified either to
estimate their force, or to understand the arguments by
which they have often been repelled.
It has been asked, Why, if the Author of Nature he
a benevolent Being, are we necessarily subject to pain,
diseases, and death? The scientific physiologist replies,
Because from these evils Omnipotence itself could not
in our present state exempt us, but by a constant series ^1
of muacles. lie who admits miracles, knows likewise answered,
that mankind were originally in a state in which they
were not subject to death ; and that they fell under it*
dominion through the fault of their common progeni¬
tors. But the fall and restoration of man is the great
subject of revealed religion; and at present we are dis¬
cussing the question like philosophers who have no other
data on which to proceed than the phenomena of na¬
ture. Now we know, that as all matter is divisible,
every system composed of it must necessarily be liable to’
decay ami dissolution ; and our material system would
decay and be dissolved long before it could serve the
purposes of nature, were there not methods contrived
with admirable wisdom for repairing the waste occasion¬
ed by perpetual friction. The body is furnished with
different fluids, which continually circulate through it
in proper channels, and leave in their way what is ne-
cessai y to repair the solids. 1 hese again are supplied by
food ab extra; and to the whole processes of digestion,
circulation, and nutrition, the air we breath is absolute¬
ly necessaiy. But as the air is a very heterogenous
fluid, and subject to violent and sudden changes, it is
obvious that these changes must affect the blood, and by
consequence the whole frame of the human body. The
air indeed in process of time consumes even marble it¬
self ; and therefore we cannot wonder that as it is in
one state the parent of health, it should in another be
the source of disease to such creatures as man and other
terrestrial animals. Nor could these consequences he
avoided without introducing others much more deplo¬
rable. The world is governed by general laws, without
which there could he among men neither arts nor sci¬
ences ; and though laws different from those by which
the system is at present governed might perhaps have
been established, there is not the smallest reason to ima¬
gine that they could on the whole have been better, or
attended with fewer inconveniences. As long as’we
have material and solid bodies capable of motion, liable
to resistance from other solid bodies, supported by food,
1 2 subject
332
T H E O
nml subject to the agency of the air, and divisible, they must
Attributes necessarily be liable to pain, disease, corruption, and
, 01 (’uc*' , death, and that too by the very influence of those laws
which preserve the order and harmony of the universe.
Thus gravitation is a general law so good and so neces¬
sary, that weie it for a moment suspended, the world
would instantly fall to pieces; and yet by means ol this
law the man must inevitably he crushed to death on
whom a tower shall chance to tumble. Again, the at¬
traction of cohesion is a general law, without which it
does not appear that any corporeal system could pos¬
sibly exist: it is by this law too, or a modification ol it,
that the glands and lacteals of the human body extract
from the blood such particles as are necessary to nourish
the solids j and yet it is by means of the very same mo¬
dification of the very same law that a man is liable to
, t be poisoned.
Sickness Although the human body could not have been pre-
pain, anti served from dangers and dissolution but by introducing
the dread evils greater on the whole than those to which it is now
ot death JJjjble why, it has sometimes been asked, is every dis-
purposes order to which it is subject attended with sickness or
with pain ? and why is such a horror of death implanted
in our breasts, seeing that by the laws of nature death
is inevitable ? We answer, That sickness, pain, and the
dread of death, serve the very best purposes. Could a
man be put to death, or have his limbs broken without
feeling pain, the human race bad long ago been extinct.
Felt we no uneasiness in a fever, we should be insensible
of the disease, and die before we suspected our health to
be impaired. The horror which generally accompanies
our reflections on death tends to make us more careful
of life, and prevents us from quitting this world rashly
when our affairs prosper not according to our wishes. It
is likewise an indication that our existence does not ter¬
minate in this world j for our dread is seldom excited
by the prospect of the pain which we may suffer when
dying, but by our anxiety concerning what we may be
doomed to suffer or enjoy in the next stage of our exist¬
ence', and this anxiety tends more perhaps than any
thing else to make us live while we are here in such a
manner as to ensure our happiness hereafter.
Thus from every view that we can take of the works
and laws of God, and even from considering the objec¬
tions which have sometimes been made to them, we are
compelled to acknowledge the benevolence of their Au¬
thor. We must not, however, suppose the Divine be¬
nevolence to be a fond aflection like that which is called
benevolence among men. All human affections and
passions originate in our dependence and wants; and it
lias been doubted whether any of them be at first disin¬
terested (see Passion) : but he to whom existence is
essential cannot be dependent; be who is the Author of
every thing can feel no want. The Divine benevolence
therefore must be wholly disinterested, and of course
free from those partialities originating in self- love, which
are alloys in the most sublime of human virtues. The
most benevolent man on earth, though be wishes the
happiness of every fellow-creature, has still, from the
ties of blood, the endearments of friendship, or, perhaps
33 from a regard to his own interest, some particular fa-
Tlie divine vourites whom, on a competition with others, he would
benevo- certainly prefer. But the equal Lord of all can have
cidentwith00 particular favourites. His benevolence is therefore
justice. coincident with juslice; or, that which is called divine
2
LOGY. Parti.
justice, is only benevolence exerting itself in a particular Bfinmud
manner for the propagation of general felicity. When Attributes
God prescribes laws for regulating the conduct of his ol’God.
intelligent creatures, it is not because he can reap any » ^
benefit from their obedience to those laws, but because
such obedience is necessary to their own happiness; and
when he punishes the transgressor, it is not because in
bis nature there is any disposition to which the prospect
of such punishment can ailord gratification, bnt because
in the government of free agents punishment is neces¬
sary to reform the criminal, and to intimidate others
from committing the like crimes. 34
The essence of this self-existent, all-powerful, infinite-CaLmm
ly wise, and perfectly good Being, is to us wholly in-P^tn“*
comprehensible. That it is not matter, is shown by the *
process of argumentation by which we have proved it to
exist: but what it is we know not, and it would be im¬
pious presumption to inquire. It is sufficient for all the
purposes of religion to know that God is somehow or
other present to every part of his work; that existence
and every possible perfection is essential to him; and
that he wishes the happiness of all his creatures. From
these truths we might proceed to illustrate the perpetual
superintendance of his providence, both general and par¬
ticular, over every the minutest part ot the universe:
but that subject lias been discussed in a separate article j
to which, therefore, we refer the reader. (See Provi¬
dence). We shall only observe at present, that the
manner in which animals are propagated aflords as com¬
plete a proof of the constant superintendance of divine
power and wisdom, as it does of the immediate exertion
ot these faculties in the formation ot the parent pair ot
each species. For were propagation carried on by ne¬
cessary and mechanical laws, it is obvious, that in every
age there would be generated, in each sptcies of ani¬
mals, the very same proportion ot males to females that 35
there was in the age preceding. On the other baud, b01 eon'
did generation depend on fortuitous mechanism, it ,s not
conceivable but that, since the beginning of the world,
several species of animals should in some age have gene¬
rated nothing but males, and others nothing but fe¬
males; and that of course many species would have been
long since extinct. As neither of these cases has ever
happened, the preservation of the various species of ani¬
mals, by keeping up constantly in the world a due,
though not always the same, proportion between the
sexes of male and female, is a complete proof ot the
superintendance of Divine providence, and ot that say¬
ing of the apostle, that it is “in God we live, move,
and have our being.”
Sect. II. Of the Duties and Sanctions of Natural Re¬
ligion.
3<
From the short view that we have taken of the di-Keterence
vine perfections, it is evidently our duty to reverence 'na"^ -2^tel
our minds the self-existent Being to whom they belong,
This is indeed not only a duty, but a duty ol which no
man who contemplates these perfections, and believes
them to be real, can possibly avoid the performance.
He who thinks irreverently of the Author ot nature,
can never have considered seriously the power, the wis¬
dom, and the goodness, displayed in his works; for
whoever has a tolerable notion of these must be con¬
vinced, that he who performed them has no imperfec¬
tion;
BrlL
THEOLOGY.
333
57
Ofliom
;3-
Hd» he
Owes and tion j that his power can accomplish every thing which
Sections involves not a contradiction ; that his knowledge is in-
tnitive, and free from the possibility of error j and that
, " ^ > his goodness extends to all without partiality and with¬
out any alloy of selfish design. This conviction must
make every man on whose mind it is impressed ready
to prostrate himself in the dust before the Author of his
being j who, though infinitely exalted above him, is the
source of all his enjoyments, constantly watches over
him with paternal care, and protects him from number¬
less dangers. The sense of so many benefits must ex¬
cite in his mind a sentiment of the liveliest gratitude to
him from whom they are received, and an ardent wish
for their continuance.
While silent gratitude and devotion thus glow in the
no isit’.re breast of the contemplative man, he will be careful not
^hould form even a mental image of that all-perfect Being
" to whom they are directed. He knows that God is not
material j that he exists in a manner altogether incom¬
prehensible j that to frame an image of him would be
to assign limits to what is infinite; and that to attempt
to form a positive conception of him would be impiously
to compare himself with his Maker.
The man who has anv tolerable notion of the perfec-
^tionsof the Supreme Being will never speak lightly of
anc ’ him, or make use of his name at all but on great and
solemn occasions. He knows that the terms of all lan¬
guages are inadequate and improper, when applied di¬
rectly to him who has no equal, and to whom nothing
can be compared ; and therefore he will employ these
terms with caution. When he speaks of his mercy and
compassion, he will not consider them as feelings wring¬
ing the heart like the mercy and compassion experienced
by man, but as rays of pure and disinterested benevo¬
lence. When he thinks of the stupendous system of
nature, and hears it, perhaps, said that God formed it
for his own glory, he will reflect that God is so infinite¬
ly exalted above all his creatures, and so perfect in him¬
self, that he can neither take pleasure in their applause,
nor receive any accession of any kind from the existence
of ten thousand worlds. The immense fabric of nature
therefore only displays the glory or perfections of its
Author to us and to other creatures who have not fa¬
culties to comprehend him in himself.
When the contemplative man talks of serving God,
he does not dream that his services can increase the di¬
vine felicity ; but means only that it is his duty to obey
the divine laws. Even the pronoun He, when it refers
to God, cannot be of the same import as when it refers
to man ; and by tbe philosophical divine it will seldom be
used but with a mental allusion to this obvious distinction.
As tbe man who daily venerates the Author of his
being will not sp< ak of him on trivial occasions, so will
he be still further from calling upon him to witness im¬
pertinences and falsehood (see Oath). He will never
mention his name but with a pause, that he may have
time to reflect in silence on his numberless perfections,
and on the immense distance between himself and the
Being of whom he is speaking. The slightest reflection
will convince him that the world with all that it con¬
tains depends every moment on that God who formed
it ; and this conviction will compel him to wish for the
divine protection of himself and his friends from all dan¬
gers and misfortunes. Such a wish is in effect a prayer,
and will always be accompanied with adoration, conf’es-
P
whit is
we*, bv
*Jfg '
sion, and thanksgiving (see Prayer). But adoration, nutie* and
confessions, supplication, and thanksgiving, constitute Sanctions
what is called worship, and therefore the worship ofof Natural
God is a natural duty. It is the addressing of ourselves , * '“nni. ^
as his dependants to him as the supreme cause and go¬
vernor of the world, with acknowledgements of what
we enjoy, and petitions for what we really want, or he
knows to be convenient for us. As if, ex. gr. I should
in some humble and composed manner (says Mr Wol¬
laston) pray to that “ Almighty Being, upon whom de¬
pends the existence of the world, and by whose provi¬
dence I have been preserved to this moment, and en-Divine wor--
joyed many undeserved advantages, that he would gra-ship a mali¬
ciously accept my giateful sense and acknowledgements
of all his beneficence towards me; that he would deli¬
ver me from the ev.il consequences of all my transgres¬
sions and follies ; that he would endue we with such dis¬
positions and powers as may carry me innocently and
safely through all future trials, and may enable me on
all occasions to behave myself conformably to the laws
of reason piously and wisely; that He would suffer
no being to injure me, no misfortunes to befal me,
nor me to hurt myself by any error or misconduct of my
own : that lie would vouchsafe me clear and distinct
perceptions of things ; with so much health and prospe¬
rity as may be good for me ; that I may at least pass
my time in peace, with contentment and tranquillity of
mind; and that having faithfully discharged my duty to
my family and friends, and endeavoured to improve my¬
self in virtuous habits and useful knowledge, I may at
last make a decent and happy exit, and find myself in
some better state.”
That an untaught savage would be prompted by in¬
stinct to address the Supreme Being in such terms as
this, we are so far from thinking that to us it appears
not probable that such a savage, in a state of solitude,
would be led by instinct to suppose the existence of
that Being. But as soon as the being and attributes
of God were, by whatever means, made known to man,
every sentiment expressed in this prayer must necessa¬
rily have been generated in his mind ; for not to be sen¬
sible that w'e derive our existence and all our enjoyments
from God, is in effect to deny his being or his provi¬
dence ; and not to feel a wish that lie would give us
what we want, is to deny either his goodness or his
power.
The worship of God therefore is a natural duty re¬
sulting from the contemplation of his attributes and
a sense of our own dependence. But the reasoning
which has fed us to this conclusion respects only pri-
vate devotion; for it is a question of much greater Whether or
difficulty, and far enough from being yet determined, not is pub-
whether public worship be a duty of that religion He worship
which can with any propriety be termed natural. Mr a ^ut)'
Wollaston indeed positively affirms that it is, and en-,”Rturai 1C"
deavours to prove bis position by the following argu¬
ments. 42
M A man (says he) may be considered as a member Argument#
of some soi iety ; and as such he ought to worship Godf°r »t,
if he has the opportunity of doing it, if there be proper
prayers u-ed publicly to which he may resort, and if his
health, &c. permit. Or the society may be considered
as one body, that has common interests and concerns,
and as such is obliged to worship the Deity, and offer
one prayer. Besides, tbe re are many who know not of
themselves--
354
THEOLOGY.
Duiies nml themselves how to pray j perhaps cannot so much as
Sanctions read. These must be taken as they are i and conse*
^^.^'quently some time and place appointed where they may
v, have suitable prayers read to them, and be guided in
their devotions. And further, towards the keeping
mankind in order, it is necessary there should be some
‘religion professed, and even established, which cannot
he without public worship. And were it not for that
sense of virtue which is principally preserved (so far as it
is preserved) by national forms and habits of religion,
men would soon lose it all, run wild, prey upon one ano¬
ther, and do what else the worst of savages do.”
These are in themselves just observations, and would
come with great force and propriety from the tongue or
pen of a Christian preacher, who is taught by revelation
that the Master whom he serves has commanded his
folio wers “ not to forsake the assembling of themselves
together,” and has promised, “ that if two of them shall
agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall
ask, it shall be done for them of his Father who is in
heaven.” As urged by such a man, and on such grounds,
they would serve to show the fitness of the divine com¬
mand, and to point out the benefits which a religious
obedience to it might give us reason to expect. But
the author is here professing to treat of natural religion,
and to state the duties which result from the mere rela¬
tion which subsists between man as a creature and God
as his creator and constant preserver. Now, though we
readily admit the benefits of public worship as experi¬
enced under the Christian dispensation, we do not per¬
ceive any thing in this reasoning which could lead a
pious theist to expect the same benefit previous to all ex-
43 perience. When the author thought of national forms
harrowed and establishments of religion, he certainly lost sight of
from reve- his proper subject, and, as such writers are too apt to do,
comprehended under the religion of nature what belongs
only to that which is revealed. Natural religion, in the
proper sense of the words, admits of no particular forms,
and of no legal establishment. Private devotion is ob¬
viously one of its duties, because sentiments of adoration,
confession, supplication, and thanksgiving, necessarily
spring up in the breast of every man who has just no¬
tions of God and of himself: but it is not so obvious
that such notions would induce any body of men to meet
at stated times for the purpose of expressing their devo¬
tional sentiments in public. Mankind are indeed social
beings, and naturally communicate their sentiments to
•'ach other; but we cannot conceive what should at first
have led them to think that public worship at stated
limes would be acceptable to the self-existent Author of
the universe. In case of a famine, or any other calami¬
ty in which the whole tribe was equally involved, they
might speak of it to each other, inquire into its cause,
and in the extremity of their distress join perhaps in one
fervent petition, that God would remove it. In the
same manner they might be prompted to pour forth oc¬
casional ejaculations of public gratitude for public mer¬
cies ; but it does not follow from these incidental occur¬
rences that they would be led to institute times and
places and forms of national worship, as if they believed
the omniscient Deity more ready to hear them in public
than in private. i hat the appointment of such times
and forms and places is beneficial to society, experience
teaches us; and therefore it is the duty, and has been
the practice, of the supreme magistrate, in every age
Part I,
and in every civilized country, to provide for the niain-i)utjw
tenance of the national worship. But this practice has San^
taken its rise, not from the deductions of reason, but ofN*Uni
either from direct revelation, as among the Jews and ReliSio"'
Christians; or from tradition, which had its origin in
some early revelations, as among the more enlightened
Pagans of ancient and modern times.
We hope none of our readers will imagine that we
mean, in any degree, to call in question the fitness or
the duty of public worship. This is far from our in¬
tention ; but while we are convinced of the importance
and necessity of this duty, we do not apprehend that
we lessen its dignity, or detract from the weight of al¬
most universal practice, by endeavouring to derive that
practice from its true source, which appears to us to be
not human reason, but divine revelation.
But whatever doubts may be entertained with respect The
to the origin of public worship, there can be none as totice oNr.
the foundation of moral virtue. Reason clearly perceivestue a
it to be the will of our Maker, that each individual 0fof!Ultar‘J
the human race should treat every other individual as, inrel)S,w
similar circumstances, he would expect to be treated
himself. It is thus only that the greatest sum of human
happiness can be produced (see Moral Philosophy,
N° 17. and 135.) j for were all men temperate, sober,
just in their dealings, faithful to their promises, chari¬
table to the poor, &c. it is obvious that no miseries
would be felt on eaith, but the few which, by the laws
of corporeal nature, unavoidably result from the union
of ouf minds with systems of matter. But the design of
God in forming sentient beings was to communicate to
them some portion, or rather some resemblance, of that
felicity which is essential to himself; and therefore every
action which in its natural tendency co-operates with
this design must be agreeable to him, as every action of
a contrary tendency must be disagreeable.
irom this reasoning it follows, that we are obliged
not only to be just and beneficent to one another, but
also to abstain from all unnecessary cruelty to inferior
animals. I hat we have a right to tame cattle, and em- Crneltyt*
ploy them for the purposes of agriculture and other arts the inferior
where strength is required, is a position which we be-an'ma*s‘
lieve has seldom been controverted. But if it is the in-8'8,
tcntion of God to communicate a portion of happiness to
all his creatures endowed with sense, it is obvious that
we sin against him when we subject even the horse or the
ass to greater labour than he is able to perform ; and this
sin is aggravated when from avarice we give not the ani¬
mal a sufficient quantity of food to support him under the
exertions which we compel him to make. That it is our
duty to defend ourselves and our property from the rava¬
ges of beasts of prey, and that we may even exterminate
such beasts from the country in which we live, are truths
which cannot be questioned ; but it has been the opinion
of men, eminent for wisdom and learning, that we have
no right to kill an ox or a sheep for food, but in conse¬
quence of the divine permission to Noah recorded in the
ninth chapter of the book of Genesis. Whether this
opinion be well or ill founded we shall not positively de¬
termine, though the arguments on which it rests are of
such a nature as the reasoners of the present day would
pci haps find it no easy task to answer; but it cannot
admit of a doubt, that, in killing such animals, we are,
in duty to their Creator and ours, hound to put them to
the least possible pain. If this be granted, it is still more
evident
Part!. T II K O
Dntiej »1 evlilent tliat we act contrary to the divine will when we
SancSh torture and put to death such animals as are confessedly
ofNaiml nf)[ injurious to ourselves, or to any thing on which the
‘ C0,n^0,*3 are hnown to depend. \Ve are indeed
far from being convinced with the poet, that insects and
reptiles “in mortal sulferance feel as when a giant dies}”
but their feelings on that occasion are certainly such, as
that, when we wantonly inflict them, we thwart, as far
as in our power, the benevolent purpose of the Creator
in giving them life and sense. Let it be observed too,
; that the man who practises needless cruelty to the brute
creation is training up his mind for exercising cruelty
towards his fellow-creatures, to his slaves if he have
any, and to his servants; and, by a very quick progress,
to all who may be placed beneath him in the scale of
j society.
Such are the plain duties of natural religion ; and if
I they were universally practised, it is evident that they
would be productive of the greatest happiness which
mankind could enjoy in this world, and that piety and
I virtue would he their own reward. They are however
; far from beingunivtrsallv practised; and the consequence
i is, that men are frequently raised to affluence and power
by vice, and sometimes sunk into poverty by a rigid ad¬
herence to the rules of virtue.
This being the case, there can he no question of
greater importance, while there are few more difficult
to be answered, than, “ W hat are the sanctions by which
natural religion enforces obedience to her own laws ?”
It is not to be supposed that the great body of mankind
| should, without the prospect of an ample reward, prae-
| tise virtue in thcseinstances in which such practice would
[ be obviously attended with injury to themselves ; nor
' does it appear reasonable in any man to forego present
enjoyment, without the well-grounded hope of thereby
^ : securing to himself a greater or more permanent enjoy-
Natnra! n ment in reversion. Natural religion therefore, as a sys-
lip*"n lie tem of doctrines influencing the conduct, is exceedingly
fcciiTi ml deft ctive, unless it affords sufficientevidence,intelligible
of a 1'utiJ^0 every ordinary capacity, of the immortality of the soul,
state. Tor at least of a future state of rewards and punishments.
KlThat it does afford this evidence, is strenuously main¬
tained by some deists, and by many philosophers of a dif¬
ferent description, who, though they profess Christianity,
Iiseem to have some unaccountable dread of being dec ei-
jved by their bibles in every doctrine which cannot be
supported by philosophical reasoning.
The t,4ne - ^ne Rreat argument made use of to prove that the
ralexpec- ^mortality of the soul is among the doctrines of natu-
tatiou of diral religion, is the universal belief of all ages and na-
Wiaestatf ions t|laj men con(jnue to live in some other state after
j leath has separated their souls from their bodies. “ Quod
Li omnium consensus naturae vox est: omnesque, qui ubi-
hue sunt, consentiuut esse aliquid, quod ad eos pertineat,
iui vita cesserint: nobis quoque idem existimandum est:
;t si, quorum aut ingenio, aut virtute animus excellit,
:os arbitramur, quia natura optima sunt, cernere naturae
immaxime: verisimile est, cumoptimusquisquemaxime
tyisteritatiserviat, esse aliquid, enjus is post mortem sen-
um sint habiturus. Sed ut decs esse natura opinaraur,
| ualesque sint, ratione cognoscimus, sic permauere ani-
aos arbitramur consensu nationum omnium
Tusc.Qufstt That this is a good argument for the truth of the doc-
' i. j rJrine, through whatever channel men may have received
’') we readily acknowledge ; but it appears not to ns to
LOGY.
335
'Ciccr.
be any proof of that doctrine’.-, being the deduction of Duties and
human reasoning. 1 he popular belief of Paganism, both Sanctions
ancient and modern, is so fantastic and absurd, that it of
could never have been rationally inferred from what na- .Kt'll-~’lul>'.
tore teaches of God and the soul. In the Elysium of
the Greek and Roman poets, departed spirits were vi-not the ofT-
sible to mortal eyes; and must therefore have becnsP,in£of
clothed with some material vehicle of sufficient density nature*
to reflect the rays of light, though not to resist the lur-
man touch. In the mythology of the northern nations,
as deceased heroes are represented as eating and drink¬
ing, they could not he considered as entirely diverted of
matter; and in every popular creed of idolatry, future
rewards were supposed to he conferred, not for private
virtue, but for public violence, on heroes and conquerors
and the destroyers of nations. Sorely no admirer of what
is now called natural religion will pretend that these are
part of its doctrines; they are evidently the remains of
some primeval tradition obscured and corrupted in its
long progress through aijes and nations. 4!)
I he philosophers of Greece and Home employed much Opinions
time and great talents in disquisitions concerning the liu- °f tllc Phi*
man soul and the probability of a future state ; and if j.“so,,hf.r*
the genuine conclushms of natural religion on this sub- a
ject aie anywhere to be found, one would naturally state,
look tor them in the writings of those men whose ge¬
nius and virtues did honour to human nature. Yet it is
a tact, that the philosophers held such notions concern¬
ing the substance ot the soul and its state after death as
could afford no rational support to suffering virtue, (see
Metaphysics, Part III. chap. 4 ). Socrates is indeed
an exception. Confining himself to the study of ethics,
that excellent person inferred by the common moral ar¬
guments (see Moral Philosophy, N°232— 246.),that
the reality of a future state of rewards and punishments
is in the highest degree probable. He was not, however,
at all times absolutely convinced of ibis important truth;
for a little before 1ns death lie said to some who were
about him, “ I am now about to leave this world, and
ye are still lo continue in it; which of us have the bet¬
ter part allotted us, God only knows*.” And again, *m*
at the end of Ins most admired discourse concerning the Apotvg.
immortality of the soul, delivered at a time when heSoc’
must have been serious, he said to his friends who came
to pay their last visit, “ [ would have you to know that
I have great hopes that I am now going into the com¬
pany of good men ; yet l would not be too peremptory
and confident concerning it+.” + Plato iit :
Next to Socrates, Cicero was perhaps the most re-
spec-table of all the philosophers of antiquity ; and he
seems to have studied this gnat question with uncom¬
mon care: yet what were his conclusions? After retail¬
ing the opinions of various sages of Greece, and showing
that some held the soul to be the heart; others, the
blood in the heart; some the brain; others, the breath;
one, that it was harmony; another, that it was number;
one, that it was nothing at all ; and another, that it was
a certain quintessence without a name, but which might
properly be called tr1tM%i*—he gravely adds, “ Harum
sententiarum qua: vera sit, Deus aliquis viderit: que ve-
risimillima, magna quest io est J.” He then proceeds to t Tuse.
give his own opinion ; which was, that the soul was part Qw«*-hb. -
of God. $ (J> IO>Ii - •
To us who know by other evidence that the soul is
immortal, and that there will be a future state in which
all.
33*5
THEOLOGY.
Part ?,
j Ibid.
5°
Duties and all the obliquities of the present shall be made straight,
Sanctions the argument drawn from the moral attributes of God,
of Natural an(j t|(e unequal distribution of the good things of this
. lu liuio,1., jj^ appears to have the force of demonstration, et
none of us will surely pretend to say that his powers of
reasoning are greater than were those of Socrates and
Cicero: and therefore the probability is, that had we
been like them destitute of the light of revelation, we
should have been disturbed by the same doubts, and have
said with the latter, on reading the arguments of the
former as detailed by Plato, “ Nescio quomodo, dutw
lego, assentior : cum posui librum, et mecum ipse de
immortalitate animorum coepi cogitare, assensioilla ela-
bitur +.”
Without No one, we hope, will suspect us of an impious at-
the light tempt to weaken the evidence of a future state. God
of revcla- forkijl! rj'lie expectation of that state is the only sup-
tion we _ . r, .. . i .1 • i .1 y
should havePort °‘ v,rtue an“ religion; and we think the argu-
doubted ments we have stated elsewhere, and referred to on the
like them, present occasion, make the reality of it so highly pro¬
bable, that, though there were no other evidence, be
would act a very foolish part who should confine his at¬
tention wholly to the present life. But we do not ap¬
prehend that we can injure the cause either of virtue or
of religion, by confessing, that those arguments which
left doubts in the minds of Socrates and Cicero appear
not to us to have the force of complete demonstration of
that life and immortality which our Saviour brought
to light through the gospel.
Natural re- Were the case, however, otherwise ; were the argu-
ligion has ments which the light of nature affords for the immor-
no means tality of the human soul as convincing as any geometri-
of certainly ca| (iemonstration—natural religion would still he defer-
reconciling- , ° . .
the Deity” tive > because it points out no method by which such as
to sinners, have ofl'ended God may he restored to his favour and
to the hopes of happiness which by their sin they had
lost. That he who knows whereof we are made would
show himself placable to sinners, and that he would find
some way to he reconciled, might perhaps be reasonably
inferred from the consideration of his benevolence dis¬
played in his works. But when we come to inquire Duties »nd
more particularly how we are to he reconciled, and Sanctiuns
whether a propitiation will he required, nature stops ot
short, and expects with impatience the aid of some par- ,
ticular revelation. That God will receive returning
sinners, and accept of repentance instead of perfect obe¬
dience, cannot be certainly known by those to whom he
has not declared that he will. For though repentance
be the most probable, and indeed the only means of re¬
conciliation which nature suggests ; yet whether he,
who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, will not re¬
quire something further before he restores sinners to the
privileges which they have forfeited, mere human rea¬
son has no way of discovering. From nature therefore
arises no sufficient comfort to sinners, hut anxious and
endless solicitude about the means of appeasing the
Deity. Hence those different ways of sacrificing, and
those numberless superstitions which overspread the hea¬
then world, but which were so little satisfactory to the
Wiser part of mankind, that, even in those days of dark¬
ness, the philosophers frequently declared that, in their
opinion, those rites and oblations could avail nothing to¬
wards appeasing the wrath of an offended God, or mak¬
ing their prayers acceptable to him. Hence Socrates
and one of his disciples are represented by Plato J as J In Alcili.
expecting a person divinely commissioned to inform thenirt^f*-
whether sacrifices he acceptable to the deity, and as re¬
solving to offer no more till that person’s arrival, which
they piously hoped might he at no great distance.
This darkness of the pagan world is to us who live x}ieje
under the sunshine of the gospel happily removed by the doubts re-
various revelations contained in the scriptures of the Old m0Tfd W
and New Testaments. These taken together exhibit ^
such a display of providence, such a system of doctrines,
and such precepts of practical wisdom, as the ingenuity
of man could never have discovered. The Christian,
with the scriptures in his hands, can regulate his con¬
duct bv an infallible guide, and rest his hopes on the
surest foundation. These scriptures it is now our busi¬
ness to examine.
PART II. OF RF.VEAI.ED THEOLOGY.
S3
Many pre- IN every civilized country the popular system of
tences to theology has claimed its origin from divine revelation.
iCTt.a ion, rp|ie Pagans of antiquity had their augurs and oracles;
the Chinese have their inspired teachers Confucius and
Fohi : the Hindoos have their sacred hooks derived
from Brahma ; the followers of Mahomet have their
Koran dictated by an angel ; and the Jews and Chris¬
tians have the Scriptures of the Old and New Testa¬
ments, which they believe to have been written by holy
men of old, who spake and wrote as they were moved
by the Holy Ghost.
That the claims of ancient Paganism to a theology
derived from heaven, as well as the similar claims of the
Chinese, Hindoos, and Mahometans, are ill founded, has
been shown in various articles of this work, (see CHINA,
Hi n dost an, Mahometanism, Mythology, and Po-
j,ytheism) ; whilst under the words Religion, Reve¬
lation, and Scripture, we have sufficiently proved
the divine inspiration of the Jewish and Christian scrip¬
tures, and of course the divine origin of Jewish and Chri¬
stian theology. These indeed are not two systems of tlico-tlioujilitH
logy, but parts of one systemWhich was gradually re-,Te".s*.iSI"
veahed as men were able to receive it; and thereinrereve|ftli0ns
both scriptures must he studied by the Christian divine.are alone
There is nothing in the sacred volume which it is not true,
of importance to understand ; for the whole proceeds
from the fountain of truth : but some of its doctrines
are much more important than others, as relating imme¬
diately to maA’s everlasting happiness ; and these it has
been customary to arrange and digest into regular sy¬
stems, called bodies or institutes of Christian theology.
Could these artificial systems be formed with perfect
impartiality, they would undoubtedly be useful, for the
hible contains many historical details, hut remotely re¬
lated to salvation; and even of its most important truths,
it requires more time and attention than the majority
of Christians have to bestow, to discover the mutual ^
connection and dependence. Coninw“
Artificial systems of theology are commonly divided di isi0"*0'
into two great parts, the theoretic and the practical; r^TClo'y,
andtbe0 °
Pdl II.
T H E O L O G Y.
337
Rtvjiled
'l heaiy*
ami these again are subdivided into many inferior brandi¬
es. Under the theoretic part are sometimes classed,
r. Dogmatic theology j which comprehends an entire
system of all the dogmas or tenets which a Christian is
bound to believe and profess. The truth of these the
divine must clearly perceive, and be able to enforce on
his audience: and hence the necessity of studying what
is called,
2. The exegesis, or the art of attaining the true sense
of the holy scriptures ; and,
3. Hermeneutic theology, or the art of interpreting
and explaining the scriptures to others ; an art of which
no man can be ignorant who knows how to attain the
true sense of them himself.
4. Polemical theology, or controversy j and,
5. Moral theology, which is distinguished from moral
philosophy, or the simple doctrine of ethics, by teaching
a much higher degree of moral perfection than the mere
light of reason could ever have discovered, and adding
new motives to the practice of virtue.
The practical sciences of the divine are,
1. Homiletic or pastoral theology j which teaches him
to adapt his discourses from the pulpit to the capacity of
his hearers, and to pursue the best methods of guiding
them bv his doctrine and example in the way of salvation.
2. Calechetic theology, or the art of teaching youth
and ignorant persons the principal points of evangelical
doctrine, as well with regard to beliel as to practice.
3. Casuistic theology, or the science which decides on
doubtful cases of moral theology, and that calms the
scruples of conscience which arise in the Christian’s
soul during his journey through the present world.
We have mentioned these divisions and subdivisions
of the science of theology, not because we think them
important, but merely that our readers may be at no loss
to understand the terms when they meet with them in
other works. Of such terms we shall ourselves make no
use, for the greater part of them indicate distinctions
where there is no difference, and tend only to perplex
the student. As the truths of Christianity are all con¬
tained in the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments,
it is obvious that dogmatic theology must comprehend
the speculative part of that which is called moral, as
well as every doctrine about which controversy can be
of importance. Hut no man can extract a single dogma
from the bible but by the practice of what is here called
the exegesis; so that all the subdivisions of this arrange¬
ment of theoretical theology must be studied together as
they necessarily coalesce into one. The same thing is
true of the three branches into which practical theology
is here divided. He who has acquired the art of adapt¬
ing his homilies to the various capacities ol a mixed au¬
dience, will need no new study to fit him for instructing
children, and the most ignorant persons who are capable
of instruction ; and the complete master of moral theo¬
logy will find it no very difficult task to resolve all the
cases of conscience which he can have reason to suppose
will ever be submitted to his judgment. For these rea¬
sons we. shall not trouble our readers with the various
divisions and subdivisions of theology. Our preliminary
directions will show them how we think the science
should be studied •, and all that ufe have to do as system-
builders is to lay before them the view which the scrip¬
tures present to us of the being and perfections of God,
Vol. XX. Part I.
bis various dispensations to mao, and the duties thence God and
incumbent on Christians. In doing this, we shall follow bis Aitri-
tbe order of the divine dispensations as we find them re- butts,
corded in the Old and New Testaments, dwelling long- y—
est on those which appear to us ol most general import¬
ance. But as we take it for granted that every reader
of this article will have previously read the whole sacred
volume, we shall not scruple to illustrate dogmas con¬
tained in the Old Testament hy texts taken from the
New, or to illustrate doctrines peculiar to the Christian
religion by the testimony of Jewish prophets.
Sect. I. Of God and /ns Attributes.
In every system of theology the first truths to be be-T|lc ^st
lieved are those which relate to the being and attributes revelation
of God. The Jewish lawgiver, therefore, who recordssuPPoscs
the earliest revelations that were made to man, beginst,,c,bcm»
bis history with a display of the power and wisdom of'bc akiown
God in the creation of the world. He does not infornnruth.
his countrymen, and expect them to believe, on the au¬
thority of his divine commission, that God exists ; for
he well knew that the being of God must be admitted,
and just notions entertained of his attributes, before man
can be required to pay any regard to miracles which
afford the only evidence of a primary revelation. “ In
the beginning (says be) God created the heavens and
the eui ih. Here the being of God is assumed as a
truth universally received j but the sentence, short as it
is, reveals another, which, as we shall afterwards shew,
human reason could never have discovered.
There is nothing which the scriptures more frequently
or more earnestly inculcate than the unity of the divine
nature. The texts asserting this great and fundamental
truth are almost numberless. “ Unto thee (says Moses
to his countrymen*) it was shewed, that thou mightest* Dent. It.
know that the Ford is God 5 there is none else besides 15, and 39,
him. Know therefore that the Lord he is God in hea-y^ 4*
ven above and upon the earth beneath : there is none
else.yi And again, “ Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God
is one Lord” or, as it is expressed in the original, “ Je¬
hovah our God is one Jehovah,” one Being to whom
existence is essential, who could not have a beginning
and cannot have an end. In the prophecies of Isaiah,
God is introduced as repeatedly declaringf, “ I ami fga^],
Jehovah, and there is none else ; there is no God besides xir. c, 6,
me: that they may know from the rising of the sun and *3, xhv. 3.
from the west, that there is none besides me: I am Je¬
hovah, and there is none else : Is there a God besides
me? Yea thcie is no Cod; l know not any.” In per¬
fect harmony with these declarations of Moses and the
prophets, our Saviour, addressing himself to his Father,
says J, “ I his is file eternal, that they might know j John xviL
Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou 3.
hast sent j and St 1 aul, who derived his doctrine,
from his divine Master, affirms §, that “ an idol is no-$ 1 Cor.
thing in the world ; and that there is none other Godwin. 4. ’
but one.”
The unity of the divine nature, which, from the or¬
der and harmony of the world, appears probable to hu¬
man reason, these texts of revelation put beyond a doubt.
Hence the first precept of the Jewish law, and, accord¬
ing to their own writers, the foundation of their whole
religion, was, “ Thou shalt have none other gods before
t U 11 Me.”
?.S8
T H E O
Go'1 and
his Attri¬
butes.
ss
Denotes a
p urulity of
|H;rs.>'ig in
t;lC God-
iieud
* Gen. xi-
6’ 7*
f Mai. i. 6.
} Prov. ix.
ic.
f Keel, xii
l.
|| Iniah
xlviii. 16.
•* Isaiah
xxxiv. 16.
Me.” Hence, too, the reason of that strict command
to Jews and Christians to give divine worship to none
but God : “ Thou shait worship the Lord thy God,
and him only shall thou serve j” because he is God
alone. Him only must we fear, because he alone hath
infinite power*, in him alone must we trust, because “ he
only is our rock and our salvation *,” and to him alone
must we direct our devotions, because “ he only knoweth
the hearts of the children of men.”
The word Q'rrbN does not indicate a plurality of gods.
In the opinion, however, of many eminent divines, it
denotes, by its junction with the singular verb, a plu¬
rality of persons in the one Godhead j and some few
have contended, that by means of this peculiar construc¬
tion, the Christian doctrine of the Trinity may be
proved from the first chapter of the book ot Genesis.
To this latter opinion we can by no means give our as¬
sent. That there are three distinct persons in the one
divine nature may be inferred with sufficient evidence
from a multitude of passages in the Old and New Testa¬
ments diligently compared together *, but it would per¬
haps be rash to rest the proof of so sublime a mystery on
anv single text of holy scripture, and would ceitainly be
so to rest it on the text in question. That Moses was
acquainted with this doctrine, we may reasonably con
elude from his so frequently making a plural name of
God to agree with a verb in the singular number ; but
had we not possessed the brighter light ot the New Tes¬
tament to guide us, we should never have thought of
drawing such an inference. For supposing the word
C'nbn to denote clearly a plurality of persons, how could
•we have known that the number is neither more or less
than three, had it not been ascertained to us by subse¬
quent revelations ?
There are indeed various passages in the Old Testa¬
ment, of the phraseology of which no rational account
can be given, but that they indicate more than one per¬
son in the Godhead. Such are those texts already no¬
ticed j “ and the Lord God said, let us make man in
our own image, after our likeness j” and “ the Lord God
said, behold the man is become like ONE of US.” 1 o
these may be added the following, which are to us per¬
fectly unintelligible on any other supposition j and “ the
Lord God said, let US go down, and there confound
their language “ If I be a Master (in the Hebrew
adoni/n, masters), where is my fear t ?” “ The fear
of the Lord (Jehovah) is the beginning of wisdom, and
the knowledge of the Holy (in the Hebrew HOLY ones)
is understanding J.” “ Remember thy Creator (He¬
brew, thy Creators) in the days of thy youth §.”
“ And now the Lord God and his Spirit hath sent
“ Seek ye out of the book of the Lord and
me
Cud ard
bis Atlri.
butts.
•f Job ix. S
Isa. xlv.
passim.
LOGY. Part ][
quoted from Isaiah, there is a distinction made between
the Lord God and his Spirit; and in the other, three
divine persons are introduced, viz. the Speaker^ the
Lord, and the Spirit of the Lord. It dots not, how-
ever, appear evident from these passages, or from any
other that we recollect in the Old Testament, that the
persons in Deity are three and no more : out no sober
Christian will harbour a doubt but that the precise
number was by some means or other made known to
the ancient Hebrews*, for inquiries leading to it would
be naturally suggested by the form in which the high
priest was commanded to bless the people. “ The Lord
bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make his face ^
to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The vj ““J;
Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee 2(jt 4’ 3'
peace 59
The form of Christian baptism establishes the truth of A Trinity
the doctrine of the Trinity beyond all reasonable ground
read j for MY mouth it bath commanded, and bis SPIRIT
it hath gathered them *.”
That these texts imply a plurality of divine persons,
seems to us incontrovertible. When Moses represents
God as saying, let us make man, the majesty of the plu¬
ral number had not been adopted by earthly sovereigns \
and it is obvious that the Supreme Being could not, as
has been supposed, call on angels to make man j for in
different places of scripture f creation is attributed to
God alone. Hence it is that Solomon speaks of Crea¬
tors in the plural number, though lie means only the
one Supreme Being, and exhorts men to remember
them in the days of their youth. In the passage first
of dispute. “ Go (says our blessed Saviour) and teach scrjpture
all nations, baptizing them in the name of the lather,
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” M hat was it
the apostles were to teach all nations ? M as it not to
turn from their vanities to the living God j to renounce
their idols and false gods, and so to be baptized in the
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost ? What now must occur to the Gentile nations
on this occasion, but that, instead of all their deities, to
whom they had before bowed down, they were in fu¬
ture. to serve, worship, and adore. Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost, as the only true and living God ? To sup¬
pose that God and two creatures are here joined to¬
gether in the solemn rite by which men were to be ad¬
mitted into a new religion, which directly condemns all
creature-worship, would be so unreasonable, that we are
peisuaded such a supposition never was made by any
converted Polytheist of antiquity. The nations were to
be baptized in the name of three persons, in the same
manner, and therefore, doubtless, in the same sense. It
is not said in the name of God and his two faithful
servants ; nor in the name of God, and Christ, and
the Holy Ghost, which might have suggested a thought
that one only of the three is God j but in the name of
the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.
Whatever honour, reverence, or regard, is paid to the
first person in this solemn rite, the same is paid to all
three. Is he acknowledged as the object ot worship?
So arc the other two likewise. Is he God and Lord
over us ? So are they. Are we enrolled as subjects,
servants, and soldiers, under him ? So are we equally
under all. Are we hereby regenerated and made the
temple of the Father ? So are we likewise of the Son
and Holy Ghost. “ We will come (says our Saviourt) t J®!11111''
and make our abode with him.”
If those who believe the inspiration of the scriptures
could require any further proof that the Godhead com¬
prehends a trinity of persons in one nature, we might •
urge the apostolical form of benediction j “ The grace
of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and
the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with you
all J.” WTould St Paul, or any other man of common f i f°r
sense, have in the same sentence, and in the most solemn *m'
manner, recommended his Corinthian converts to the
love of God, and to the grace and communion of two
creatures? We should think it very absurd to recom¬
mend a man at once to the favour of a king and a beg-
•Ik
Pat II.
G» and gar j but how infinitely sniall is the distance between
hikUtri- the greatest earthly potentate and the meanest beggar,
tcs. when compared with that which must for ever subsist
i"' between the Almighty Creator of heaven ami earth ami
the most elevated creature ?
0 But how, it will be asked, can three divine persons
Pifiilties be but one and the same God ? This is a question which
in tU doc-hag been often put, but which, we believe, no created
Ui0M being can fully answer. The divine nature and its man¬
ner of existence is, to us, wholly incomprehensible ; and
we might with greater reason attempt to weigh the
mountains in scales, than by our limited faculties to fa¬
thom the depths of infinity. The Supreme Being is
present in power to every portion of space, and yet it is
demonstrable, that in his essence he is not extended
(see Metaphysics, N® 309, 310). Both these truths,
his inextension and omnipresence, are fundamental prin¬
ciples in what is called natural religion; and when taken
together they form, in the opinion of most people, a mys¬
tery as incomprehensible as that of the Trinity in unity.
Indeed there is nothing of which it is more difficult to
form a distinct notion than ttttily simple, and absolutely
indivisible. Though the Trinity in unity, therelore,
were no Christian doctrine, mysteries must still be be¬
lieved $ for they are as inseparable from the religion of
' nature as from that of revelation j and atheism involves
the most incomprehensible of all mysteries, even the be¬
ginning of existence without a cause. We must indeed
lorm the best notions that we can of this and all other
myteries j for if we have no notions whatever of a Tri¬
nity in unity, we can neither believe nor disbelieve that
doctrine. It is however to be remembered, that all our
notions of God are more or less analogical $ that they
must be expressed in words which, literally interpreted,
are applicable only to man ; and that propositions under¬
stood in this literal sense may involve an apparent con¬
tradiction, from which the truth meant to be expressed
by them would be seen to be free, bad we direct and
adequate conceptions of the divine nature. On this ac¬
count it is to be wished that men treating of the myste¬
ry of the Holy Trinity, had always expressed themselves
in scripture language, and never aimed at being wise
above what is written ; but since they have acted other¬
wise, we must, in justice to our readers, animadvert on
one or two statements of this doctrine, which we have
reason to believe are earnestly contended for by some
who consider themselves as the only orthodox.
In the scriptures, the three persons are denominated
by the terms Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, or by
God, the Word, who is also declared to he God, and
the Spirit of God. If each be truly God, it is ob¬
vious that they must all have the same divine nature,
just as every man has the same human nature with every
other man j and if there be hut ONE God, it is equally
obvious that they must be of the same individual sub¬
stance or essence, which no three men can possibly be.
In this there is a difficulty j hut, as will he seen by and
by, there is no contradiction. The very terms Iather
and Son imply such a relation between the two persons
so denominated, as that though they are of the same
11 substance, possessed of the same attributes, and equally
SuWiina- God, just as a human father and his son are equally
inn die men, yet the second must he personally subordinate to
thir *tf^ the first. In like manner, the Holy Ghost, who is
ism called the Spirit of God, and is said to proceedfrom the
T H E 0 L 0 G Y. 339
Father, and to he sent by the Son, must he conceived as God and
subordinate to both, much in the same way is a son is his Atui-
subordinate to his parents, though possessed of equal or
even of superior powers. That this is the true doctrine,
appears to us undeniable from the words of our Saviour
himself, who, in a prayer addressed to his Father, styles
buln
him * by way of pre-eminence, “ the only true God,” as * J°ba
being the fountain or origin of the Godhead from which '"11' •**
the Son and the Holy Ghost derive their true divinity.
In like manner, St Paul, when opposing the polytheism
of the Greeks, savs expressly t, that “ to us there is hut f..1. ^or*
one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and vU1'0"
we in, or for, him ; and one Ford Jesus Christ, by
whom are all things, and we by him.”
That the primitive, fathers of the Christian church
maintained this subordination of the second and third
persons of the blessed Trinity to the first, has been
evinced with complete evidence by Bishop Bull. We
shall transciibe two quotations from him, and refer the
reader for fuller satisfaction to sect. 4. of his Defensio
fdci Nicente. The first shall be a passage cited from
Novation, in which the learned prelate assures us the
sense of all the ancients is expressed. “ Quia quid est
Filius, non ex se est, quia nec innatus est $ sed ex patre
est, quia genitus est: sive dum verbum est, sive dum
virtus est, sive dum sapientia cst, sive dum lux est, sive
dum Filius est, et quicquid liorum est, non aliunde est
quam ex Patre, Patri suo originem suam dehens.” The
next is from Athanasius, who has never been accused of
holding low opinions respecting the second person of the
holy Trinity. This father, in his fifth discourse against
the Arians, says, u reevln rn »i»
e A#y«{ *«< 0 Aey#$, r* re* 6fo>. G(0( yaf tcflip »
kxi ix-e/dccp t% ecvln; foil, 2ix TtvTo r.xi tiif « Aeyej ; GC-
cordivg to John, the Word was in this first principle,
and the Word was God. For God is the principle'y
and because the Woi'd is from the principle, therefore
the Word is God. Agreeably to this doctrine, the Ni-
cene fathers, in the creed which they published for the
use of the universal church, style the only begotten
Son, God of God, fiof t* tiev.
Regardless however of antiquity, and of the plain Denied by
sense of scripture, some modern divines of great learning some mo
contend, that the three persons in Deity are all consub-^ern
sta/rtial, co-eternal, co-oi'dinate, without derivation, sub- 'iUCii’ u
ordination, or dependence, of any sort, as to nature or
essence j while others affirm, that the second and third
persons derive from the first their personality, hut not
their nature. We shall consider these opinions as difi’e-
rent, though, from the obscurity of the language iu
which we have always seen them expressed, we cannot
be certain hut they may he one and the same. The
maintainers of the former opinion hold, that the three
persons called Klohim in the Old Testament, naturally
independent on each other, entered into an agreement
before the creation of the world, that one of them should
in the fulness of time assume human nature, for the pur¬
pose of redeeming mankind from that misery into which
it was foreseen that they would fall. This antemundane
agreement, they add, constitutes the whole of that pa¬
ternal and filial relation which subsists between the first
and second persons whom we denominate Father and
Son j and they hold, that the Son is said to be begotten
before all worlds, to indicate that He who was before
all worlds was begotten, or to be begotten, into the office
Uu 2 of
543
T H E O
(iod and
}iis Attri¬
butes.
Sec
of redeemer *, or, more decisively, to signify that he un¬
dertook that office before the creation, and assumed to
himself some appearance or figure of the reality in which
he was to execute it; and he is called fteroyiyvi;, or the
Ridge ley's onl? begotten, because he alone was begotten into the
Body of office of redeemer *.
Divinity. 'J'q niany 0f 0Ur readers we doubt not but this will
Th-ex re. saPPear ^ ver^ extraordinary doctrine, and not easy to lie
doctrine of reconciled with the unity of God. It is however suffi-
tcripture.
f John iv.
9-
4 Ileb. v. S
cientlv overturned by two sentences of holy scripture,
about- the meaning of which there can be no dispute.
“ In this (says St John was manifested the love of
God towards us, because that God sent his only begot¬
ten Son into the world, that we might live through
him.” Taking the word son in its usual acceptation,
this was certainly a wonderful degree of love in the la¬
ther of mercies to send into the world on our account a
person so near related to him as an only son ; but it
we substitute this novel interpretation of the words only
begotten son in their stead, the apostle’s reasoning will
lose all its force. St John will then be made to say,
“ In this was manifested the love of God toward us,
because that God sent a divine person equal to himself,
and no way related to him, but who had before the crea¬
tion covenanted to come into the world, that we might
live through him.” Is this a proof of the love of the
person here called God ? Again, the inspired author of
the epistle to the Hebrews, treating of our Saviour’s
priesthood, says, among other things expressive of his
humiliation, that ” though he was a SON, yet learned
he obedience by the things which he suffered J.” If
the word sort be here understood in its proper sense, this
verse displays in a very striking manner the condescen¬
sion of our divine Redeemer, who, though he was no
less a person than the proper Son of God by nature, yet
vouchsafed to learn obedience by the things which he
suffered ; lint if w-e substitute this metaphorical sonship
in place of the natural, the reasoning of the author will
be very extraordinary. “ Though this divine personage
agreed before all worlds to suffer death for the redemp¬
tion of man, yet learned he obedience by the tilings
which he suffered.” What sense is there in this argu¬
ment ? Is it a proof of condescension to fulfil one’s en¬
gagement ? Surely, if the meaning of the word .sow,
when applied to the second person of the blessed Tri¬
nity, were what is here supposed, the inspired writer’s
argument would have been more to the purpose for
which it is brought, had it run thus : “ Though he was
not a son, i. e. though he had made no previous agree¬
ment, yet condescended he to learn,” &c.
The other opinion, which supposes the Son and the
Holy Ghost to derive from the Father their personality,
but not their nature, is to us wholly unintelligible ; for
personality cannot exist, or be conceived in a state of
separation from all natures, any more than a quality can
exist in a state of separation from all substances. The
former of these opinions we are unable to reconcile with
the unity of God ; the latter is clothed in words that
have no meaning. Roth as far as we can understand
them, are palpable polytheism ; more palpable indeed
than that of the Grecian philosophers, who though
they worshipped gods many, and lords many, yet all
held one God supreme over the rest. See POLYTHK-
ism, N° 32.
Rut if the Son and the Holy Ghost derive their na-
4
L O G Y.
Part II,
tore as well as their personality from the Father, will it God and
not follow that they must he posterior to him in time, his Attri.
since every effect is posterior to its cause? No; this con- hutts.
sequence seems to follow only by reasoning too closely
from one nature to anollier, when there is between the The secoil(j
two but a very distant analogy. It is indeed true, that and third
among men, every father must be prior in time as well persons not
as in tbe order of nature to his son ; but were it essential ^t"Iortft
to a man to be a father, so as that he could not exist
otherwise than in that relation, it is obvious that his son
would lie coeval with himself, though still as proceeding
from him, he would be posterior in the order of nature.
This is the case with all necessary causes and effects.
The visible sun is tbe immediate and necessary cause of
light and heat, either as emitting the rays from his own
substance, or as exciting the agency of a fluid diffused,
for that purpose through the whole system. Light and
heat, therefore, must be as old as the sun ; and had he
existed from eternity, they would have existed from eter¬
nity with him, though still, as his eflects, they would
have been behind him in the order of nature. Hence
it is, that as we must speak analogically of the Divine
nature, and when treating of mind, even the Supreme
miiul, make use of words literally applicable only to the
modifications of matter, the Nicene fathers illustrate the
eternal generation of the second person of the blessed
Trinity by this procession of light from the corporeal
sun, calling him God of God, light of light*.
Another comparison has been made use of to enable
us to form some notion, however inadequate, how three
Divine persons can subsist in the same substance, and
thereby constitute but one God. Moses informs us,
that man was made after the image of God. That this
relates to the soul more than to the body of man, has
been granted by all but a few gross anthropomorpbites;
but it has been well observed *, that the soul, though in * Dslit't
itself one indivisible and unextended substance, is ton-Socinm
cetved as consisting of three principal faculties, the un-^ontr0m
derstanding, the memory, and the will. Of these, though
they are all coeval in time, and equally essential to a
rational soul, the understanding is in the order of nature
obviously the first, and the memory the second ; for
things must be perceived before they can be remember¬
ed ; and they must be remembered and compared to¬
gether before they can excite volitions, from being some
agreeable, and others disagreeable. The memory there¬
fore may be said to spring from the understanding, and
the will from both; and as these three faculties are con¬
ceived to constitute one soul, so may three Divine per¬
sons partaking of the same individual nature or essence
constitute one God.
These parallels or analogies are by no means brought No contra-
forward as proofs of the Trinity, of which the evidence diction m
is to lie gathered wholly from the word of God ; but
they serve perhaps to help our labouring minds to lormXri-
the justest notions of that mystery which it is possiblenity,
for us to form in the present state of our existence; and
they seem to rescue the doctrine sufficiently from the
charge of contradiction, which has been so often urged
against it bv Unitarian writers. To the last analogy we
are aware it lias often been objected, that the soul may
as well be said to consist of ten or twenty faculties as of
three, since the passions are equally essential to it with
the understanding, the memory, and the will, and are
as different from one another as these three faculties are.
This,
6
Objution
Pit IT. THE O
This, however, is probably a mistake; for the best phi¬
losophy seems to teach us, that the passions are not in¬
nate ; that a man might exist through a long life a
stranger to many of them ; and that there are probably
no two minds in which arc generated all the passions (see
Passion) ; but understanding, memory, and will, are
absolutely and equally necessary to every rational being.
Put whatever be in this, if the human mind can be co/i-
eeived to be one indivisible substance, consisting of dif¬
ferent faculties, whether many or few, why should it
be thought an impossibility for the infinite and eter¬
nal nature of Cod to be communicated to three per¬
sons acting different parts in the creation and govern¬
ment of the world, and in the great scheme of man’s
redemption.
To the doctrine of the Trinity many objections have
been made, as it implies the divinity of the Son and the
Holy Ghost; of whom the foimer assumed our nature,
and in it died for the redemption of man. These we
shall-notice when we come to examine the revelations
more peculiarly Christian ; but there is one objection
which, as it respects the doctrine in general, may be
properly noticed here. It is said that the first Christians
borrowed the notion of a Triune Cod from the later
Platonisls ; and that we hear not of a Trinity in the
church till converts were made from the school of Alex¬
andria. But if this be the case, we may properly ask,
whence had those Platonists the doctrine themselves? it
is not surely so simple or so obvious as to be likely to
have occurred to the reasoning mind of a Pagan philo¬
sopher ; or if it lie, why do Unitarians suppose it to in¬
volve a contradiction ? Plato indeed taught a doctrine
in some respects similar to that of the Christian Trinity,
and so did Pythagoras, with many other philosophers of
Greece and the Ea-.t (see PLATONISM, POLYTHEISM,
and Pythagoras) ; hut though these sages appear to
have been on some occasions extremely credulous, and
on others to have indulged themselves in the most mys¬
terious speculations, there is no room to suppose that
they were naturally weaker men than ourselves, or that
they were capable of inculcating as truths what they
perceived to involve a contradiction. The Platonic and
Pythagorean trinities never could have occurred to the
mind of him who merely from the works of creation en¬
deavoured to discover the being and attributes of the
Creator ; and therefore as those philosophers travelled
into Egypt and the East in quest of knowledge, it ap¬
pears to us in the highest degree probable, that they
picked up this mysterious and sublime doctrine in those
regions where it bad been handed down as a dogma from
the remotest ages, and where we know that science was
not taught systematically, but detailed in collections of
sententious maxims and traditionary opinions. If this
be so, we cannot doubt but that the Pagan trinities had
their origin in some primaeval revelation. Nothing else
indeed can account for the general prevalence of a doc¬
trine so remote from human imagination, and of which
we find vestiges in the sacred books of almost every civi¬
lized people of antiquity. The corrupt state in which it
is viewed in the writings of Plato and others, is the na¬
tural consequence of its descent through a long course
of oral tradition ; and then falling into the hands of men
who bent every opinion as much as possible to a con¬
formity with their own speculations. The trinity of
Platonism therefore, instead of being an objection, lends,
Aujwred,
L O G Y. 341
in our opinion, no feeble support to the Christian doc- God nnd
trine, since it aflbrds almost a complete proof of that his Attri-
doctrine’s having made part of the first revelations com- 1 hutes.
nninicated to man. v~
Having thus discovered that the one God compre¬
hends three persons, let us now inquire what this triune
God exerted when he created the heaven and the earth.
That by the heaven and the earth is here meant the
whole universe, visible and invisible, is known to every
person acquainted with the phraseology of Scripture ;
and we need inform no man conversant with English
writers, that by creation, in its proper sense, is meant
bringing into being ov making that to exist which existed
not before. It must, however, be acknowledged, that
the Hebrew word R'li does not always imply the pro¬
duction of substance, but very often the forming of par-
ticular0rganized bodies out of pre-existingmatter. Thus
when it is said* that “God created great whales, and e- * Gen. i.
very livingcreature that moveth, which the waters brought 27*
forth abundantly after their kind,” and again, “ that he
created man male and female;” though the word R“T3 is
used on both occasions, we are not to conceive that the
bodies of the first human pair, and of these animals,
were brought into being from nonentity, but only that
they were formed by a proper organization being given 69
to pre-existent matter. But when Moses says, “ In the ^re?lt,on
beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” he *J'V
cannot be supposed to mean, that “ in the beginning God
only gave form to matter already existing of itself;” for
in?the very next verse we are assured that after this act
of creation was over, “ the earth was still without form
and void,” or, in other words, in a chaotic state.
That the Jews, before the coming of our Saviour,
understood their lawgiver to teach a proper creation, is
plain from that passage in the second hook of the Mac¬
cabees, in which a mother, to persuade her son to suflfer
the cruellest tortures rather than forsake the law of bis
God, uses the following argument: “ I beseech thee,
my son, look upon the heaven and the earth, and all
that is therein, and consider that God made them of
things that were not.” To the same purpose the inspi¬
red author of the epistle to the Hebrews, when magni¬
fying the excellence of faith, says, “ Through faith we
understand that the worlds were framed by the word of
God, so that things which are seen were not made of
things which do appear ;” where, as Bishop l earson has ^
ably proved 1", the phrase pi iK$x.tvt>uivw is equivalent to
ovk in the quotation from the Maccabees. Creed.
The very first verse, therefore, of the book of Gene¬
sis informs us of a most important truth, which all the
uninspired wisdom of antiquity could not discover. It
assures us, that as nothing exists by chance, so nothing
is necessarily existing but the three divine persons in
the one Godhead. Every thing else, whether material
or immaterial, derives its substance, as well as its form
or qualities, from the fiat of that self-existent Being,
“ who was, and is, and is to come.”
It does not, however, follow from this verse, or from ^hoic
any other passage in the sacred Scriptures, that the universe
whole universe was called into existence at the same in-not created
slant; neither is it byanymeans evident that the chaosof*1 once,
our world was brought into being on the first of those six
days during which it was gradually reduced into form.
From a passage J in the book of Job, in which we are t Mxviii. 7
told by God himself, that when the “ foundation of the
earth
342
God and
his Attii-
butcs.
v-—/
* Psalm
cxxxvi. 9.
70
The solar
system
created at
once.]
7i
A difficulty
solved.
T H E O
earth was laid the morning stars sang together, and all
the sons of Cod shouted for joy,” it appears extremely
probable that worlds had been created, formed, and in¬
habited, long before our earth had any existence. Nor
is this opinion at all contrary to what Moses says of the
creation of the stars •, for though they are mentioned in
the same verse with the sun and moon, yet the manner
in which, according to the original, they are introduced,
by no means indicates that all the stars were formed at
the same time with the luminaries of our system. Most
of them have been created long before, and some of
them since, our world was brought into being ; for that
clause (ver. 16.) “ he made the stars also,” is in the
Hebrew no more than “ and the stars the words he
made being inserted by the translators. The word verse
therefore ought to be rendered thus, “ and God made
two great lights ; the greater light to rule the day, and
the lesser light with the stars to rule the night; where
nothing is intimated with respect to the time when the
stars were formed, any more than in that verse of the
Psalms *, which exhorts us to give thanks to Cod who
made the moon and stars to rule by night j for his
mercy endureth “ for ever.” The first verse of the
book of Genesis informs us that all things spiritual and
corporeal derive their existence from God j but it is
nowhere said that all matter was created at the same
time.
That the whole corporeal universe may have been
created at once must be granted ; but if so, we have rea¬
son to believe that this earth, with the sun and all the
planets of the system, were suffered to remain for ages
in a state of chaos, “ without form and void j” because
it appears from other scriptures, that worlds of intelligent
creatures existed, and even that some angels had fallen
from a state of happiness prior to the era of the Mosaic
cosmogony. That the sun and the other planets revol¬
ving round him were formed at the same time with the
earth, cannot indeed be questioned *, for it is not only
probable in itself from the known laws of nature, but is
expressly affirmed by the sacred historian, who relates
the formation of the sun and moon in the order in which
it took place j but there is one difficulty which has fur¬
nished ignorance with something like an objection to the
divine legation of the Hebrew lawgiver, and which rve
shall notice.
Moses informs us, that on the first day after the pro¬
duction of the chaos, the element of light was created ;
and yet within a few sentences he declares, that the sun,
the fountain of light, was not made till [.he fourth day.
How are these two passages to be reconciled? We answer,
That they may be reconciled many -ways. Moses wrote
for the use of a whole people, and not for the amusement
or instruction of a few astronomers ; and in this view
his language is sufficiently proper, even though we sup¬
pose the formation of the sun and the other planets to
have been carried on at the same time, and in the same
progressive manner, with the formation of this earth.
The voice which called light into existence would sepa¬
rate the hery and luminous particles of the chaos from
those which were opaque, and, on this hypothesis, conso¬
lidate them in one globe, diffusing an obscure light
through the planetary system; but if the earth’s atmo¬
sphere continued till the fourth day loaded with vapours,
as from the narrative of Moses it appears to have done,
tl.e sun could not till that day have been seen from the
1
L 0 G Y. Fart II.
earth, and may therefore, in popular language, he said c0d anj
with sufficient propriety to have been formed on the bis Atui
fourth day, as it was then made to appear. (See Crea- , t)Utei-
TION, N° 13.) But though this solution of the difficulty ' J
serves to remove the objection, and to secure the credit
of the sacred historian, candour compels us to confess
that it appears not to be the true solution.
The difficulty itself arises entirely from supposing tbs
sun to be the sole fountain of light $ but the truth of this
opinion is not self-evident, nor has it ever been esta¬
blished by satisfactory proof. It is indeed to a mind di*
vested of undue deference to great names, and consider¬
ing the matter with impartiality, an opinion extremely
improbable. The light of a candle placed on an emi¬
nence may in a dark night be seen in every direction
at the distance of at least three miles. But if this small
body be rendered visible by means of rays emitted from
itself, the llame of a candle, which cannot be supposed
more than an inch in diameter, must, during every in¬
stant that it continues to burn, throw from its own sub¬
stance luminous matter sufficient to fill a spherical space
of six miles in diameter. This phenomenon, if real, is
certainly surprising ; but if we pursue the reflection a
little farther, our wonder will be greatly increased. The
matter which, when converted into flame, is an inch in
diameter, is not, when of the consistence of cotton and
tallow, of the dimensions of the 20th part of an inch;
and therefore, on the common hypothesis, the 20th part
of an inch of tallow may be so rarefied as to fill a space
of 113.0976 cubic miles ! a rarefaction which to us ap¬
pears altogether incredible. M7e have indeed heard much
of the divisibility of matter ad infinitum, and think we
understand what are usually called demonstrations the
truth of that proposition ; but these demonstrations prove
not the actual divisibility of real solid substances, but
only that on trial we shall find no end of the ideal pro¬
cess of dividing and subdividing imaginary extension.
On the whole, therefore, we are much more inclined
to believe that the matter of light is an extremely sub¬
tile fluid, diffused through the corporeal universe, and
only excited to agency by the sun and other fiery bodies,
than that it consists of streams continually issuing from
the substance of these bodies. It is indeed an opinion
pretty generally received, and certainly not improbable
in itself, that light and electricity are one and the same
substance (see Ei.ECTRiClTY-Index) ; but we know that
the electrical fluid, though pervading the whole of cor¬
poreal nature, and, as experiments show, capable of act¬
ing with great violence, yet lies dormant and unpercei¬
ved till its agency be excited by some foreign cause. Just
so it may be with the matter of light. That substance
may be “ diffused from one end of the creation * to the *
other. It may traverse the whole universe, form a com- tuLlayd
munication between the most remote spheres, penetrate
into the inmost recesses of the earth, and only wait to be
put in a proper motion to communicate visible sensations
to the eye. Light is to the organ of sight what the air is
to the organ of hearing. Air is the medium which, vi¬
brating on the ear, causes the sensation of sound ; but it
equally exists round us at all times, though there be no
sonorous body to put it in motion. In like manner, light
may be equally extended at all times, by night as well
as by day, from the most distant fixed stars to this earth,
though it then only strikes our eyes so as to excite visible
sensations when impelled by the sun or some other mass
of
Pi-til.
G and
hM Un¬
ites.
THEOLOGY.
Mc»s a
sail” plii-
los«ier.
3
Infilc
paw.- of
the
t
jr.
of fire.” Nor let any one imagine that this hypothesis
interferes with any of the known laws of optics j for if
the rays of light he impelled in straight lines, and in
the same direction in which they are supposed to he
emitted, the phenomena of vision must necessarily be
the same.
Moses therefore was probably a more accurate philoso¬
pher than he is sometimes supposed to be. The element
of light was doubtless created, as he informs us, on the
first day ; but whether it was then put in that state in
which it is the medium of vision, we cannot know, and
we need not inquire, since there was neither man nor in¬
ferior animal with organs fitted to receive its impres¬
sions. For the first three days it may have been used
only ns a powerful instrument to reduce into order the
jarring chaos. Or if it was from the beginning capable
of communicating visible sensations,and dividing the day
from the night, its agency must have been immediately
excited by the Divine power till the fourth day, when
the sun was formed, and endowed with proper qualities
for instrumentally discharging that office. This was in¬
deed miraculous, as being contrary to the present laws
of nature : but the whole creation was miraculous ; and
we surely need not hesitate to admit a less miracle
where we are under the necessity of admitting a greater.
The power which called light and all other things into
existence, could give them their proper motions by ten
thousand different means; and to attempt to solve the
difficulties of creation by philosophic theories respecting
the laws of natu-re, is to trifle with the common sense of
mankind : it is to consider as subservient to a law that
very power by whose continued exertion the law is esta¬
blished.
Having thus proved that the universe derives its
being, as well as the form and adjustment of its several
parts, from the one supreme ami self-existent God, let
us here pause, and reflect on the sublime conceptions
which such astonishing works are fitted to give us of
the divine perfections.
And, in the first place, how strongly do the works of
creation impress on our minds a conviction of the infinite
power of their Author? He spoke, and the universe
started into being $ he commanded, and it stood fast.
How mighty is the arm which “ stretched out the hea¬
vens and laid the foundations of the earth ; which re-
moveth the mountains and they know it not ; which
overturneth them in his anger } which shaketh the earth
out of her place, and the pillars thereof tremble ! How
powerful the word which commandeth the sun, and it
riseth not; and which sealeth up the starswhich sus-
taineth numberless worlds of amazing bulk suspended in
the regions of empty space, and directs their various and
inconceivably rapid motions with the utmost regularity !
“ Lift up your eyes on high, and behold, who hath cre¬
ated all these things ? By the word of the Lord were
the heavens made, and all the host of them by tlie breath
of his mouth. Hell is naked before him, and destruc¬
tion hath no covering. He stretcheth out the North
over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon no¬
thing. He lias measured the waters in the hollow of his
hand, and meted out the heavens with a span ; and com¬
prehended the dust of the earth in a measure ; and weigh¬
ed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance.
Behold! the nations are as a drop of the bucket, and
are counted as the small dust of the balance; behold, he
343
taketh up the isle* as a very little thing. All nations Cod and
before him are as nothing, and they are counted to him bis Attri-
less than nothing, and vanity. To whom then will ye t ^
liken God, or what likeness will ye compare unl° * ps. xxxjjj,
him * ?” 6, 9 ; Job
As the works of creation are the effects of God’six. 4. &.c.
thev likewise in the most eminent manner dis-?XVI* ^
Isa. xi. n.
74
power
play his wisdom. This was so apparent to Cicero, even
from the partial knowledge in astronomy which his time jjis WIS.
afforded, that he declared f those who could assert thedom,
contrary void of all understanding. But if that great+ De Kat,
master of reason had been acquainted with the modern j^0••Wn^,
discoveries 1 in astronomy, which exhibit numberless
worlds scattered through space, and each of immense
magnitude; had he known that the sun is placed in the
centre of our system, and that to diversify the seasons the
planets move round him with exquisite regularity ; could
he have conceived that the distinction between light and
darkness is produced by the diurnal rotation of the earth
on its own axis, instead of that disproportionate whirling
of the whole heavens which the ancient astronomers
were forced to suppose ; had he known of the wonderful
motions of the comets, ami considered how such eccen¬
tric bodies have been preserved from falling upon some
of the planets in the same system, and the several sys¬
tems from falling upon each other; had he taken into
the account that there are yet greater things than these,
and “ that we have seen but a few of God’s works;”—
that virtuous Pagan would have been ready to exclaim
in the words of the Psalmist, “ O Lord, how manifold
are thy works ! In wisdom hast thou made them all ;
the earth is full of thy riches.” ^.
That creation is the offspring of unmixed goodness, am] good-
has been already shown with sufficient evidence (see ness.
Metaphysics, N° 312. and N° 29. of this article);
and from the vast number of creatures on our earth en¬
dowed with life and sense, and a capability of happiness,
and the infinitely greater number which probably inha¬
bit the planets of this and other systems, we may infer
that the goodness of God is as boundless as his power,
and that “ as is his majesty, so is his mercy.” Out of
his own fulness hath he brought into being numberless
worlds, replenished with myriads of myriads of crea¬
tures, furnished with various powers and organs, capa¬
cities and instincts; and out of his own fulness he con¬
tinually and plentifully supplies them all with every
thing necessary to make their existence comfortable.
“ The eyes of all wait upon him, and he giveth them
their meat in due season. He openeth his hand and sa¬
tisfies the desires of every living tiling; he loveth righ¬
teousness and judgment; the earth is full of the goodness
of the Lord. He watereth the ridges thereof abundantly;
he settleth the furrows thereof; lie maketh it soft with
showers, and blesseth the springing thereof. He crown-
eth the year with his goodness; and his paths drop fat¬
ness. They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness;
and the little lulls rejoice on every side. The pastures
are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered
with corn ; they shout with joy, they also sing J.” Sur- { Ps. cxir.
vey the whole of what may he seen on and about tliisI5v.,6>
terraqueous globe, and say, if our Maker hath a sparing
hand. Surely the Author of so much happiness must '
be essential goodness ; and we must conclude with St
John, that “ God is love.”
These attributes of power, wisdom, and goodness, so
conspicuously
344 T H E O
God and conspicuously displayed in the works of creation, belong
his Attri- in the same supreme degree to each person in the blessed
bates Trinityfor Moses declares that the heaven and the
earth were created, not by one person, but by the Elo-
The second him. The indeed, or second person, appears to
person in have been the immediate Creator j for St John assures
the 1 rinity ug “all things were made by him, and that
dhue'crea- w^^out ^'in was not an7 thing made that was made.”
tor Some Arian writers of great learning (and we believe
* Ch. i. 3, the late Dr Price was of the number) have asserted,
that a being who was created himself may be endowed
by the Omnipotent God with the power of creating
other beings j and as they hold the dr wordy to
be a creatuie, they contend that he was employed by
the Supreme Deity to create, not the whole universe,
but only this earth, or at the utmost the solar system.
“ The old argument (says one of them), that no being
inferior to the great Omnipotent can create a world, is
so childish as to deserve no answer. Why may not God
communicate the power of making worlds to any being
whom he may choose to honour with so glorious a pre¬
rogative ? i have no doubt but such a power may be
communicated to many good men during the progress
of their existence j and to say that it may tiot, is not on¬
ly to limit the porver of God, but to contradict acknow-
77 ledged analogies.”
Creation We are far from being inclined to limit the power of
peculiar to G0(l, c;in certainly do whatever involves not a di¬
rect contradiction } and therefore, though we know
nothing analogous to the power of creating worldsy yet
as we perceive not any contradiction implied in the no¬
tion ot that power being communicated, we shall admit
that such a communication may be possibhy though we
think it in the highest degree improbable. But surely,
no man will contend that the whole universe was
brought into existence by any creature; because that
creature himself, however highly exalted, is necessarily
comprehended in the notion of the universe. Now St
f Coloi. i\. pau| expressly affirms-f-, that, by the second person in
the blessed I rinity, “ were ALL things created that are
in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and inrisibley
whether they be THRONES, or DOMINIONS, or PRINCI¬
PALITIES, or powers; all things were created by him
and for h im ; and he is before all things, and by him
all things consist.” Indeed the Hebrew Scriptures in
11.*xliv. 24.rnore places than onej expressly declare that this earth,
Jerem. x. an(l °f course the whole solar system, was formedy as
ic—13. well as createdy not by an inferior being, but by the
true God, even Jehovah alone ; and in the New Testa-
1S 0T;'' mt,1t §j the Gentiles are said to be without excuse for
not glorifying him as God, “ because his eternal power
and Godhead are clearly seen from the creation of the
world.” But if it were natural to suppose that the
power of creating worlds has been, or ever will be,
communicated to beings inferior to the great Omnipo¬
tent, this reasoning of the apostle’s would be founded on
false principles, and the sentence which he passed on
the Heathen would be contrary to justice.
But though it be thus evident that the Aey*? was the
immediate Creator of the universe, we are not to sup¬
pose that it was without the concurrence of the other
two persons. I he bather, who may be said to be the
fountain of the Divinity itself, was certainly concerned
in the creation of the world, and is therefore in the
apostle’s creed denominated the “ Father Almighty
LOGY. Part II.
Maker of heaven and earth ;” and that the Holy Ghost God and
or third person is likewise a Creator, we have the ex- his Ami.
press testimony of two inspired writers : “By the word ,,u,e*
of the Lord (says the Psalmist) were the heavens made,
and all the host of them by the breath (Hebrew, Spi¬
rit) of his mouth.” And Job declares, that the
“ Spirit of God made him, and that the breath of the
Almighty gave him life.” Indeed these three divine
persons are so intimately united, that what is done by
one must be done by all, its they have but one and the
same will. This is the reason assigned by Origen * for*Con/ri
our paying divine worship to each; ev* t«h
TrctU^x m? xcu to> tua» t>j» ctXrJuxv ovlx dvo tjj
V5re<f]fl6(rs< Trqet'y/u.xjx, Iv rri opovoict, v.xi t» evpyunx xxi
tij Txvlolr,Ti ms /3evA*)<rsA>{, “ we worship the Father of
truth, and the Son the truth itself, being two things as
to hypostasis, but one in agreement, consent, and same¬
ness of will.” Nor is their union a mere agreement in
will only ; it is a physical or essential union : so that
what is done by one must necessarily be done by the
others also, according to that of our Saviour, “ J am in
the Father and the Father in me: The Father who
dwelleth in me, he doth the works.”
Sect. II. Of the Original State of Man, and the first
Covenant of Eternal Lijc which God vouchsafed to
make with him.
In the Mosaic account of the creation, every atten-pKCU|jaritT
live reader must be struck with the manner in which the of the ex-
sunreme Being is represented as making man: “ And Pres,'on **
t.od said, let us make man in our image, alter ourjssajjt0
likeness ; and let them have dominion over the fUh of ,uate
the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cat¬
tle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping
thing that creepeth upon the earth. So God created
man in his own image; in the image of God created he
him; male and female created he THEM. And God
blessed them ; and God said unto them, be fruitful, and
multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it; and
have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the
fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth
upon the earth. And God said, behold, I have given
you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of
all the earth ; and every tree, in the which is the fruit
of a tree yielding seed : to you it shall be for meat.
And God saw every thing that lie had made, and, be¬
hold, it was very good. And the evening and the
morning were the sixth dav. Thus the heavens and the
earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on
the seventh day God ended his work which he had
made ; and he rested on the seventh day from all his
works which he had made. And God blessed the seventh
day and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested
from all his work which God created and made J.” I Gen'
This is a very remarkable passage, and contains much J<5» ^a'
important information. It indicates a plurality of per-1*
sons in the Godhead, describes the nature of man as he
came at first from the hands of his Creator, and furnish¬
es data from which we may infer what were the duties
required of him in that primeval state, and what were
the rewards to which obedience would entitle him. 79
Of the plurality of Divine persons, and their essential In lib0'’11
union, we have treated in the preceding section, andliua^e'
proceed now to inquire into the specific nature of the
first man. This must be implied in the image of God,
in
Pat n
On.in al
Stie of
afcn.
DifSent
opiitns rC'
ipefcg
the tiage
cfCSl.
tea ii.
7- f
f
Caltintic
opiiii«5.
t CL
Bud^. f
Dimkxj'
b. iii. h.
S
Objecki
to.
T H E O
in which he is said to have been created ; for it is by
that phrase alone that he is characterized, and his pre¬
eminence marked over the other animals. Now this
image or likeness must have been found either in his
body alone, his soul alone, or in both united. That it
could not be in his body alone, is obvious ; for the infi¬
nite and omnipotent God is allowed by all men to be
without body, parts, or passions, and therefore to be
such as nothing corporeal can possibly resemble.
If this likeness is to be found in the human soul, it
comes to be a question in what faculty or power of the
soul it consists. Some have contended, that man is the
only creature on this earth who is animated by a prin¬
ciple essentially different from matter j and hence they
have inferred, that he is said to have been formed in
the Divine image, on account of the immateriality of
that vital principle which was infused into his body
when the “ Lord God breathed into his nostrils the
breath of life, and man became a living soul f.” That
this account of the animation of the body of man indi¬
cates a superiority of the human soul to the vital prin¬
ciple of all other animals, cannot, we think, be ques¬
tioned j but it does not therefore follow, that the hu¬
man soul is the only immaterial principle of life which
animates any terrestrial creature. It has been shown
elsewhere (see Metaphysics, N0235-), that the power
of sensation, attended with individual consciousness, as
it appears to be in all the higher species of animals, can¬
not result from any organical structure, or be the qua¬
lity of a compound extended being. The vital princi¬
ple in such animals therefore must be immaterial as well
as the human soul; but as the word immaterial denotes
only a negative notion, the souls of men and brutes,
though both immaterial, may yet be substances essen¬
tially different. This being the case, it is plain that the
Di vine image in which man was formed, and by which
he is distinguished from the brute creation, cannot con¬
sist in the mere circumstance of his mind being a sub¬
stance different from matter, but in some positive qua¬
lity which distinguishes him from every other creature
on this globe.
About this characteristic quality various opinions have
been formed. Some have supposed ^ “ that the image
of God in Adam appeared in that rectitude, righteous¬
ness, and holiness, in which he was made •, for God
made man upright (Eccles. vii. 2.), a holy and righ¬
teous creature; which holiness and righteousness were in
their kind perfect; his understanding was free from all
error and mistakes ; his will biassed to that which is
good ; his affections flowed in a right channel towards
their proper objects ; there were no sinful motions and
ev.l thoughts in his heart, nor anv propensity or incli¬
nation to that which is evil ; and the whole of his con¬
duct and behaviour was according to the will of God.
And this righteousness (say they) was natural, and not
personal and acquired. It was not obtained by the ex¬
ercise of his free-will, but was created with him, and
belonged to his mind, as a natural faculty or instinct.”
Ihey therefore call it original righteousness, and sup¬
pose that it was lost in the fall.
To this doctrine may objections have been made. It
has been said that righteousness consisting in right ac¬
tions proceeding from proper principles, could not be
created with Adam and make a part of his nature ; be¬
cause nothing which is produced in a man without his
Vol. XX. Part I.
LOOT. 34-
knowledge and consent can he in him either virtue or ori,.i„;,l
vice. Adam, it is added, was unquestionably placed in State »t
a state of trial, which proves that he had righteous ha- Man-
bits to acquire ; whereas the doctrine under considera- v '
tion, affirming his original righteousness to have been
perfect, and therefore incapable of improvement, is in¬
consistent with a state of trial. That his understanding
was free from all errors and mistakes, has been thought
a blasphemous position, as it attributes to man one of
the incommunicable perfections of the Deity. It is like¬
wise believed to be contrary to fact ; for either his un¬
derstanding was bewildered in error, or his affections
flowed towards an improper object, when he suffered
himself at the persuasion of his wife to transgress the
express law of his Creator. The objector expresses his
wonder at its having ever been supposed that the whole
of Adam’s conduct and behaviour was according to the
will of God, when it is so notorious that he }icldtd to
the first temptation with which, as far as we know, he
was assailed in paradise.
Convinced by these and other arguments, that the
image of God in which man was created could not con¬
sist in original righteousness, or in exemption from all
possibility of error, many learned men, and Bishop
Bull § among others, have supposed, that by the image $ See hie
of God is to be understood certain gifts and powers su- English
pernaturally infused by the Holy Spirit into the minds *Vor*a.'
of our first parents, to guide them in the ways of piety Tol‘ m*
and virtue. This opinion they rest chiefly upon the au¬
thority of Tatian, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, Atha-Opi„ion 0f
nasius, and other fathers of the primitive church ; but Bishop Bull
they think, at the same time, that it is countenanced bvautl some
several passages in the New Testament. Thus when St°f tlie lin“
Paul says ||, “ and so it is written, The first man Adam tin"* ^
was made a living soul, the last Adam was made a|| 1 Cor. xt.
quickening Spirit;” they understand the whole passage 45> 46-
as relating to the creation of man, and not as drawing
a comparison between Adam ami Christ, to show the
great superiority of the latter over the former. In sup¬
port of this interpretation they observe, that the apostle
immediately adds, “ howbeit, that was not first which
is spiritual, but that which is natural, and afterwards
that which is spiritual an addition which they think
was altogether needless, if by the quickening Spirit he
had referred to the incarnation of Christ, which had
happened in the very age in which he was writing.
I hey are therefore of opinion, that the body of Adam,
alter being formed of the dust of the ground, was first
animated by a vital principle endowed with the facul¬
ties of reason and sensation, which entitled the whole
man to the appellation of a living soul. After this they
suppose certain graces of the Holy Spirit to have been
infused into him, by which he was made a quickening
spirit, or formed in the image of God ; and that it was
in consequence of this succession of powers communica¬
ted to the same person, that the apostle said, “ How¬
beit, that was not first which is spiritual, but that
which is natural.”
We need hardly observe, that with respect to a que¬
stion of this kind the authority of Tatian and the other
fathers quoted is nothing. Those men had no better
means of discovering the true sense of the scriptures of
the Old Testament than we have ; and their ignorance
of the language in which these scriptures are written,
added to some metaphysical notions respecting the soul,
f ^ x which
346
Original "hicli too m-uiy of them had derived from the school of
State of Vlato, rendered them very ill qualified to interpret the
| Man, writings of Moses. \*rere authority to he admitted, we
T should consider that of Bishop Bull and his modern fol¬
lowers as of greater weight than the authority of all the
ancients to whom they appeal. But authority cannot
he admitted ; and the reasoning of this learned and ex¬
cellent man from the text of St Paul is surely very in¬
conclusive. It makes two persons of Adam ; a first,
’ll f 1 w^cn 'vas a na^ura' man composed of a body and a
1 1" ' reasonable soul j a second, when he was endowed with
the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and by them formed in the
image of God ! In the verse following too, the apostle
expressly calls the second man, of whom he had been
speaking, “ the Lord from heaven j” but this appella¬
tion we apprehend to lie too high for Adam in the state
of greatest perfection in which he ever existed. That
our first parents were endowed with the gifts of the Ho¬
ly Ghost, we are strongly inclined to believe for reasons
which shall he given by and byj hut as these gifts were
adventitious to their nature, they could not he that
s5 image in which God made man.
Othfi opi- Since man was made in the image of God, that phrase,
whatever he its precise import, must denote something
peculiar -awA at the same time essential to human nature-,
but the only two qualities at once natural and peculiar
to man are his shape and his reason. As none but an
anthropomorphite will say that it was Adam’s shape
which reflected this image of his Creator, it has been
concluded that it was the faculty of reason which made
f JVru-bnr- re8em^^ance* give strength to this argument it
tvrii J)i- *s observed f, that when God says, “ let us make man
vint Leg. in our image,” he immediately adds, “ and let them
took ix. have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the
(owl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the
earth but as many of the cattle have much greater
bodily strength than man, this dominion could not he
maintained but by the faculty of reason bestowed upon
him and withheld from them.
it the image of God was impressed only on the mind
of man, this reason seems to be conclusive j hut it
f Gid* Bo-has been well observed J that it was the whole man,
iy cf Divi- an(| not tj)e xoui ajone 01. t|,e £0f/y aionc that is said to
nni/, book , . •7. ’
ui.chap. have been tormed in the divine image; even as the
whole man, soul and body, is the seat of the new and
spiritual image of God in regeneration and sanctification.
“ 1 he very God of peace (says the apostle) sanctify you
wholly; and may your whole spirit, soul, and body, be
preserved blameless to the coming of our Lord Jesus
Christ.” It is worthy of notice, too, that the reason
assigned for the prohibition of murder to Noah and his
sons after the deluge, is, that man was made in the
image of God. “ Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by
man shall his blood be shed ; for in the image of God
made he man.” These texts seem to indicate, that
whatever be meant by the image of God, it was stamp¬
ed equally on the soul and on the body. In vain is it
said that man cannot resemble God in shape. This is
true, but it is little to the purpose ; for man does not
resemble God in his reasoning faculty more than in his
form. It would be idolatry to suppose the supreme ma¬
jesty of heaven and earth to have a body or a shape;
and it would be little short of idolatry to imagine that
he is obliged to compare ideas and notions together ; to
advance from particular truths to general propositions;
Part H.
and to acquire acknowledge, as we dttv ay the tedious original
processes of inductive and syllogistic reasoning. There State of
can therefore he no direct image of God either in the Wau-
soul or in the body of man ; and the phrase really seems V~-J
to import nothing more than those powers or qualities Trueim-
by which man was fitted to exercise dominion over the port of tit
inferior creation; as if it had been said, “ Let us makel>hras«.
man in our image, after our likeness, that t/iei/ may
have dominion, &c.” But the erect form of man con¬
tributes in some degree, as well as his rational powers,
to enable him to maintain his authority over the brute
creation ; for, it has been observed by travellers, that
the fiercest beast of prey, unless ready to perish by
hunger, shrinks back from a steady look of the human
face divine.
By some *, however, who have admitted the proba¬
bility of this interpretation, another has been devised for*
its being said that man was formed in the image of God.
All the members of Christ’s body, say they, were writ¬
ten and delineated in the book of God’s purposes and
decrees, and had an ideal existence from eternity in the
divine mind ; and therefore the body of Adam might
be said to be formed after the image of God, because it
was made according to that idea. But to this reasoning
objections may be urged, which we know not how to
answer. All things that ever were or ever shall be,
the bodies of us who live at present as well as the bodies
of those who lived jooo years ago, have from eternity
had an ideal existence in the Divine mind; nor in this
sense can one be said to be prior to another. It could
not therefore be after the idea of the identical body of
Christ that the body of Adam was formed ; for in the
Di vine mind ideas of both bodies were present together
from eternity, and each body was formed after the ideal
archety pe of itself. It may be added likewise, that the
body of Christ was not God, nor the idea of that body
the idea of God. Adam therefore could not with pro¬
priety he said to have been formed in the image of God,
if by that phrase nothing more were intended than the
resemblance between his body and the body of Christ.
These objections to this interpretation appear to us un¬
answerable ; but we mean not to dictate to our readers.
Every man will adopt that opinion which he thinks
supported by the best arguments; but it is obvious, that
whatever more may be meant by the image of God in
which man was.made, the phrase undoubtedly compre¬
hends all those powers and qualities by which he is en¬
abled tomaintain his authority over the inferior creation.
Among these the faculty of reason is confessedly the
most important; for it is by it that man is capable of
being made acquainted with the Author of his being,
the relation which subsists between them, and the duties
implied in that relation from the creature to the Crea¬
tor. ^ j7
That the first man, hoWever, was not left to discover Religious
these things by the mere efforts of his own unassistediDstn,ct10*
reason, we have endeavoured to show in another place; c°t’7tT
(see Religion, N° 5—Io.) ; and the conclusion to^am-
which we were there led, is confirmed by the portion of
revelation before us. The inspired historian says, that
“ God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because
that in it he had rested from all his works, which he
created and made;” but Adam could not have under¬
stood what was meant by the sanctification of a particu¬
lar day, or of any thing else, unless he had previously
received
T H E O L O G Y.
Prt
II.
THEOLOGY.
Itn.
■ I
Instillioii
OHnal received some religious instruction. There cannot there-
St^e of fore be a doubt, but that as soon as man was made, his
Creator communicated to him the truths of what is
called natural religion, which we have endeavoured to
explain and establish in Part I. of this article j and to
these were added the precept to keep holy the Sabbath-
day, and set it apart for the purposes of contemplation
and worship.
„   This was a very wise institution, as all the divine in-
oi tlitSab- sthtutions must be. “ 1 he great end for which we are
bathk brought into hie, is to attain the knowledge and be
confirmed in the love ot God. This includes obedience
to his will in thought, word, and deed, or that course
of conduct which can alone make us happy here, and
fit us for everlasting glory hereafter. Hut of these
things we cannot retain a proper sense without close and
repeated application of thought ; and the unavoidable
cares and concerns of the present life occupying much
■ of our attention, it is, in the nature of things, necessary
that some certain portion of time should be appropriated
to the purposes of religious instruction and the public
adoration of our Creator, in whom we all live, and
move, and have our being.” Hence a very learned di-
f Difcy- vinef has inferred, that though the particular time is
/er (j/fYor- a matter of positive appointment, the observation of a
-k '• sabbath in general is a duty of natural religion, as ha¬
ving its foundation in the reason of things. See Sab¬
bath.
Man therefore in his natural and original state was a
I Ins rational and religious being, bound to do “ justice, to
love mercy, to walk humbly with his God, and to
keep holy the Sabbath-day.” These seem to be all the
duties which in that state were required of him j for as
soon as he was introduced into the terrestrial paradise
and admitted into covenant with his Maker, he was
placed in a supernatural state, when other duties were
of course enjoined.
That our first parents were both made on the sixth
day, Moses expressly affirms when he says X, that “ God
created them male and female, and blessed them, and
called their name Adam (k), in the day when they were
created:” but that they were introduced into the gar¬
den of Eden on that day, is an opinion which, however
generally it may be received, seems not to be reconcile-
able with the plain narrative of the sacred penman.
After telling us that on the sixth day God finished all
his works, which he saw to be very good, and rested
on the seventh day, he briefly recapitulates the history
of the generations of the heavens and of the earth,
gives us a more particular account of (he formation of
the first man, informing us that the “ Lord God form¬
ed him out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into
his nostrils the breath of life, when man became a liv¬
ing soul $” and then proceeds to say ||, that the “ Lord
God planted a garden eastward in Eden, where he put
the man whom he had formed.” From this short hi¬
story of the first pair it appears beyond dispute evident,
that neither the man nor the woman was formed in the
garden ; and that from their creation some time elapsed
347
before the garden was prepared for their reception, is Original
likewise evident from a comparison of Gen. i. 29. with State of
Gen. ii. 16, 17. In the first of these passages God gives , ^an*
to man, immediately after his creation, “ every herb ^
bearing seed which was upon the face of all the earth, before he
and every trec^ without excejition, in which was the wa« placed
fruit of a tree bearing seed : to him he said it should bein tbe.ifar-
for meat.” In the second, “ he commanded the man
saying, of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely 1
eat } but of the tree of knowledge of good and evil,
thou shall not eat of it j for in the day thou eatest
thereof thou shall surely die.” "When the first grant
of food was given, Adam and his wife must have been
where no tree of knowledge grew, and they must have
been intended to live at least so long in that state as
that they should have occasion for food, otherwise the
formal grant of it would have been not only superfluous,
but apt to mislead them with respect to the subsequent
restriction.
In this original state man was under the discipline of
what we have called natural religion, entitled to happi¬
ness while he should perform the duties required of him,
and liable to punishment when he should neglect those
duties, or transgress the law of his nature as a rational
and moral agent. This being the case, it is a matter
of some importance, to ascertain, if we can, what the
rewards and punishments are which natural religion
holds out to her votaries.
I hat under every dispensation of religion the pious
and virtuous man shall enjoy more happiness than mi¬
sery ; and that the incorrigibly wicked shall have a
greater portion of misery than happiness, are truths
which cannot be controverted by any one who admits,
that the Almighty governor of the universe is a Heing
of wisdom, goodness, and justice. But respecting the
rewards of virtue and the punishment of vice, more than
these general truths seems not to be taught by natural 9r
religion. Many divines, however, of great learning did not
and worth, have thought otherwise, and have contend-'v*ieH P01-'
ed, that from the nature of things the rewards bestowed ^e1 him*™'
by an infinite God upon piety and virtue must be eter-to eternal
nal like their author. These men indeed appear willingUf*.
enough to allow that the punishments with which natu¬
ral religion is armed against vice must be only of a
temporary duration, because reason, say they, is ready
to revolt at the thought of everlasting punishment.
'I his opinion, which confounds natural with revealed
religion, giving to the former an important truth which
belongs exclusively to the latter, has been so ably con¬
futed by a learned writer, that we shall submit his ar¬
guments to our readers in preference to any thing which
we can give ourselves.
“ If reason doth, on the one hand, seem to revolt at
everlasting punishment, we must confess that FANCY,
on the other, (even when full plumed by vanity), hath
scarcely force enough to rise to the idea of infinite re¬
wards. How the heart of man came to consider this
as no more than an adequate retribution for his right
conduct during the short trial of his virtue here, would
X x 2 be
(k) The woman was some time afterwards distinguished by the name of Eve, mn, because she was to be the
mother of all living, and particularly of that blessed seed which was to bruise the head of the serpent. See-PorA-
nursVs Lexicon on the word.
348 T H E O
Original be bard to tell, did we not know wbat monsters fiiide
State of begot of old upon Pugmi philosophy; and bow much
. greater still these latter ages have disclosed, Ay the long
o2 incubation of school-divinity upon Jolly. ^ hat bath
Arguments been urged from natural reason, in support of ibis ex-
to prove travagant presumption, is so very slender, that it recoils
t ,at thoy as yOU enC0rce it. First, you sav, “ that the soul, the
tluiive subject of these eternal rewards, being immaterial, and
so therefore unaffected by the causes which bring mate¬
rial things to an end, is, by its nature, fitted for eter¬
nal rewards.—This is an argument ad ignorantium, and
holds no farther.—Because an immaterial being is not
subject to that mode of dissolution which affects mate-
rial substances, you conclude it to be eternal. This is
going too fast. There may be, and probably are, many
natural causes (unknown indeed to us), whereby imma¬
terial beings come to an end. But if the nature of
things cannot, yet God certainly can, put a final period
to such a being when it hath served the purpose of its
creation. Doth annihilation impeach that wisdom
ami goodness which was displayed when God brought it
out of nothing ? Other immaterial beings there are,
viz. the souls of brutes, which have the same natural
security with man for their existence, of whose eternity
we never dream. But pride, as the poet observes, calls
God unjust,
Jf man alone engross not heaven’s high care j
Alone made perfect here, immortal there.
II owever, let us (for argument’s sake) allow the human
soul to be unperishable by nature, and secured in its ex¬
istence by the unchangeable will of God, and see what
will follow from thence—An infinite reward for virtue
durinir one moment of its existence, because reason dis-
covers that, by the law of nature, some reward is due?
By no means. When God hath amply repaid us for
the performance of our duty, will he be at a loss how to
dispose of us for the long remainder of eternity') May
he not find new and endless employment for reasonable
creatures, to which, when properly discharged, new re¬
wards and in endless succession will be assigned ? Modest
reason seems to dictate this to the followers of the law
of nature. The flattering expedient of ETERNAL RE¬
WARDS for virtue here was invented in the simplicity of
early speculation, after it had fairly brought men to
conclude that the soul is immaterial.
“ Another argument urged for the eternity of the
rewards held out by natural religion to the practice of
piety and virtue is partly physical and partly moral.
The merit of service (say the admirers of that reliuion)
increases in proportion to the excellence of that Being
to whom our service is directed and becomes acceptable.
An infinite being, therefore, can dispense no rewards but
what are infinite* And thus the virtuous man becomes
entitled to immortality.
“ The misfortune is, that this reasoning holds equally
on the side of the unmerciful doctors, as they are called,
who doom the wicked to everlasting punishment.
Indeed were this the only discredit under which it la¬
bours, the merciless doctors would hold themselves little
concerned. But the truth is, that the argument from
infinity proves just nothing. To make it of any force,
both ihe parties should be infinite. This inferior ema¬
nation of God’s image, man, should either be supremely
good or' supremely bad, a kind of deity or a kind of
4
LOGY.
Part II.
devil. But these reasoners, in their attention to the Otiginal
divinity, overlook the humanity, which makes the de- Slate of
crease keep pace with the accumulation, till the rule of ^au*
logic, that the conclusion follows the weaker part, conics
in to end the dispute * JVarbur.
These arguments seem to prove unanswerably that im-M-
mortality is not essential to any part of the compound
being man, and that it cannot be claimed as a reward^
due to his virtue. It is not indeed essential to any
created being, for what has not existence ol itself, can¬
not of itself have perpetuity of existence (see META¬
PHYSICS, N° 272, See.); and as neither man nor angel
can be profitable to God, they cannot claim from him
any thing as a debt. Both, indeed, as moral agents,
have duties prescribed them1, and while they faithfully
perform these duties, they have all the security which-
can arise from the perfect benevolence of him who.
brought them into existence, that they shall enjoy a
sufficient portion of happiness to make that existence
preferable to non-existence •, but reason and philosophy
furnish no data from which it can be inferred that they
shall exist for ever. Man is composed in part of perish¬
able materials. However perfect Adam may be thought
to have been when he came first from the hands of his-
Creator, his body, as formed of the dust of the ground,
must have been naturally liable to decay and dissolution.
H is soul, indeed, was of a more durable substance j but
as it was formed to animate his body, and had no prior
conscious existence, it is not easy to conceive what
should have led him, under an equal providence, where
rewards and punishments were exactly distributed, to
suppose that one part of him should survive the other.
In his natural and original state, before the covenant
made with him in paradise, he was unquestionably a ^
mortal creature. How long he continued in that state, Adam be-
it seems not possible to form a plausible conjecture, fere his in-
Bishop Warburton supposes him to have lived several?10^uctIon
years under no other dispensation than that of natural
religion ; during which he was as liable to death as his t0 death,
fallen posterity are at present.
“ YV e must needs conclude (says this learned writer*), * xittwf
that God having tried Adam in the state of nature, and Legation,
approved of the good use he made of his free-will under li¬
the direction of that light, advanced him to a superior0 a^'
station in Paradise. How long, before this remove,j{0Wj0,ig
man had continued subject to rt7/^7"o/i alone, rve he contini-
can only guess: but of this we may be assured, that it ed in that
was some considerable time before the garden of Edenslate’
could naturally lie made fit for his reception. Since
Moses, when he had concluded his history of the crea¬
tion, and of God’s rest on, and sanctification of, the
seventh day, proceeds to speak of the condition ot this
new world in the following terms : “ And God made
every plant of the field before it was in the earth, and
every herb of the field before it grew ; for the Lord God
had not caused it to rain upon the earth f.” Which I ^en'11,
seems plainly to intimate, that when the seeds of vege-^’S
tallies had been created on the third day, they were left
to nature, in its ordinary operations, to mature by sun
and showers. So that when in course of time Paradise
was become capable of accommodating its inhabitants,
they were transplanted thither.”
This reasoning is not without a portion of that inge¬
nuity which was apparent in every thing that fell from
the pen of Warburton j but it was completely confut¬
ed
Pai II.
T H E O
Otsinal
Slie of
.Vu
i— ■ -
* Gh.. i.
12. •
jmpo» ble
to
kuovv
ed almost as soon as It was given to the public, and
shown to be deduced from premises which could be em¬
ployed against the author’s system. If only the seeds of
vegetables were created on the third day, and then left
to nature, in its ordinary operations, to mature by sun
and showers, the first pair must have perished before a
single vegetable could be fit to furnish them with food j
and we may suppose that it was to prevent this disaster
that the garden of Eden was miraculously stored at once
with full grown trees and fruit in perfect maturity,
whilst the rest of the earth was left under the ordinary
laws of vegetation. There is, however, no evidence
that they were only the seeds of vegetables that God
created. On the contrary, Moses says expressly *, that
God made the earth on the third day bring forth the
herb yielding seed after hi' kind, and the tree yielding
fruit whose seed was in itself after his kind and when
he recapitulates the history of the creation, he says, that
God made, not every seed, but every plant of the field
before it was in the earth, and every herb of the field
before it grew. From the process of vegetation, there¬
fore, nothing can he inferred with respect to the time of
Adam’s introduction into paradise, or to ascertain the
duration of his original state of nature. If angels were
created during the six days of which the Hebrew law¬
giver writes the history, an hypothesis very generally
received (see Angel), though in the opinion of the pre¬
sent writer not very proha hie, there can be no doubt
but our first parents lived a considerable time under the
law of nature before they were raised to a superior sta¬
tion in the garden of Eden ; for it seems very evident
that the period of their continuance in that station was
not long. Of this, however, nothing can be said with
certainty. They may have lived for years, or only a
few days in their original state j but it is very necessary
to distinguish between that state in which they were
under no other dispensation than what is commonly cal¬
led natural religion, entitled, upon their obedience, to
the indefinite rewards of piety and virtue, and their
state in Paradise when they were put under a new law,
and by the free grace of God promised, if they should
be obedient, a supernatural and eternal reward. Into
that state we must now attend them, and ascertain, if
we can, the precise terms of the first covenant.
Moses, who in this investigation is our only guide,
tells us, that the Lord God, alter he had formed the first
pair, “ planted a garden eastward in Eden, and took
the man and put him in the garden to dress it and to
keep it. And the Lord God (continues he) command¬
ed the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou
mayest freely eat *, but of the tree of the knowledge of
good and evil thou shall not eat of it j for in the day
LOGY. 34-9
that thou eatest thereof, thou shall surely diet.” Here Original
is no mention made of the laws of piety and moral vir- Sute.oi
tue resulting from the relations in which the various tVIan‘ .
individuals of the human race stand to each other, and j Qen jj
in which all his creatures stand to God their Almighty s, 15, 16,
and beneficent Creator. With these laws Adam was 17.
already well acquainted; and he must have been sensi¬
ble, that as they were founded in his nature, no subse¬
quent law could dispense with their obligation. They
have been equally binding on all men in every state and
under every dispensation j and they will continue to be
so as long as the general practice of justice, mercy, and
piety, shall contribute to the sum of human happiness.
The new law peculiar to his paradisaical state was tho
command not to eat of the fruit of the tree of the
knowledge of good and evil. This was a positive pre¬
cept, not founded in the nature of man, hut very pro¬
per to he the test of his obedience to the will of his
Creator. The laws of piety and virtue are sanctioned The coyc-
by nature, or by that general system of rules accordingnant c-
to which God governs the physical and moral worlds,
and by which he has secured, in some state or other, ^jaB1 j,,
happiness to the pious and virtuous man, and misery to paradise,
such as shall prove incorrigibly wicked. The Jaw re¬
specting the forbidden fruit was sanctioned by the periul-
ty of death denounced against disobedience ; and by the
subjects of that law the nature of this penalty must have
been perfectly understood : but Christian divines, as we
shall afterwards see, have dillered widely in opinion
respecting the full import of the Hebrew words which our
translators have rendered by the phrase thou shall sure¬
ly die. All, however, agree that they threatened death,
in the common acceptation of the word, or the separa¬
tion of the soul and body, as one part of the punishment
to be incurred by eating the forbidden fruit ; and hence
we must infer, that had the forbidden fruit not been
eaten, our first parents would never have died, because
the penalty of death was denounced against no other
transgression. What therefore is said respecting tho
feuit of the tree of knowledge, implies not only a law
hut also a covenant (l), promising to man, upon the
observance of one positive precept, immortalitv or eter¬
nal life •, which is not essential to the nature of any crea¬
ted being, and cannot he claimed as the merited reward
of the greatest virtue or the most fervent piety.
This obvious truth will enable us to dispose of the
objections which have been sometimes brought by free-
thinking divines against the wisdom and justice of
punishing so severely as by death the breach of a mere
positive precept $ which, considered in itself, appears to
be a precept of very little importance. We have only
to reply, that as an exemption from death is not due
either
(l) It does not appear that any transaction between God and mankind in general was denominated by a word
equivalent to the English word covenant U\\ the end of the fourth century, when such phraseology was introduced
into the church by the celebrated Augustine, bishop of Hippo. That the phraseology is strictly proper, no man can
suppose who reflects on the infinite distance between the contracting parties, and absolute dominion of the one
over the other. To be capable of entering into a covenant, in the proper sense of the word, both parties must have
a right either to agree to the terms proposed or to reject them *, but surely Adam had no right to bargain with his
Maker, or to refuse the gift of immortality on the terms on which it was oft’ered to him. The word dispensation
would more accurately denote what is here meant by the word covenant, but as this last is in general use, we have
retained it as sufficient, when thus explained, to distinguish what man received from God upon certain positiva
conditions, from what he had a claim to. by the constitution of his nature.
350
Original either to the nature or to the virtue of man, it Avas wise
State ef ami just to make it depend on the observance of a posi-
^an‘ live precept, to impress on the minds of our first parents
v a constant conviction, that they were to be preserved
immortal, not in the ordinary course of divine provi¬
dence, but by -the special grace and favour of God. The
same consideration will show us the folly of those men
who are for turning all that is said of the trees of know¬
ledge and of life into figure and allegory. l»ut the
other trees which Adam and Eve were permitted to eat
were certainly real trees, or they must have perished for
want of food. And what rules of interpretation will
authorise us to interpret eating and trees literally in one
part of the sentence and figuratively in the other ? A
garden in a delightful climate is the very habitation,
and the fruits produced in that garden the very food,
which we should naturally suppose to have been pre¬
pared for the progenitors of the human race j and
though in the garden actually fitted up for this purpose
two trees were remarkably distinguished from the rest,
perhaps in situation and appearance as w’ell as in use,
the distinction was calculated to serve the best of pur¬
poses. The one called the tree of life y of which, while
they continued innocent, they were permitted to eat,
served as a sacramental pledge or assurance on the
part of God, that as long as they could observe the
terms of the covenant their life should be preserved ;
the other, of which it was death to taste, was admirably
adapted to impress on their minds the necessity of im¬
plicit obedience to the Divine will, in whatever man¬
ner it might be made known to them.
A question has been started of some importance, What
would have finally become of men if the first covenant
had not been violated ? That they would have been all
immortal is certain ; but it is by no means clear that
they would have lived for ever on this earth. On the
contrary, it has been an article of very general belief in
+ Bull * aH ages 0f t|,e church t, that the garden of Eden was
Mon before an em^^ern or type of heaven, and therefore called Pa¬
th* Fall. radise (see Paradise) ; and that under the first cove-
97 nant, mankind, after a sufficient probation here, were to
had it »ot lje translated into heaven without tasting death. This
ted'enri 4 ^octr‘ne *s not 'ni^ee^ exP^c,tly taught in Scripture j
tlttd him to but many things conspire to make it highly probable,
lomren, The frequent communications between God and man
before the fall (m), seem to indicate that Adam was
training up for some higher state than the terrestrial pa¬
radise. Had he been intended for nothing but to cul¬
tivate the ground and propagate his species, he might
have been left like other animals to the guidance of his
own reason and instincts ; which, after the rudiments of
knowledge were communicated to him, must surely have
been sufficient to direct him to every thing necessary to
the comforts of a life merely sensual and rational, other¬
wise he would have been an imperfect animal. It is
obvious too, that this earth, however fertile it may have
originally been, could not have afforded the means of
subsistence to a race ol immortal beings multiplying to
infinity. For these reasons, and others which will
readily occur to the reader, it seems incontrovertible,
Part II,
that, under the first covenant, either mankind would Oririnal
have been successively translated to some superior state, State of
or would have ceased to propagate their kind as soon as Pan¬
tile earth should have been replenished with inhabitants.
PI e who reflects on the promise, that, after the general
resurrection, there is to be a new heaven and a new
earth, will probably embrace the latter part of the al¬
ternative j but that part in its consequences differs not
from the former. In the new earth promised in the
Christian revelation, nothing is to dwell but righteous¬
ness. it will therefore be precisely the same with what
we conceive to be expressed by the word heaven; and if
under the first covenant this earth was to be converted
into a similar place, where, after a certain period, men
should never marry nor be given in marriage, but en¬
joy what divines have called the beatific vision, we may
confidently affirm, that, had the first covenant been
faithfully observed, Adam and his posterity, after a suf¬
ficient probation, would all have been translated to some
superior state or heaven. j
lo fit them for that state, the gifts of divine graceandthe
seem to have been absolutely necessary. To them itfdfa of
was a state certainly supernatural, otherwise a God oftliTinc
infinite wisdom and perfect goodness would not, for
moment, have placed them in an inferior state. But to
enable any creature, especially such a creature as man,
whom an ancient philosopher has justly styled
fufijlittr, to rise above its nature, foreign and divine aid
is unquestionably requisite; and therefore, though we
cannot persuade ourselves that the gifts of the Holy
Ghost constituted that image of God in which man was
originally made, we agree with Bishop Bull, that these
gifts were bestowed on our first parents to enable them
to fulfil the terms of the covenant under which they
were placed.
On the whole, w’e think it apparent from the por¬
tions of scripture which we have examined, that Adam
and Eve were endued with such powers of body and
mind as fitted them to exercise dominion over the other
animals ; that those powers constituted that image of
God in which they are said to have been formed ; that
they received by immediate revelation the first princi¬
ples of all useful knowledge, and especially of that sys¬
tem which is usually called natural religion; that they
lived for some time with no other religion, entitled to
the natural rewards of piety and virtue, but all the
while liable to death ; that they were afterwards trans¬
lated into paradise, where they were placed under a new
law, with the penalty of death threatened to the breach
of it, and the promise of endless life if they should faith- . 99
fully observe it ; and that they were endued with ^ie
gifts of the Holy Ghost, to enable them, if not wantingp°er|y#a]iei
to themselves, to fulfil the terms of that covenant, which the cove-
has been improperly termed the covenant of works,nart°(
since it flowed from the mere grace of God, and confer-u'<),*t’
red privileges on man to which the most perfect human
virtue could lay no just claim.
Sect. III. Of the Fall of Adam, and its Consequences.
From the preceding account of the primeval state of
man,
THEOLOGY.
(m) That there were such frequent communications, has been shown to be in the highest degree probable by
the late Dr Law bishop of Carlisle. See his Discourse on the several Dispensations of revealed Religion.
Pit II.
}»«.['A-
dak and
itsi-nsc-
({Uijces.
r°
a? icould
ie v latcd
only y
dlsolji-
•jlicro out
posifee
conMKud
If
It wirio
lateir
man, it is evident tiiat lira vwiitinuance in the terrestrial
paradise, together with all (he privileges which he there
enjoyed, were made to depend on his observance of one
positive precept. livery other duty incumbent on him,
whether as resulting from what is called (lie law of his
nature, or from the express command of his God, was
as much his duty before as after he was introduced into
tne garden ot Eden ; and though the transgression of
any law would undoubtedly have been punished, or have
been forgiven only in consequence of sincere repentance
and amendment, it does not appear that a breach of the
nioral liw, or ol the commandment respecting the sanc¬
tification ol the Sabbath-day, would have been punished
with death, whatever may be the import of that word
in the place where it is Hist threatened. The punish¬
ment was denounced only against eating the fruit of the
t;'>e ot the knowledge of good and evil : For “ the
Eord God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree
ot the garden thou mayest freely eat, hut of the tree of
the knowledge ot good and evil thou shalt not eat of it j
for in the day that thou eatest thcrtol thou shalt surely
die. l o the word death in this passage divines have
affixed many and diflerent meanings. Ify some it is
supposed to import a separation of the soul and body,
while the latter was to continue in a state of conscious
existence ; by others, it is taken to imply annihilation
ora state without consciousness; by some, it is imagined
to signify eternal life in torments ; and by others a spi-
iitual and moral death, or a state necessarily subject to
sin. In any one ol these acceptations it denoted some¬
thing new to Adam, which he could not understand
without an explanation of the term ; and therefore, as
it was threatened as the punishment of only one trans¬
gression, it could not he the divine intention to inflict
it on any other.
ihe abstaining from a particular fruit in the midst of
a garden abounding with fruits of all kinds, was a pre¬
cept which at iirst view appears of easy observation ;
and the penalty threatened against the breach of it was,
in every sense, awful. rI be precept, however, was bro¬
ken not withstanding that penalty ; and though we may
thence infer that our first parents were not beings of
such absolute perfection as by divines they have some¬
times been represented, we shall yet find, upon due con¬
sideration, that the temptation by which they were se¬
duced, when taken with all its circumstances, was such
as no wise and modest man will think himself able to
have resisted. 1 he short history of this important trans¬
action, as we have it in the third chapter of the book of
Genesis, is as follows.
“ Now the serpent was more subtile than anv beast
of the field which the Lord God had made ; and he said
unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, ye shall not eat
of every tree ol the garden ? And the woman said unto
the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the
garden ; hut of the fruit of the tree which is in the
midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of
it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. And the ser¬
pent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die : For
God doth know, that on the day ye eat thereof, then
your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods,
knowing good and evil. And when the woman saw
that the tree was good for food, and that it was plea¬
sant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one
THEOjLiOGY. 3-!
wise, she took ol the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave Fall of
also unto her husband with her, and he did eat.” Adam, and
To the less attentive reader this conversation between its conse-
the serpent and the woman must appear to begin abrupt- ,flUCDe<ls- .
ly ; and indeed it is not possible to reconcile it with the tC2
natural order oi a dialogue, or even with the common in con««-
rules oi grammar, but by supposing the tempter’s que-flllc,lc« °f
stion, ‘‘ Yea, hath God said, ye shall not cat of every *most art“
tree ol the garden ?” to have been suggested by some-
thing immediately preceding either in words or in signi¬
ficant signs. Eve had undoubtedly by some means or
other informed the serpent that she was forbidden to cat
of the fruit on which he was probably feasting; and
that information, whether given in words or in actions,
must have produced the question with which the sacred
historian begins his relation ol this fatal dialogue. We
are told that the woman saw that the tree was goodfor
food: that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be
desired to make one tvise : but all this she could not have
seen, had not the serpent eaten ot its fruit in her pre¬
sence. In her walks through the garden, it might have
often appeared pleasant to her eyes ; but previous to ex¬
perience she could not know but that its fruit was the
most deadly poison, far less could she conceive it ca¬
pable of conferring wisdom. But if the serpent ate of
it before her, and then extolled its virtues in rapturous •
and intelligible language, she would at once see that it
was not destructive of animal life, and naturally infer
that it had very singular qualities. At the moment she
was drawing this inference, it is probable that be invited
her to partake of the delicious fruit, and that her refu¬
sal produced the conference before us. That she yield¬
ed to bis temptation need excite no wonder; for she
knew that the serpent was by nature a mute animal, and
if lie attributed bis speech to the virtues of the tree, she
might infer, with some plausibility, that what had power
to raise the brute mind to human, might raise the hu¬
man to divine, and make her and her husband, accord¬
ing to the promise of the tempter, become as gods, know-
ing good and evil. Milton, who was an eminent divine
as well as the prince of poets, makes her reason thus with
herself.
Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits,
I ho’ kept from man, and worthy to be admir’d ;
M hose taste, too long forborn, at first essay
Gave elocution to the mute, and taught
Ihe tongue not made lor speech to speak thy praiser
  -For us alone
Was death invented ? or to us denied
I his intellectual food, for beasts reserved ?
For beasts it seems : yet that one beast which first
Hath tasted envies not, but brings with joy
.Ihe good befallen him, author unsuspect,
Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile.
What fear I then, rather what know to fear
Under this ignorance of good and evil,
Of God or death, of law or penalty ?
Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine,
Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,
Of virtue to make wise : what hinders then
To reach, and feed at once both body and mind ?
Taradise Lost, book ix.
Full
and Adam
and Eve
turned out
of paradise.
104
The temp¬
ter punish¬
ed.
T H E O
Fall of these hopes of raising herself to divinity, and
not, as has sometimes been supposed, led headlong by
a sensual appetite, she took of the fruit and did eat, and
gave to her husband with her, and he did eat. '1 he
great poet makes Adam delude himself with the same
sophistry that had deluded Eve, and infer, that as the
serpent had attained the language and reasoning powers
of man, they should attain
Proportional ascent, which could not be
But to be gods, or angels, demi-gods.
Thus was the covenant, which, on the introduction of
ourtirst parents into paradise,theirCreator was gracious¬
ly pleased to make with them, broken by their violation
of the condition on which they were advanced to that
supernatural state j and therefore the historian tells us,
that “ lest they should put forth their hand and take
also of the tree of life and eat, and live for ever, the
Lord God sent them forth from the garden of Eden to
till the ground from whence they were taken (n).’’
Had they been so sent forth without any farther inti¬
mation respecting their present condition or their future
prospects, and if the death under which they had fallen
was only a loss of consciousness, they would have been
in precisely the same state in which they lived before
they were placed in the garden of Eden } only their
minds must now have been burdened with the inward
sense of guilt, and they must have knoti'n themselves
to be subject to death *, of which, though not exempt¬
ed from it by nature, they had probably no apprehen¬
sion till it was revealed to them in the covenant of life
which they had so wantonly broken.
God,' however, did not send them forth thus hopeless
and forlorn from the paradise of delights which they had
so recently forfeited. He determined to punish them
for their transgression, and at the same time to give them
an opportunity of recovering more than their lost inhe¬
ritance. Calling therefore the various offenders before
him, and inquiring into their different degrees of guilt,
he began with pronouncing judgment on the serpent in
terms which implied that there was mercy for man.
“ And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Because,
thou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle,
and above every beast of the field : upon thy belly shall
thou go, and dust shall thou eat all the days of thy
life j and I will put enmity between thee and the wo¬
man, and between thy seed and her seed : it shall
bruise thy head, and thou shall bruise his.heel.”
That this sentence has been fully inflicted on the ser¬
pent, no reasoning can be necessary to evince. Every
species of that reptile is more hateful to man than any
other terrestrial creature j and there is literally a per¬
petual war between them and the human race. It is
remarkable too that the head of this animal is the only
part which it is safe to bruise. His tail may be bruised,
or even cut oil', and he will turn with fury and death on
his adversary: but the slightest stroke on the head in¬
fallibly kills him. That the serpent, or at least the
greater part of serpents, go on their belly, every one
LOGY. Part II.
knows; though it is said *, that in some parts of the FaHrf
east serpents have been seen with wings, and others with Adam,aBd
feet, and that these species are highly beautiful. If
there be any truth in this story, we may suppose that
these walking and flying serpents have been suffered to *Delomiji
retain their original elegance, that mankind might see Jtrv.cot-
what the whole race was before the curse was denoun-
ced on the tempter of Eve : but it is certain that most6"” m'
of the species have neither wings nor feet, and that
many of the most poisonous of them live in burning de¬
serts, where they have nothing to eat but the dust a*j Sc ^
mong which they crawl f. .rit , , dwtand
To this degradation of the serpent, infidels have ob-p/i„^0H
jected, that it implies the punishment of an animal SerpenU,
which was incapable of guilt; but this objection is
founded in thoughtlessness and ignorance. The elegant
form of any species of inferior animals adds nothing to
the happiness of the animals themselves : the ass is pro¬
bably as happy as the horse, and the serpent that crawls
as he that flies. Fine proportions attract indeed the no¬
tice of man, and tend to impress upon his mind just no¬
tions of the wisdom and goodness of the Creator ; but
surely the symmetry of the horse or the beauty of the
peacock is more properly displayed for this purpose than
the elegance of the instrument employed by the enemy
of mankind. The degradation of the serpent in the pre¬
sence of our first parents must have served the best of
purposes. If they had so little reflection as not yet to
have discovered that he was only the instrument with
which a more powerful being had wrought their ruin,
they would be convinced, by the execution of this sen¬
tence, that the forbidden fruit had no power in itself to
improve the nature either of man or of beast. But it is
impossible that they could be so stupid as this objection
supposes them. They doubtles knew by this time that
some great and wicked spirit had actuated the organs
of the serpent; and that when enmity was promised to
be put between its seed and tiie seed of the woman,
that promise was not meant to be fulfilled by serpents
occasionally biting the heels of men, and by men in re¬
turn bruising the heads of serpents! If such enmity,
though it has literally taken place, was all that was
meant by this prediction, why was not Adam directed
to bruise the head of the identical serpent which had
seduced his wife ? If he could derive any consolation
from the exercise of revenge, surely it would lie great¬
er from his revenging himself on his own enemy, than
from the knowledge that there should be a perpetual
warfare between his descendants and the breed of ser¬
pents through all generations.
We are told, that when the foundations of the earth
were laid, the morning stars sang together, and all the
sons of God shouted for joy ; ami it is at least probable
that there would be similar rejoicing when the six days
work of creation was finished. If so, Adam and Eve,
who were but a little lower than the angels, might be
admitted into the chorus, and thus be made acquainted
with the existence of good and evil spirits. At all e-
vents, we cannot doubt but their gracious and merciful
Creator
(n) The ideas which this language conveys are indeed allegorical; but they inform us of this, and nothing but
this, that immortal life was a thing extraneous to our nature, and not put into our paste or composition wntn
•first fashioned by the forming hand of the Creator.” Jf arburto/i's Divine Legation, book ix. chap. 1.
Pak IT.
m of
Ada^ and
its luise-
qneces
i«
Sent Ice
p.^so
Ada;and
Eva
101
An ol)fire
intimiJn
i cm
of delk-r.
ante jlin
iL
I / T H E O
Creator would inform them that they had a powerful
enemy ; that he was a rebellious angel capable of de¬
ceiving them in many ways*, and that they ought there¬
fore to be constantly on their guard against his wiles.
They must have known too that they were themselves
animated by something different from matter j and when
they found they were deceived by the serpent, they
might surely, without any remarkable stretch of saga¬
city, infer that their malignant enemy had actuated the
organs of that creature in a manner somewhat similar to
that in which their own souls actuated their own bodies.
If this be admitted, the degradation of the serpent would
convince them of the weakness of the tempter when com¬
pared with their Creator j and confirm their hopes, that
since he was not able to preserve unhurt his own instru¬
ment of mischief, he should not be able finally to prevail
against them ; but that though he had bruised their
heels, the promised seed of the woman should at last
bruise his head, and recover the inheritance which they
had lost. See Prophecy, N° 9, 10.
Having thus punished the original instigator to evil,
the Almighty Judge turned to the fallen pair, and said
to the woman, “ I wrill greatly multiply thy sorrow’ and
thy conception : in sorrow shall thou bring forth chil¬
dren ; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he
shall rule over thee. And unto Adam he said, Because
thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast
eaten of the tree of which I commanded thee, saying,
Thou shall not eat of it; cursed is the ground for thy
sake j in sorrow shall thou eat of it all the days of thy
life. Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth unto
thee, and thou shall eat the herb of the field. In the
sweat of thy face shall thou eat bread till thou return
unto the ground j for out of it wast thou taken : for
dust thou art, and unto dust shall thou return.”
Here is a terrible denunciation of toil and misery and
death upon two creatures $ who, being inured to no¬
thing, and formed for nothing but happiness, must have
felt infinitely more horror from such a sentence, than
we, who are familiar with death, intimate with misery,
and “ born to sorrow as the sparks fly upward,” can
form any adequate conception of. The hardship of it,
too, seems to be aggravated by its being severer than
what was originally threatened against the breach of
the covenant of life. It was indeed said, “In the day
thou eatest thereof, thou shall surely die but no men¬
tion was made of the woman’s incurring sorrow in con¬
ception, and in the bringing forth of children ; of the
curse to be inflicted on the ground ; of its bringing forth
thorns and thistles instead of food for the use of man ;
and of Adam’s eating bread in sorrow and the sweat of
his face till he should return to the dust from which he
was taken.
These seeming aggravations, however, are in reality
instances of divine benevolence. Adam and Eve were
now’ subjected to death *, but in the sentence passed 011
the serpent, an obscure intimation had been given them
that they were not to remain for ever under its power.
It w’as therefore their interest, as well as their duty, to
reconcile themselves as much as possible to their fate j
to wean their aflections from this world, in which they
were to live only for a time j and to hope, with hum¬
ble confidence, in the promise of their God, that, upon
their departure from it, they should be icceived into
Vol. XX. Part 1.
f
LOGY. .353
some better state. To enable them to wean their af- Fall of
fectious from earth, nothing could more contribute than Ad.im, and
to combine sensual enjoyment with sorrow, and lay them >ts conse-
under the necessity of procuring their means of subsist- queuccs.
ence by labour, hard and often fruitless. This would
daily and hourly impress upon their minds a full convic¬
tion that the present world is not a place fit to he an
everlasting habitation j and they would look forward,
with pious resignation, to death, as putting a period to
all their woes. Had they indeed been furnished with no
ground of hope beyond the grave, we cannot believe
that the Bighteous Judge of all the earth would have
added to the penalty originally threatened. That pe¬
nalty they would doubtless have incurred the very day
on which they fellj but as they were promised a delive¬
rance from the consequences of their fall, it was proper
to train them up by severe discipline for the happiness
reserved for them in a future state.
After the passing of their sentence, the man and wo¬
man were turned out into the world, where they had
formerly lived before they were placed in the garden
of Eden j and all future access to the garden was for
ever denied them. They were not, however, in the
same state in which they were originally before their
introduction into Paradise : They were now conscious
of guilt j doomed to severe labour; liable to sorrow and
sickness, disease and death : and all these miseries they
had brought, not only on themselves, but also on
their unborn posterity to the end of time. It may seem
indeed to militate against the moral attributes of God,
to inflict misery on children for the sins of their parents;
but before any thing can be pronounced concerning tho
Divine goodness and justice in the present case, we must
know precisely bow much we suffer in consequence of
Adam’s transgression, and whether we have ourselves any
share in that guilt which is the cause of our sufferings.
That women would have had less sorrow in the bring-
ing forth of children ; that we should have been subject- wither
ed to less toil and exempted from death, had our first pa- men wo«ld
rents not fallen from their paradisaical state—are truths l,a,re beeR
incontrovertible by him who believes the inspiration 0fexenil>te.<*
the Holy Scriptures; but that mankind would in that unX^tte
state have been wholly free from pain and every bodily first core-
distress, is a proposition which is not to be found in thenant.
Bible, and which therefore no man is bound to believe.
The bodies of Adam and Eve consisted of flesh, blood,
and bones, as ours do; they were surrounded by mate¬
rial objects as we are ; and their limbs were unquestion¬
ably capable of being fractured. That their souls should
never be separated from their bodies while they abstain¬
ed from the forbidden fruit, they knew from the infal¬
lible promise of him who formed them, and breathed
into their nostrils the breath of life ; but that not a bone
of themselves or of their numerous posterity should ever
be broken by the fall ol a stone or of a tree, they were
not told, and had no reason to expect. Of such frac¬
tures, pain would surely have been the consequence;
though we have reason to believe that it would have
been quickly removed by some infallible remedy, pro¬
bably by the fruit of the tree of life.
Perhaps it may be said, that if we suppose our first
parents or their children to have been liable to accidents
of this kind in the garden of Eden, it will be difficult to
conceive how they could have been preserved from death,
^ J as
354
T H E O
Fall of as a stone might have fallen on their heads as well as on
Adam, and their feet, and have at once destroyed the principle of
vitality. But this can he said only by him who knows
little of the physical world, and still less of the power
of Cilod. There are many animals which are susceptible
of pain, and yet not easily killed; and man in paradise
might have resembled these. At any rate, we are sure
that the Omnipotent Creator could and would have pre¬
served him from death ; but we have no reason to be¬
lieve that, bv a constant miracle, he would have pre¬
served him from every kind of pain. Indeed, if, under
the first covenant, mankind were in a state of proba¬
tion, it is certainly conceivable that some one individual
of the numerous race might have fallen into sin, with¬
out actually breaking the covenant by eating the fruit
of the tree of knowledge ; and such a sinner would un¬
doubtedly have been punished by that God who is of
purer eyes than to behold iniquity : but how punishment
could have been inflicted on a being exempted from all
possibility of pain as well as of death, we confess our¬
selves unable to imagine. Ilemorse, which is the inse¬
parable consequence of guilt, and constitutes in our pre¬
sent state great part of its punishment, flows from the
fearful looking for of judgment, which the sinner knows
shall, in a future state, devour the adversaries of the
gospel of Christ ; but he, who could neither suffer pain
nor death, had no cause to lie afraid of future judge¬
ment, and was therefore not liable to the tortures of re¬
morse. We conclude, therefore, that it is a mistake
to suppose pain to have been introduced into the world
by the fall of our first parents, or at least that the opi¬
nion contrary to ours has no foundation in the word of
God.
Death, however, was certainly introduced by their
they full; for the inspired apostle assures us, that in Adam all
*°Coi a * did * ; and again, that through the offence of ONE many
are dcad\. But concerning the full import of the word
death in this place, and in the sentence pronounced up¬
on our first parents, divines hold opinions extremely dif¬
ferent. Many contend, that it includes death corporal,
spiritual or moral, and eternal; and that all mankind
are subjected to these three kinds of death, on account
of their share in the guilt of the original transgression,
which is usually denominated original sin, and consider¬
ed as the source of all moral evil.
That all men are subjected to death corporal in con¬
sequence of Adam’s transgression, is universally admit¬
ted ; but that they are in any sense partakers of his
guilt, and on that account subjected to death spiritual
and eternal, has been very strenuously denied. To dis¬
cover the truth is of great importance ; for it is inti¬
mately c mnected with the Christian doctrine of redemp¬
tion. We shall therefore state, with as much impartia¬
lity as we can, the arguments commonly urged on eacli
side of this much agitated question.
Doctrine of Those who maintain that all men sinned in Adam,
sm generally state their doctrine thus : “ The covenant be¬
ing made with Adam as a public person, not for himself
only but for his posterity, all mankind descending from
him by ordinary generation sinned in him and fell with
him in that first transgression ; whereby they are depri¬
ved of that original righteousness in which he was crea¬
ted, and are utterly indisposed, disabled, and made op¬
posite to all that is spiritually good, and wholly inclined
to all evil, and that continually; which is commonly
Z
10S
though
XV. 2 2.
f R«ni.
v. r5.
109
LOGY. PartH.
called original sin, and from which do proceed all ac- pai]o{
tual transgressions, so as we are by nature children of Adam, and
wrath, bond slaves to Satan, and justly liable to all pu- itsconw.
nishments in this world and in that which is to come, ^liencet
even to everlasting separation from the comfortable pre-
sence of God, and to most grievous torments in soul and
body, without intermission, in hell fire for ever.”
That which in this passage we are first to examine, is
the sentence which affirms all mankind descending from
Adam by ordinary generation to have sinned in him and
fallen with him in his first transgression ; the truth of
which is attempted to be proved by various texts of
Holy Scripture. Thus St Paul says expressly, that “ by
one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin ;
and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sin- -llo
ncd. But not as the offence, so also is the free gift.Argument
For if, through the offence oi one, many he dead; much for it.
more the grace of God, and the gift by grace, which is
by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many ;
and not as it was by one that sinned, so is the gift (for
the judgment was by one unto condemnation) ; but the
free gift is of many offences unto justification. For if,
by one man’s offence, death reigned by one; much more
they, who receive the abundance of grace and of the
gift of righteousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus
Christ. Therefore as, by the offence of one, judgment
came upon all men to condemnation; even so, by the
righteousness of One, the free gift came upon all men
unto justification of life. For as by one man’s disobe¬
dience wtiwy u'tre wer/e sinners; so bv the obedience of
one shall many be made righteous*.” In this passage * Rom. r,
the apostle assures us, that all upon whom death hatliu, 15-2&
passeil have sinned; but death hath passed upon infants,
who could not commit actual sin. Infants therefore
must have sinned in Adam, since death hath passed up¬
on them ; for death “ is the wages only of sin.” He
tells us likewise, that by the offence of one, judgment
came upon all men to condemnation ; and therefore
since the Righteous Judge of heaven and earth never
condemns the innocent with the wicked, we must con¬
clude, that all men partake of the guilt of that offence
for which judgment came upon them to condemnation.
These conclusions are confirmed by his saying expressly,
that “ by one man’s disobedience many (1. e. all man¬
kind) were made sinners and elsewheref, that “ theref Rom.ii.
is none righteous, no not one j1 and that his Ephesian I0- an^i
converts “ were dead in trespasses and sins, and were by ^
nature children of wrath even as others?'' The same
doctrine, it is said, we are taught by the inspired writers
of the Old Testament. Thus Job, expostulating with
God for bringing into judgment with him such a crea¬
ture as man, says, “ YYho can bring a clean thing out
of an unclean ? Not one.” And Eliphaz, reproving
the patient patriarch for what he deemed presumption,
asks j:, “ What is man that he should he clean, or he^ j0b*ir.
who is born of a woman that he should be righteous ?”4. and
From these two passages it is plain, that Job and hisM*
unfeeling friend, though they agreed in little else, ad¬
mitted as a truth unquestionable, that man inherits from
his parents a sinful nature, and that it is impossible for
any thing born of a woman by ordinary generation to
be righteous. The psalmist talks the very same lan¬
guage ; when acknowledging his transgressions, he t .■
says ||, “ Behold I was shapen in iniquity, and in sinil Istt‘
did my mother conceive me,”
Having
jiostfty.
Vift . T H E O
py 0f Having tlius proVetl the fact, tliat all men are made
Ad;«, and sinners by Adam’s disobedience, the divines, who em¬
its ffise- brace this side of the question, proceed to inquire how
. H8!068'. they can be partakers in guilt which was incurred so
kj many ages before they were born. It cannot be by imi-
Ada*s tation j for infants, according to them, arc involved in
j>iiiltmpu- this guilt before they be capable of imitating any thing,
ted phis Neither do they admit that sin is by the apostle put for
the consequences of sin, and many said to be made sin-
| ners by one man’s disobedience, because by that disobe¬
dience they were subjected to death, which is the wages
of sin. This, which they call the doctrine of the Ar-
minians, they affirm to be contrary to the whole scope
and design of the context $ as it confounds together sin
and death, which are there represented, the one as the
cause, and the other as the effect. It likewise exhibits
the apostle reasoning in such a manner as would, in their
opinion, disgrace any man of common sense, and much
more an inspired writer j for then the sense of these
words, “ Death hath passed upon all men, for that all
have sinned,” must be, death has passed upon all men,
because it hath passed upon all men ; or, all men are ob¬
noxious to death, because they are obnoxious to it. The
only way therefore, continue they, in which Adam’s po¬
sterity can be made sinners through his disobedience, is
by the IMPUTATION of his disobedience to them ; and
his imputation is not to be considered in a moral sense,
as the action of a man committed by himself, whether
good or bad, is reckoned into him as his own ; but in a
forensic sense, as when one man’s debts are in a legal
way placed to the account of another. Of this we have
an instance in the apostle Paul, who said to Philemon
concerning Onesimus, “ If he hath wronged thee, or
oweth thee any thing (lAAoyn), let it be imputed to
me,” or placed to and put on my account. And thus
the posterity of Adam are made sinners by his disobedi¬
ence ; that being imputed to them and put to their ac¬
count, as if it had been committed by them personally,
though it was not.
Some few divines of this school are indeed of opinion,
that the phrase, “ By one man’s disobedience many were
made sinners,” means nothing more than that the poste¬
rity of Adam, through his sin, derive from him a cor¬
rupt nature. But though this be admitted as an un¬
doubted truth, the more zealous abettors of the system
contend, that it is not the whole truth. “ It is true
(say they) that all men are made of one man’s blood,
and that blood tainted with sin *, and so a clean thing
cannot be brought out of an unclean. What is born of
the flesh is flesh, carnal and corrupt : every man is con¬
ceived in sin and shapen in iniquity; but there is a dif¬
ference between being made sinners-An d becoming sinful.
The one respects the guilt, the other the pollution of na¬
ture ; the one is previous to the other, and the founda¬
tion of it. Men receive a corrupt nature from their im¬
mediate parents; but they are made sinners, not by any
act of their disobedience, but only by the imputation of
the sin of Adam.”
To illustrate this- doctrine of imputed sin, they observe
that the word xctluflxSn'ruv, used by the apostle, signifies
constituted in a judicial way, ordered and appointed in
the dispensation of things that so it should be ; just as
Ch rist was made sin or a sinner by imputation, or by
that constitution of God which laid upon him the sins
of all h is people, and dealt with him as if he had been
LOG Y.
355
the guilty person. That this is the sense of the passage, j'ui| of
they argue further from the punishment inflicted on men Adam, »nd
for the sin of Adam. The punishment threatened to that its t,on>>c-
sin was death ; which includes death corporal, moral, (l"cllce‘i- .
and eternal. Corporal death, say they, is allowed by ^7 ^
all to be suffered on account of the sin of Adam ; and ifthe punish-
so, there must be guilt, and that guilt made over to the nient of im-
sufferer, which can be done only bv imputation. A mo-1>ule^
ral death is no other than the loss of the image of God
in man, which consisted in righteousness and holiness;
and particularly it is the loss of original righteousness,
to which succeeded unrighteousness and unholiness. It
is both a sin and a punishment for sin ; and since it
comes on all men as a punishment, it must suppose pre¬
ceding sin, which can be nothing but Adam’s disobe¬
dience ; the guilt of which is made over to his posterity *
by imputation. r\ his appears still more evident from the
posterity of Adam being made liable to eternal death in
consequence of his transgression ; for the wages of sin is
death, even death eternal, which never can be inflicted
on guiltless persons. But from the passage before us we
learn, that ‘‘by the offence of one judgment came up¬
on all men to condemnation ;” and therefore the guilt
of that offence must be reckoned to all men, or they
could not be justly condemned for it. That Adam’s sin
is imputed to his posterity, appears not only from the
words, “by one man’s disobedience many were made
sinners but likewise from the opposite clause, “ so
by the obedience of One shall many be made righte¬
ous ;” for the many ordained to eternal life, for whom
Christ died, are made righteous, orjustified,only through
the imputation of his righteousness to them ; and there¬
fore it follows, that all men are made sinners only through
th e imputation of Adam’s disobedience.
To this doctrine it is said to be no objection that
Adam’s posterity were not in being when his sin was
committed ; for though they had not then actual being,
they had yet a viitual and representative one. They
were in him both seminally ■awA federallyt and sinned in
him * ; just as Levi was in the loins of Abraham, and*Ro,r
paid in him tithes to Melchizedeck'f. From Adam they u. *
derive a corrupt nature; hut it is only from him, as theirf Heb rii.
federal head, that they derive a share of his guilt, and9» Ia
are subjected to his punishment. That he was a federal A(]a|^ f(?
head to all his posterity, the divines of this school think deral land
evideirt from his being called a figure of Christ J ; and to his posto
the first Adam described as natural and earthly, in con
tradistinction to Christ the second Adam described as* KolU• T'
spiritual and the Lord from heaven ; and from the pu-
nishment threatened against his sin being inflicted not on
himself only, but on all his succeeding offspring. He
could not be a figure of Christ, say they, merely as a
man ; for all the sons of Adam have been men as well
as he, and in that sense were as much figures of Christ
as he ; yet Adam and Christ are constantly contrasted,
as though they had been the only two men that ever
existed, because they were the only two heads of their
respective offspring. He could not be a figure of Christ
on account ol hid extraordinary production; for though
both were produced in ways uncommon, yet each was
brought into the world in a way peculiar to himself.
The first Adam was formed of the dust of the ground ;
the second, though not begotten by a man, was born of
a woman. They did not therefore resemble each other
in the manner of their formation, but in their office as
^ 7 2 covenant-
H4
No cause
of com¬
plaint in
this consti¬
tution of
tilings.
*Scc Gilts
Body of
Divinity.
115
St Augu¬
stine the
author of
thi<i doc¬
trine.
116
f'hjeetions
to it.
T H E O
covenant-heads j and in that alone the comparison be¬
tween them is exact.
Nor have any of the posterity of Adam, it is said,
reason to complain of such a procedure. Had he stood
in his integrity, they would have been, by bis standing,
partakers of all bis happiness: and therefore should not
murmur at receiving evil through his fall. If this do
not satisfy, let it be considered, that since God, in bis
infinite wisdom, thought proper that men should have a
head and representative, in whose hands their good and
happiness should be placed, none could he so fit for this
high station as the common parent, made after the
image of God, so wise, so holy, just, and good. Lastly,
to silence all objections, let it be remembered, that what
God gave to Adam as a federal head, relating to him¬
self and his posterity, he gave as the Sovereign of the
universe, to whom no created being has right to ask,
“ What dost thou * ?”
Such are the consequences of Adam’s fall, and such
the doctrine of original sin, as maintained by the more
rigid followers of Calvin. That great reformer, how¬
ever, was not the author of this doctrine. It had been
taught so early as in the beginning of the fifth century,
bv St Augustine, the celebrated bishop of Hippo (see
Augustine) ; and the authority of that father had
made it more or less prevalent in both the Greek and
Roman churches long before the Reformation. Calvin
was indeed the most eminent modern divine by whom
it has been held in all its rigour; and it constitutes one
great part of that theological system, which, from be¬
ing taught by him, is now known by the name of Ca/-
vin ism.
Cut if it was as sovereign of the universe that God
gave to Adam what he received in paradise relating to
himself and his posterity, Adam could in no sense of the
words be a federal head ; because, upon this supposition,
there was no covenant. The Sovereign of the universe
may unquestionably dispense his benefits, or withhold
them, as seems expedient to his infinite wisdom ; and
none of his subjects or creatures can have a right to say
to him, What dost thou ? Cut the dispensing or with¬
holding of benefits is a transaction very different from
the entering into covenants ; and a judgment is to be
formed of it on very different principles. Every thing
around us proclaims that the Sovereign of the universe
is a being of perfect benevolence ; but, say the disciples
of the school now under consideration, the dispensation
given to Adam in paradise was so far from being the
offspring of benevolence, that, as it is understood by the
followers of Calvin, it cannot possibly he reconciled
with the eternal law’s of equity. The self-existent and
all-suflicientGod might or might not have created such a
being as man ; and in either case there would have been
no reason for the question “What dost thou ?” Cut as
soon as he determined to create him capable of happi¬
ness or misery, he would not have been either benevolent
or just, if he had not placed him in a state where, by his
own exertions, he might, if he chose, have a greater
share of happiness than of misery, and find his existence,
upon the whole, a blessing. They readily acknowledge,
that the existence of any created being may be of long¬
er or shorter duration, according to the good pleasure
of the Creator ; and therefore they have no objection to
the apostolic doctrine, that “ in Adam all die for im¬
mortality being not a debt, but a free gift, may be be-
LOGY. Part II.
stowed on any terms, and with perfect justice withdrawn Kali of
when these terms are not complied with. Cetween Adam, and
death, however, as it implies a loss of consciousness, jtseonse-
and the extreme misery of eternal life in torments, there , <P‘e^l!(^
is an immense difference. To death all mankind might
justly be subjected through the offence of one ; because
they had originally no claim to be exempted from it,
though that one and they too had remained for ever in¬
nocent : but eternal life in torments is a punishment
which a God of justice and benevolence can never in- ,
fiict but npon personal guilt of the deepest die. That as ineon.
we can personally have incurred guilt from a crimesistentwiti
committed some thousands of years before we were born,tlie Jus^«
is impossible. It is indeed a notion as contrary to Scrip- '° ’
ture as to reason and common sense : for the apostle ex¬
pressly informs us*, “ that sin is the transgression offcjJo),,^
some law and the sin of Adam was the transgression 4-
of a law which it was never in our power either to ob¬
serve or to break. Another apostle f assures us, that|Rom iT>
“ where no law is, there is no transgression” ; but there 15.
is now no law, nor has been any these 5000 years, for¬
bidding mankind to eat of a particular fruit; for, ac¬
cording to the Calvinists themselves J, Adam had no j
sooner committed his first sin, by which the covenant
with him was broken, than he ceased to be a covenant-mti/jb.iiL
head. This law given him was no more ; the promisec“’IC’
of life by it ceased ; and its sanction, death, took place.
But if this be so, how is it possible that his unborn po¬
sterity should be under a law which had no existence,
or that they should be in a worse state in consequence of
the covenant being broken, and its promise having ceas¬
ed, than he himself was before the covenant was first
made ? He was originally a mortal being, and was pro¬
mised the supernatural gift of immortality on the single
condition of his abstaining from the fruit of the tree of
knowledge of good and evil, jfrom that fruit he did
not abstain ; but by eating it fell back into his natural
state of mortalitv. Thus far it is admitted that his po-the scrip-
sterity fell with him : for they have no claim to a super-ture, and
natural gift which he had forfeited by his transgression. t^e n8l““
But we cannot admit, say the divines of this school, that0 ’
they fell into his guilt; for to render it possible for a man
to incur guilt by the transgression of a law, it is neces¬
sary not only that he have it in his power to keep the law,
but also that he be capable of transgressing it by a vo¬
luntary deed. But surely no man could be capable of
voluntarily eating the forbidden fruit 5000 years before
he himself or his volitions existed. The followers of
Calvin think it a sufficient objection to the doctrine of
transubstantiation, that the same numerical body cannot
be in different places at the same instant of time. But
this ubiquity of body, say the remonstrants, is not more
palpably absurd, than the supposition that a man could
exert volitions before he or his will had any existence. ^
Nor will the introduction of the word imputation into
this important question remove a single difficulty, lor^rvr1'
what is that we mean by saying that the sin of Adamno^
is imputed to his posterity ? Is the guilt of that s’n
transferred from him to them P So surely thought Dr
Gill, when he said that it is made over to them. But
this is the same absurdity as the making over of the sen¬
sible qualities of bread and wine to the internal sub¬
stance of our Saviour’s body and blood ! This imputa¬
tion either found the posterity of Adam guilty of In®
sin, or it made them so. It could not find them guilty
*" for
Frt II.
Uip-
Bill of for the reason already assigned ; as well as heca’ise the
Aillki, and apostle says expressly, that for the offence of one judge*
itBonse- ment came upon all men, which would not be true had
, |'lces . all offended. It could not make them guilty*, for this
reason, that if there be in physics or metaphysics a single
truth self-evident, it is, that the numerical powers, ac¬
tions, or qua'ities, of one being cannot possibly be trans¬
ferred to another, and be made its powers, actions, or
qualities. Different beings may in distant ages have
qualities of the same kind j but as easily may 4 and 3
be made equal to 9, as two beings be made to have the
same identical quality. In Scripture we nowhere read
of the actions of one man being imputed to another.
“ Abraham (we are told) believed in God, and it was
counted to him for righteousness j” but it was his oivn
faith, and not the faith of another man, that was so
counted. “ To him that worketh not, but believeth,
his faith (not another’s) is imputed for righteousness.”
And of our faith in him that raised Christ from the
dead, it is said, that “ it shall be imputed, not to our
Lg fathers or our children, but to us for righteousness.”
.Hdaiu-j of When this phrase is used with a negative, not only is
tnjfvord the man’s own personal sin spoken of, but the non-im¬
putation of that sin means nothing more but that it
brings not upon the sinner condign punishment. Thus
when Shemei “ said unto David, Let not my lord im¬
pute iniquity unto me it could not be his meaning
that the king should not think that he had offended j
for with the same breath he added, Neither do thou
remember that which thy servant did perversely, the day
that my lord the king went out of Jerusalem, that the king
should take it to h\s heart. For thy servant doth know
that I have sinned." Here he plainly confesses his sin,
and declares, that by intreating the king not to impute
it to him, he wished only that it should not be so remem-
j bered as that the king should take it to heart, and pu¬
nish him as his perverseness deserved. When therefore
f * ar. v. it is saidf, that “ God was in Christ reconciling the
** world to himself, not imputing to them their iniquities,
the meaning is only that for Christ’s sake he was pleased
to exempt them from the punishment due to their sins.
In like manner, when the prophet, foretelling the suf¬
ferings of the Messiah, says, that “ the Lord laid on
him the iniquity of us all,” his meaning cannot be, that
the Lord by imputation made his immaculate Son guilty
of all the sins that men have ever committed; for in that
case it would not be true that the “just suffered for the
I clcr unjust,” as the apostle expressly teaches but the sense
»L; . of the verse must be, as Bishop Coverdale translated it,
“ through him the Lord pardoneth all our sins.” This
interpretation is countenanced by the ancient version of
the Seventy, Ku§<o; etvlet Teas kuxglteas
ipu*; words which express a notion very different from
that of imputed guilt. The Messiah was, without a
breach of justice, delivered for sins of which he had vo¬
luntarily offered to pay the penalty; and St Paul might
have been justly charged by Philemon with the debts of
Onesimus, which he had desired might be placed to his
account. Had the apostle, however, expressed no such
desire, surely Philemon could by no deed of his have
made him liable for debts contracted by another; far
less could he by imputation, whatever that word may
mean, have made him virtually concur in the contracting
of those debts. He could not have been justly subjected
to suffering without his own consent; and he could not
THEOLOGY.
possibly have been made guilty of the sins of those for
357
Fall of
whom he suffered. Adana, and
The doctrine of imputed guilt, therefore, as understood lts con*e"
by the Calvinists, is, in the opinion of their opponents, ,C|>l< “cc” >
without foundation in Scripture, and contrary to the na¬
ture of things. It is an impious absurdity (say they), to
which the mind can never be reconciled by the hypo¬
thesis, that all men were in Adam both seminally and
federally, and sinned in him, as Levi paid tithes to
Melcbizedeck in the loins of Abraham. The apostle,
when he employs that argument to lessen in the minds
of his countrymen the pride of birth and the lofty opi¬
nions entertained of their priesthood, plainly intimates,
that he was using a hold figure, and that Levi’s paying
tithes is not to be understood in a strict and literal sense.
“ Now consider (says he) how great this man was, unto
whom even the patriarch Abraham gave the tenth of
the spoils. And, as I may so say, Levi also, who re-
ceiveth tithes, paid tithes in Abraham : for he was yet
in the loins of his father when Melchizedeck met him.”
This is a very good argument to prove that the Leviti-
cal priesthood was inferior in dignity to that of Melchi¬
zedeck ; and by the apostle it is employed for no other
purpose. Levi could not be greater than Abraham,
and yet Abraham was inferior to Melchizedeck. This 12I
is the whole of St Paul’s reasoning, which lends no sup-Moral guilt
port to the doctrine of original sin, unless it can beCRnnot be
shown that Levi and all his descendants contracted from transmitted
,. . . , • | . from fath«r
tins circumstance such a strong propensity to the paying^ son<
of tithes, as made it a matter of extreme difficulty for
them, in every subsequent generation, to comply with
that part of the divine law which constituted them re¬
ceivers of tithes. That all men were seminally in
Adam, is granted ; and it is likewise granted that they
may have derived from him, by ordinary generation,
diseased and enfeebled bodies: but it is as impossible to
believe that moral guilt can be transmitted from father
to son by the physical act of generation, as to conceive
a scarlet colour to be a cube of marble, or the sound of
a trumpet a cannon ball. That Adam was as fit a per¬
son as any other to be entrusted with the good and hap¬
piness of his posterity, may be true ; but there is no fit¬
ness whatever, according to the Arminians, in making
the everlasting happiness or misery of a whole race de¬
pend upon the conduct of any fallible individual. “ That
any man should so represent me (says Dr Taylor *), * Deetrin*
that when he is guilty, I am to be reputed guilty;
when he transgresses, I shall be accountable and punish- Wl-Pa,t ni'
able for his transgression ; and this before I am born,
and consequently before I am in any capacity of know¬
ing, helping, or hindering, what he doth : all this every
one who useth his understanding must clearly see to be
false, unreasonable, and altogether inconsistent with the
truth and goodness of God.” And that no such appoint¬
ment ever had place, he endeavours to prove, by show¬
ing that the texts of Scripture upon which is built the
doctrine of the Calvinists respecting original sin, will
each admit of a very different interpretation.
One of the strongest of these texts is Homans v. I9*TheVertr*!
which we have already quoted, and which our author text* •»
thus explains. He observes, that the apostle was a Jew, which this
familiarly acquainted with the Hebrew tongue; that he ^0ptri>e
wrote his epistle as well for the use of his own country-
men residing in Home, as for. the benefit of the Gentile feieat in-
conyerts; and that though he made use of the Greek terpret*-
language, tiun.
358 T H E O
Fall of language, as most generally understood, lie frequently
Adam, and employed Hebrew Idioms. Now it is certain that tbe
itseoHse- Jle|)rew words rrxsn and fW, “sin and iniquity,” are
t frequently used in the Old Testament to signify suffer¬
ing, by a figure of speech which puts the effect for the
cause j and it is surely more probable, that in the verse
under consideration, the apostle used the corresponding
Greek word in the Hebrew sense, than that
lie meant to contradict what he had said in the former
verse, by teaching that all men were made guilty of an
act of disobedience committed thousands of years before
the majority of them had any being. In the preceding
rerse he says, “ that by the offence ol one, judgment
came upon all men to condemnation.” Hut this cannot
be true, it by that oilence all men were made sinners ;
for then judgment must have come upon each for his
own share in the original disobedience. “ Any one
may see (says our author) that there is a vast difference
between a man’s making himself a sinner by his oxen
wicked act, and his being made a sinner by the wicked
act ot another. In the latter case, he can be a sinner
in no other sense but as he is a sufferer; just as Lot would
have been made a sinner with the Sodomites, bad he
*Gen. xix. been consumed in the iniquity of the city * ; and as the
I5* subjects ot Abimelech would have been made sinners,
had he, in the integrity of his heart, committed adultery
f Gen xt. with Abraham’s wife f. That the people of Gerar
could have contracted any real guilt from the adultery
of their sovereign, or that be, by lying with a woman
whom he had reason to believe to be not the wife but
the sister of another man, would have incurred all tbe
moral turpitude of that crime, are positions which can¬
not be maintained. Yet he says, that Abraham had
brought upon him and on his kingdom a great sin;
though it appears, from comparing the 6th verse with
the lyth and i8th, that he had not been brought under
sin in any other sense than as he was made to suffer for
taking Sarah into his house. In this sense, “ Christ,
though we are sure that he knew no sin, was made sin
for us, and numbered with the transgressors,” because
lie suflered death for us on the cross ; and in this sense
it is true, that by the disobedience of Adam all man¬
kind were made sinners, because, in consequence of his
offence, they were by the judgment of God made sub¬
ject to death.
But it may be thought that this interpretation rf the
words sin and sinners, though it might perhaps be ad¬
mitted in the 19th verse, cannot be supposed to give the
apostle s real meaning, as it would make him employ in
the 1 2th verse an absurd argument, which has been al¬
ready noticed. But it may perhaps be possible to get
quit of the absurdity, by examining the original text in-
steadofourtranslation. The words are, i,f *•*»?*{
Kifyunovs 0 B-xyxlof 1$ u Trxiltf i/ttctflot. In order
to ascertain the real sense of these words, the first thing
to be done is to discover the antecedent to the relative
LOGY. . Partll,
*>• Our translators seem to consider it as used absolute- p^i of
ly without any antecedent; but this is inaccurate, as it Adam, and
may be questioned whether the relative was ever used in its const,
any language without an antecedent either expressed or , flueBcfs.
understood. Accordingly, the Calvinist critics, and''
even many Remonstrants, consider 00? xiC^ttov in the
beginning of the verse as the antecedent to a> in the end
of it, and translate the clause under consideration thus:
“ And so death hath passed upon all men, in whom
(viz. Adam) all have sinned.” ©«»«]«?, however, stands
much nearer to than ; and being of the same
gender, ought, we think, to be considered as its real
antecedent: but if so, the clause under consideration
should be thus translated: “ and so death hath passed
upon all men, unto which (o) all have sinned, or, as
the Arminians explain it, have suffered. If this criti¬
cism be admitted as just, tQ » must be considered as
standing here under a particular emphasis, denoting the
utmost length of the consequences of Adam’s sin (p) ;
as if the apostle had said, “ so far have the consequences
of Adam’s sin extended, and spread their influence
among mankind, introducing not only a curse upon the
earth, and sorrow and toil upon its inhabitants, but even
DEATH, universal death, in every part, and in ail
ages of the world.” His words (say the Remonstrants)
will unquestionably bear this sense ; and it is surelv
much more probable that it is their true sense, than that
an inspired writer should have taught a doctrine sub¬
versive of all our notions of right and wrong, and which,
if really embraced, must make us incapable of judging
W’hen we are innocent and when guilty.
hen the apostle says that there is none righteous,
no not one, he gives us plainly to understand that he is
quoting from the 14th Psalm;* and the questionfirsttobe
answered is, In what sense were these words used by the
Psalmist? That they were not meant to include all the
men and women then living, far less all that have ever
lived, is plain from the fifth verse of the same Psalm,
where we are told that those wicked persons “ were in
great fear, because God w'as in the congregation of the
righteous” There was then, it seems, a congregation of
righteous persons, in opposition to those called the chil¬
dren of men, of whom alone it is said that there was
none that did good, no not one. The truth is, that the
persons of whom David generally complains in the book
of Psalms, constituted a strong party disaffected to his
person and government. That faction he describes as
proud and oppressive, as devising mischief against him,
as violent men continually getting together for war.
He styles them his enemies; and sometimes characterizes
them by the appellation which was given to the apostate
descendants of Cain before the deluge. Thus in the
57th Psalm, which was composed when he fled from
Saul to the cave in which he spared that tyrant’s life,
he complains. “ I lie among them that are set on fire,
even the SONS OF MEN, whose teeth are spears,” &c.;
and
'vIie" construe(1 "’‘th a dative case, often signifies to or unto, is known to every Greek scholar.
1 . t7r tv c%ix c 05, he way to fame, (Lucian). itti $xvcc]tu, a criminal unto death, (Demosth).
» rvXXctviti to 1 (n "J l(> death or execution, (Isoc.). ye have been called to liberty,
« * .’1 ’ rr,’ KTl<r0ivli'’ fv XeyrruUirov igyaij uyx6oif, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, (Ephes. ii. 10.).
* ee,J\S:j . | es’,!.v‘ 7; > 2 \ l™* **• 14- > arjd many other places of the New Testament.
(. ) p * has likewise this import, denoting the terminus ad quem in Phil. iii. 12. and iv. 10.
t n. THEOLOGY.
and again, in the 58th Psalm, he says, “ Do ye indeed
!>,
S1 °f
Adm, and speak, righteousness, C) congregation? Do ye judge
qi^ccs uPr*glitly, O ye sons of men ?” By comparing tliese
i texts with 1 Sam. xxvi. 19. it will appear evident that
by the sons of men mentioned in them, he meant to
characterize those enemies who exasperated Saul against
him. Now it is well known, that there was a party ad¬
hering to the interests of the house of Saul, which conti¬
nued its enmity to David during the 40 years of his
reign, and joined with Absalom in rebellion against him
only eight years before his death. But it is the opinion
■f I&n- ot the most judicious commentators'!", that the 14th
»w*ficc. Psalm was composed during the rebellion of Absalom j
and therefore it is surely much more probable, that by
t/it' children of men, of whom it is said there is “ none
that doth good, no not one,” the inspired poet meant to
characterize the rebels, than that he should have direct¬
ly contradicted himself in the compass of two sentences
succeeding each other. Had he indeed known that all
the children of men, as descending from Adam, “ are
utterly indisposed, disabled, and made opposite to all
that is spiritually good, and wholly and continually in¬
clined to all evil,” he could not, with the least degree
of consistency, have represented the Lord as looking
down from heaven upon them, to see.if there were any
that did understand and seek after God j” but if by the
child ren of men was meant only the rebel faction, this
scenical representation is perfectly consistent, as it was
natural to suppose that there might be in that faction
some men of good principles misled by the arts of the
rebel chiefs.
Having thus ascertained the sense of the words as ori¬
ginally used by the Psalmist, the Arminian proceeds to
inquire for what purpose they were quoted by the a-
postle; and in this inquiry he seems to find nothing dif-
hcult. 1 he aversion of the Jews from the admission of
the Gentiles to the privileges of the gospel, the high
opinion which they entertained of their own worth and
superiority to all other nations, and the strong persua¬
sion which they had that a strict obedience to their ow n
law was sufficient to justify them before God, are facts
universally known ; but it was the purpose of the apostle
to prove that all men stood in need of a Redeemer, that
Jews as well as Gentiles had been under the dominion
of sin, and that the one could not in that respect claim
any superiority over the other. He begins his epistle,
therefore, with showing the extreme depravity of the
Heathen world $ and having made good that point, he
proceeds to prove, by quotations from the book of
Psalms, Proverbs, and Isaiah, that the Jews were in no¬
wise better than they, that every mouth might be stop¬
ped, and all the world become guilty, or insufficient for
their own justification before God.
The next proof brought by the Calvinists in support
of their opinion, that all men derive guilt from Adam
by ordinary generation, is that text in which St Paul
says that the Ephesians “ were by nature children of
wrath even as others.” To this their opponents reply,
that the doctrine of original sin is in this verse, as in the
last quoted, countenanced only by our translation, and
not by the original Greek as understood by the ancient
fathers of the Christian church, who were greater ma¬
sters of that language than we. The words are X21 ijits*
•nicy* <py«-£i ogyij?; in which it is obvious, that rosy*,
though in its original sense it signifies the genuine chil-
359
dren of parents by natural generation, cannot be so un- F;il| of
derstood here ; because no man was ever begotten by, Adam, atd
or born of, the abstract notion wrath. It must there- its con**,
fore be used figuratively 5 and in other places of scrip- fences,
ture it often denotes a close relation to any person or ' v J
thing. Thus we read of the children of God, of tho
kingdom the resurrection, wisdom, light, obedience, and
peace $ whence it is concluded, that by the children of
wrath are meant those who are liable to punishment or
rejection. And because there were in those days some
children, in a lower and less proper sense, by adoption,
and others, in a higher and more proper sense, by natu¬
ral generation, of whom the relation of the latter to
their parents was much closer than that of the former;
the apostle tells the Ephesians, that they were by na¬
ture children of wrath, to convince them that they were
really liable to it by the strictest and closest relation
possible, lhat the word $v<nt here is of the same im¬
port with really or truly, and that it does not signify
what we mean by nature in the proper sense of that
word, the ancient fathers are generally agreed * ; and *See Ham-
that the modern Greeks, who still speak a dialect o(mondand
the noble language of their ancestors, understand the ,,(l
word in the same sense, is apparent from their version off/lfa iSfaf
the text before us. In the most correct and elegant„n the wori
edition of the NewTestament in their vernacular tongue,
the words under consideration are thus rendered j xat
(poriKcc r.uxoSxi TiKtx *r<r<*y xxt ii Xotirot, tvhere it is
impossible that (pvrntx can signify natural, otherwise the
apostle will be made to say, not that we are by na¬
ture derived from Adam liable to wrath, but that we
were naturally begotten by wrath in the abstract ! For
taking the word tyvru in the sense of realty or truly,
both the ancient and modern Greeks appear indeed to
have the authority ot St Paul himseli j who, writing to
limothy, calls him yy>j<r«oy nxm, “ his true or genuine
son i” not to signify that he was the child of the apostle
by natural generation, but that he was closely related to
him in the faith to which St Paul had converted him.
I hat the words x-.xix (porn t^yns can signify nothing but
tn/ly or really relations to wrath, is still farther evident
from the ground assigned of that relation. It is not the
sin of Adam, or the impurity of natural generation,
“ but the trespasses and sins in which the Ephesians in
time past walked, according to the course of the world,
according to the prince of the power of the air,” the
spirit that at the time of the apostle’s writing “ work¬
ed in the children of disobedience.” Surely no man
can suppose that the Ephesians at any time \yas\. walked
in Adam’s trespass and sin, or that the prince of the
power ot the air tempted than to eat the forbidden
fruit.
Having thus commented on the principal texts which
are cited from the New Testament to prove the doctrine
ot original sin, the Arminians treat those which are
quoted from the Old Testament, in support of the same
doctrine, with much less ceremony. Thus, when Job
says, “ who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean l
Not one,” he is speaking, say they, not of the pravity
of our nature, but of its frailty and weakness, of the
shortness and misery of human life. The sentence is
proverbial j and as it is used only to signify, that nothing
can be more perfect than its original, it must, whenever
it occurs, be understood according to the subject to
which it is applied. That in the place under considera¬
tion^
360
T H E O
}>art ii.
f tfl/i su
pra.
Fall of * tion it refers to our mortality, they think plain from the
Adam, and context; and Dr Taylor adds *, with some plausibility,
its conse- tj)at jp t|ie wor(]s refer to the guilt which we are sup-
, q»c»ces- p0Sctl to derive from Adam, they will prove too much
* Scripture to serve the common scheme of original sin. 'J hey will
Doctritie, prove that our natural and inherent pravity, so far from
rendering us fit objects of wrath, may be urged as a
reason why God should not even bring us into judge¬
ment ; for the patriarch’s whole expostulation runs thus,
“ Dost thou open thine eyes upon such a one, and
bringest me into judgment with thee ? Who can bring
a clean thing out of an unclean ?”
The other text, quoted from the same book, they
think still less to the purpose ; for Eliphaz, is evidently
contrasting the creature with the Creator; in compari¬
son with whom, he might well say, without alluding to
original guilt, “ what is man that he should be clean ?
and he who is born of a woman that he should be
righteous ? Behold he putteth no trust in his saints ;
yea the heavens are not clean in his sight. How much
more abominable and filthy is man, who drinketh ini¬
quity like water ?” He does not say,, who derives by
birth an iniquitous nature ; for he knew well, that as
we are born, we are the pure workmanship of God,
“ whose hands have fashioned and formed every one of
us ;” hut “ who drinketh iniquity like water,” who
maketh himself iniquitous by running headlong into
every vicious practice.
Of the text quoted from the fifty-first psalm in sup¬
port of the doctrine of original sin, Dr Taylor labours f,
by a long and ingenious criticism, to prove that our
translators have mistaken the sense. The word which
they have rendered shapen, he shows to be used once by
Isaiah, and twice in the book of Proverbs, to signify
brought forth; and that which is rendered conceived
me, is never, he says, employed in scripture to denote
human conception. In this last remark, however, he is
contradicted by a great authority, no less indeed than
, .... that of Mr Parkhurst J, who says, that the LXX con-
Lexicon on stantly render it by kig-o-xu or tyxia-a-x*), and the ^ ulgate
the word generaUy t,y concipio. Without taking upon us to de-
nn'* cide between these two eminent Hebrew scholars, we
J Gen. xxx. shall only observe, that upon one occasion || it certainly
3*. 39» 4°> denotes ideas much grosser than those which the Psal-
comparcd mjst must |,ave |iatl 0f his mother’s conception ; and that
'mth xxxi. t|)ere^ at jeast( ])r Taylor properly translates it, inca-
lescebant, adding, “ de hoc vero incalescendi genere
loqui Davidem nemo sanus existimare potest. Matrem
enim incaluisse, aut ipsum calefecisse eo modo quo in-
calescerent Jacobi pecudes Begem dicere, prorsus in¬
decorum et absurdum.” He contends, however, that
the original force of the word is to be hot, and that it is
applied to conception, to resentment, to warmth by
which the body is nourished, to idolaters in love with
idols, and to the heat of metals. The heat of idolaters,
of resentment, and of metals, are evidently foreign to
the Psalmist’s purpose ; and the idea conveyed by the
■word incalesccre being set aside for the reasons already
assigned, there remains only the warmth by which the
body is nourished, and of that warmth our ardour is con¬
fident that David spoke.
If this criticism be admitted, the whole verse will
then run thus : “ Behold I was born in iniquity, and in
sin did my mother nurse me ;” which hath no reference
to the original formation of his constitution, but is a
3
J See his
LOGY. Part II,
periphrasis of his being a sinner from the womb, and pa]] of
means nothing more than that he was a great sinner, or Adam, and
had contracted early habits of sin. He no more de- ,ls c°nse.
signed to signify in this verse, that by ordinary genera- ,<im
tion he had a nature conveyed to him which was “ ut-
terly indisposed, disabled, and opposite to all that is
spiritually good, and wholly and continually inclined to
evil,” than he meant in another * to signify strictly and* Ps.Iviii.
properly that “ the wicked are estranged from the 3*
womb, and tell lies as soon as they are born or
that Job meant to signify f, that from the moment hef jobni
came from his mother’s womb he had been a guide toiS.
the widow and a succour to the fatherless. All these
are hyperbolical forms of expression ; which, though
they appear strained, and perhaps extravagant, to the
phlegmatic inhabitants of Europe, are perfectly suited
to the warm imaginations ot the orientals, and to the
genius of eastern languages. They mean not that Job
was born with habits of virtue, that the wicked actually
walked, and spoke, and spoke lies from the instant of
their birth, or that the Psalmist was really shapen in sin
and conceived in iniquity. r\ his last sentence, it inter¬
preted literally, would indeed be grossly impious : it
w’ould make the inspired penman throw the whole load
of his iniquity and sin from oft' himself upon him who
shaped, and upon her who conceived him ; even upon
that God “ whose hands had made him and fashioned
him, and whom he declares that he will praise for ha¬
ving made him fearfully and wonderfully,” and upon
that parent who conceived him with sorrow, and brought
him forth with pain, and to whom the divine law com¬
manded him to render honour and gratitude. “ But if,
after all (says Dr Taylor J), you will adhere to the li-j Scriptur:
teral sense of the text for the common doctrine ol on-Doctrine,
ginal sin, show me any good reason why you ought not part “•
to admit the literal sense of the text, this is my body,
for transubslantiation$ If you say, it is absurd to sup¬
pose that Christ speaks of his real natural body ; [ say,
it is likewise absurd to suppose that the Psalmist speaks
of his being really and properly shapen in iniquity, and
conceived in sin. If you say, that the sense of the
words this is my body maybe clearly explained by other
texts of scripture where the like forms of speech are
used ; I say, and have shown, that the Psalmist’s sense
may as clearly and evidently be made out by parallel
texts, where you have the like kind of expression. It
you say that transubstanfiation is attended with conse¬
quences hurtful to piety, I say that the common doc¬
trine of oiiginal sin is attended with consequences
equally hurtful; for it is a principle apparently leading
to all manner of iniquity, to believe that sin is natural
to us, that it is interwoven and ingrafted into our very
constitution from our conception and formation in the
womb.” uj
The Arminians having thus, as they think, proved Conse^1'
that the posteiity of Adam, are not in any sense render-ce->
ed guilty by his sin, contend, that the death threatened
against his eating of the forbidden fruit, and which, in fruit, ac-
consequence of his transgression, came upon all men,cordingf1*
can mean nothing more than the loss of that vital prin-dw At®1
ciple which he received when God breathed into hismans'
nostrils the breath of life, and he became a living soul.
Every thing beyond this is pure conjecture, which has
no foundation in the scriptures of truth, and is directly
contrary to all the notions of right and wrong which
we
Pai: II.
THEOLOGY.
ft of we have been able to acquire from the 8tudy of those
Alia* and very scriptures. It is not conceivable from any thing
'(juices.' in the History, that Adam could understand it of the
' - loss of any other life than that which he had lately re¬
ceived, for no other life is spoken of to which the threat¬
ened death can be opposed •, and in such circumstances,
it w-as strange indeed, if by the word death he under¬
stood either eternal life in misery, or a necessity of con¬
tinuing in sin. 1 he sense therefore of the threatening,
say they, is this : “ I have formed thee of the dust of
the ground, and breathed into thy nostrils the breath
of life ; and thus thou art become a living soul. But
if thou eatest of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of
good and evil, thou shall cease to be a living soul j
for I will take from thee the breath of life, and thou
shalt return to the dust of which thou wast formed.”
Sonia f -Thus far the Arminians of the present day are agreed
1- in opposing the doctrine of the rigid Calvinists, and in
stating their own notions of the consequences of Adam’s
fall j but from that event their adversaries deduce one
consequence, which some of them admit and others
deny. It is said that though we cannot possibly be
partakers in Adam’s guilt, we yet derive from him a
moral taint and infection, by which we have a natural
propensity to sin ; that having lost the image of God,
in which he wTas created, Adam begat sons in his own
image $ and in one word, that the sensual appetites of
human nature were inflamed, and its moral and intellec¬
tual powers greatly weakened by the eating of the for¬
bidden fruit. The heathens themselves acknowledged
and lamented this depravity ; though they were igno¬
rant of the source from which it sprung. The scriptures
assert it, affirming that no man can be born pure and
clean j that whatever is born of the flesh, or comes into
the world by ordinary generation, is flesh, carnal and
corrupt j that the imagination of the thoughts of man’s
heart is only evil continually j that the heart is deceit¬
ful above all things and desperately wicked ; and that
out ol it proceeds all that is vile and sinful *.
This depravity of human nature, thus clearly deduci-
Romlble from scripture, and confirmed by the testimony of
Jer.ly 9! aSes» an ingenious writer of the moderate Arminian
“ ■ school undertakes to illustrate upon the principles of
natural knowledge. “ We know (says he +), that there
are several fruits in several parts of the world of so noxi-
*trate ihp_ous a nature as to destroy the best human constitution on
on piina. earth. We also know that there are some fruits in the
plcsofli. world which inflame the blood into fevers and frenz.ies ;
36l
* Job
A
Mat. x
IP-
and ill/
and we are told that the Indians are acquainted with a
jDelak's certain juice, which immediately turns the person who
Revelain brinks it into an idiot, leaving him at the same time in
txambM the enjoyment of his health and all the powers of his
body. Now I ask W hether it be not possible, nay,
j whether it be not rational, to believe, that the same
fruit, which, in the present infirmity of nature, would
utterly destroy the human constitution, might, in its
highest perfection, at least disturb, impair, and disease
it ? and whether the same fruit, which would now in¬
flame any man living into a fever or frenzy, might not
inflame Adam into a turbulence and irregularity of pas¬
sion and appetite j and whether the same fluids, which
inflame the blood into irregularity of passion and appetite,
may not naturally produce infection and impair the con¬
stitution ? That the forbidden fruit had the effect to pro¬
duce irregularity of appetite, appears as from other proofs,
Vol. XX. Part I. “ t
so I think fully and clearly from the covering which Fall of
Adam and I.ve made use of soon after their offence j for Adam, and
there is no imaginable reason for that covering but one, iu con*e-
and that one sufficiently demonstrates, that irregularity quencc*’ .
and violence of appetite, independent of the dominion ~"
of reason, was the effect of their offence. But the fruit
which inflamed the sensual appetite might likewise de¬
base their rational powers j for I ask, whether the same
juice, which now aflects the brain of an ordinary man
so as to make him an idiot, might not affect the brain of
Adam so as to bring his understanding down to the pre¬
sent standard of ordinary men ? And if this be possible,
and not absurd to be supposed, it is evident that the sub¬
sequent ignorance and corruption of human nature may
be clearly accounted for upon these suppositions ; nav,
I had almost said upon any one of them. For it is uni¬
versally known, that the infections and infirmities of
the father affect the children yet in his loins ; and if
the mother be equally infected, must, unless removed
by proper remedies, affect their posterity to the end
of the world, or at least till the race become extinct.
Therefore why all mankind might not by their first fa¬
ther’s sin be reduced to the same condition of infirmity
and corruption with himself, especially when the mo¬
ther was equally infirm, and infected, 1 believe no man
any way skilled in the knowledge of nature will so much
as pretend to say.”
I his account of the corruption of human nature seems
to be generally adopted by moderate divines, as well
among the Calvinists as among the Arminians; but by
the high-fliers in both schools it is rejected, on different
principles indeed, with great indignation. The zea¬
lous Calvinist contends, that this hereditary corrup¬
tion is not to be accounted for or explained by any
principle of physical science, since it is part of that pu¬
nishment which was inflicted on the race for their origi¬
nal sin. If w'e were not partakers of Adam’s guilt, sav
they, we should not have been partakers of his corrup¬
tion. The one is previous to and the foundation of the
other. The depravity of human nature is a punish¬
ment for sin; and so it was threatened to Adam, and
came upon him as such, and so to all his posterity, by the
ordination and appointment of God; for which there can
be no other foundation but the imputation of Adam’s
disobedience to them, nor can any thing else vindicate
the righteousness of God. I‘or if the law of nature was
sufficient, why should this original taint infect men ra¬
ther than the sins of their immediate parents^.” J Gill't lio-
'1 lie more violent Arminians, on the other hand, deny % 0/ Di-
that we inherit any moral taint whatever from Adam,
or that the rational powers of our minds are naturally ***"
weaker than his were. Of that wonderful degree ofand M.11’
perfection which is usually attributed to the first pair, 126
they find no evidence in scripture. All that we learn "hilst
of them, say they, is, that they fell from a state of ex- ?lhei'ol>-
quisite happiness by yielding to a temptation less power-d^riae,
ful by far than some others which many of their dege¬
nerate sons have successfully resisted. “ I leave you
to judge (says Dr Taylor§j, whether Joseph, when heiScriphtrt
resisted the solicitations of his mistress, and Moses when doctrine,
he refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter,&C-
choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of
God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season,
esteeming the reproach of true religion greater riches
than the treasures of Egypt, did not exhibit proofs of
^ 1 regularity
362 T H E O
Fall of regularity of passions and appetites equal at least to what
Adam, and Adam displayed in the garden of Eden. hen the
its couse- three young men mentioned in the book of Daniel sub-
quences. m;tted to be burnt alive in a fiery furnace rather than
worship Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image j when Daniel
himself resolved, rather thau conceal the worship of
God for one month only of his life, to be torn in pieces
by hungry lions j and, to come nearer to our own times,
when numbers of men and women, during the reign of
Mary queen of England, chose rather to be burnt at a
stake than renounce the reformed religion and embrace
the errors of popery—surely all these persons exhibited
a virtue, a faith in God and a steady adherence to what
they believed to be the truth, far superior to what A-
dam displayed, when his wife gave him of the forbidden
fruit, and he did eat.” If it be said that these persons
were supported under their trials by the grace of God
strengthening them, the same will be said of Adam. He
was undoubtedly supplied with every aid from the spirit
of grace which was necessary to enable him to fulfil his
duty ; for being designed for more than mere animal
life, even for the refined enjoyments of heaven, there is
every reason to believe, as we have already observed,
that he was put under the guidance of the Holy Ghost,
to train him for that supernatural state of felicity. These
communications of the spirit would of course be with¬
drawn when he forfeited his right to those privileges, on
account of which they were originally vouchsafed to
him ; but that any positive malignity or taint was infu¬
sed into his nature, that his mere rational powers were
weakened, or his appetites inflamed by the forbidden
fruit, there is no evidence to be found in scripture, or in
the known constitution of things. The attributing of
this supposed hereditary taint to the noxious qualities of
the forbidden fruit, is a whimsical hypothesis, which
receives no countenance from any well authenticated
and deem 'n na^lira' history. After the numberless false-
the physical hoods that have been told of the j)oison tree of Java,
illustration something more would be requisite than the com-
of it whim-mon evjjence ()f a lying voyager to give credit to the
*'caI’ qualities of the Indian tree, of which the fruit in¬
stantly turns the wisest man into an idiot : and yet for
this singular story our ingenious author vouchsafes not
even that evidence, slight as it generally is. The in¬
ference drawn from the covering used by our first pa¬
rents is contradicted by every thing that we know of
human nature •, for surely no man inflamed to the ut¬
most with the fire of animal love, ever turned his eyes
from a naked beauty ready and eager to receive him to
her embrace. Yet this, it seems, was the behaviour of
Adam and Eve in such a state ! According to our au¬
thor, the juice of the forbidden fruit had rendered their
carnal appetites violent and independent of reason ; ac¬
cording to the scripture, they were both naked j and as
they were husband and wife, there was no law prohibit¬
ing them from gratifying these inflamed appetites. In
such circumstances, how did they conduct themselves :
One would naturally imagine that they immediately re¬
tired to some shady grove, and pleased themselves in all
the soft dalliances of wedded love. Their conduct how¬
ever, was very different. We are told, that “ they
sewed fig-leaves together, and made themselves aprons
to cover their nakedness And this transaction is
brought as a proof of the impetuosity of their carnal ap¬
petites. The truth is, that the carnal appetite appears
LOGY. Partll.
not to be naturally more violent than is necessary to an- ya||or
$wer the end for which it was implanted in the human Adam,and
coustitution. Among savages the desires of animal love ,t!cfnse.
are generally very moderate ; and even in society they, (lUl
have not often, unless inflamed by the luxurious arts of
civil life, greater strength than is requisite to make
mankind attend to the continuation of their species. It>
the decline of empires highly polished, where the dif¬
ference of rank and opulence is great, and where every
man is ambitious of emulating the expence of his imme¬
diate superiors, early marriages are prevented by the in¬
ability of most people to provide for a family in a way
suitable to what each is pleased to consider as his proper
station j and in that state of things the violence of ani¬
mal love will indeed frequently produce great irregula¬
rities. But for that state of things, as it was not in¬
tended by the Author of nature, it is perhaps unrea¬
sonable to suppose that provision should be made 5 and
yet we believe it will be found, upon due consideration,
that if the desires of animal love were less violent than
they are, the general consequences would be more per¬
nicious to society than all the irregularities and vices
which these desires now accidentally produce j for there
would then be no intercourse between the sexes what¬
ever except in the very highest stations of life. That
our constitution is attended with many sensual appetites
and passions, is true j and that there is a great danger
of their becoming excessive and irregular in a world so
full of temptation as ours is, is also true *, but there is
no evidence that all this is the consequence of Adam’s
fall, and far less that it amounts to a natural propensity n5
to sin. For I presume (says Dr Taylor), that by a maintain-
natural propensity is meant a necessary inclination to sin, i»g that**
or that we are necessarily sinful from the original bent|ia'ej ““J18'
and bias of our natural powers. But this must be false
for then we should not be sinful at all, because that whichsin.
is necessary, or which we cannot help, is not sin. That
we are weak and liable to temptation, is the will of
God holy and good, and for glorious purposes to our¬
selves; but if we are wicked, it must be through our
own fault, and cannot proceed fiom any constraint, or
necessity, or taint in our constitution.”
Thus we have, given as full and comprehensive a view
as our limits will permit of the different opinions of the
Calvinists and Arminians respecting the consequences of
Adam’s fall. If we have dwelt longer upon the scheme
of the latter than of the former, it is because every Ar-
minian argument is built upon criticism, and appeals to
the original text ; whilst the Calvinists rest their faith
upon the plain words of scripture as read in ourtransla- n«
tion. If we might hazard our own opinion, we should Theopm'
say that the truth lies between them, and that it l'asjn^eJ«»
been found by the moderate men of both parties, who,
while they make use of different language, seem to us ^jvinisti
to have the same sentiments. That all mankind really and Ar®1-
sinned in Adam, and are on that account liable to niostn‘ansfti]i[
grievous torments in soul and body, without intermis-8'ounl’eDau-
sion, in hell fire for ever, is a doctrine which cannot becfCibyge:
reconciled to our natural notions of God On the otherneraltfl^
hand, if human nature was not somehow debased by theuon•
fall of our first parents, it is not easy to account for the
numberless phrases in scripture which certainly seem to
speak that language, or for the very general opinion ot
the Pagan philosophers and poets respecting the golden
age and the degeneracy of man. Cicero, in a quotation
preserved
Pa. II.
TMlogy
fro* die
fa of
Ad«i to
the Lining
of Irist.
i—.— >
l Via d.
^//gyb.
ir. citf ra
Pekmum.
Vidfctiam
M-
CkefCon.
Sill, j
utr
ChrittLiity
ma> Wiaid
to hn
*-'onian«ce(j
wititt
faU.iT
preserved by St Augustine from a work tliat is now lost
has these remarkable words, “Homo non ut a matre sed
ut a noverca naturaeditus est in vitam, corpore nudo, et
fragili, et infirmo j animo autem anxio ad molestias, hu-
mili ad timores, molli ad labores, prono ad libidiues j in
q?/o tamen mest tanquam obrutus quidam divinus ignis
ingenii etmentis\\.” Nor do we readily perceive what
should induce the more zealous Armiuians to oppose so
vehemently this general opinion of the corruption of hu¬
man nature. Their desire to vindicate the justice and
goodness of God does them honour; but the doctrine of
inherent corruption militatesnot against theseattributes;
for what we have lost in the first Adam has been am¬
ply supplied to us in the second; and we know from the
highest authority that the duties required of us are in
proportion to our ability, since we are told, that “ unto
whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be re¬
quired.”
Sect. IV. V iew of Theology from the fall of Adam to
the coming of Christ.
We have dwelt long on the original state of man, his
introduction into the terrestrial paradise, the privileges
to which he was there admitted, his forfeiture of those
privileges, and the state to which he was reduced by
transgressing the law of his Maker; but the import¬
ance of these events renders them worthy of all the at¬
tention that we have paid to them. They paved the
way for the coming of Christ and the preaching of the
gospel, and unless we thoroughly understand the origin
ot the gospel, we cannot have an adequate conception
of its design. By contrasting the first with the second
Adam, St Paul gives us clearly to understand, that one
purpose for which Christ came into the world and suf¬
fered death on the cross, wras to restore to mankind that
life which they had lost by the fall of their original pro¬
genitor. The preaching of the gospel therefore com¬
menced with the first hint of such a restoration ; and the
promise given to Adam and Eve, that “ the seed of the
woman should bruise the head of the serpent,” was
as truly evangelical as these words of the apostle, by
which we are taught, that “ this is a faithful saying and
worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into
the world to save sinnersfThe former text taken by
itself is indeed obscure, and the latter is explicit; but
both belong to the same system, for the Scriptures con¬
tain but two covenants or dispensations of God to man,
in which the whole race is included.
Christianity therefore is indeed very near as old as the
creation ; but its principles were at first obscurely re¬
vealed, and afterwards gradually developed under dilfer-
ent forms as mankind became able to receive them, (see
Prophecy, N° 5. &c.). All that appears to have been
at first revealed to Adam and Eve wras, that by some
means or other one of their posterity should in time re¬
deem the whole race from the curse of the fall ; or if
they had a distinct view of the means by which that re¬
demption was to be wrought, it was probably communi¬
cated to them at the institution of sacrifices, (see Sacri¬
fice). This promise of a future deliverer served to com¬
fort them under their heavy sentence; and the institution
ot sacrifices, whilst it impressed upon their minds lively
ideas of the punishment due to their transgression, was
363
T H E O L O G Y.
admirably calculated to prepare both them and their
posterity for the great atonement which, in due time,
was to take away the sins of the world.
Our first parents, after their fall, were so far from l]ie
being left to fabricate a mode of worship for themselves of Christ'5
by those innate powers of the human mind of which we
daily hear so much, and feel so little, that God was ora-
Theology
from the
fall of
Adam to
~~v~
*3I .
ciously pleased to manifest himself to their senses, and
visibly to conduct them by the angel of his presence in t'he^eaHy"
all the rites and duties of religion. This is evident from ages of the
the different discourses which he held with Cain, as well "orld:
as from the complaint of that murderer of being hid from
his face, and from its being said, that “ he went out
from the presence of the Lord and dwelt on the east of
Eden.” Nor does it appear that God wholly withdrew
his visible presence, and left mankind to their own in¬
ventions, till their wickedness became so very great that
his spirit could no longer strive with them. The infant
state of the world stood in constant need of his superna¬
tural guidance and protection. The early inhabitants
of this globe cannot be supposed to have been able, with
Moses ||, to look up to him who is invisible, and perform |j Ileb. xL
a worship purely rational and spiritual. They were all
tillers of the ground, or keepers of cattle; employed in
cultivatingandreplenishing this new world; and, through
the curse brought upon it by their forefather, forced,
with him, to eat their bread “ in the sweat of their
brow.” Man in such circumstances could have little
leisure for speculation ; nor has mere speculation, unless
furnished with principles from another source, ever ge¬
nerated in the human mind adequate notions of God’s
nature or providence, or of the means by which he can be
acceptably worshipped. Frequent manifestations, there¬
fore, of his presence would be necessary to keep a toler¬
able sense of religion among them, and secure obedience
to the divine institutions; and that the Almighty did not
exhibit such manifestations, cannot be inferred from the
silence of that very short history which we have of those
early ages. Adam himself continued 930 years a living
monument of the justice and mercy of God ; of his ex¬
treme hatred and abhorrence of sin, as well as of his love
and long suffering towards the sinner. He was very sen¬
sible how sin had entered into the world, and he could
not but apprise his children of its author. He would at
the same time inform them of the unity of God, and his
dominion over the evil one ; of the means by which he
had appointed himself to be worshipped ; and of his pro¬
mise ot future deliverance from the curse of the fall.
Such information would produce a tolerable idea of the
I) ivine Being, and afford sufficient motives to obey his
will. 1 he effects of it accordingly were apparent in the
righteous family of Seth, who soon distinguished them¬
selves from the posterity of Cain, and for their eminent
piety were honoured with the appellation of the sons of
Cod. Of this family sprang a person so remarkable for
virtue and devotion, as to be exempted from Adam’s
sentence and the common lot of his sons; for after he
had wi liked with God 300 years, and prophesied to his
brethren, he was translated that he should not see death.
Of this miraculous event there can be no doubt but that
his contemporaries had some visible demonstration ; and
as the fate of Abel was an argument to their reason, so
the translation of Enoch was a proof to their senses of an¬
other state of life after the present. To Adam himself,
Z z a if
364
THEOLOGY.
Fart II,
V2
yet vice,
And prolm
eame pre¬
valent.
*33
Pnre reli¬
gion lor
sonic time
after the
flood;
Theology if he was then alive (s), it must have been a lively and
trom the affecting instance of wliat he might have enjoyed, had
tall ot jie i^pt l,|s innocence : it must have been a comfortable
Adam to earnesj 0f t|ie promjse(] victory over the evil one ; and
the coming , . • . . 1 1 1 1 <• 1
of Christ, have confirmed Ins hope, that when the head ot the ser¬
pent should be completely bruised, he and his posterity
would be restored to the favour of their Maker, and be¬
hold his presence in bliss and immortality.
Notwithstanding this watchful care of God over his
fallen creature man, vice, and probably idolatry, spread
bly^dolatry, through the world with a rapid pace. The family of
toon be- Seth married into that of Cain, and adopted the man¬
ners of their new relations. Rapine and violence, un¬
bounded lust and impurity of every kind, prevailed uni¬
versally ; and when those giants in wickedness had filled
the earth with tyranny, injustice and oppression j when
the whole race was become entirely carnal—God, af¬
ter raising up another prophet to give them frequent
warnings of their fate for the space of 1 20 years, was at
length obliged, in mercy to themselves as well as to the
succeeding generations of men, to cut them off by a ge¬
neral deluge. See DELUGE.
Thus did God, by the spirit of prophecy, by frequent
manifestations of his own presence, and by uninterrupt¬
ed tradition, make ample provision for the instruction
and improvement of the world for the first 1600 years.
After the deluge he was pleased to converse again with
Noah, and make in his person a new and extensive co¬
venant with mankind, (see Prophecy, Of
his power, justice, and goodness j of his supreme domi¬
nion over the earth and the heavens j of his abhorrence
of sin, and his determination not to let it go unpunish¬
ed—that patriarch and his family had been most aw¬
fully convinced: nor could they or their children, for
some time, want any other argument to enforce obedi¬
ence, fear, and worship. The sons of Noah were an
hundred years old when the deluge overwhelmed the
earth. They had long conversed with their ancestors
of the old world, had frequented the religious assemblies,
observed every Sabbath day, and had been instructed by
those who had seen Adam. It is therefore impossible that
they could be ignorant of the creation of the world, of
the fall of man, or of the promise of future deliverance
from the consequences of that fall; or that they could
offer their sacrifices, and perform the other rites of the
instituted worship, without looking forward with the eye
of faith to that deliverance seen, perhaps obscurely,
through their typical oblations.
In this state of things religion might for some time
be safely propagated by tradition. But when by de-
thc cause ofgrees mankind corrupted that tradition in its mostessen-
the duper- tial parts j when, instead of the one Supreme God, they
Bab ?r°m set UI) seveni' orders of inferior deities, and worshipped
all the host of heaven j when, at the same time they
were uniting under one head, and forming a universal
empire under the patronage of the Sun their eh ief divi¬
nity (see Babel)—God saw it necessary to disperse
them intodistinctcolonies, hycausing such discord among
them as rendered it impossible for any one species of
idolatry to be at once universally established.
After this dispersion, there is reason to believe that
Idolatry,
however,
particular revelations were vouchsafed wherever men Theology
were disposed to regard them. Peleg had his name pro- from thi
phetically given him from the dispersion which was to °f
happen in his days j and not only his father Eber, fiuttheaIn,'0
all the heads of families mentioned from Noah to Abra- of Chris?
ham, are with much plausibility supposed to have had
the spirit of prophecy on many occasions. Noah was
undoubtedly both priest and prophet; and living till
within two years of the birth of Abraham, or, accord¬
ing to others, till that patriarch was near 60 years old,
he would surely be able to keep up a tolerable sense of
true religion among such of his descendants as sojourned
within the influence of his doctrine and example. His
religious son Shem, who lived till after the birth of
Isaac, could not but preserve in tolerable purity the
faith and worship of the true God among such of his
own descendants as lived in his neighbourhood.
But though the remains of true religion were thus
preserved among a few righteous men, idolatry had in a
short time prevailed so far among the sons of Noah, that
God saw it expedient not only to shorten the lives of
men, hut also to withdraw his presence from the gene¬
rality, who had thus rendered themselves unworthy of
such communications j and to select a particular family,
in which his worship might he preserved pure amidst the
various corruptions that were overspreading the world.
W ith this view Abraham was called, and, after many The call of
remarkable trials of his faith and constancy, admitted to^bra^am
a particular intimacy and friendship with his Maker."4®
God entered into a peculiar covenant with him, enga¬
ging to be his present guide, protector, and defender j
to bestow all temporal blessings upon him and his seed j
and to make some of those seed the instruments of con¬
veying blessings of a higher kind to all the nations of
the earth. 136
It was doubtless for his singular piety that Abraham to prevent
was fixed upon to be the parent of that people, whot^le uniTt,r‘
should preserve the knowledge of the unity of God in id li¬
the midst of an idolatrous and polytheistic world ; butiatry,
we are not to imagine that it was for his sake only that
all this was done, or that his less worthy descendants
were by the equal Lord of all treated with partial fond¬
ness for the virtues of their ancestor j it was for the be¬
nefit of mankind in general that he was called from his
country, and from his father's house, that he might pre¬
serve the doctrine of the divine unity in his own family,
and he an instrument in the hand of Providence (and a
fit one he was) to convey the same faith to the nations
around him. Accordingly, we find him distinguished a-
mong the neighbouring princes, and kings reproved for
his sake; who being made acquainted with his prophe¬
tic character, desired his intercession with God. History
tells us of his conversing on the subject of religion with
the most learned Egyptians, who appear to have derived
fiom him or some of his descendants the rite of circum¬
cision, and to have been for a while stopt in their pro¬
gress towards the last stage of that degrading idolatry
which afterwards rendered their national worship the op¬
probrium of the whole earth, (see Polytheism, N° 28.)
We are informed that his name was held in the greatest
veneration all over the East; that the Magians, Sabians,
Persians,
(s) According to the Samaritan chronology, he was alive; according to the Hebrew, he had been dead 57years.
3
Pa;
fa
IT.
T H E O
ThJosty Persian*:, and Indians, all glory in him as the greatest re-
fro [the former of their respective religions: and to us it appears
extremely probable, that not only the Brachmans, but
M
* Se|l«
atic J-
searcih
and Tbwt.
Chroi
Oec
revel
fire
othe
men,
the i nin"^‘kew‘se ^1e H'11^00 g0(^ Brahma *, derive their names
ofC ist. from the father of the faithful. As he was let into the
various counsels of the Almighty, and taught to reason
and reflect upon them ; as he was fully apprised of the
overthrow of Sodom and Gomorrah, with the particular
circumstances of that miraculous event; and as he had
frequent revelations of the promised Redeemer, whose
day he longed earnestly to see, and seeing it was glad—
there can be no doubt but that he and his family took
care to propagate these important doctrines in every na¬
tion which they visited j for the only reason which we
can conceive for his being made to wander from place
to place was, that different people might be induced to
inquire after his profession, his religion, and his hopes.
But though the Supreme Being was pleased to mani¬
fest himself in a more frequent and familiar manner to
Abraham, he by no means left the rest of the world
without sufficient light. Lot professed the true religion
in the midst of Sodom. In Canaan we meet with Mel-
chizedeck, king and priest of the most high God, who
blessed Abraham, and to whom that patriarch himself
al did homage. Abimelech king of Gerar receiving an
ns admonition from the Lord, immediately paid a due re¬
gard to it $ and the same sense of religion and virtue de-
us scended to his son. Laban and Bethuel acknowledged
the Lord, and the former of them was even favoured
with a vision. In Arabia, we find Job and his three
friends, all men of high rank, entering into the deepest
disquisitions in theology, agreeing about the unity, om¬
nipotence, and spirituality of God j the justice of his
providence, with other fundamental articles of true reli¬
gion; and mentioning divine inspiration or revelation as
a thing not uncommon in their age and country + (u).
’ 1 y Balaam appears to have been a true prophet: and as he
was unquestionably a man of bad morals, the natural in¬
ference is, that the gift of prophecy was then, as after¬
wards, bestowed on individuals, not for their own sakes,
but for the sake of the public ; and that, as in “ every
nation, he who feareth God and worketh righteousness
is accepted of him so in those early ages of the world,
when mankind were but children in religious know¬
ledge, they were blessed with the light of divine reve¬
lation wherever they were disposed to make a proper
use of it.
Very few, however, appear to have had this disposi-
and therefore God was pleased to adopt Abraham
and part of his posterity as the race from which the great
Redeemer was to spring, to train them up by degrees in
suitable notions of their Creator, and gradually to open
up to them, as they were able to receive it, the nature
of that dispensation under which “ all the nations of the
earth were to be blessed in the patriarch’s seed, (see
Prophfxy, N° 13.). For this purpose, he held fre¬
quent correspondence with them ; and to strengthen and
\ Jot I
*7; vi|3.
uiii.
ST tl»’>
lalianl
callcl
xxvni. 10.
L O G Y. 365
confirm their faith, to fix and preserve their dependence Thcolopy
on the one God of heaven and earth, he daily gave fr°ni
them new promises, each more magnificent than that
which preceded it. He blessed Isaac, miraculously in-t]ie t.(lWins
cieased his substance, and soon made him the envy of of Christ,
th e neighbouring princes. He foretold the condition of' ’v” 1
his two sons, renewed the promise made to Abraham,
and blessed the adopted son Jacob, with whom he con¬
descended to converse as he had conversed with A-
braham and Isaac; renewing to him the great promise j
bestowing upon him all kinds of riches ; and impressing
such terror upon all the cities which were round about
him as prevented them from hurting either him or his
family.
All this was indeed little enough to keep alive even
in the mind of Jacob a tolerable sense of duty and de¬
pendence on his Creator. After the first vision he is
surprised, and hesitates, seemingly inclined to make a
kind ot stipulation with his Maker, “If (says he) God
will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I
go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put
on, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace,
t/ien shall the Lord be my God +.” It appears not to ^
have been till alter many such revelations, blessings, and
deliverances, and being reminded of the vow which on
this occasion he had vowed, that he set himself in good
earnest to reform the religion of his own family, and to
drive out Irom it all strange gods*. So little able, in * ^en*
that age, were the boasted powers of the human mindXXXJ' 2*
to preserve in the woild just notions of the unity of the
Godhead, that we see there was a necessity for very fre¬
quent revelations, to prevent even the best men from
running headlong into polytheism and idolatry.
Thus was God obliged to treat even with the pa¬
triarchs themselves, by way of positive covenant and ex¬
press compact; to promise to be their God if they would
be his people ; to give them a portion of temporal bles¬
sings as introductory to future and spiritual ones ; and to
engage them in his service by immediate rewards, till
they could be led on to higher views, and prepared by
the bringing in of a better hope to worship him in spirit
and in truth. With regard to what may be called the
theory of religion, mankind were yet scarcely got out of
their childhood. Some extraordinary persons indeed oc¬
casionally appeared in different countries, such asEnoch,
Noah, Abraham, and Job, with many others, who had a
more enlarged prospect of things, and entertained more
worthy sentiments of the divine dispensations and of the
ultimate end of man ; but these were far superior to the
times in which they lived, and appear to have been pro- -
videntially raised up to prevent the savage state and .
savage idolatry from becoming universal among men..
See Savage. 13$
The worship which was practised by those holy men ^,e Patn"
appears to have consisted principally of the three kinds ^ ^.wor*
of sacrifice mentioned elsewhere (see Sacrifice) ; to those early
which were doubtless added prayers and praises, with ay;es per-
the formed iu
faith.
(u) There are great disputes among the learned respecting the antiquity and the author of the hook of Job,
and whether it be a history of events, or a poem which has its foundation in history. All sober men, however,
are agreed, that there really was such a person as Job, eminent for patience under uncommon sufl’erings ; and
that he was of very remote antiquity. The LXX give us the names of his father and mother, and say that he
was the fifth from Abraham.
366
THEOLOGY. . Partll,
Theology
from the
fall of
Adam to
the coniimr
of Clilist.
140
of a future
Redeemer.
Mi.
Such taith,
however,
uut general.
the more valuable oblation of pure hands and devout
hearts. Such of them as looked forward to a future re¬
demption, and had any tolerable notion of the means by
which it was to be effected, as Abraham certainly had,
must have been sensible that the blood of bulls and of
goats could never take away sin, and that their sacrifices
were therefore valuable only when they were offered in
faitli of that great promise, “ which they, having seen
it afar off, were persuaded of, and embraced : and con¬
fessed that they were strangers and pilgrims upon earth.”
That such persons looked for “ a better country,
even a heavenly one,” in a future state, cannot be que¬
stioned ; for they knew well how sin and death had en¬
tered into the world, and they must have understood the
promise made to their original progenitor, and repeated¬
ly renewed to themselves, to include in it a deliverance
at some period from every consequence of the first trans¬
gression. They were to all intents and purposes Chri¬
stians as well as we. They indeed placed their confi¬
dence in a Redeemer, who in the fulness of time was to
appear upon earth, while we place ours in a Redeemer
that has been already manifested j they expressed that
confidence by one mode of worship, we express it by an¬
other ; but the patriarchal worship had the same end in
view with the Christian—the attainment of everlasting
life in heaven.
The generality of men, however, appear not, in the
early age of which we now write, to have extended their
views beyond the present life. From the confused re¬
mains of ancient tradition, they acknowledged indeed
some superior power or powers, to whom they frequently
applied for direction in their affairs ; but in all probabi¬
lity it was only for direction in temporal affairs, such as
the cultivation of the ground, or their transactions with
each other. In the then state of things, when no part
of the world was overstocked with inhabitants, and when
luxury with its consequences was everywhere unknown,
virtue and vice must have produced their natural effects j
and the good man being happy here, and the wicked
man miserable, reason had no data from which to infer
the reality of a future state of rewards and punishments.
Those who were blessed with the light of revelation un¬
doubtedly looked forward to that state with a holy joy j
but the rest worshipped superior powers from worldly
motives. How many of those powers there might be,
or how far their influence might reach, they knew not.
Uncertain whether there be one Supreme Governor of
the whole world, or many co-ordinate powers presiding
each over a particular country, climate, or place—gods
of the hills and of the valleys, as they were afterwards
distinguished—they thought that the more of these they
could engage in their interest the better. Like the Sa¬
maritans therefore, in after times, they sought, wherever
e land,”
ledge of
gracious-
Waelites ly pleased to interpose, and take effectual care to pre¬
ware made serve that knowledge in one nation, from which it might
ki Egypt11 he conveyed to the rest of mankind at different times,
1 ' and in greater or less degrees, as they should be capable
of receiving it. lo this purpose he made way for the
removal of Jacob and his family to one of the most im¬
proved and polished countries of the world j and intro¬
duced them into it in a manner so advantageous, as to
they came, the “ the manners of the god of th
*4* and served him, together with their own gods.
P^se for Ihus was the world ready to lose all know
which the ^,e tIue ^J'0^ ant^ his worship, had not he been 1
give them an opportunity of imparting much religious ii,eo|0R,
knowledge to the natives. The natives, however, were from the
gross idolaters 5 and that his chosen people might he as lal'of
far as possible from the contagion of their example, helj^tlam 19
placed them upon the borders of Egypt, where, though 0f Christ.5
they multiplied exceedingly, they were by their very 1 
occupation* still kept a separate people, and must have * Gm.ihi,
been rendered, by a long and severe oppression, in a 33>34-
great degree averse to the manners and religion of their
neighbours. This aversion, however, seems to have
gradually become less and less j and before they were
miraculously redeemed from their house of bondage,
they had certainly lost all correct notions of the unity of
God, and the nature of his worship, and had adopted
the greater part of the superstitions of their task-masters.
Of this we need no other proof than what is implied in
the words of Moses when he said unto God, “ Be-j Exoim.
hold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and say 143
unto them^the God of your fathers hatli sent me unto Consequea.
you; and they shall say unto me, What IS HIS name pcesofit
what shall I say unto them ?” Had not the destined
lawgiver of the Hebrews been aware that his country¬
men had adopted a plurality of gods, this difficulty
could not have occurred to him ; for names are never
thought of but to distinguish from each other beings of
the same kind ; and he must have remembered, that in
Egypt, where the multitude of goods was marshalled in¬
to various classes, the knowledge of their names was
deemed of great importance. This we learn likewise
from Herodotus, who informs us §, that the Pelasgi,^ jjb.iL
after settling in Greece, thought it necessary to consult cap. s*,
the oracle of Dodona, whether it would be proper to 53-
give to their own gods the names of the Egyptian di¬
vinities P and that the oracle, as might have been sup¬
posed, assured them that it would. Indeed the Hebrews
during their residence in Egypt had acquired such an
attachment to the idolatrous worship of the country,
that it appears never to have left them entirely till many
ages afterwards, when they were carried captive into
Babylon, and severely punished for their repe ated apo¬
stasies ; and so completely were they infatuated by tbese
superstitions at the era of their exodus, that, as the pro¬
phet Ezekiel informs us ||, they rebelled against GodjCh.**-
and would not cast away their abominations, or forsake
the idols of Egypt, even in the very day that the band
of Omnipotence was lifted up to bring them forth of
that land in which they had been so long and so cruelly
oppressed. In such a state of things, to have suffered
them to remain longer in Egypt, could have served no
good purpose ; and therefore to fulfil the promise which
he had given to Abraham, God determined to deliver
them out of the hands of the Egyptians by means which
should convince both them and their offspring of biii
own supremacy over heaven and earth. 144
As Moses was the person appointed to deliver God’s Moses af>
message to Pharaoh, and to demand of him leave for the^^
Israelites to go three days journey into the wilderness to^t,{j;.
serve the God of their fathers, it was necessary that begypt.
should be endowed with the power of working miracles
to evince the reality of his divine mission. Without a
conviction that his claims were well founded, neither
Pharaoh nor his own countrymen could reasonably have
been expected to listen to the proposals of a man who,
though blessed in his youth with a princely education,
bad come directly on his embassy from the humble em¬
ployment
II. THEOLOGY.
,gy ployment of a shepherd, which he had for many years
»e exercised in the country of Midian. To prove that he
wa-s really sent by God, any visible and undoubted con-
prietw
whic
wrou
tHe ^nbig- tr0l,l laws of nature would have been abundantly
ofCfisi ^ sufficient; but he was to prove not only this truth, but
1 t— 1 also the unity ot the Divine nature j and the miracles
I _ which he was directed to work were executions of judge*
f r.xtt. xu. mpnt against the very gods of Egypt t.
W hen Pharaoh first turned a deaf ear to his request,
though enforced by the conversion of a rod into a ser¬
pent, at the command of Jehovah he smote with the
same rod upon the waters in the river, which were in-
th ft 1c s*ant^ converted into blood, and occasioned the death
all ffic hshes that swam in them. To any people
this miracle would have been a proof of Divine agency :
but it was in a particular manner calculated to open the
eyes of the blind and infatuated Egyptians, who consi¬
dered the Nile as one of their greatest gods, and all the
fishes that it contained as subordinate divinities. They
called that noble river sometimes Sirius, sometimes Osi¬
ris, sometimes Canobus (see Canobus), and not unfre-
quently LlKixrrn (x) ; and adored it as the parent of
all their deities. What then must the people have
thought when they found their most revered god, at
the command of a servant of Jehovah, converted into
blood, and all his sacred offspring into stinking carcases ?
To conceive their consternation, if it can be conceived,
the reader must remember, that the Egyptian priests
held blood in the utmost abhorrence, as a thing of which
the very touch would deeply pollute them, and require
immediate and solemn expiation. The same sacred river
was a second time polluted, when it sent forth frogs,
which covered all the land of Egypt, and died in the
houses, in the villages, and in tbe fields; thus render¬
ing it impossible for the people to avoid the touch of
dead bodies, though from every such contact they be¬
lieved themselves to contract an impurity, which, in
the case before us, must have been the more grievous,
that in the whole country there was not left a pool of
uninfected water to wash away the stain.
14$! The third plague inflicted on the Egyptians was, the
to evidece converting of the dust of the land into lice, upon man
and upon beast, throughout the whole kingdom. To
see the propriety of this miracle as a judgment upon
their idolatry, we must recollect their utter abhorrence
of all kinds of vermin, and their extreme attention to
external purity above every other people perhaps that
has hitherto existed on the face of the earth. On this
head they were more particularly solicitous when about
to enter the temples of their gods ; for Herodotus in¬
forms us, that their priests wore linen raiment only, and
shaved off every hair from their heads and boelies, that
there might be no /ouse or other detestable object upon
them when performing their duty to the gods. This
plague therefore, while it lasted, made it impossible for
them to perform their idolatrous worship, without giv¬
ing shcIi offence to their deities as they imagined could
never be forgiven. Hence we find, that on the produc¬
tion of the lice, the priests and magicians perceived im¬
mediately from what hand the miracle bad come, and
exclaimed, “ This is the finger of God !” The fourth
th« varhy
of idol
"orsliip
plague seems to have been likewise acknowledged to be
the finger of God, if not by the magicians, at least by
Pharaoh ; for in a fit of terror he agreed that the Israel¬
ites should go and serve the Lord. That he was terrifi¬
ed at the swarms of flies which infested the whole coun¬
try, except the land of Goshen, will excite no wonder,
when it is known that the worship of the fly originated
in Egypt; whence it was carried by tbe Caphtorim to
Palestine ; by the Phoenicians to Sidon, Tyre, and
Pabylon ; and from these regions to other parts of the
world. The denunciation of this plague was delivered
to Pharaoh early in the morning, when he was on the
banks ot the Nile, probably paying his accustomed de¬
votion to bis greatest god ; and when he found himself
and his people tormented by a swarm of subordinate di¬
vinities, who executed the judgment of Jehovah in de¬
fiance of the power of the supreme mimen of Egypt, he
must have been convinced, had any candour remained
111 his mind, that the whole system of Ins superstition
was a mass of absurdities, and that his gods were only
humble instruments at the disposal of a Superior Power.
Hl was not, however, convinced ; lie was only alarm¬
ed, and quickly relapsed into his wonted obstinacy.
The filth plague therefore, the murrain among the cat¬
tle, brought death and destruction on his most revered
gods themselves. Neither CLiris, nor Isis, nor Ammon,
nor Pan, had power to save his brute representatives.
1 be sacred bull, and heifer, and ram, and goat, were
carried oil by the same malady which swept away all
the other herds of deities, these dii stercorci, who lived
on grass and hay. The impression of this punishment
must have been awful on the minds of the Egyptians,
but perhaps not equal to that which succeeded it.
in Egypt there were several altars on which human
sacrifices were offered; and from the description of the
persons qualified to be victims, it appears that those un¬
happy beings must have been foreigners, as they were
required to have bright hair and a particular com¬
plexion. The hair of the Israelites was much brighter
than that ot the Egyptians, and their complexions fair¬
er ; and therefore there can be little doubt but that,
during their residence in Egypt, they were made to fur¬
nish the victims demanded by the bloody gods’. These
victims being burnt alive on a high altar, and thus sa¬
crificed for the good of tbe nation, their ashes were ga¬
thered together by the priest, and scattered upwards in
the air, that a blessing might be entailed on every place
to which an atom of this dust should be wafted. Moses
too, by the direction of the true God, took ashes of the
furnace, probably of one of those very furnaces in
which some of his countrymen bad been burnt, and
sprinkling them towards heaven in tbe sight of Pharaoh,
brought boils and blains upon all the people, of so ma¬
lignant a nature, that the magicians and the other mi¬
nisters of the medical gods, with which Egypt abound¬
ed beyond all other countries, could not themselves
escape the infection.
The powers of darkness were thus foiled ; but the
heart of the monarch was still hardened. Destruction
was therefore next brought on him and his country by
the elements, which were among the earliest idol deities
not
367
Theology
from the
fall of
Adam to
the coming
of Christ.
1   J
li
f
(x) Whence came the Greek word wseaevo?, Me ocean.
368
Theology not only of the Egyptians, but of every other polytheis-
froiu the tic nation. “ The Lord rained hail on the land of
fall ot Egypt} so that there was hail, and fire mingled with
Adam to ^ |iaj| such as there was none like it in all the land
the coming ^ B # •
«t'Christ, of Egypt since it became a nation. Ami the hail smote
> v... mi throughout all the land of Egypt all that was in the
held, both man and beast} and the hail smote every
herb of the field, and broke every tree of the field.”
This was a dreadful calamity in itself} and the horror
•which it excited in the minds of the people must have
been greatly aggravated by the well-known fact, that
Egypt is blessed with a sky uncommonly serene} that
in the greatest part of it rain has never been seen at any
other time since the creation of the world } and that a
slight and transient shower is the utmost that in the or¬
dinary course of nature falls anywhere throughout the
country. The small quantity of vegetables which was
left undestroved by the fire and the hail was afterwards
devoured by locusts, which by a strong east wind were
brought in such numbers from Arabia, where they a-
bounded at all times, that they covered the whole face
of the earth, and did eat every herb of the land, and all
the fruit of the trees, so that there remained not any
green thing in the trees or in the herbs of the field
through all the land of Etrypt.
The ninth plague which the obstinacy of Pharaoh
brought upon his country, whilst it severely punished the
Egyptians for their crurlty to the Hebrews, struck at
the very foundation of all idolatry. We have elsewhere
shown, that the first objects of idolatrous worship were
the contending powers of light and darkness (see Poly¬
theism) ; and that the benevolent principle, or the
power of light, was everywhere believed to maintain a
constant superiority over the power of darkness. Such
was the faith of the ancient Persians } and such, as a
very learned writer has lately proved, was likewise the
faith of the earlier Egyptians. It was therefore with
wisdom truly divine, that God, to show the vanity of
their imaginations, brought upon these votaries ol light,
who fancied themselves the oilspring of the sun, a preter¬
natural darkness, which, for three days, all the powers
of their supreme deity, and his subordinate agents, could
not dispel.
The tenth and last plague brought on this idolatrous
people was more universally and severely felt than any
which had preceded it. It was likewise, in some sense,
an instance of the lex talionis, which requires an eye for
an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, &c. Moses was com¬
manded, at his first interview with Pharaoh, to say,
“ Thus saith the Lord, Israel is my son, even my first¬
born. Let my son go that he may serve me: and if
thou refuse to let him go, behold, I will slay thy son,
even thy first-born.” Before this threat was put in exe¬
cution, every attempt was made to soften the hardened
heart of the obstinate tyrant. The waters of his sacred
river were turned into blood, and all the fishes that it
Part II,
contained slain } frogs were brought over all the land to Theolo
pollute the people } the ministers of religion were ren- lYomthe
dered so impure by vermin, that they could not discharge fallef
their wonted offices } the animals most revered as gods, ^Adamto
or emblems of gods, were cut oft by a murrain } the ele-
ments, lhat were everywhere worshipped as divinities,
carried through the land a devastation, which was com¬
pleted by swarms of locusts } the ashes from the sacred
furnace, which were thought to convey blessings whi¬
thersoever they were wafted, were made to communicate
incurable disease } a thick and preternatural darkness
was spread over the kingdom, in defiance of the power
of the great Osiris } and when the hearts of the people
and their sovereign continued still obdurate, the eldest
son in each family was slain, because they refused to let
go Israel, God’s first-born. From this universal pesti¬
lence the Israelites were preserved by sprinkling the
door-posts of their houses with the blood of one of the
animals adored in Egypt} a fact which, as it could not
be unknown to Pharaoh or his subjects, ought to have
convinced that people of the extreme absurdity of their
impious superstitions. This effect it seems not to have
had } but the death of the first-born produced the de¬
liverance of the Hebrews } for when it was found that
there was not a house where there was not one dead,
“ Pharaoh called for Moses and Aaron by night, and
said, Rise up, and get you forth from among my people,
both you and the children of Israel } and bless me also.
And the Egyptians were urgent upon the people, that
they might send them out of the land in haste} for they
said, We be all dead men (y).” The wonted obstinacy
of the monarch indeed very soon returned } and his
subjects, forgetting the loss of their children, joined
with him in a vain attempt to bring back to bondage
the very people whom they had been thus urgent to
send out of the land; but their attempt was defeated by
Jehovah, and all who engaged in it drowned in the Red
sea.
The God of Israel having thus magnified himself over
the Egyptians and their gods, and rescued his people
from bondage by such means as must not only have
struck terror and astonishment into the whole land, but
also have spread his name through all the countries
which had any communication with that far-famed na¬
tion, proceeded to instruct and exercise the Hebrews for
many years in the wilderness. He inculcated upon them
the unity of the Godhead } gave them statutes andReasonof
judgments more righteous than those of any other na-detaining
tion ; and bv every method consistent with the freedom^16 sr!!e‘
or moral agency guarded them against the contagion 0tjnt]ie«i:.
idolatry and polytheism. He sent his angel be foredunes,,
them to keep them in the way, took upon himself the
office of their supreme civil governor, and by his pre¬
sence directed them in all their undertakings. He led
them with repeated signs and wonders through the
neighbouring nations, continued to try and discipline
them
THEOLOGY.
(y) For this account of the plagues of Egypt, we are indebted to the very valuable Observations ox\ the subject
published by Mr Bryant. We have not quoted the authorities by which the learned and pious author supports hi*
opinions ; because it is to be hoped, that for a fuller account of these important transactions the reader will have
recourse to his work, of which we have given only a very brief abstract. For much of the preceding parts of this
section, we acknowledge our obligations to Bishop Law’s admirable discourse on the Several Dispensations of
Revealed Religion.
n. T H E o
ogy them till they were tolerably attached to his govern-
t-be ment and established in his worship, and introduced
®ftfacthem into the Promised I^and when its inhabitants were
H 0|- rij>e for destruction. At their entrance into it, he gave
1st them a summary repetition of their former l*ws, with
more such ordinances, both of a ceremonial and Inoral
kind, as were both Suited to their temper and circnm-
stances, as well as to prefigure, and by degrees to pre¬
pare them for, a more perfect dispensation under the
. Messiah.
F^the t"’0 great objects in view ; of
jaw>winch the first was to preserve among them the know¬
ledge of the true God, a rational worship springing
from that knowledge, and the regular practice of moral
virtue : and the second was to fit them for receiving the
accomplishment of the great promise made to their an¬
cestors, by means analogous to those which a school¬
master employs to fit his pupils for discharging the duties
of maturer years. Every thing in that law peculiar to
itself, its various ceremonies, modes of sacrificing, the
sanctions by which it was enforced, and the theocratic
government by which it was administered, had a direct
tendency to promote one or other, of these ends ; and
keeping these ends in view, even the minutest laws, at
which impious ignorance has aft’ected to make itself
merry, will he discovered by those who shall study the
whole system, and are at the same time acquainted with
the genius of ancient polytheism, to have been enacted
with the most consummate wisdom.
It is not easy for us, who have been long blessed with
the light of revelation, to conceive the propensity of all
nations, in that early age of the world, to the worship
of false gods, of which they were daily adding to the
number. It is indeed probable, from many passages of
Scripture, as well as from profane authors of the great¬
est antiquity, that one supreme nttmen was everywhere
acknowledged : but he was considered as an extramun-
dane being, too highly exalted to concern himself with
the affairs of this world, the government of which, it
was believed, be had delegated to various orders of sub¬
ordinate deities. Of those deities, some were supposed
to have the charge of one nation and some of another.
Hence it is, that we read of the gods of Egypt, the
gods of the Amorites, and the gods of the different na¬
tions around Palestine. None of those nations denied
the existence of their neighbour’s gods ; hut all agreed,
that while the Egyptians were the peculiar care of Osi¬
ris and Isis, the Amorites might he the favourites of
Moloch, the Phoenicians of Cronus, and the Philistines
of Dagon } and they had no objection occasionally to
join with each other in the worship of their respective
tutelary deities. Nay, it was thought impiety in
foreigners, while they sojourned in a strange country,
not to sacrifice to the gods of the place. Thus Sopho¬
cles makes Antigone say to her father, that a stranger
should both venerate and abhor those things which are
L O G Y, 369
venerated and abhorred in the city where he resides $ Theology
and another author*, who, though comparatively late, from the
drew much of his information from ancient writings
which are now lost, assures us, that this complaisance commi, of
proceeded from the belief that the “ several parts of Christ,
the world were from the beginning distributed to several ' » v— >
powers, of which each had his peculiar allotment and *
residence.” aPud Alt*‘
From this notion of local divinities, whose powey or
partial fondness was confined to one people, the Israelites,
on their departure from Egypt, appear not to have been
free (z). Hence it is, that when the true God first
tells them, by their leader Moses-f, that if they would
obey his voice indeed and keep his covenant, then theyxu’
should be a peculiar treasure to him above all
people: to prevent them from supposing that he shared
the earth with the idols of the heathen, and had from
partial fondness chosen them for his portion, he immedi- i49
ately adds, for all the earth is mine. By this ad- Purpos# of*
dition he gave them plainly to understand that they ,cPa'
were chosen to be his peculiar treasure for some purpose ^1,^° **Qin
of general importance j and the very first article of thepie> *
covenant which they were to keep was, that they should
have no other gods hut him. So inveterate, howrever,
was the principle which led to an intercommunity of
the objects of worship, that they could not have kept
this article of the covenant but in a state of separation
from the rest of mankind !£ ; and that separation could j j gam.
neither have been effected nor continued without thexxvi. 19.
visible providence of the Almighty watching over them
as his peculiar treasure. This we learn from Moses
himself, who, when interceding for the people after
their idolatrous worship of the golden calf, and intreat-
ing that the presence of God would still accompany
them, adds these •words § : “For wherein shall it bejExod.
known here that 1 and thy people have found grace inxxxiil> I^-
thy sight ? Is it not in that thou gOest with us ? So
shall we be separated, I and thy people, from all the
people that are on the face of the earth.” On this se¬
paration every thing depended j and therefore to render
it the more-secure, Jehovah was graciously pleased to
become likewise their supreme Magistrate, making them
a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation,” and deliver¬
ing to them a digest as well of their civil as of their re¬
ligious laws. ,^3
The Almighty thus becoming their King, the govern-Of their
ment of the Israelites was properly a theocracy, in theocratic
which the two societies, civil and religious, were of^J^”1'
course incorporated. They had indeed after their settle¬
ment in the Promised Land, at first, temporary judges
occasionally raised up 5 and afterwards permanent ma¬
gistrates called kings, to lead their armies in war, and
to give vigour to the administration of justice in peace :
but neither those judges nor those kings could abrogate
a single law of the original code, or make the smallest
addition to it but by the spirit of prophecy. They can¬
not
(z) It is not indeed evident that they had got entirely quit of this absurd opinion at a much later period. Jeph-
tha one of their judges, who, though half paganized (as AVarburton observes) by a bad education, had probably as
correct notions of religion as an ordinary Israelite, certainly talked to the king of Ammon as it’ he had believed
tlie different nations of the earth to be under the immediate protection of different deities : “ Wilt not thou (says
he) possess that which Chemosh thy GOD giveth thee to possess ! So whomsoever the Lord our God shall drive
out from before us, them will we possess.” (Judges tfi. 24 ).
Vol. XX. Part I. f
3 A
37°
Theology not therefore he considered as supreme magistrates, by
from the whatever title they may have been known •, tor they
ot^ were (0 g0 out and come in at the word of the priests,
the coming w^° were to as^ counsel for them of the Lord, and with
of Christ, whom they were even associated in all judicial proceed-
» .—v... _i ings, as well of a civil as of a spiritual nature *. Under
* Num. aily 0t|,er than a theocratic government, the Hebrews
and^Deu't cou^^ not l*ave been kept separate from the nations
xvii^ j- around them j or if they could, that separation would
not have answered the great purpose for which it was
established. “ The people, on their leaving Kirypt,
were sunk into the lowest practices of idolatry. To re¬
cover them by the discipline of a separation, it was ne¬
cessary that the idea of God and his attributes should be
impressed upon them in the most sensible manner. But
this could not he commodiously done under his charac¬
ter of God of the universe: under his character of King
of Israel, it well might. Hence it is, that we find him
in the Old Testament so frequently represented with
affections analogous to human passions. The civil rela¬
tion in which he stood to the Israelites made such a re¬
presentation natural ; the grossness of their conceptions
made the representation necessary j and the guarded
manner in which it was alwa\s qualified prevented it
+ JVarbur- f|0ni being mischievous+.” Hence too it is, that un-
jLr * hook ^J0Sliic tl>sPt'nsat'on» idolatry was a crime of
v sect ’ state, punishable by the civil magistrate. It was indeed
high treason, against which law's were enacted on the
justest principles, and carried into effect without danger
of error. Nothing less indeed than penal laws of the
severest kind could have restrained the violent propen¬
sity of that headstrong people to worship, together with
their own God, the gods of the Heathen. But penal
laws enacted by human authority for errors in religion
are manifestly unjust", and thereforea theocratic govern¬
ment seems to have been absolutely necessary to obtain
the end for which the Israelites w’ere separated from the
j,, surrounding nations.
and of ihe It was for the same purpose that the ritual law was
aituul Jaw, given, after their presumptuous rebellions in the wilder¬
ness. Before the business of the golden calf, and their
frequent attempts to return into Kgypt, it seems not to
have been the Divine intention to lay on them a yoke
of ordinances j hut to make his coveuant depend en¬
tirely on their duly practising the rite of circumcision ;
observing the festivals instituted iu commemoration of
their deliverance from bondage, and other signal services
vouchsafed them} and keeping inviolate all the precepts
of the decalogue (a), which, if they had done, they
t Divine should have even lived in them J. But after their re-
Leg. book peated apostasies, and impious wishes to mix with the
iv. ktet. 6. su,.rount|jng nations, it was necessary to subject them
to a multifarious ritual, of which the ceremonial parts
were solemn and splendid, fitted to engage and fix the
attention of a people whose hearts were gross j to in¬
spire them with reverence, and to withdraw their :ffec-
tions from the pageantry of those idle superstitions
which they had so long witnessed in the land of Egypt.
Part II.
To keep them warmly attached to their public worship, Throlofj
that worship was loaded with operose and magnificent from the
rites, and so completely incorporated with their civil foil of
polity as to make the same things at once duties of re-^^®!0
ligion and acts of state. The service of God was indeed 0t
so ordered as to he the constant business as well as enter- —
tainment of their lives, supplying the place of all other
entertainments ; and the sacrifices which they were
commanded to offer on the most solemn occasions, were
of such animals as the Egyptians and other Heathens
deemed sacred.
Thus a heifer without blemish was in Egypt held sa-instaued
cred to the goddess Isis, and worshipped as the repre-Sl'-
sentative of that divinity } but the same kind of heifer CU m’
was by the ritual law of the Hebrews commanded to be
burnt without the camp, as the vilest animal, and the
water of separation to be prepared from her ashes *. * Nwn.xtt
The goat was by the Egyptians held in great venera¬
tion as emblematical of their ancient god Pan, and sa¬
crifices of the most abominable kind were offered to the
impure animal (see Pan) } but God, by his servant
Moses, enjoined the Israelites to ofier goats themselves
as sacrifices for sin, and on one occasion to dismiss the
live animal loaded with maledictions into the wilder¬
ness f. 'The Egyptians, with singular zeal, worship-fLcvit. x*i
ped a calf without blemish as the symbol of Apis, or
the god of fertility} and it appears from the book of
Exodus, that the Israelites themselves had been infected
with that superstition. They were, however, so far
from being permitted by their Divine lawgiver to con¬
sider that animal as sacred, that their priests were com¬
manded to ofler for themselves a young calf as a sin-of¬
fering J. No animal was in Egypt held in greater ve-t Levit is.
neration than the ram, the symbol of their god Ammon,
one of the constellations. It was therefore with wisdom
truly divine, that Jehovah, at the institution of the pas-
sover, ordered his people to kill and eat a young ram
on the very day that the Egyptians began their annual
solemnities § in honour of that animal as one of their I
greatest gods; and that he enjoined the blood of this di- ^
vinity to he sprinkled as a sign on the two side-posts and
upper door-post of the house in which he was eaten.fgp,jy.
Surely it is not in the power of imagination to conceive
a ritual better calculated to cure the Israelites of their
propensity to idol worship, or to keep them separate
from the people who had first given them that propen¬
sity, than one which enjoined them to ofler in sacrifice
the very creatures which their superstitious masters had
worshipped as gods. “ Shall we (said Moses) sacrifice
the abominations of the Egyptians before their eyes, and
will they not stone us ?”
But it was not against Egyptian idolatry only that
the ritual law was framed : the nations of Syria, in the
midst of whom the Israelites were to dwell, were addict¬
ed to many cruel and absurd superstitions, against which
it was as necessary to guard the people of God as against
the brute-worship of Egypt. We need not inform any
reader of the book of Moses that those nations worship¬
ped
THEOLOGY.
(a) Of these precepts we think it not necessary, in an abstract so short as this, to waste the reader’s time with
a iormal and laboured defence. To the decalogue no objection can be made by any man who admits the obliga¬
tions oi natural religion; for, except the observation of the Sabbath-day, it enjoins not a single duty which does-
»ot by the confession of all men result from our relations to God, ourselves, and our fellow-creatures.
J
Pm II.
Th»Io<iy pe<l the sun and moon and all the host of heaven j or
fnw tl<e that It was part of their religion to propitiate their of-
u oi fended gods by occasionally sacrificing their sons and
thelming t^e'r daughters. From such worship and sacrifices the
oflrist. Israelites were prohibited under the severest penalties;
1 but we cannot consider that prohibition as making part
of the ritual law, since it relates to practices impious
and immoral in themselves, and therefore declared to be
abominations to the Lord. The Phoenicians, however,
and the Canaanites, entertained an opinion that every
child came into the world with a polluted nature^ and
that this pollution could be removed only bv a lustral
fire. Hence they took their new-born infants, and with
particular ceremonies made them pass through the flame
THEOLOGY. 371
Thou shall not wear a garment of divers sorts, or of Tlieology
woollen and linen together 1.” Put his wonder will from the
cease when he knows that all these were practices from
which the Sabian idolaters of the east expecteil the ,iA<*a,n •to
greatest advantages. Iheir belief in magic and judicial 0f Christ,
astrology led them to imagine, that by sowing diflerent
M
and l the
fewtfe-
lib. if
cap.
t pik
xvii.tx. xii
*9- If
Levilicx.
2,
f E*r xiii.
19. xniv.
26. flu.
xtv.jL
£DC(S1 ST m-
eatif and a P1'6 sacred to Paal or Moloch, the symbols of their
drinlig, great god the sun. Sometimes this purgation was de-
andtri- layed till the children had arrived at their tenth or
CH,tT twelfth year, when they were made either to leap
through the flame, or run several times backwards and
forwards between two contiguous sacred fires ; and this
lustration was supposed to free them from every natural
pollution, and to make them through life the peculiar
* Spacer, care of the deity in whose honour it was performed *.
The true God, however, who would have no fellowship
with idols, forbade all such purgations among his peo¬
ple, whether done by fires consecrated to himsejf or to
the bloody deities of the Syrian nations. “ There
shall not be found (says he) among you any one that
maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the
fire f
There are, in the Jewish law, few precepts more fre¬
quently repeated than that which prohibits the seething
of a kid in his mother’s milk J ; and there being no mo¬
ral fitness in this precept when considered absolutely and
without regard to the circumstances under which it was
given, infidel ignorance has frequently thought fit to
make it the subject of profane ridicule. Put the ridi¬
cule will be forborne by those who know that, among
the nations round Judea, the feasting on a kid boiled in
its mother’s milk was an essential part of the impious
and magical ceremonies celebrated in honour of one of
their gods, who was supposed to have been suckled by a
she-goat. Hence, in the Samaritan Pentateuch, the text
runs thus: “ Thou shall not seeth a kid in its mother’s
milk ; for whoever does so, is as one who sacrifices an
abominable thing, which offends the God of Jacob
Another precept, apparently of very little importance,
is given in these words : “ Ye shall not round the cor¬
ners of your heads, neither shall thou mar the corners
of thy beard ||.” Put its wisdom is seen at once, when
we know that at funerals it was the practice of many of
the heathens, in that early period, to round the corners
of their heads, and mar their beards, that bv throwing
the hairs they had cut off’ on the dead body, or the fu¬
neral pile, they might propitiate the shade of the de¬
parted hero ; and that in other nations, particularly in
Phoenicia, it was customary to cut off’ all the hair of
their heads except what grew on the crown, which,
with great solemnity, was consecrated either to the sun
' “fyitcr, or to Saturn *. The unlearned Christian, if he be a
|J "• man of reflection, must read with some degree of won-
* ‘ der such laws as these : “ Thou shalt not sow thy vine¬
yard with divers seeds, lest the fruit of thy seed which
thou hast sown and the fruits of thy vineyard he defiled.
Thou shalt not plough with an ox and an ass together.
$ Sme
lib. |L
caP-i;
-TLH
xix.
kinds ot corn among their vines they should propitiatef P1'01,
the gods which were afterwards known in Rome by the **"■ 9’ Ia*
names of Pacchus and Ceres; that, bv yoking animals
so heterogeneous as the ox and the ass in the same
plough, they should by a charm secure the favour of the
deities who presided over the affairs of husbandry ; and
that a garment composed of linen and woollen, worn
under certain conjunctions of the stars, would protect its
owner, his flocks, his herds, and his field, from all ma¬
lign influences, and render him in the highest degree
prosperous through the whole course of liis life J’ut|.^f"m‘*
magical ceremonies were always performed in order to^J,11^
render propitious good or evil demons (see Magic) ; y, 33,’
and therefore such ceremonies, however unimportant in
themselves, were in that age most wisely prohibited in
the Mosaic law, as they naturally led those who were
addicted to them to the worship of idols and impure spi¬
rits.
If the whole ritual of the Jewish economy be exa¬
mined in this manner, every precept in it will be found
to be directed against some idolatrous practice of the
age in which it was given. It was therefore admirably
calculated to keep the Israelite* a separate people, and
to prevent too close an intercourse between them and
their Gentile neighbours. The distinction made by
their law between clean and unclean animals (see SLA¬
VERY, N° 33.) rendered it impossible for them, with¬
out a breach of that law, to eat and drink with their
idolatrous neighbours ; their sacred and civil ceremonies
being directly levelled against the Egyptian, Zabian,
and Canaanitish superstitions, had a tendency to gene¬
rate in their minds a contempt of those superstitions;
and that contempt must have been greatly increased by
their yearly, monthly, and daily sacrifices, of the very
animals which their Egyptian masters had worshipped
as gods. . r <4
That these laws might have the fuller effect on minds The Mo-
gross and carnal, they were all enforced by temporal sn>c laws
sanctions. Hence it is that Moses assured them that
they would hearken to God’s judgments, and keep
them, and do them, they should be blessed above alltions.
people; threatening them at the same time with utter
destruction if they should at all walk after other gods,
and serve them, and worship them §. Nor were these5 Rcut.
temporal rewards and punishments held out only to thepattin*-
nation as a collective body; they were promised and
threatened to every individual in his private capacity as
the certain consequences of his obedience or disobedi¬
ence. Every particular Hebrew was commanded to
honour his father and mother, that it might go well
with him, and that his days might he prolonged ; whilst
he who cursed his father or his mother was surely to be
put to death. Against every idolater, and even against
the wilful transgressor of the ceremonial law, God re¬
peatedly declared that he would set his face, and would
cut off’ that man from among his people : and that indi¬
viduals, as well as the nation, were in this life actually,, ^ ^
rewarded and punished according to their deserts, hasv
been proved by Pishop Warbnrton (]. Indeed tbe Mo-^ct. 4.
3 A 2 «aie
r
S72
T H E O
'Ihcolojry Sa'c Iaw» *n >t9 liictal sense, holds out no other
from the prospects to the Israelites than temporal happiness; such
^lall of a9 health, long life, peace, plenty, and dominion, if
tlie comin°-^ey 8^ou^ keep the covenant; and temporal misery,
of (i.rst v'’z< diseases, immature death, war, famine, want, sub-
v—V——'jectinn, and captivity, if they should break.it. “See
(says Mores), I have set before thee this day life and
good, death and evil ; in that 1 command thee this day
to love the Lord thy God, to walk in his ways, and to
keep his commandments, and his statutes, and his judge¬
ments, that thou mayest live and multiply; and the
Lord thy God shall bless thee in the land whither thou
gotst to possess it. But if thine heart turn away, so
that thou wilt not hear, but shalt be drawn away, and
worship other gods, and serve them; I denounce unto
you this day, that ye shall surely perish, and that ye
shall not prolong your days upon the land whither thou
passe t over Jordan to possess it.” And elsewhere, ha¬
ving informed them that, upon their apostasy, their
land should he rendered like Sodom and Gomorrah, he
adds, that all men should know the reason of such bar¬
renness being brought upon it, and should say, “ Be¬
cause they have forsaken the covenant of the Lord God
* Deut. of their fathers, which he made with them when he
x*x. brought them forth out of the land of Egypt, the anger
19. xx.ux. oj. t|ie jj0r(] was kindle agttinst this land, to bring up-
x,. on it all the curses that are written in this hook*.”
Whence it From this fact, which scarcely any man of letters will
has been venture to deny, some divines have concluded, that the
Uni 1 (t'u anc‘en* Israelites had no hope whatever beyond the
the ancient 8rave > ani^ ^,at 'n the whole Old Testament there is
Hebrews not a single intimation of a future state. That many of
had no the lower classes, who could neither read nor write,
'ond the were *n ^,*9 state of darkness, may be true ; but it is
or.lV(. impossible that those who understood the book of Ge¬
nesis f-o ild be ignorant that death came into the world
by the transgression of their first parents, and that God
had repeatedly promised to redeem mankind from every
consequence of that transgression. They must likewise
have known that, before the deluge, Enoch was trans¬
lated into heaven without tasting death ; that after¬
wards Elijah had the same exemption from the common
lot of humanity ; and that, as God is no respecter of
persons, every one who served him with the zeal and
fidelity of these two prophets would, by some means or
other, be made capable of enjoying the same rewards.
The Ged of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, was not the
God of the dead, but of the living.
In the earliest periods of their commonwealth, the
Israelites could, indeed, only infer, from difi’erent passa¬
ges of their sacred books, that there would be a general
resurrection of the dead, and a future state of rewards
and punishments; but from the writings of the prophets
it appears, that before the Babylonish captivity that
doctrine must have been very generally received. In
the Psalms, and in the prophecies of Isaiah, Daniel,
and Ezekiel, there are several texts which seem to us
to prove incontrovertibly, that, at the time when these
inspired hooks were written, every Israelite who could
read the scriptures must have had some hopes of a resur¬
rection from the dead. We shall consider two of these
texts, because they have been quoted by a very learned
and valuable writer in support of an opinion the reverse
of ours.
In a sublime song, composed with a view to incite
Part If,
in God, the prophet Isaiah has Theology
; “ Thy dead men shall live; from the
fcruve.
LOG Y.
the people to confidence
these remarkable words ; “ Thy
together with my dead body shall they arise. Awake fa'l 01
and sing, ye that dwell in the dust; for thy dew is as^^’V®
the dew of herbs, and the mirth shall cast out the 0f ChnsL
dead We agree with Bishop Warburton that these ■ ■ ^
words are figurative, and that they were uttered to give
the Israelites consolation in very disastrous times. The °P’*
purpose of the prophet was to assure them, that though |utt(i
their community should, in Babylon, be as completely * chap,
dissolved as a dead body reduced to dust, yet God would***1 19.
restore them to their own land, and raise that commu¬
nity again to life. This was indeed a prophecy only of
a temporal deliverance ; but as it is expressed in terms
relating to the death and resurrection of man, the doc¬
trine of a resurrection must then have been well known,
and generally received, or such language would have
been altogether unintelligible.
The prophet Ezekiel, when the state of things was
most desperate, is carried by the Spirit into a valley full
ot dry hones, and asked this question ; “ Son of man,
can these bones live?” To which he answers: “O
Lord God, though knowest fHe was not asked if all f Chap,
the dead would rise at the last day ; hut only if the par-XXIva- 3*
ticular bones then presented to him could live at that
tttne, and while other bones were mouldering in cor¬
ruption : and to such a question we cannot conceive any
answer that a man brought up in the belief of a general
resurrection could have given, but—“ O Lord God,
thou knowwst.” Had Ezekiel been a stranger to the
doctrine of a general resurrection, or had he not be¬
lieved that doctrine, he would doubtless have answered
the question that was put to him in the negative ; but
convinced that all men are at some period to rise from
the dead, “ that every one may receive the things done
in his body, according to that he hath done, whether
it he good or bad,” he very naturally said, that God
alone knew whether the bones then exhibited to him
in the valley would rise before the general resurrec¬
tion. i--
But though the more intelligent and righteous Israel-The hope
ites certainly “ all died in faith, and not having re*
ceived the promises, but having seen them afar however,
were persuaded of them and embraced them, confessing not from
that they were strangers and pilgrims on earth, who de-their own
sired a better country, that is, a heavenly one wela^’e^^
are not to suppose that this heavenly desire arose from ,
any thing taught in the law of Moses. That law, when
taken by itself, as unconnected with prior and subse¬
quent revelations, makes no mention whatever of a hea¬
venly inheritance, which St Paul assures us § was given $ Gal. m
420 years before to Abraham by a premise which may11* ^
be traced back to the first ray of comfort vouchsafed to
fallen man in the sentence passed on the original de¬
ceiver. “ Wherefore then served the law ? It was add¬
ed (says the apostle), because of transgressions, till the
seed should come to whom the promise was made.”
The transgressions here alluded to were polytheism and
idolatry, which, with a train of cruel and detestable
vices, Jtad overspread the whole world ; and the pri¬
mary attention of the law was to stem the torrent ot
these corruptions, for which we have seen it was admi¬
rably calculated; and, like a schoolmaster, to instruct
the Israelites in the unity and worship of Jehovah, and
thus by degrees bring them to Christ.
But
Part II.
Tht^y
from, be
frJIif
Ail&lto
the cAin»
of Ch.-1.
THEOLOGY.
Bat though it ia apparent that a future state of re¬
wards and punishments made no part of the Mosaic dis¬
pensation, yet the law had certainly a spiritual meaning
to be understood when the fulness of time should como.
Every Christian sees a striking resemblance between the
sacrifice of the paschal lamb, which delivered the Is¬
raelites from the destroying angel in Egypt, and the
sacrifice of the Lamb of God, which taketh away the
sin of the world. Indeed the whole ritual of sacrifice
must have led the more intelligent of them to faith in a
future sacrifice j by which, while the heel of the seed of
the woman should be bruised, the head of the serpent
should be completely crushed (see Sacrifice) j and as
prophets were raised up from time to time, to prepare
them for the coming of the Messiah, and to foretel the
nature of his kingdom, there can he no doubt but that
those inspired teachers would lay open to them, as far
as was expedient, the temporary duration of the Mosaic
law, and convince them that it was only the shadow of
better things to come. From the nature of their ritual,
and the different prophecies vouchsafed them, which
became more and more explicit as the time approached
for their accomplishment, they must surely have been
led to expect redemption from the curse of the fall by
the sufferings of their Messiah ; but that any one of
them knew precisely the manner in which they were to
be redeemed, and the nature of that religion which was
to supersede their own, is wholly incredible. Such
knowledge would have made them impatient under the
yoke of ordinances to which they were subjected •, for
after the Christian faith came into full splendour, man¬
kind could be no longer under the tuition of such a
schoolmaster as the law, which “ had only a shadow of
good things •, and so far from their reality, not even the
very image of them*.” Through these shadows, how¬
ever, the Jews, aided by the clearer light of prophecy,
though it too shone in a dark place, might have seen
enough of God's plan of redemption to make them ac¬
knowledge Jesus of Nazareth, when he came among
them working miracles of mercy, for the Messiah so
long promised to their forefathers, and in whom it was
repeatedly said, that all the nations of the earth should
be blessed.
While such care was taken to prepare the descendants
of Abraham for the coming of the Prince of Peace, we
must not suppose that God was a respecter of persons,
and that the rest of the .world was totally neglected.
The dispersion of the ten tribes certainly contributed to
spread the knowledge of the true God among the east¬
ern nations. The subsequent captivity of the tribes of
Judah and Benjamin must have confirmed that know¬
ledge in the great empires of Babylon and Persia ; and
that particular providence of God which afterwards led
Ptolemy Philadelphus to have the Jewish scriptures
translated into the Greek language, laid the divine ora¬
cles open to the study of every accomplished scholar.
At last, when the arms of Home had conquered the ci¬
vilized world, and rendered Judea a province of the
empire; when Augustus had given peace to that em-
373
pire, and men were at leisure to cultivate the arts and Thedogy
sciences ; when the different sects of philosophers had from the
by their disputations whetted each others understandings,
so that none of them was disposed to sab mi l to an im-^ ^onijn„
posture; and when the police of the Homan govern- ofchrut/'
merit was such that intelligence of every thing import- —y-—^
ant was quickly transmitted from the most distant pro¬
vinces to the capital of the empire ; “when that fulness
of time was come, God sent forth his Son made of a
woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were
under the law, that we might receive the adoption of
sons,” and be restored to that inheritance of which the
forfeiture introduced the several dispensations of reveal¬
ed religion into the world.
Sect. V. View of Theology more peculiarly Christian.
Mankind being trained by various dispensations of
providence for the reception of Jesus Christ, and the
time fixed by the prophets for his coming being arrived,
“ a messenger was sent before his face to prepare his
way before him by preaching the baptism of repentance
for the remission of sins.” This messenger was John
the Baptist, a very extraordinary man, and the greatest
of all the prophets. His birth was miraculous, the
scene of his ministry the wilderness, his manners austere,
and his preaching upright, without respect of persons*
lie frankly told his audience that he was not the Mes¬
siah, that the Messiah would soon appear among them,
that “ he was mightier than himself, and that he would
baptize them with the Holy Ghost and with fire.” i$0
Mightier indeed he was; for though born of a wo-dwbt tlie
man the Messiah was not the son of a human father; ^lvinc.
and though living for the first thirty years of his life *n
obscurity and poverty, he was the lineal descendant of
David, and heir to the throne of Israel. But the dig¬
nity of his human descent, great as it was, vanishes
from consideration when compared with the glory which
he had with his Father before the world was. The
Jewish dispensation was given by the ministry of Moses,
and illustrated by subsequent revelations vouchsafed to
the prophets; the immediate author of the Christian re¬
ligion is the or the second person of the blessed
Trinity, of whom St John declares, that “ he was in
the beginning with God, and was God ; that all things
were made by him ; and that without him was not any
thing made that was made.” We have already proved
that in the one Godhead there is a Trinity of persons ;
and that the Aey«$ is one of the three, is apparent from
these words of the apostle, and from many other passa¬
ges of sacred scripture. Thus he is called the Lord of
hosts himself; the frst and the last, besides whom there
is no God; the most high God; God blessed for ever}
the mighty God, the everlasting Father, Jehovah our
righteousness ; and the only wise God our Saviour (b).
This great Being, as the same apostle assures us, was
made flesh, and dwelt among men ; not that the divine
nature was or could be changed into humanity, for God
is immutable, the same almighty and incomprehensible
Spirit,
(b) Isaiah viii. 13, 14. compared with 1 Peter ii. 7, 8.; Isaiah vi. 5. compared with John xii. 41. ; Isaiah xliv.
6. compared with Revelation xxii. 13.; Psalm Ixxviii. j6. compared with I Corinthians x. 9. Homans ix. 5. Isaiah
ix. 6. Jeremiah xxiii. 6. Jude.
374
Theology
mere pecu¬
liarly Chri-
ktian.
161
Objections
to the in¬
carnation
of the
Word.
162
v Obviated.
-* Eph. i.
10. Col. i.
lip, 2C.
Col. ii.
t Heb. i. 3
T H E O
Spirit yesterday, to-day, and for ever but the Word or
second person in the godhead, assuming a human soul
and body into a personal union with himself, dwelt up¬
on earth as a man, veiling his divinity under mortal
flesh. Hence he is said elsewhere to have been “mani¬
fested in the flesh,” and “ to have taken upon him the
nature of man j” phrases of the same import with that
which asserts “ the Word to have been made flesh.”
This incarnation of the Son of God is perhaps the
greatest mystery of the Christian faith, and that to
which ancient and modern heretics have urged the most
plausible objections. The doctrine of the Trinity is in¬
deed equally incomprehensible j but the nature of God
and the mode of his subsistence, as revealed in scripture,
no man, who thinks, can be surprised that he does not
comprehend ; for a revelation which should teach
nothing mysterious on such a subject would be as incre¬
dible and as useless as another which contained nothing
but mystery. The difficulty respecting the incarnation,
which forces itself on the mind, is not how two natures
so difi'erent as the divine and human can be so intimately
united as to become one person j for this union in itself
is not more inconceivable than that of the soul and body
in one man ; but that which at first is apt to stagger the
faith of the reflecting Christian is the infinite distance
between the two natures in Christ, and the compara¬
tively small importance of the object, for the attainment
of which the eternal Son of God is said to have taken
on him our nature.
Upon mature reflection, however, much of this diffi¬
culty will vanish to him who considers the ways of Pro¬
vidence, and attends to the meaning of the words in
which this mystery is taught. The importance of the
object for which the Word condescended to be made
flesh, we cannot adequately know. The oracles of truth
indeed inform us, that Christ Jesus came into the world
to save sinners j but there are passages scattered through
the New Testament * which indicate, not obscurely,
that the influence of his suflerings extends to other
worlds besides this: and if so, who can take on him to
say, that the quantity of good which they may have
produced was not of sufficient importance to move even
to this condescension a Being who is emphatically styled
.LOVE ?
But let us suppose that every thing which lie did and
taught and suflered was intended only for the benefit of
man, we shall, in the daily administration of providence,
find other instances of the divine condescension ; which,
though they cannot be compared with the incarnation
of the second person in the blessed Trinity, are yet suf¬
ficient to reconcile our understandings to that mystery
when revealed to us by the Spirit of God. That in
Christ there should have dwelt on earth “ all the fulness
of the Godhead bodily f,” is indeed a truth by which
the devout mind is overwhelmed with astonishment;
but it is little less astonishing that the omnipotent Crea¬
tor should be intimately present at every instant of time
to the meanest of bis creatures, “ upholding all things,
the vilest reptile as well as the most glorious angel, by
. the word of his power J.” Yet it is a truth self-evident,
that without this constant presence of the Creator, no¬
thing which had a beginning could continue one mo¬
ment in beingj that the visible universe would not only
crumble into chaos, but vanish into nothing ; and that,
the souls of men, and even the most exalted spirits of
LOGY. Part II.
creation, would instantly lose that existence, which, as Theology
it was not of itself, and is not necessary, must depend more pect.
wholly on the will of Him from whom it was originally h»dj Chri.
derived. See METAPHYSICS, N° 272—276, and Pro- , st*ai1,
VIDENCE, N° 3.
In what particular way God is present to his works,
we cannot know. He is not diffused through the uni¬
verse like the anima mundioi the ancient Platonists, or
that modern idol termed the substratum of space (Me¬
taphysics, N° 309, 310) : but that he is in power as
intimately present now to every atom of matter as when
he first brought it into existence, is equally the dictate
of sound philosophy and of divine revelation j for “ in
him we live and move and have our being j” and power
without substance is inconceivable. If then the divine
nature be not debased, if it cannot be debased by being
constantly present with the vilest reptile on which we
tread, why should our minds recoil from the idea of a
still closer union between the second person of the ever
blessed Trinity and the body and soul of Jesus Christ ?
The one union is indeed diflerent from the other, but
we are in truth equally ignorant of the nature of both.
Keason and revelation assure us that God must be pre¬
sent to his works to preserve them in existence j and re¬
velation informs us farther, that one of the persons in
the Godhead assumed human nature into a personal union
with himself, to redeem myriads of rational creatures
from the miserable consequences of their own folly and
wickedness. The importance of this object is such, that,
for the attainment of it, we may easily conceive that he
who condescends to be potentially present with the
worms of the earth and the grass of the field, would
condescend still farther to be personally present with the
spotless soul and body of a man. Jesus Christ lived in¬
deed a life of poverty and suffering upon earth, but his
divine nature was not affected by his sufferings. At the
very time when, as a man, he had not a place where to
lay his head5 as God, he was in heaven as well as upon
earth *, dwelling in light inaccessible *, and while, as a * Johniii
man, he was increasing in wisdom and stature, his divi-ij-
nity was the fulness of him who filleth all in all, and
from whom nothing can he hid.
Perhaps the very improper appellation of mother of
God, which at an early period of the church was given
to the Virgin Mary, may have been one cause of the
reluctance with which the incarnation has been admit¬
ted j for as we have elsewhere observed (see Nes-
TORlus), such language, in the proper sense of the
words, implies what those, by whom it is used, cannot
possibly believe to he true 3 but it is not the language of
scripture. We are there taught, that “ Christ being in
the form of God, thought it no robbery to be equal
with God 3 hut made himself of no reputation, and took
upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the
likeness of manfj” that “ God sent forth his Son made f Philips
of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them thatM’
were under the law, that we might receive the adoption
of sons J 3” and that “ the word who was in the be-{ GaU'
ginning with God, and was God, by whom all things^i*
were made, was made flesh, and dwelt among men (who
beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of
the Father), full of grace and truth $ :” hut we are no-§
where taught that, as God, he had a mother! ItwasMf^
indeed the doctrine of the primitive church.jj, that the ^ jmr.
very principle of personality and individual existence in
Mary’s
Pa» n.
Tlieogy
inJl'«icou
stw.
if
Ili> cSne
natui^Je-
gotu|)t
the viicr
* Altai, i.
IS,
Luliei.27.
See. !
| Ge4l tr.
1.
| Isai»|L
14.
$ Lai je
ilv. 1J
De
tult. liLi.
1(14
Ortho®*
of the |fc
cene ert?!
Mary’s son, was union with the uncreated Word 5 and
this doctrine is thought to imply the miraculous concep¬
tion, which is recorded in the plainest terms by two of
the evangelists 5 for he was conceived by the Holy
Ghost and born of a virgin * ; but, as God, he had been
begotten from all eternity of the Father, and in order
of nature was prior to the Holy Ghost. This is evi¬
dent from the appellation ot 0 given to him by St
John •, for the term being u^ed in that age, both by the
Jewish rabbies and the heathen philosophers, to denote
the second divine subsistence, which they considered as
an eternal and necessary emanation from the first, some¬
times called t xyctiai and sometimes r« 11 *, and the apostle
giving no intimation of his using the word in any un¬
common sense, we must necessarily conclude, that he
meant to inform us that the divinity of Christ is of eter¬
nal generation. That the term Aoyo* was used in this
sense by tbe later Platonists, and in all probability by
Plato himself, we have sufficiently shewn in another
place (see Platonism) ; and that a similar mode of ex¬
pression prevailed among tbe Jews in tbe time of St
John, is apparent from the Chaldee paraphrase ; which,
in the noth psalm, instead of the words “ tbe Lord said
unto my Lord,” lias, “ tbe Lord said unto bis WORD.”
Again, where we are told in the Hebrew that Jehovah
said to Abraham f, “ I am thy shield and thy exceed¬
ing great reward,” we read in the Chaldee, “ my word
is thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward.” Where
it is said, “ your new moons and your appointed feasts
my soul hateth the parapbrast hath it, “ my WORD
hateth j” and where it is said, that “ Israel shall be
saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation in
the same paraphrase it is, “ Israel shall be saved by
the word ot the Lord with everlasting salvation.” But
there is a passage in the Jeru-alem Targum which puts
it beyond a doubt, that by the A«yo5 the Jews under¬
stood a divine person begotten of bis Father before all
worlds; for commenting on Genesis iii. 22. tbe authors
of that work thus express themselves : “ The word of
tbe Lord said, behold Adam, whom I created, is the
only begotten upon earth, as I am the only begot¬
ten in heaven :” in conformity with which, Philo in¬
troduces || the Logos speaking thus of himself; yx^
tvli xytntiltf ut (io<; «», »vlt ymnflof &{ vptuf. I am neither
unbegotten, as God, nor begotten after the same manner
as you are.
From these quotations we may justy conclude, that
the Nicene fathers expressed themselves properly when
they declared that the only begotten Son of God was
begotten of his father before all worlds, and is God of
THEOLOGY. 375
God ; for if St John had believed the Xoytt or WORD to Theology
be unbegotten, contrary to the belief of all who made more pecir-
use ot the phrase at the time when he wrote, he would h*r’y Chri-
surely have expressed his dissent from the generally re-  8tlan-
ceived opinion. This however he is so far from doing, v
that he gives the amplest confirmation of that opinion,
by declaring, that “ he beheld the glory of the WORD
incarnate as the glory of the only begotten of the Fa¬
ther ; tor this declaration is true only of the divinitv
ot Christ, his human nature not being begotten of the
Jather, but conceived by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin
Mary. Hence our blessed Lord assures u<!, that “ as
the father HATH life in HIMSELF, so bath be GIVEN the
Son to have life in himself;” that “ tbe Son can do no- *
thing of himself but what he seeth the Father do * ;” v St John
and that “ he knew the Father, because he was from 6 l9*
him and sent by hioi'f-.” Me must therefore agree with ^ *^°bn rii.
Bishop Pearson (c), that “ though the Father and Son19*
are both truly God, and therefore equal in respect of
nature, yet the one is greater than the other, as being
the fountain of the Godhead. The Father is God, but
not of God; Light, but not of Light. Christ is God,
but of God ; Light, but 0/ Light. There is no difier-
ence or inequality in the nature or essence, because the
same in both ; but the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ
hath that essence of himself, from none ; Christ hath
the same essence, not of himself, but from him.” u .
1 he great purpose for which this divine person was Purpose
sent into the world, was to bruise the head of the ser-f,,r
pent, and restore mankind to the inheritance which had Christ 'vas
been lorfeited by Adam’s transgression. Every dispen- theodd.
sat ion ot 1 rovidence from the tail had bt'en preparatory
to tins restoiation. 1 rnphets had been raised irom time
to time to preserve in the early ages of the world the
knowledge and worship of the true God 1 the children
ot Abiafiam bad been separated from the surrounding
nations for the same purpose ; and bv the dispersion of
the ten tribes, the captivity of the other two in Babylon,
and the translation of tbe Hebrew scriptures into the
Greek language, much of the knowledge which had
been revealed to the Israelites was gradually diffused
over the eastern world.
But while the Jews were thus rendered the instru¬
ments ot enlightening the heathen nations of antiquity,
their intercourse with those nations made them almost
unavoidably acquainted with the philosophy which was
cultivated among the Chaldeans, the Persians, and the
Egyptian Greeks ; and ingrafting many of the opinions
derived from those schools upon the doctrines of Moses
and the prophets, they corrupted their own religion
while
(c) Me beg leave to recommend to our readers this author’s excellent exposition of the apostle’s creed as a
work which will render them great assistance in acquiring just notions of the fundamental articles of the Christian
raith. I hey will find it, we think, a complete antidote against the poison of modern Unitarians and modern Tri-
tbeists ; of whom the former teach that Jesus Christ was a mere man, the son of Joseph as well as of Mary •
while tbe latter, running to the other extreme, maintain, that, with respect to his divinity, he is in no sense sub¬
ordinate to the Father, but might have been the Father, the Son, or the Holy Ghost, according to the good plea¬
sure of the eternal three. M e have been at some pains to prove his divinity, and likewise his eternal generation •
but in such a short comper.d as we must give, it seems not to be worth while to prove his miraculous conception!
1 bat miracle is plainly asserted in the New Testament in words void of all ambiguity ; and as it is surely as easy
for God to make a man of the substance of a woman as of tbe dust of the earth, we cannot conceive what should'1
have induced any person professing Christianity to call it in question. The natural generation of Christ is a a
groundless fancy, which can serve no purpose whatever, even to the Unitarians.
376
T H E O
Tbcolopy while tluy improved that of their neighbours. Hence,
more ]>ecu-by the time that Christ came among them, they had
liarly tJui-I^a(je t|,e word of God of none effect through a number
, >tmn' , of idle fancies which they inculcated on the people as
\<S6 the traditions of the elders ; and as tliey had attached
Corruption themselves to different masters in philosophy, their un-
oi th« Je\vsauthorised opinions were of course different according
«t the time to ^ ,jjflferent sources whence they were drawn. 1 he
ouii£ t0* peculiar tenets of the Essenes seem to have been a
species of mystic Platonism. 1 he Pharisees are
thought to have derived their origin from a Jewish phi¬
losopher of the Peripatetic school ; and the resemblance
between the doctrines of the Sadducees and the philo¬
sophy of Epicurus has escaped no man’s observation.
Though these sects maintained mutual communion in
/ public worship, they abhorred each other’s distinguishing
tenets; and their wranglings had nearly banished from
them every sentiment of true religion. I hey agreed,
however, in the general expectation of the Messiah pro¬
mised to their fathers ; but, unhappily for themselves,
expected him as a great and temporal prince. To this
mistake several circumstances contributed: some of their
prophets had foretold his coming in lofty terms, borrow¬
ed from the ritual law, and the splendour of earthly mo-
narchs. The necessity of casting this veil over those
living oracles we have shewn in another place (see Pro¬
phecy, N° 17.). At the time when the predictions
were made, the Mosaic system had not run out half its
course, and was therefore not to be exposed to popular
contempt by an information, that it was only the harsh
rudiment of one more easy and perfect. To prevent,
however, all mistakes in the candid and impartial, when
the Messiah should arrive with the credentials of mira¬
culous powers, other prophets had described him in the
clearest terms as having no form nor comeliness, as a
sheep dumb before his shearers, and as a lamb brought
to the slaughter ; but the Jews had suffered so much
from the Chaldeans, the Greeks, and other nations by
whom they had been conquered, and were then sufler-
ing so much from their masters the Romans, that they
could think of no deliverance greater than that which
should rescue their nation from every foreign yoke.
M’hat men earnestly wish to be true, they readily be¬
lieve. Hence that people, losing sight of the yoke un-
*ler which they and the whole human race were brought
by the fall of Adam, mistaking the sense of the blessing
promised to all nations through the seed of Abraham,
aud devoting their whole attention to the most magni-
iicent descriptions of the Messiah’s kingdom, expected
in him a prince who should conquer the Romans, and
establish on earth a universal monarchy, of which Jeru-
it-j salem was to be the metropolis.
Tke ob- As our Saviour came for a very different purpose, the
jecti of his 0bject 0f hjs mission was to rectify the notions of his
pleaching, erring countrymen, in order to fit them for the deliver¬
ance which they were to obtain through him. Accord¬
ingly, when he entered on his office as a preacher of
righteousness, he embraced every opportunity of inveigh¬
ing against the false doctrines taught as traditions of the
elders; and by his knowledge of the secrets of all
hearts, he exposed the vile hypocrisy of those who made
a gain of godliness. The Jews had been led, by their
separation from the rest of the world, to consider them-
• selves as the peculiar favourites of Jehovah ; and the
consequence was, that, contrary to the spirit of their
l
LOGY. Part II,
own law, and the explicit doctrines of some of their pro- xkt0)0^
phets, they looked on all other nations with abhorrence, more
as on people physically impure. These prejudices the barb cir.
blessed Jesus laboured to eradicate. Having desired a ,L:M!
lawyer, by whom he was tempted, to read that part ef ^
the law of Moses which commanded the Israelites to
love their neighbours as themselves, he compelled him,
by means of a parabolical account of a compassionate
Samaritan, to acknowledge, that under the denomina¬
tion of neighbour the divine lawgiver had comprehended
all mankind as the objects of love *. The importance * st L«.
in which Moses held the ritual law, and to which, asx.2_—jfc
the means of preserving its votaries from the contagion
of idolatry, it was justly intitled, had led the Jews to
consider every ceremony of it as of intrinsic value and
perpetual obligation : but Jesus brought to their recol¬
lection God’s declared preference of mercy to sacrifice ;
shewed them that the weightier matters of the law,
judgment, mercy, and faith, claimed their regard in
the first place, and its ceremonial observances only in
the second ; and taught them, in conformity with the
predictions of their own prophets+, that the hour was f Jermiii
about to come when the worship of God should notxssi.31.
he confined to Jerusalem, but that “ true worshippers^0-
should everywhere worship the Father in spirit and in
truth E” fJetak
It being the design of Christ’s coming into the world 25—:7'
to break down the middle wall of partition between the
Jews and Gentiles, and to introduce a new dispensation
of religion which should unite all mankind as brethren
in the worship of the true God, and fit them for the
enjoyment of heaven; he did not content himself with
merely restoring the moral part of the Mosaic law to its
primitive purity, disencumbered of the corrupt glosses of
the Scribes and Pharisees, but added to it many spiritual
precepts, which, till they were taught by him, had
never occurred either to Jew or Gentile. I be Hebrew
lawgiver had prohibited murder under the penalty of
death ; hut Christ extended the prohibition to causeless
anger, and to contemptuous treatment of our brethren,
commanding his followers, as they valued their everlast¬
ing salvation, to forgive their enemies, and to love all
mankind. Adultery was forbidden by the law of Moses
as a crime of the deepest dye ; but Jesus said to his dis¬
ciples, “ that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust
after her, hath committed adultery with her already in
his heart,” and is of course liable to the Divine ven¬
geance. The lex taUonis was in force among the Jews,
so that the man who had deprived his neighbour ot an
eye or a tooth, was to suffer the loss of an eye or a tooth
himself; but this mode of punishment, which inflicted
blemish for blemish, though suited to the hardness of
J -wish hearts, being inconsistent with the mild spirit of
Christianity, was abolished by our blessed Lord, who
severely prohibited the indulgence of revenge, and com¬
manded his followers to love even their enemies. Per¬
jury has in every civilized nation been justly considered
as a crime of the highest atrocity, and the Mosaic law
doomed the false witness to bear the punishment, what¬
ever it might be, which he intended by swearing falsely
to bring on his brother; but the Author of the Christian
religion forbade not only false swearing, but swearing at
all, except on solemn occasions, and when an oath should
be required by legal authority. See Oath.
By thus restoring the law to its original purity, and
in
Pail IT. T H E 0 L O G Y.
Thioffy ma!i? cases exteluliog its sense, the blessed Jesus exe
•377
In wfch
lie exa-
ted tk of¬
fice dk
propla.
11 >4
*niit
niore*ecu-cuted the office of a Prophet to the lost sheep of the
harljtChii-house of Israelbut had he not been more than an ordi-
, s j^1' . nary prophet, he could not have abrogated the most tri-
j| vial ceremony of it, nor even extended the sense of any
of its moral precepts j for their great lawgiver had told
them, that “ the Lord their God would raise up unto
them but one Prophet, like unto him, to whom they
should hearken 1 hat Prophet was by themselves
understood to be the Messiah, whom they expected to
tell them all things. It was necessary therefore that
Jesus, as he taught some new doctrines, and plainly in¬
dicated that greater changes would soon be introduced,
should vindicate his claim to that exalted character which
alone could authorise him to propose innovations. This
he did in the amplest manner,by fulfilling prophecies and
working miracles (See Miracle and Prophecy) $ so
that the unprejudiced part ofthe people readily acknow¬
ledged him to be of a truth “ that prophet which should
come into the world—the Son of God, and the King of
Israel.” He did not, however, make any change in the
national worship, or assume to himself the smallest civil
authority. He had submitted to the rite of circumcision,
and strictly performed every duty, ceremonial as well as
i*
His stct
c-bciiiate
IX, KA V- » V. J T ** cj C V I I V lllvrljltaj MO % t V. I I MO
.3 tuc iw. which that covenant made incumbent on other
Jews j thus fulfilling all righteou'ness. Though the re¬
ligion which he came to propagate was in many respects
contrary to the ritual law, it could not be established,
or that law abrogated, but in consequence of his death,
which thesystem of sacrifices was appointed toprefigure j
and as his kingdom, which was not of this world, could
not commence till after his resurrection, he yielded
during the whole course of his life a cheerful obedience
to the civil magistrate, and wrought a miracle to obtain
money to pay the tribute that was exacted of him. lle-
ing thus circumstanced, he chose from the lowest and
least corrupted of the people certain followers, whom he
treated with the most endearing familiarity for three
years, and commissioned at his departure to promulgate
such doctrines as, consistently with the order of the di¬
vine dispensations, lie could not personally preach him¬
self. W ith these men, during the course of his ministry
on earth, he went about continually doing good, heal¬
ing the sick, casting out devils, raising the dead, reprov¬
ing vice, preaching righteousness, and instructing his
countrymen, by the most perfect example which was
ever exhibited in the world, of whatsoever things are
true, or honest, or just, or pure, or lovely, or of good re¬
port. The Scribes and Pharisees, however, finding him
not that conqueror whom they vainly expected, becom¬
ing envious of his reputation among the people, and be¬
ing filled with rancour against him for detecting their
hypocritical arts, delivered him up to the Homan go¬
vernor, who, though convinced of his innocence, yield¬
ed to the popular clamour, and crucified him between
two thieves, as an enemy to Ctesar.
Just before he expired, he said, It is finished, intima¬
ting that the purpose was now fulfilled for which he bad
come into the world, and which, as he had formerly
told his disciples, “ was not to be ministered unto, but
to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many ||.”
For his blood, as be assured them at the institution of
the Eucharist, “ was to be shed for the remission of
sins.” ThatChrist died voluntarily for us, the just for the
unjust, and that “ there is uone other name under bea-
Vol. XX. Part I. -f-
II Hat
a8.
ven given among men whereby we mud be saved,” is Tbcclogv
the uniform doctrine of the prophets w ho foretold his more pet u-
coming, of John the Baptist who was his immediate bar-,iarl7
binger, and of the apostles and evangelists who preached >aiai1
the gospel after his ascension into heaven. Thus Isaiah i^0
says of the Messiah §, that “ he was wounded for our He volun-
transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities; that the,arily di'-d
chastisement of our peace was upon him, and that withfo^ “**
his stripes wre are healed; that we had all like sheep goue *P‘
astray, turning every one to his own way, and that the
Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all ; that he was
cut ofi out of the land of the living, and stricken for
the transgression of God’s people ; and his soul or life
was made an offering for sin ; and that he bore the sin
of many, and made intercession for the transgu-ssors.”
The Baptist, “when he saw Jesus coming unto him, said
to the people, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh
away the sin of the world;” plainly intimating that his
death was to be a sacrifice, since it was only as a sacrifice
that the Jews could form any conception of a lamb ta¬
king away sin. The epistles of St Paul are so full of
the doctrine of Christ’s satisfaction, that it is needless to
quote particular texts in proof of it. He tells the Ro¬
mans, that Jesus t brist was set forth to be a propitiation
through faith in his blood ; he was delivered for our of¬
fences, and raised again for our justification ; that he
died for the ungodly ; and that God commendeth his
love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ
died for us.” He assures the Corinthians that Christ
died for all ; that“ they who live should not henceforth
live unto themselves, but to him who died for them and
rose again ; and that God made him to be sin for us, who
knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of
God in him.” He informs the Galatians, that Christ
“ gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us
from this present evil world, according to the will of
God and our I ather ; and that he redeemed us from the
curse of the law, being made a curse for us.” St Peter
and St John speak the very same language; the former
teaching us, that “ Christ suflered for us, and bare our
sins in his own body on the treef ; the latter, that thef j pcter
blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin, and thatii. *i, mid
he is the propitiation for our sins; and not for our sins 24-
only, but also for the sins of the whole world J.” That! 1 John i.
he came into the world for the puipose of suffering, ap-7’11 2-
pears from his own words : for “no man (said he}) tn-§ 1 John
keth my life from me, but I lay it down of myself: Ix lS*
have power to lay it down, and I have power to take
it again. This commandment have I received from my
lather.” And that he voluntarily laid it down for
mankind, is evident from his calling himself the Good
Shepherd, and adding, that “ the Good Shepherd giveth
his life for the sheep 11.” &
That Christ died for the benefit of the human race, is
a truth so apparent from these texts, that no man profes-Different
sing Christianity has hitherto called it in question. Very opinions
different opinions have been formed indeed concerning
the nature and extent of that benefit, and the means by extent
which it is applied; but that the passion and death of the of the be-
blessed Jesus were essential parts of his ministry on earth, nefit. r«rap-
has seldom been controverted. That on the cross hee0 froai ^
made satisfaction to his Father for the sins of the world,deat*U
is the general belief of Christians ; but presumptuous
men, aming at being wise beyond what is written, have
started a thousand idle questions concerning the necessity
3 B of
78
T H E O
liarly Chri
stian.
Theology sllc^ satisfaction, and tlie manner in which it was
more pecu- made. Some limiting the power and mercy of the Om¬
nipotent, have dared to affirm that God could not have
pardoned man without receiving full satisfaction lor his
offences j that nothing hut the shedding of the blood of
Christ could make that satisfaction •, that his death was
indeed sufficient to atone for a thousand worlds •, that,
however, he did not die for all mankind, but only for a
chosen few, ordained to eternal IfTe by a secret decree
before the foundation of the world 5 and that the rest
of the race are passed by, and doomed to eternal perdi¬
tion, for the glory of God’s justice. Others, convinced
by every thing around them that the Creator and Gover¬
nor of the universe is a being of infinite benevolence,
whose obly end in giving life must have been to com¬
municate happiness, have contended, that no atonement
whatever could be necessary to obtain from him the lor-
giveness of sin on sincere repentance; that it is con¬
trary to all our notions of justice to punish the innocent
for the guilty ; and that therefore the death of Christ,
though the essential part of his ministry, could not be
necessary, but at the most expedient.
\\ e enter not into these debates. The Scriptures have
nowhere said what God could or could not do ; and on
this subject we can know nothing but what they have
taught us. That “ we are reconciled to God by the
death of his Son,” is the principal doctrine of the New
Testament; and without presuming to limit the power,
the mercy, or the wisdom, of him who created and
sustains the universe, we shall endeavour to show that it
is a doctrine worthy of all acceptation. In doing this,
we shall state impartially the opinions which pious men
have held respecting the form or manner in which Christ
by his death made satisfaction to God for the sins of the
world ; and we hope that our readers will embrace that
opinion which shall appear to them most consonant to
the general sense of sacred Scripture.
The. strictest adherents to the theological system of
of the Cal- Calvin, interpreting literally such texts of Scripture as
Yim>ts. speak of his being made sin for us, of his bearing our
sins in his own body on the trecy and of the Lord’s lay¬
ing on him the iniquity of us ully contend, that the sins
of the elect were lifted off from them and laid on Christ
by imputation, much in the same way as they think the
sin of Adam is imputed to his posterity. “ J?y bearing
the sins of his people (says DrGillf) he took them oil
from them, and took them upon himself, bearing or
carrying them, as a man bears or carries a burden on
his shoulders. There was no sin in him inherently, for
if there had, he would not have been a fit person to
make satisfactioh for it; but sin wrasput upon him by his
n ivine Father, as the sins of the Israelites were put upon
the scape-goat by Aaron. No creature (continues he)
could have done this; but the Lord hath laid on him,
or made to meet on him, the iniquity of us all, not a
single iniquity, but a whole mass and lump of sins col¬
lected together; and laid as a common burden upon
him; even the sins of all the elect of God. This phrase
of laying sin on Christ is expressive of the imputation of
it to him ; for it was the will of God not to impute the
17*
Opinions
t Borfy 0/
Divinity,
rot. ii.
kook iii.
fhap. ▼.
U-
Ulan.
LOGY. Part I],
transgressions of his elect to themselves, but to Christ, Theolt^
w hich was done by an act of his own ; for he hath made more |*ui.
him to be sin for us : that is, by imputation, in which llHrly Cbri,
wav we are made the righteousness ot God in him; that
being imputed to us by him as our sins were to Christ.
The sense (says our author) is, a charge ot sin was
brought against him as the surety of his people. He was
numbered with the transgressors; for bearing the sins of
many, he wras reckoned as it he had been a sinner him¬
self, sin being imputed to him ; and he was dealt with
as such. Sin being found upon him by imputation, a
demand of satisfaction for sin was made, and he answered
it to the full. All this was with his own consent. Ht
agreed to have sin laid upon him, and imputed to him,
and a charge of it brought against him, to which he en¬
gaged to be responsible ; yea, he himself took the sins
of his peojde upon him ; so the evangelist Matthew has
it, ‘ He himself took our infirmities, and bore our sick¬
nesses As he took the nature of men, so he took j Chap,
their sins, which made his flesh to have the likeness of sin- ▼hi. 17.
ful flesh, though it really was not sinful. What Christ
bore being laid upon him, and imputed to him, were
sins of all sorts, original and actual; sins of every kind,
open and secret, ot heart, lip, and life; all acts ot sin
committed by his people, for he has redeemed them
from all their iniquities ; and God, lor Christ’s sake,
forgives all trespasses, his blood cleanses from all sin, and
his righteousness justifies from all; all being imputed to
him as that is to them. Leaning sin supposes it to be a
burden ; and indeed it is a burden too heavy to bear by
a sensible sinner (e). When sin is charged home upon
the conscience, and a saint groans, being burdened with
it, what must that burden be, and how heavy the load
which Christ bore, consisting of all the sins of all the
elect from the beginning of the world to the end of it;
and yet he sunk not, but stood up under it; failed not,
nor was he discouraged, being the mighty God, and the
Man of God’s right hand, made strong for himself.” jy,
To the Arminians or Remonstrants, this doctrine ofobjwttd
the imputation of the sins of men to the Son of God ap-to.
pears as absurd as the similar doctrine of the imputation
of the sin of Adam to his unborn posterity ; and it is
certainly attended with consequences which have alarm¬
ed serious Christians of other denominations.
Were it possible in the nature of things, says the Ar-
minian, to transfer the guilt of one person to another,
and to lav it upon him as a burden, it could not be done
without violating those laws of equity which are esta¬
blished in the scripture and engraven on the human
heart. But this is not possible. To talk of lilting
lumps of sin, or transferring them like burdens from th#
guilty to the innocent, is to utter jargon, says he, which
has no meaning; and we might with as much propriety
speak of lifting a scarlet colour from a piece of cloth and
laying it on the sound of a trumpet, as of literally lift¬
ing the sins of the elect from them and laying them ou
Christ. Guilt is seated on the mind ; and no man can
become a sinner but by an act of volition. If Christ
therefore really took upon him the sins of his people, he
must have deliberately formed a wish to have actually
commtttsd
(e) By the phrase a sensible sinner, the learned author means a sinner who is not past feeling, but has a con¬
science alive to the sense of remorse.
-
Pa^II.
TWiogy
moitpecii-
harly Jliri-
sti).
 ,  
Text|n
whicii ney
are liji;
explaind.
*
xiii.
committed all these sins ; but such a wish, though it
would have made him inherently guilty, and therefore
incapable of satisfying for sin, could not have cancelled
deeds that were done before he was born, or have made
those innocent who really had been sinners. A deed
once done cannot be undone •, a volition which has been
formed cannot be annihilated. 13y sincere repentance,
the habitual dispositions are indeed changed, and those
who have been sinners become objects of mercy ; but no
power can recal the hours that are past, or make those
actions which have been performed to have been not per¬
formed. To remove guilt from the sinner and lay it on
the innocent may therefore be safely pronounced impos¬
sible even for Omnipotence itself, for it implies that a
thing may be and not be at the same instant of time j
and the doctrine which teaches that this removal was
made from the elect to Christ, is an imagination of yes¬
terday, which has no countenance from scripture, and is
contrary to the established constitution of things. Those
who imagine that guilt may be propagated from father
to son, have something like an argument to urge for the
imputation of Adam’s sin to his numberless posterity,
for all the men and women who have by ordinary gene¬
ration been introduced into the world, have undoubtedly
derived their nature from the primeval pair. But Christ
did not derive his nature from the elect, that their sins
should be communicated to him ; nor, as he was mira¬
culously conceived by the Holy Ghost, can we attribute
to him any degree of that taint which is supposed to
have been conveyed from Adam to all the other gene¬
rations of men.
Nothing more, therefore, can be meant by “ Christ’s
being made sin for us,” and “ bearing our sins in his
own body on the tree,” or by God’s “ laying upon him
the iniquity of us all,” than that by his sufi’erings we
are freed from the punishment of our sins: it being in
scripture a common figure of speech, as even Dr Gill
has somewhere acknowledged, to denote by the word sin
the consequences of sin. That this figure is used in those
texts from which he infers that Christ took the sins of the
elect on himself, isevident from the verse which he quotes
from the gospel of St Matthew j in which it is said,
that “ himself took our infirmities and bore our sicknes¬
ses.” The sicknesses and infirmities there alluded to are
the leprosy, the palsy, the fever, and demoniacal pos¬
sessions : but when our blessed Lord cured these diseases,
surely he did not by his omnipotent word lift them oft"
from the patients and take them on himself, so as actu¬
ally to become a leper, a paralytic, and a daemoniac, or
even to be reckoned as such either by the multitude, or
by t!»s priest, whose duty it was to take cognizance of
every illegal uncleanness*. And if his inveterate ene¬
mies did not impute to him the leprosy when he removed
that plague from others, why should it be supposed that
his own Father, to whom he was at all times well-pha¬
sing, imputed to him the sins of which, by his suft’er-
ings, he removed the punishment from those who were
guilty P To impute to a person any action, whether vir¬
tuous or vicious, which he did not perform, can proceed
only from ignorance or malice, or partiality ; but God
is no respecter of persons, and from ignorance and ma¬
lice he is removed to an infinite distance. It is indeed
an undoubted truth, that “ the Lord Jesus, by his per¬
fect obedience and sacrifice of himself, which he through
the eternal spirit once offered up unto God, hath fully
THEOLOGY. 379
satisfied the justice of his Father ; and purchased not Theology
only reconciliation, but an everlasting inheritance in the more pecu-
kingdom of heaven for all those whom the Father hath'iarhv * !,r'-
given himf 5” but that he actually took on himself the )>tlat1' ,
sins of mankind, or that those sins were imputed to him | Confessioh
by God, who punished him as a person whom he consi- nf Faith,
dered as guilty, is a doctrine equally injurious to the chap. via.
justice of the bather and to the immaculate purity of; v*
the Son.
The earnestness with which this doctrine was inculca- Fhey hare
ted by some of the earliest reformers, and the impossibi- Pro^ahly
lity of admitting it, which every reflecting and unPre-
judiced mind must feel, was probably one of tbe causes Socimu
which drove Socinus and his followers to the other ex-deny tb«
treme of denying Christ’s satisfaction altogether, and doctrine of
considering his death as nothing more than that of an
ordinary martyr, permitted for the purpose of attesting
the truth of his doctrine, and paving the way for his
resurrection, to confirm the great promise of immorta¬
lity. According to these men, forgiveness is freely dis¬
pensed to those who repent, by the essential goodness of
God, without regard to the merit or sufferings of any
other being; and the gospel is said to save from sin, be¬
cause it is the most perfect lesson of righteousness. The
great objection oi Crcilius to the doctrine of the satisfac¬
tion is, that it is a hinderance to piety ; for if Christ
has paid the whole debt, he thinks that he must have
nothing to do, as nothing more can be required of
us. And if it were indeed true that our sins are impu¬
ted to Christ, and his righteousness imputed to us, this
objection would be insurmountable; for God could not
justly exact a double punishment for the same sin, or
inflict misery on those to whom he imputes perfect righ¬
teousness. But as to this imaginary transferring of vir¬
tues and vices from one person to another, the scriptures
give no countenance ; so they nowhere call the death of
Christ a sutisjaction for the sins of men. The term has
indeed been long in use among divines, and when pro¬
perly explained it may be retained without any danger ;
but in treating of this subject, it would perhaps be mor«
prudent to restrict ourselves to the use of scripture lan¬
guage, as the word satisfaction carries in it the ideas of
a debt paid and accepted ; whereas it is said by St Paul,
that “ eternal life is t\\zgift of God through Jesus Christ
our Lord ; and that we are justified freely by his grace
through the redemption that is in Jesus Christ, whom
God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in
his blood.” r„g
To clear up this matter, and attain adequate notions of The death
redemption and justification, it will be necessary to look0* Christ
back to the tall ol our first parents ; for the great pur-rcst0,.c^ 19
pose for which Christ was promised, and for which he"vhiuUie
came into the world, was, by bruising the head of thebadlo»i.
serpent, to restore mankind to the inheritance which
they had lost through the transgression of Adam. This
is apparent not only from tbe original promise made to
the woman, but also from diflertnt passages in the
epistles of St Paul, who expressly calls Christ the second
Adam, and says, that, “ as by the ofl’ence of one, judge¬
ment came upon all men to condemnation ; even so by
the righteousness of ’one, the free gift came upon aft
men unto justification of life that “ as by one man’s
disobedience many w'ere made sinners, so by the obedi¬
ence of one shall many be made righteous and that,
“ as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made
3 H 2 alive.”
580
IMieology
more pecu¬
liarly Chri¬
st! m.
f Ch. i. vcr
2 3*
* Heb. ix
26. 1 Tliets.
▼.10.
■f Titus ii.
J Horn. ▼.
10. 2 Cor.
▼. 19,
'77
Moderate
Calvinists
and K.e-
monstrants
ot'tlie same
opinion.
178
Doctrine of
the more
zealous Ar
umiLu.s.
T H E O
alive.” Hence it was tliat John the Baptist, when he
saw Jesus coming to him, said to his disciples-f-, ‘ Be¬
hold the Lamb of God which taketh away, not the sins,
but the sin of the world,” evidently alluding to Adam’s
sin and its consequences, since no other sin was ever
committed of which the consequences extend to the whole
world.
This being the case, it is undeniable, that whatever
we lost in the first Adam is restored to us by the se¬
cond •, and therefore they who believe that the punishment
denounced against eating the forbidden fruit was death
corporal, spiritual, and eternal, must believe tliat we
are redeemed from i;ll these by C hrist, who having
“ appeared once in the end of the world to put away sin
by the sacrifice of himself, died for us, that whether we
wake or sleep, we should live together with him • If
the image of God in which man was created was lost
by the breach of the first covenant, it is more than res¬
tored to us “ by the Mediator of a better covenant,
which is established upon better promises if by the sm
of Adam we were utterly indisposed, disabled, and made
opposite to all that is spiritually good, and wholly in¬
clined to all evil, and that continually, we are freed
from that dreadful curse by “ our Saviour Jesus Christ
who gave himself for u*, that he might redeem us fiom
all iniquity, and purify to himself a peculiar people zea¬
lous of good woiks f ;” and if for our share in the first
transgression we be justly liable to all punishments 111
this world and in that which is to come, the apostle as¬
sures us, that “ when we were enemies we were recon¬
ciled to God by the death of his Son, because that God
was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not im¬
puting their trespasses unto them |.” As Jesus is “ the
Lamb slain in the divine decree from the foundation of
the world,” these beneficial consequences of his death
have been extended by a retrospective view to all in
every age whose names are written in the hook of life,
though it be absurd to suppose that he literally took
their sins upon hipi, and impious to imagine that he suf¬
fered under the imputation of sin.
Such is the general doctrine of redemption, as it is
taught by the more moderate Calvinists and more mode¬
rate Remonstrants ; for moderate Christians of all deno¬
minations, though they express themselves differently,
have nearly the same views of the fundamental articles
of their common faith. It must not, however, be con¬
cealed, that many divines of great learning and piety
contend strenuously against the doctrine of vicaiious
atonement for actwal transgressions of the moral law.
These are the more zealous Arminians, who deny that
we inherit any mortal taint or intellectual weakness from
our first parents, whom they believe never to have been
in a state of greater perfection than many of their poste¬
rity who are called degenerate. According to them, we
lost nothing by the fall of Adam hut our title to eter¬
nal life or perpetual existence, together with those graces
of the Holy Spirit which were bestowed under the first
covenant to train mankind for the society of heaven j
and as eternal life and supernatural grace constituted
one free gift, not due to the nature of man, or indeed
of any created being, they might, when forfeited, be re¬
stored by any means or on any condition which should
seem expedient to the all-wise Donor. These means,
and that condition, human reason cannot indeed disco¬
ver ) but it seems very fit that they should be different
stiau.
LOGY. Part II.
from the means by which moral agents under the law Theology
of nature can secure to themselves the favour of their more peta.
Creator, or recover it when occasionally lost. The harlyCtm-
former depends on arbitrary will and pleasure, or at least v
on no other principles discoverable by us; while the
latter ariseth out of the established and well-known con¬
stitution of things. Thus moral virtue, comprehending
piety, was the condition of that favour and protection
which man, in his original state, could claim from his
Maker; but obedience to a positive command was the
condition of the free gift of immortality conferred on
Adam on his introduction into paradise. The claim
arising from the relation between the creature and the
Creator is indissoluble, because that relation cannot be
dissolved : so that the man who, by a transgression of
the moral law has forfeited the favour of God may rea¬
sonably hope to recover it by sincere repentance and a
return'to his duty; and nothing but such repentance
and reformation can recover it; because, in a moral
agent, nothing can be agreeable to God but moral dis¬
positions, which cannot be transferred from one person
to another, and for the want of which nothing can
atone. Our virtues are not required nor our vices pro¬
hibited, as if the one could profit and the other injure
him who created us ; for ‘‘ is it any pleasure to the Al¬
mighty that we are righteous ? or is it gain to him that
we make our ways perfect? Will he reprove us for
fear of us ?” No ? He commands us to he virtuous,
and forbids us to be vicious, only because virtue is ne¬
cessary to our own happiness, and vice productive ot
everlasting misery.
Were an immoral man to be introduced into the so¬
ciety of angels and just men made perfect, he would
not experience in that society what we are taught to
expect from the joys of heaven ; because to such joys
his acquired dispositions would be wholly repugnant.
Nor could the sufferings of any person whatever, or the
imputation of any extrinsic righteousness, make that
mind which had long been immersed in the grossest sen¬
suality relish the intellectual and refined enjoyments of
heaven ; or the man who had been the habitual slave of
envy, malice, and duplicity, a fit inhabitant of that
place where all are actuated by mutual love. On the
other hand, say the divines whose doctrine we are now
detailing, it is impossible to suppose that the Father ot
mercies, who knows whereof we are made, should have
doomed to eternal misery any moral agent who had la¬
boured through life to serve him in sincerity and in
truth ; or that any atonement could be necessary to re¬
deem from the pains of hell the man whose pious and
virtuous dispositions have through penitence and prayer
become suited to the society of heaven. Unsinning per¬
fection never was nor ever could be expected in man.
He is brought into the world free indeed from vice, but
equally destitute of virtue ; and the great business of his
life is to guard his mind from being polluted by the
former, and to acquire dispositions habitually leading to
the practice of the latter. Till these habits be fairly
formed, it seems impossible that he should not sometimes
deviate from the paths of rectitude, and thereby incur a
temporary forfeiture of the divine favour; but the very
constitution of his mind, and the purpose for which be
is placed in a state of probation, show that the divine
favour thus forfeited can be recovered only by repent¬
ance and reformation.
Widely
Pat II
Th|ojy
ninr<ipeo(]-
liarjf^hri-
|9 ,
Tbal hrist
died 1 re-
deen|:i
frompe
powtMf
the i?ve.
^ Rirtt vlii
* fc'*»
xuii. [.
34- I
An ob>o-
tion.j f
THEOLOGY.
33i
Widely difft rent, however, is the case with respect
to the forfeiture and recovery of a free gift, to which
man has no natural claim. When the condition is
broken on which such a gift was bestowed, repentance
can be of no avail ; it must be either irrecoverably lost
or restored by the mere good pleasure of the giver. Im¬
mortality or perpetual existence is a gift which upon
certain terms was freely bestowed upon the human race,
and forfeited by the transgression of their first parent
violating those terms. It was restored by the free
grace of God, who was pleased to ordain, that “ since
by man came death, by man should also come the re¬
surrection of the dead ; for as in Adam all die, even so
in Christ shall all he made alive. “ Hence the apostle,
writing to the Romans of the benefits of being the chil¬
dren of God, and joint-heirs with Christ, summeth up
those benefits with resurrection from the dead.” For
the creature, i. e. mankind, was made subject (says
he §) to vanity or death, not willingly, but by reason
of him who hath subjected the same in hope : because
the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bon¬
dage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the chil¬
dren of God. For we know that the whole creation
groaneth, and travaileth in pain together until now:
and not only they, but ourselves also, who have the first
fruits of the spirit, even we ourselves groan within our¬
selves, waiting for the adoption, viz. the redemption of
our body (f). That this the redemption of our body is
the consequence of the sacrifice of Christ, is taught in
the most explicit terms in the epistle to the Hebrews j
of which the inspired author informs us, that “ foras¬
much as the children are partakers of flesh and blood,
he also himself likewise took part of the same j that
through death he might destroy him that had the power
of death, that is the devil ; and deliver them, who
through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to
bondage A vicarious atonement made with this
view, the divines, whose theory we are now consider¬
ing, acknowledge to be perfectly rational and consistent
with the strictest justice. “ The law of nature (say
theyf) allows not of vicarious atonements; but ordains
that the man who transgresseth shall himself bear the
punishment of his iniqnitv; a punishment which no man
deserves for the faults of another, unless he be partaker
of the guilt by joining in the transgression.” And in
proof of this their opinion, they appeal to the words of
God himself, declaring to Moses,—“Whosoever hath
sinned against me, him will I blot out of my book t*”
But when the free gift of immoitality was lost, it was
with great wisdom, say they, that God restored it
through a Mediator who should make atonement by bis
blood for the breach of the first covenant; since such a
mediation implies that the gift restored is merely of
grace, to the attainment of which man could no further
co-operate than by bis hopes and wishes.
To this view of redemption, and indeed to every view
of it which we have yet taken, an objection forces itself Theology
upon the mind. Throughout the New Testament LIFE v ore
and immortality are considered as a free sift, and ‘‘ar‘y ^m*
called so in express words by St Faul *. To the scheme +
under consideration it is essential to consider them as* Rom. v.
such ; and yet we know that a large price was paid for if.
them, as St Paul likewise acknowledges, when he
twice tells the Corinthians that they were boutjit with ^ ^or.‘. V1*
a price f. > l8i
“ To clear up this matter (says Bitdiop Warburton), Obviated,
and to reconcile the apostle to himself, who certainly
was not defective either in natural sense or artificial lo¬
gic, let us once again remind the reader, that life and
immortality bestowed ort Adam in paradise was a free
gift, as appears from the history of his creation. As a
free gift, it was taken back by the Donor when Adam
fell ; to which resumption our original natural rights
are not subject, since natural religion teacheth, that sin¬
cere repentance alone will reinstate us in the possession
of those rights which our crimes bad suspended. So
that when this free gift, forfeited by the first Adam,
was recovered by the second, its nature continuing the
same, it must still remain a free gift—a gift to which
man, by and at bis creation bad no claim ; a gift which
natural religion did not bestow. But if misled by mea¬
suring this revealed mystery of human redemption by
the scant idea of human transactions, where a free gift
and purchased benefit are commonly opposed to one an¬
other, yet even here we may he able to set ourselves
right, since, with regard to man, the character of a
free gift remains to immortality restored. For the price
paid by forfeited man was not paid by him, but by a Re¬
deemer of divine extraction, who was pleased, by parti¬
cipating of man's nature, to stand in his stead. Hence
the sacred writers seeing, in this case, the perfect agree¬
ment between a free gift and a purchased possessioh, t Div. Leg.
call it sometimes by the one and sometimes by the1,0011 9-ch*
other name J.” 2* iSj
A restoration to life and immortality from that state The death
of unconsciousness or extinction, to which all mankind of Christ
were doomed in consequence of the fall, is that greatan atone*
salvation which we have obtained through the blood ofnij1?1
uur Redeemer ; and according to the theologians whosefor actuai
theory we are now considering, it was the only thing in sin.
the divine intention when the promise was given to the
first mother that the seed of the woman should bruise the
head of the serpent. But though they contend that the
death of Christ does not operate, directly as atonement
for the actual sins of men, they admit that it does so in¬
directly and by necessary consequence, since it gives op¬
portunities for repentance and newness of life, winch un¬
der the first covenant they did not enjoy. Had a man
under that covenant transgressed any moral precept, he
would have forfeited the favour of his God, and either
been subjected to punishment or to a long course of re¬
pentance ; but supposing the efficacy of repentance un¬
der
(f) That by the vmt&s creattire and creation the apostle here means all mankind, and by vanity and corruptiont
death, the reader will find proved by Dr Whitby, in his note on the place, with a strength of argument which
cannot be shaken; and that the whole creation, the Gentiles as well as the Jews, groaned and travailed in pain
together under the appreliension of death, is apparent from the writings of Cicero, who always seems doubtful whe¬
ther death be a good or an evil; and from the lamentation of Ilezekiah, when desired by the prophet to set his
house in order because he should die and not live.
382
1*3
Acaording
T H E O
Theology der the law of nature to be what they suppose it to be,
more pecu- he might before it was perfected have lost his existence
liarly Clni-^y ti,e eating of the forbidden fruit $ and thus his peni-
htmn. tence or punishment have ended in everlasting death.
This can never be the issue of things under the new co¬
venant, which, by the death of Christ, secures immor¬
tality to man, and gives to him opportunities, as long
as he shall be in a state of probation, of recovering the
divine favour when forfeited, whether by a moral trans¬
gression or a temporary violation of the peculiar condi¬
tion of the covenant. Hence they admit the truth of
the apostle’s doctrine, that we are gainers by the fall of
Adam and the redemption wrought by Christ > which
will appear when we come to consider their notions of
justification. In the mean time it may be proper to ob¬
serve, that they consider it as no small confirmation of
their opinion, that it tends to put an end to the long
agitated disputes concerning the extent of redemption,
and to reconcile passages of scripture which, on the com¬
monly received theories both of Calvinists and Armini-
ans, seem to be at variance with each other.
It is well known to be one of the fundamental doc-
viniit* *r'nes th® Calvinistic school, that “ none are redeemed
Christ died by Christ, effectually called, justified, adopted, sancti-
•nly for the tied, and saved, but the elect only * and if the no¬
elect. tions of redemption, which, in the end of the 17th cen-
* Confes- were very generally embraced, be admitted as
Faith of the)®**' will not be easy to overturn the arguments by
Church of which that doctrine is supported. Such of them as are
Sent.'and, connected with the great question of election and repro-
•h. iii. i 6-bation, and enter into the decision of it, we have stated
in another place (see Predestination, N° 14.) ; but
it is farther argued f, that the doctrine of universal re¬
demption reflects on the wisdom, the justice, and the
power of God, and robs him of his glory.
The scriptures assure us that all men shall not be
saved-, but how can this be, if Christ died for all, and
the scheme of salvation, by his death was formed by infi¬
nite wisdom ? The Arminians indeed say, that those who
fail of salvation, fail through their own fault in not per¬
forming the conditions required of them j but God ei¬
ther knew or knew not that such men would not per¬
form those conditions. If he knew it not, his know¬
ledge is limited if he did know it, where was his wis¬
dom in providing a scheme of redemption for men to
whom he was aware that it would be of no benefit ?
“ God, we are told, is righteous in all his ways, and
holy in all his works j” but there is no righteousness in
making Christ bear the sins of all men, and suffer the
punishment due to them, if any one of those men shall
be afterwards punished everlastingly. If Christ has al¬
ready paid the debts of the whole world, it cannot be
just to cast a single inhabitant of the whole world into
the prison of hell, there to be detained till he shall
again have paid the uttermost farthing. “ The Lord’s
hand is not shortened that it cannot save j” for he is and
always will be the same Almighty power that he was
from eternity j but if by the divine decree Christ died
for all men, and yet all men shall not be saved, it
would appear that man is mightier than his Maker!
1 he ultimate end of God in the redemption of man is
admitted to have been his own glory; but if any indivi¬
dual of the human race, who was redeemed by Christ,
shall not be saved, God will so far lose his end, and be
deprived of his glory. For, if this were the case, where
f GUV 1
itody of
Divinity,
vol. ii. book
3. ch. 3.
37—4C-
1&4
LOG YJ Part II,
would be the glory of God the Father in forming a Thtol#
scheme which, with respect to multitudes, does not sue-mere ji^,
ceed ? and where would be the glory of the Son ofl'siW ckrj.
God, the Redeemer, in working out the redemption of, ^Ul1
men who are yet not to be saved by him ? and where ,r*^
would be the glory of the spirit of God, if redemption
were not by him effectually applied to every individual
for whom it was wrought ? By such arguments as these
do the Calvinists oppose the scheme of universal redemp¬
tion, and contend that Christ died only for the elect, or
such as shall be placed on his right hand at the day of
judgment. This notion of a limited redemption, as
they think it more worthy of the sovereignty of God,
they believe to be taught by our Saviour himself, when
he saith *, “ All that the Father eiveth me shall come* T , .
ii- 1 1 ^ 0 r -ii • • * JonnTL
to me; and him that cometh to me, I will in nowise
cast out. For I came down from heaven, not to do
mine own will, but the will of him that sent me. And
this is the Father’s will who hath sent me, that of all
which he hath given me I should lose nothing, but
should raise it up again at the last day.”
The Arminians, on the other hand, contend, that itAccordin*
is impious to limit the effects of Christ’s death to a cho- to the Ar¬
sen few, since it appears from scripture, that by the de-^
cree and intention of his Father he tasted death formcD>
every man, that all, without exception, might through
him obtain remission of their sins. Thus our Lord him¬
self told Nicodemus f, that “as Moses lifted up thef John iii,
serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man M-15-
be lifted up ; that whosoever believeth in him, should
not perish; but have everlasting life. For God so loved
the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have
everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the
world to condemn the world, but that the world through
him might be saved.” In perfect conformity with the
doctrine of his divine Master, St Paul teaches J, that fr Cor.r.
“ Christ died for all; that God was in Christ reconcil-I4*_J0..
ing the world to himself, not imputing their trespasses'^
unto them that “ he will have all men to be saved,
and to come into the knowledge of the truth ;” that
“ Christ gave himself a ransom lor a//,-” and that “ Je¬
sus was made a little lower than the angels, that by the
grace of God he should taste death for every man."
The very same thing is taught by St Peter and St John,
when the former says §, that “ the Lord is not willing^ j peler
that any should perish, but that a//should come to re*j,j, 9,
pentance and the latter ||, that “Jesus Christ the j 1
righteous is the propitiation for our sins ; and not forJ-
our’s only, but for the whole world."
On these texts, without any commentary, the Armi¬
nians are willing to rest their doctrine of universal re¬
demption; though they think that a very strong additional
argument for its truth arises from the numberless absur¬
dities which flow from the contrary opinion. Thus,
say they *, the apostles were commanded by our Savj- *
our t to “ go into all the world and preach the gospel 4orfA*
to every creature," and all who hear it preached are
required to believe it : but no man, as the Calvinists
themselves confess, can believe the gospel as a Christian, ^4.
without believing that Christ died for him ; and there-<4. i«-
fore, if it be true that Christ died only for the elect, at^^.
great partof mankind are required to believe a lie, andxv1^’
a falsity is made the obje.ct of divine faith ! Again, if
Christ did not die for all, then no man can be sure that
a he
p* II.
Tii»o<ry lie is bound to believe in Clnist when preached to him :
morweou- nor can any man be justly condemned for infidelity :
harljpiiri- which is not only absurd in itself, but directly contrary
. , to what we are taught by our blessed Lord, who assures
* StEolm us *» lliat unbelief is the cause of condemnation. Last-
iii. i i 19, Iy> if Christ died not for all, then is it certain that he
and J. cannot claim dominion over all in consequence of his
11;°4 Iiv. death and resurrection; but St Paul says expressly f,
that “ to this end Christ both died, and rose, and revived,
that he might be the Lord of the dead and living.11
The Arminians acknowledge, that though Christ died
for all, there are many who will not be saved j for, say
t they J, the death of Christ did not literally pay the
DiviMtcs debts incurred by sinners, but only obtained for them
endive- the gracious covenant of the gospel, by which all who
believe iu him, and sincerely endeavour to work out
their own salvation with fear and trembling, are entitled
ill: to forgiveness of sins and eternal life.
Diffikties Such is the state of this controversy as it was agitated
T' m^ rn f,etween ^,e Calvinists and Arminians of the 17th cen-
Arrafan*! tury ’ ^llt t*,e Present leaders of this latter school are
of opinion, that it never could have been started, had
not both parties mistaken the purpose for which Christ
died. It is not conceivable, say they, that any thing
for which the eternal Son of God took upon him hu¬
man nature, and in that nature suffered a cruel and ig¬
nominious death, shall not be fully accomplished j and
therefore, if in the divine intention he died to make
atonement for the sins of man actual as well as original,
we must of necessity conclude, that those for whom he
died shall certainly be saved. \et we learn from scrip¬
ture that many shall go away into everlasting punish¬
ment, though the same scripture repeatedly assures us
that Christ gave his life a ransom for all, and that he is
the propitiation for the whole world. To reconcile
these different passages of scripture is impossible, if we
suppose that he laid down his life to atone for the ocftfr//
transgressions of men ; but if the direct purpose of the
Godhead in forming this stupendous plan of redemption
was, that the death of Christ should be the ransom of
all from the grave or utter extinction, every difficulty is
removed j for we know that all, the wicked as well as
the righteous, shall through him be raised to life at the
last day. That this was the purpose for which he died,
they think apparent from the very words quoted bv the
Calvinists to prove that redemption was not universal ;
for he declares that it was his Father’s will, “ that of
all which had been given him he should lose nothing.”
not that he should save it all from future punishment,
but only that he “ should raise it up at the last day.”
When St John calls him a propitiation for our sins,
which, as we have seen, the divines whose doctrine we
are now stating hold him to be indirectly, he does not
add, as in our translation, for the sins of the whole
world, but cXov rov for the whole world,
which, by his death, he redeemed from that vanity and
corruption under which, according to St Paul, it had
groaned from the fall till the preaching of the gospel.
Hence it is that our blessed Lord calls himself “ the re¬
surrection and the life,” and always promises to those
who should believe in him, that though they were dead,
yet should they live, and that he would raise them up
at the last day.
Among these various opinions respecting the destina¬
tion of the death of Christ, it belongs not to us to de-
cide. I he serious reader, divesting himself of prejudice Theology
in favour of the system in which he has been educated, more pecu-
will search the scriptures, and adopt the theory which harly Ckri-
he shall find most explicitly taught in that sacred vo- , tUan"
lume j but as in every system it is admitted, that one ^6
purpose for which Christ died was to redeem mankind One pur-
from the everlasting power of the grave, and bring to P°*c for
light life and immortality, it is of the utmost importance
to know whether that purpose has been fully attained. <ll€d
Heath we see still triumphing over all the generations bring to
of men ; and as the scriptures give us no hopes of being light life
rescued from its dominion but through the medium of aan(* immor-
resurrection, some sensible evidence seems necessary to ,ailty*
evince that a general resurrection shall actually take
place. This we are promised as one great benefit pur¬
chased for us by the sufferings of Christ sacrificed on the
cross. And since the price has been paid, and paid thus
visibly, the nature of the covenant requires that the be¬
nefit should be as visibly enjoyed by the person whose
sufferings obtained it for his brethren. “ If the Re¬
deemer himself had not been seen to enjov the fruits of
the redemption procured, what hopes could have re¬
mained for the rest of mankind? Would not the natural
conclusion have been, that the expedient of redemptiony
by the death and sacrifice of Jesus, had proved ineffec¬
tual ?” This is the conclusion which St Paul himself
draws : “ If Christ be not risen (says he*), then is our * 1 Cor.
preaching vain, and your faith is also vain j ye are yetxv> —13-
in your sins. Then they also, who are fallen asleep in
Christ, are perished—are lost, as if the> had
never existed. But now (adds he) is Christ risen from
the dead, and become the first fruits of them that slept.
For since by man came death, by man came also the re¬
surrection of the dead : For as in Adam all die, even so
in Christ shall all be made alive11—So necessarily con¬
nected, in the opinion of the apostle, is the resurrection
of Christ with the very essence of Christianity f. f Warbar.
We have in another place (see Resurrection ir)n>* ^ce-
N° 50.) stated such arguments for the truth of this fun-
damental article of our common faith, as must carry ^
conviction to every mind capable of estimating the force
of evidence \ we shall not here resume the subject.
Archbishop King has supposed |, that the human will * V
is a faculty distinct from the understandingand the appe- ^ll1
titesj that activity is essential to it-, and that previous^ec[' \
to an election formed, it is equally indifferent to all oh-se«t. 3. usd
jects. He thence infers, that a man may choose, and 4*
even take delight in, what is not naturally agreeable to
any of his appetites j because when the choice is made,
a relation is formed between the will and the object of
clwice, which, from being originally indifferent, now
becomes a favourite object. But neither his Grace,
nor any other asserterof human liberty, has ever affirm¬
ed or supposed, that any man or body of men could de¬
liberately choose evil for its oivn sake, or enter zealously
upon a tedious and difficult enterprise, from which no
good could possibly arise, and from which unmixed mi¬
sery was clearly foreseen as the necessary result of every
step of the progress. Such, however, must have been
the choice and the conduct of the apostles, when they
resolved to preach a new religion founded on the resur¬
rection of Jesus, if they did not certainly know that
Jesus had risen from the dead. And this conduct must
have been adopted, and, in opposition to every motive
which can influence the human mind, have been perse¬
vered
THEOL OGY
3&4
Theology vered in by a great number 6f men and women, without
more pecu- t]ie smallest contradiction having ever appeared in the
lUrly Chri-.varjolig testimonies, which at different times, and under
, stuul‘ . the cruellest tortures, they all gave to a variety of cir-
T cumstances, of which not one had its foundation in
truth. He who can admit this suppbsition, will not
surely object to the incredibility of miracles. The re¬
surrection of a man from the dead is an event so difter-
ent indeed from the common course of things, that
nothing but the most complete evidence can make it
an object of rational belie! ) but as the resurrection of
Jesus has always been said to have had God for its Au¬
thor, it is an effect which does not exceed the power of
the cause assigned, and is therefore an event possible in
itself and capable of proof. It is a deviation from tlm
laws of nature, but it is not contradictory to any one of
those laws. . ,
That a great number of men and women should deli¬
berately form a plan of ruin and misery to themselves,
without a prospect of the smallest advantage either in
this world or in the next, is as different from the com¬
mon course of things as the resurrection from the dead 5
and therefore in itself at least as great a miracle : but
that they should persist in prosecuting this plan in the
midst of torments 5 that they should spread themselves
over the whole world, and everywhere publish a num¬
ber of falsehoods, without any One of them contradicting
the restj that truth should never escape them either in
an unguarded moment, or when lingering on the rack,
and yet that all their lies should be in perfect agreement
with each other ; that they should every one of them
court sufferings for a person whom they knew to be an
impostor j that not one of the number—not. even a single
woman—should have so much compassion for a fellow-
creature, as to rescue him from the flames by confessing
a truth which could injure nobody—not even the sufl'er-
ing deceivers themselves j—all this is not only different
from the common course of things, but directly con¬
trary to the most known laws of nature, and is therefore
not miraculous, but may be pronounced impossible.
Yet this impossibility we must admit, or acknowledge,
that as Christ died for our sins, according to the Scrip¬
tures, and was buried j so he arose again the third day
according to the Scriptures j that he was seen of Ce¬
phas, then of the twelve ; after that of above five hun¬
dred brethren at once j after that of James ; then of all
the apostles j and that he was last of all seen ot St
* 1 Cor Paul *, who was converted by the vision to preach the
XV. 3—9. which till then he had persecuted.
Hencewe T*1118 we are asslired> tliat “ tll0se wtl° ^ave ^a^en
arenaCssured asleep in Christ are not lost, since he is risen from the
of our own dead, and become the first fruits of them that slept,
rcsurrec- s;nce by man came death, by man came also the re-
tlon‘ surrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even
so in Christ shall all be made alive. But every man in
his own order : Christ the first-fruits, afterwards they
that are Christ’s at his coming; for all that are in the
graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth j they
that have done good unto the resurrection of life, and
they that have done evil to the resurrection of damna-
11 Cor- tion t.”
*Ys°7h{’ ^ur blessed Lord having conversed familiarly with
-^/the eleven apostles for forty days after his resurrection,
^ instructing them in the things pertaining to the king¬
dom of God j having extended their authority as his
I
Part
ministers, by giving them a Commission to teach all na- Thro!
tions, and make them his disciples, by baptizing them more 1
in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of thelwly
Holy Ghost *, and having promised them power from, _!itl-
on high to enable them to discharge the duties of so^^’
laborious an office—led them on as far as Bethany, that
they might be witnesses of his ascension into heaven.
<s When they therefore were come together, they asked
of him, saying. Lord, wilt thou at this time restore
again the kingdom to Israel ? And he said, it is not for
you to know the times and the seasons, which the Fa¬
ther hath put in his own power. But ye shall receive
power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you j
and ye shall he witnesses unto me, both in Jerusalem,
and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the utter¬
most parts of the earth. But tarry ye in the city of Je¬
rusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high ;
and he lift up his hands and blessed them ; and it came
to pass while he blessed them, he was parted from them,
and a cloud received him out of their sight. And
while they looked steadfastly towards heaven, as he went
up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel j
who also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing
up into heaven? This same Jesus, who is taken up* St!
from you into heaven, shall so come, in like manner as^iv.
ye have seen him go into heaven. And they ^vor‘^Y1
shipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great J
joy*.” 1!
That our blessed Lord ascended into heaven, will Proof
scarcely be denied in the present age by any one whociinH
admits that he rose from the dead. The ascension \vasct4'
indeed the natural consequence of the resurrection ; for
we cannot suppose that a man would be called back
from the grave to live for ever in a world where all
other men fall in succession a prey to death. The pur¬
pose for which he died was to recover for the descend¬
ants of Adam every privilege which they had forfeited
through his transgression j and if, as has been generally
believed, mankind were by the terms of the first cove¬
nant to enjoy eternal life in heaven, *ome proof was ne¬
cessary that Christ by bis death and resurrection had
opened the kingdom of heaven to all faithful observers
of the terms of the second. Hence it was prophesied f f Ps 1
of the Messiah, in whom all the nations of the earth
were to be blessed, that “ be should ascend on high, n>
lead captivity captive, and sit on the right hand of God
until his enemies should be made his footstool.” It was
therefore of the greatest importance to the apostles to
have sufficient proof of their Master’s exaltation to the
right hand of the Majesty on high ; for otherwise they
could neither have looked for an entrance into heaven
themselves, by a new and living way, as the author of
the epistle to the Hebrews expresses it, nor have preach¬
ed Jesus as the Messiah promised to their fathers, since
they could not have known that in him these prophecies
were fulfilled. But the proof vouchsafed them was the
most complete that the nature of the thing would bear.
The spectators of the ascension were many 5 for, ac¬
cording to the history of St Luke J, those who returned j \c
from the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem, and prepared n-
themselves for the coming of the Holy Ghost, were M
number about six score j and to such a cloud of witnesses
the evangelist would not have appealed, had not the
fact he was recording been very generally known.
Yet these were perhaps but part of the witnesses; f01
since
THEOLOGY.
ut II. ' T H E O
lieology since Christ had told to his disciples that he was to as-
epecu- tend to his Father and their Father, to his God and
I .«.
Id
pne
itt the
ilk : f a
and
C 1
iii.;
suii
I PIi
their God, and that he was going to prepare a place
for them, that where he is there they might be like¬
wise ; he can hardly doubt but that all who believed
in him as the Redeemer of the world would take care
to be present, not only to view their Master’s triumph
over all his enemies, but also to have a sight of that
glory which awaited themselves. It w-as on this occa¬
sion probably that he was seen after his resurrection
by above five hundred brethren at once, of whom the
greater part were alive at the writing of St Paul’s first
epistle to the Corinthians.
But though such multitudes of people saw Jesus lifted
up from the mount, and gradually vanish out of their
sight, some other evidence seemed necessary to certify
them of the place to which he had gone. Two angels
therefore appear, and attest what human eyes could not
see, but what was indeed the consequence of what they
had seen. They attest that Christ had ascended to
heaven, not to descend again till the last day ; and sure¬
ly, Willi respect to this point, the citizens of heaven
were the most unexceptionable witnesses. We must
therefore acknowledge and confess, against all the wild
heresies of old (k), that Jesus Christ the Son of God,
who died and rose again, did with the same body and
soul with which he had lived upon earth ascend up “ in¬
to heaven, there to appear in the presence of God for
us *. Having in the outward tabernacle of this world
once offered up himself a pure and perfect sacrifice for
the expiation of our sins, he entered within the veil in¬
to the most holy place, thereto present his blood be¬
fore God himself, in order to obtain mercy for us, and
restore us to the Divine favour. So that, “ if any
man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus
Clnist the righteous, who is the propitiation for our sins,
and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole
world 5 and he is able to save to the uttermost those that
come to God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make in¬
tercession for us.” “ Seeing then that we have a great
high-priest, who is passed into the heavens, Jesus the
Son of God, we may through him come boldly unto
the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find
grace to help him in time of need.”
But it is not the office of a priest only that our Loid
discharges in heaven ; he is represented as sitting on the
lignt hand of God, to denote that regal authority with
which he is now vested ‘ angels, and authorities, and
powers, being made subject to him f.” Hence it is,
that after his resurrection, he said of himself J, “ all
power is given unto me in heaven and in earth j” for,
as ut Paul informs us 44 because he humbled himself
and became obedient unto death, even the death of the
cross, therefore God hath highly exalted him, and given
lum a name which is above every name : that at the
L ° G Y. 385
name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in hea- Theology
ven, and things in earth, and things under the earth.” more pe< u-
And this submission is due to him, because “ God raised ^arhv LIa‘*
him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand stliU1'
in the heavenly places, far above all principalities and
powers, and might, and dominion, and every name that
is named, not only in this world, but also in that which
is to come j and hath put all things under his feet, and
gave him to be head over all things to the church *.”* Epb.
As God, Christ possessed a kingdom, which, as it had1, 2°' &-?•
not a beginning, can never have an end: but the do¬
minion, of which the apostle is here treating, was con¬
ferred upon him as the mediator of the new covenant,
and will no longer continue than till his enemies shall
be subdued ; for we are told, that “ he must reign till
he hath put all enemies under his feet : and that the
last enemy which shall be destroyed is death.” “ He
will ransom his subjects from tbe power of the grave ;
he will redeem them from death. O death, he will be
thy plague; O grave, he will be thy destruction+.” Ulosca
Ihe trumpet shall sound, the graves shall be opened, allxa;> I4*
the sons and daughters of Adam shall return to life, and
death shall be swallowed up in victory. “ Then cometh
the end, when the office of mediator ceasing, he shall
have delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Fa¬
ther, when he shall have put down all rule and all au¬
thority and power. For when all things shall be sub¬
dued unto him, then shall the Son also himself be subject
unto him that put all things under him, that God may
be all in all J.” j f
The first conspicuous proof which our blessed Lord >;v-
gave of being vested with supreme power, and made '
Cor.
. 2 S.
head over all things to the church, was on the day ofDc/ci?I
ent of
Pentecost. He had told the apostles that he would the HolV
pray the Father to give them another comforter, who Ghost o»
should abide with them for ever, even the Spirit ofl,!e al)0'
truth, which should teach them all things, and bringstles
all things to their remembrance which he had said unto
them. He had assured them, that it was expedient for
them that he himself should go away ; “ for if I go not
away (said he*), the Comforter will not come unto * John xvfi
you ; but if I depart, I will send him unto you.” At 7*
his last interview with them, just before his ascension, he
had desired them to tarry at Jerusalem till they should
be endued with power from on high, before they enter¬
ed upon their great work of converting the nations.
These promises were amply fulfilled ; for “ when the
day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one
accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound
from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled
all the house where they were sitting. And there ap¬
peared unto them cloven tongues, like as of fire, and it
sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with
the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues,
as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were
dwelling
1 - n ^re \vaS °^e APel|es ‘n ^ie primitive church, who was condemned as a heretic for teaching that Christ’s
Y v\as c issolved in the air, and that he ascended to heaven without it. The opinions of this man and his follow-
thinlrc^ bt|atP-(i■ at, lar£e aP‘(* confuted by Tertullian, Gregory Nazianzen, and Epiphanius ; and the reader who
p ) s')lc Ridiculous notions worthy his notice, will find enough said of them in the Notes to the sixth article of
fnl?lfSOn j ^Position of the Creed. Perhaps it may be from a hint communicated in these Notes, that our
,1 a .m0 e’tj corrector 0f the evangelists has discovered, if it be indeed true that he pretends to have discovered
mai jesus Christ is still upon earth.
A°l. XX. Part I. +
3C
586
T H E O L O Cx Y.
Part
Theology dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, out of every
more peril nation under heaven. Now when this was noised
liarljr Clni-abroad, the multitude came together, and were con-
stian. founded, because that every man heard them sneak in
his own language. And they were all amazed, and
marvelled, saying one to another, Behold, are not all
these who speak Galileans ? And how hear we every
man in our own tongue, wherein we were horn ? Bar-
thians, and Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers in
Mesopotamia, and in Judea, and Cappadocia, in Pontus
and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, in Egypt and in
the parts of Libya about Cyrene, and strangers of Home,
Jews, and proselytes, Cretes and Arabians—we do hear
them speak in our tongues the wonderful works ol God.
And they were all amazed, and were in doubt, saying
one to another, What meaneth this * !”
That those who heard the apostles speak so many dif¬
ferent languages were amazed, is what we should na-
* Acts ii.
i—ij.
19:
Certainty
of tfiat mi- turally suppose j but that a single individual among
rack.
The gift
01 longues
permanent
with the
apostles.
them remained unconvinced, is astonishing1, for the gitt
of tongues on the day of Pentecost is one of the most
palpable miracles that was ever wrought. It is like¬
wise one of the best authenticated miracles •, for the
book entitled the Acts of the Apostles was written not
more than 30 years after the event took place (see
Scripture, N® 168.) *, and it is not conceivable that,
within so short a period, St Luke, or any man of com¬
mon sense, would have appealed for the truth of what
he recorded to so many inveterate enemies ol the Chri¬
stian name, had he not been aware that the miraculous
gift of tongues was a fact incontrovertible. We all
know how desirous the Jewish rulers were to stop the
progress of the faith, by whatever means •, but if this
miracle was not reallv performed, they had now an op¬
portunity of doing it effectually by means to which truth
and honour would give their approbation. Thousands
must have been alive in the city of Jerusalem who were
men and women at the time when the apostles were said
to have been thus suddenly inspired with the tongues of
the Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, &c. •, and as these
foreigners w’ere themselves either Jews by descent, or at
least proselytes to tbc Jewish religion, surely the chief-
priests would have found multitudes ready, both at home
and abroad, to contradict this confident appeal of St
Luke’s if contradiction had been possible. We read
however of no objection whatever being made to this
miracle. Some of the audience, indeed, when the
apostles addressed people of so many nations in all their
respective languages, not understanding what was said,
ami taking it for jargon which had no meaning, con¬
cluded, not unnaturally, that the speakers were full of
new wine, and mocked them for being drunk so early
in the day *, but this is a circumstance which, so far from
rendering the miracle doubtful, adds much to the credit
of the historian, as it would hardly have occurred to the
writer of a narrative wholly false, and would certainly
not have been mentioned, had he known that the apos¬
tles really attempted to impose on the multitude un¬
meaning sounds lor foreign languages.
As it is thus certain that the apostles were miracu¬
lously furnished with the gift of tongues, so the elegance
and propriety of that miracle to attest the real descent
of the 8; 1 :t of truth, who was to teach them all things,
an l endue them with power liom on high to convert the
nations, can never be enough admired by the pious
Christian ; for words being the vehicle of knowledge, Theol
an ability to speak the diflerent languages of the earth more
was absolutely necessary to enable those who had been llari.v ■ 1
originally fishermen to go into all the world and preach L stl“
the gospel to every creature. ^ et there have been
writers *, who, though unable to call in question the *-Dr -.
reality of the gift of tongues on the day of Pentecost,™
have contended, that it was a gift “ not lasting, hutfcs^(.
instantaneous and transitory } not bestowed upon them
for the constant work of the ministry, but as an occa¬
sional sign only, that the person endowed with it was a
chosen minister of the gospel 5 which sign, according to
them, ceased and totally vanished as soon as it had j
served that paiticular purpose.” The chief argumentObju
upon which this opinion is attempted to be built, is
drawn from the scripture Greek, which is said to be
“ utterly rude and barbarous, and abounding with every
fault which can pos-dbly deform a language ; whereas
we should naturally expect to find an inspired language
pure, clear, noble, and affecting, even beyond the force
of common speech } since nothing can come from God
but what is perfect in its kind. In short, we should ex¬
pect, says the ohjecter, the purity of Plato and the e^°‘j
quence of Cicero f.” ;on-s j
In reply to this objection, it has been well observed J, ow the i/l
that it supposes what is called the purity, elegance, and of Toj*
sublimity, of language, to be something natural and ys-f^r-
seutiai to human speech, and inherent in the constitution^.^
of things. “ But the matter is far otherwise. TheseGrace
qualities are accidental and arbitrary, and depend on
custom and fashion ; modes of humanity as various asAaswij)
the different climes of the earth j and as inconstant as
the tempers, genius, and circumstances, of its inhabi¬
tants. For what is purity, hut the use of such terms
and their combinations as the caprice ot a writer or
speaker of authority hath preferred to their equals?
what is elegance, hut such a turn of idiom as a fashion¬
able fancy hath brought into credit’, and what is sublimi¬
ty, hut the application of such images as arbitrary and
casual connections, rather than their own native gran¬
deur, have dignified and ennobled ? The consequence
of this is, that the mode of composition which is a model
of perfection to one nation or people, has always appear¬
ed either extravagant or mean to another. Asiatic and
Indian eloquence was esteemed hyperbolical and unna¬
tural by the Greeks and Romans, and is so esteemed by
us j whilst the Greek and Roman eloquence in its turn
appeared cold and insipid to the warm inhabitants ot
the east j and ours would appear perhaps still colder.
But the New Testament was designed tor the rule of
life to all mankind. Such a rule required inspiration;
and inspiration, say the objectors, implies the most per¬
fect eloquence. What human model then was the
Holy Ghost to follow ? for a human model it must have
been, because there was no other ; and it there had, no
other would have answered the purpose, which was to
make a due impression on the mind and affections.
Should the eastern eloquence have been employed.
But it would have been too swelling and animated fin-
the west. Should the western? Ibis would have been
too still and inactive for the east. Or suppose us oiny
solicitous for what we best understand ; which species
of this latter genus should the sacred writers have pie*
ferred ? The dissolute softness of the Asiatic Greeks,
or the dry conciseness ot the Spartans ? I he flowing ex
uberances
.irt IL ' • THEO
)|. oWy uberances of Attic elotjuencc, or the grave severity of
,e pccu- the Roman ?
|Hy Chri- “ But are there not some general principles of elo-
Mian. quence in common to all the species ? There are. Why
11* then should not these have been employed to credit the
apostolic inspiration ? Because the end even of these (re¬
plies our author), is to mislead reason, and inflame the
passions j which being abhorrent to the truth and puri¬
ty of our holy religion, were very fitly rejected by the
inspired penman. Besides, it might easily be known
to have been the purpose of Providence, though such
purpose had not been expressly declared, that the gospel
should bear all possible marks ol its divine original, as
well in the course of its progress as in the circumstances
of its promulgation. To this end, the human instru¬
ments of its conveyance were mean and illiterate, and
chosen from among the lowest of the people, that when
the world saw itself converted by the foolishness of
preaching, as the only learned apostle thinks fit to call
it, unbelievers might have no pretence to ascribe its suc¬
cess to the parts, or stations, or authority, of the preach¬
ers. Now had the language inspired into these illiterate
men been the eloquence of Plato or Tully, Providence
would have appeared to counteract its own measures,
and to defeat the purpose best calculated to advance its
glory. But God is wise, though man is a fool. The
course ot Providence was uniform and constant : Tt not
only chose the weakest instruments, but carefully kept
out of their hands that powerful weapon of words
which their adversaries might so easily have wrested to
the dishonour of the gospel. Common sense tells us,
that the style of an universal law should retain what is
common to all languages, and neglect what is peculiar
to each. It should retain nothing but cleaiixkss and
Precision, by which (he mind and sentiments of the
writer are intelligibly conveyed to the reader. This
quality is essential, invariably the same, and independ¬
ent of custom and fashion. It is ihe consequence of
syntax, the very thing in language which is least posi¬
tive, as being formed on the principles of philosophy and
logic : whereas all besides, from the very power of the
elements and signification of the terms to the tropes
and figures in composition, are arbitrary ; and, as devi¬
ating Irom these principles, frequently vicious. But
this quality of clearness and precision eminently distin¬
guishes the writings of the New Testament; insomuch
that it may be easily shown, that whatever difficulties
occur in the sacred books do not arise from any imper¬
fect information caused by this local or nominal barba¬
rity ol style j but either Irom the sublime or obscure
nature of the things treated of, or from the intentional
conciseness of the writers j who, in the casual mention
of any thing not essential to the dispensation, always
observe a studied brevity.”
After much ingenious and sound reasoning on the
nature of language in general, our author concludes,
that the style of the New Testament, even on the
jruth of what has been said to its discredit, is so far
from proving the language not to be divinely inspired,
that it bears one certain mark of that original. “ Every
anguage consists of two distinct parts, the single terms,
and the phrases and idioms. Suppose now a foreign
anguage to be instantaneously introduced into the minds
® dliterate men like the apostles j the impression must
e made either by fixing in the memory the terms and
L O Ci Y.
single words only with their signification, as, for in- Theology
stance, Greek words corresponding to such or such Sy- more pecn-
riac or Hebrew words j or else, together with that siin-1*"1?. ch,'i-
ple impression, by enriching the mind with all the . stm1' .
phrases and idioms of the language so inspired. But to
enrich the mind with the peculiar phrases and idiom of
a foreign language, would require a previous impression
to be made of the manners, notions, fashions, and opi¬
nions, of the people to whom that language is native ;
because the idiom and phrases arise from, and are de¬
pendent on, these manners. But this would be a waste
ot miracles without sufficient cause or occasion j for the
Syriac or Hebrew idiom, to which the Jews were of
themselves enabled to adapt the Greek or any other
words, abundantly served the useful purposes of the
gift of tongues, which all centered in those tongues,
being so spoken and written as to be clearly UN--
DERSTOOD. Hence it follows, that if the style of
the New Testament were indeed derived from that
language which was miraculously impressed upon the
apostles on the day of Pentecost, it must be just .
such a one as in reality we find it to be $ that is, it
must consist of Greek words in the Svriac or Hebrew
idiom.” . ,
I he immediate author of this gift, so necessary to the Divinity of
propagation of the gospel, was the Spirit of truth, orl^c,,o|y
the Comforter, who is the Holy Ghost and the thirdtJhosL
person in the blessed Trinity. That there are three
persons in the one Godhead, lias been shewn at largo
in a former section of this article; and that the Holy
Ghost is one of these three, might be safely concluded
from the form of baptism instituted by Christ himself.
But as more plausible objections have been urged against
his divinity than any that we have met with against the
divinity ot Christ, it may not be improper to consider
these before we proceed to give an account of the graces
which he imparted to the infant church, and of the
apostles preaching under his influence. By the Arlans
the Holy Ghost is considered as a creature; by the So-
cinians and modern Unitarians, as they call themselves,
the words Holy Ghost are supposed to express, not a per¬
son or spiritual subsistence, but merely an energy m-ope¬
ration, a quality or power, of the Father, whom alone
they acknowledge to he God. If this doctrine can he
confuted, the Arian hypothesis will fall to the ground of
itself; for it is not conceivable that any inspired teach¬
er should command his followers to be baptized in the
name of the self existent God and two creatures.
It is admitted by the Socinians themselves, that inObjecUom.
the Scriptures many things are spoken of the Holy
Ghost which can be properly predicated only of a per¬
son ; but the inference drawn from tins concession they
endeavour to invalidate by observing, that in scripture
there are likewise expressions in which things are pre¬
dicated of abstract virtues, which can be literally true
only of such persons as practise these virtues. Thus
when St Paul says*, that “ charity sufiereth long and * t Cor.
is kind, charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, xiii. 4—
is not puffed up,” &c. we cannot suppose his meaning
to be, that these actions are performed by charity in the
abstract, but that every charitable person, in conse¬
quence of that one Christian grace, sufiereth long and
is kind, envieth not, vaunteth not himself, and is not
puffed up, &c. In like manner, say they, personal
actions are attributed to the Holy Ghost, which itself is
3 C ^ no
388
Theology
more pecu-
iirsi ly Clui-
stia’i.
* Acts x.
'9, 20,
f Acts
iiii. 2.
19S
Answered.
I Item,
viit. 26.
27.
^ St John
xiv. 26.
xv. 26.
xvi. 13, 14,
I c.
|j "Faust:
Soeinm in
Resp ud
Wickam,
eap. 10.
T H E O
no person, ljut only the virtue, power, or efficacy, of
God the Father ; became God the Father, who is a
person, performs such actions by that power, virtue, or
efficacy, in himself, which is denominated the Holy
Ghost. Thus when we read * that “ the Spirit said un¬
to Peter, Behold three men seek thee ; arise therefore
and get thee down, and go with them, doubting nothing,
for I have sent them we must understand that God
the Father was the person who spoke these words and
sent the three men 5 but because he did so by that vir¬
tue in him which is called the Spirit, therefore the
Spirit is said to have spoken the words and sent the men.
Again, when “ the Holy Ghost said f to those at An¬
tioch, Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work
whereunto I have called them we are to conceive
that it was God the Father who commanded the two
apostles to be separated for the work to which he had
called them ; but because lie had done all this by that
power within him which is called the Holy Ghost,
therefore his words and actions are attributed to the
Holy Gb st, just as long-suffering in men is attributed
to charity.
This reasoning has a plausible appearance, and would
be of much force were all the actions which in scripture
are attributed to the Holy Ghost e-f such a nature as
that they could be supposed to have proceeded from the
person of God the Father in consequence of any parti¬
cular power or virtue in him ; but this is far from be¬
ing the case. Thus “ Spirit is said ^ to make interces¬
sion for Us y5 but with whom can we suppose God the
Father, tiie fountain of divinity, to intercede? Our Sa¬
viour assured § Ins disciples, that the Father would, in
his name, send to them the Holy Ghost, who is the
Comforter ; that he would himself send the Comforter
unto them from the Father ; (hat the Comforter should
not speak of himself, hut speak only what he should
hear and that he should receive of Christ’s, and shew
it unto them. But we cannot, without blasphemy and
absurdity, suppose that the Father would, in the name
of Christ, send himself; that the Son would send the
Father from the Father; and the Father would not
speak of himself, but speak only what he heard ; or
that either the Father in person, or a quality of the Fa¬
ther, should receive any thing of Christ to shew unto the
apostles.
The sagacity of Socinus perceived the force of such
objections as these to his notion of the Holy Ghost be¬
ing nothing more than the power of the Father personi¬
fied ; and therefore he invented another prosopopeia to
serve his purpose in the interpretation of those texts to
which this one cannot be applied. “ The Spirit of
God (says he ||) may be considered either as a property
or power in God, or as the things on which that power
is working. When taken in the former sense, the Spi¬
rit, where any personal attribute is given to it, means
God the Father ; when taken in the latter sense, it
means the man on whom the power of the Father is
working; who, as long as he is affected by that power,
is therefore called the Spirit of God ;” and he quotes,
we think most absurdly, the tenth verse of the second
chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians, as a text
in which by the Spirit is meant an inspired man who
could search all things, yea, even THE deep things
9F God.
How his modern followers, who deny the plenary in-
5-
O G Y. Part ;
spiration even of Christ, will relisli sue!) a degree of in- ^in¬
spiration as this, which raises mere men to A temporary more p
equality with God, we know not; but leaving lliem to k«riy(i
settle the dispute with their master, we shall produce one . s't''u
or two passages in which personal attributes are given to
tire Spirit of God, when it is impossible to conceive that
Spirit, either as a power inherent in the .Divine Father,
or as the person on whom that power is operating. We
need not bring new texts into view, as some of those al¬
ready quoted will serve our purpose. When our Saviour-
promises that the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, the Spirit of
truth, should be sent by the Father and the Son to the
apostles, we have seen, that by this Spirit he could not
mean the Father or a property of the Father ; neither
could he possibly mean the apostles themselves, unless we
are to suppose that the Father and the Son sent St Peter
to St Peter, and that St Peter, so sent, came to St Pe¬
ter ! Again, when Christ sail!) of the Holy Ghost, “ he
shall receive of mine, and shall show it unto v.ou,” he
could not, for the reason already assigned, mean by the
Holy Ghost the Father or the power of the Father; and
surely his meaning was not, that the apostles, under the
influence of the power of the Father, should receive
something and shew it each to himself! Tie Holy
Ghost therefore is unquestionably a person; for though
there are many passages of scripture in which the gifts cf
the Holy Ghost are called the Holy Ghost, they are so
called by a very common figure of speech, in which the
effect receives the name cf its cause: and since this per¬
son is joined with the Father and the Son in the formula
ot Christian baptism ; since they who lied to the Holy
Ghost are said* to have lied unto God ; since blasphemy * Act!
against him is a more heinous offence than the same sitH-
against even the Father or the Son f; and since it wast WflI|i
by the operation of the Holy Ghost that Jesus Christ28’
was conceived of the Virgin Marv, and even on that
account called the J Son ol God—it follows that theG-tik
Holy Ghost is God, of the same substance with the Fa-35- j
ther and Son. id
It was this Divine Spirit which, on the day of Pen-T’6d
tecost, inspired the apostles with the knowledge of dif-^lj
ferent languages; and as these were given only to en-stlucJu
able them to preach the gospel to every creature, it can the pij
admit of no doubt but that he, who so amply providedG’M ?
the means of preaching, would take care that the gos-1,§lonj
pel should be preached in purity. Our Saviour had told
his apostles, that the Comforter would guide them into
ail the truth (s<£ nxcrctv -njv , and bring all things,
to their remembrance, whatsoever lie had said unto
them ; but if they had not comprehended the meaning,
of what he said, the bare remembrance of his sayings
would have been of little importance. That before this
miraculous shedding abroad of the Spirit they had but a
very imperfect knowledge of his doctrines, and of the
purpose for which he had come into the world, is apparent
from that unseasonable question which they put to him
when assembled to witness his glorious ascension; “ Ford,
wilt thou at this time restore again the kingdom to Is¬
rael ?” ssj)
Their minds still cherished with fondness the vain pro-Tbek ^
spect of temporal power; but after the dav of Pente-^^lL
cost they were directed to nobler objects. From the
same Spirit they received diversities of gifts besides that
of language; for we are assured bv St Paul whenDj.
speaking of the. early converts to Christianity in gene-*11
II. T H E O
ry r;J, lint u to one ivas given Ly the Spirit the word of
in-WISDOM ; to another the word of KNOWLEDGE by the
n- same Spirit*, to another FAITH by the same Spirit ; to
another the gifts of healing by the same Spirit ; to
another the working of miracles j to another pro¬
phecy ; to another DISCERNING of spirits ; to another
DIVERS KINDS of TONGUES j to another the INTERPRE¬
TATION OF TONGUES and these gifts, which were se¬
verally divided either among private Christians or among
the inferior orders of ministers in the church, we have
reason to believe were all bestowed in a greater or less
degree upon each of the apostles.
Men thus endowed were well qualified to declare unto
the world all the counsel of God. By the word of w/'s-
d'j'n they communicated to the Gentile nations a pure
system of what is called natural religion ; turning them
from the vanity of idols to the worship of the living
God : by the word of knowledge, they preached the
great doctrines of revelation both to Jews and Gentiles,
shewing them that there is none other name under hea¬
ven given unto men whereby they may be saved than
the name of Jesus Christ (l) *, and by their gifts of
healing and at miracles, &e. \ they were enabled to prove
unanswerably, that their doctrines were divine. They
taught everywhere the unity of God, the creation of the
world, the fall of man, the necessity of redemption, the
divinity of the Kedemeer, his sacrifice on the cross to
restore mankind to their forfeited immortality, and the
term< of the new covenant into which they had through
him been graciously admitted by God.
Sncli a view as our iimiu would admit of we have gi¬
ven of all these doctrines, except that which respects the
terms of the gospel covenant; but these being explicitly
stated only by St Paul and St James, we could not till
now investigate them, without violating the historical
order into which, for the sake of perspicuity, we have
digested the several parts of this short system. Our Sa¬
viour himself has indeed taught with great plainness the
necessity of faith and baptism to the salvation of those
who have an opportunity of hearing the gospel preached
with power (see Baptism) : and in his sermon on the
mount, which is such a lecture of ethics founded on re¬
ligion as the Son of God only could have delivered, we
learn, that “ unless our righteousness shall exceed the
righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, we shall in no
case enter into the kingdom of heaven j that not every
one who saith unto Christ, Lord, Lord, shall enter into
the kingdom of heaven, but he who doth the will of the
lather who is in heaven : and that many will say to him
at the day of judgment, Lord, Lord, have we not pro¬
phesied in thy name, and in thy name done many won-
LOG Y. 389
dorful works ?” which could not be done without faith ; Theology
to whom lie will, notwithstanding, say, “ Depart from more pem-
me, ye that work iniquity*.” St Paul, however, seems liarty cliri*
to attribute, our justification to the bare act of believing; , ,
for he repeatedly assures us, “ that a man is justified by * st Matt,
faith without the deeds of the law while St James, on v. 20. vii.
the other hand, affirms, “ that by works a man is justi- 21.—24*
lied, and not by faith only.” This apparent difference in
the language ot the two apostles, has produced among
divines opinions really different respecting the justifica¬
tion of Christians ; and the principal of these opinions
it is our duty to state. 2ol
Between pardon of sin and justification there is so Meaning-
close a connection, that many writers seem to consider of.iuslificiW
the terms as synonymous, and to infer, that he who isUo;1,
pardoned is ipso facto justified. That every Christian,
who shall be pardoned at the judgment of the great day, .
will likewise be justified, is indeed true ; but in pro¬
priety of speech, justification is a word of very different
import trom pardon, and will entitle the Christian to
what mere pardon could not lead him to expect. An
innocent person, when falsely accused and acquitted, is
justified but not pardoned; and a criminal may be par¬
doned, though he cannot he justified or declared innocent.
A man whose sins are pardoned is free from punishment;
but the justified Christian is entitled to everlasting life,
happiness, and glory. If we were only pardoned through
Christ, we should indeed escape the pains of hell, hut
couid have no €laim to the enjoyments of heaven ; for
these, being more than the most perfect human viitue
can merit, must be, what in the scriptures they are al¬
ways said to lie, “ the gift ot God through Jesus Christ
our Lord.” Hence it is that St Paul, distinguishing,
as we have done upon his authority, between mere re¬
mission of sin-, and justification of life, declares f, that f Romans-
“ Jes us our Lord was delivered for our offences, and ^v* (l) 2£-
raised again for our justifiedtion?’
The word justification, as used both-diy St Paul and
St James, lias been very generally considered as a foren¬
sic term expressing the sentence of a judge. The most
eminent reformed divines of all denominations +, and t Lira-
even many of the Romanists themselves, have strenuous-liull, -
ly contended, that this is its genuine sense, when it is di-
stinguished from mere remission of sins, regeneration, and Beve^id^e *
sanctification ; and if so, it will signify God’s pronoun- Fitringa,
cing a person /tfsC either as being perfectly blameless, or L'tY/, See,
as having fulfilled certain conditions required of him in
the Christian covenant. But that “ there is noj. a just
man upon earth, who doth good and sinneth not,” is
made known to us by the most complete evidence pos¬
sible, the joint dictates of our own consciences and of
divine
(l) It is not perhaps easy to determine what is here meant by the word of wisdom and the word of know¬
ledge, as distinguished from each other. By the former (A«y«s c-ipixs), Bishop Warburton understands all the
great principles of natural religion. “ The ancients (says he) used the word eoipicc in this peculiar sense; it is
used in the same sense by St Paul in Col. iv. 5,^ and we can hardly give it any other in the place before us,
where we see the word of wisdom distinguished from the word of knowledge (Aoyej '/varans), which evidently means
all the great principles of revelation ; the term yvtvns being as peculiarly applied by Christian writers to revealed
religion as rojhx is by the Gmitiles to the natural. St Paul uses the word in this sense in 2 Cor. xi. 6. where
lie says, E< kxi tOtoJris TM Xcyu asAXov t*) yvucra *, and St Peter in his first epistle, chap. iii. versa 7. Hence those
early heretics who so much deformed the simplicity and purity of the Christian faith by visionary pretences to
Mipmor knowledge of revelation, took from this word the name of Gnostics.” See Warburton's Sermon on tfte -
Jjice and Operation of the Holy Ghost.
19°
T H E O
202
jt is a fo¬
rensic
term.
# Rom.Jiii
24. 25.
eap. 11. J p.
Theology divine i’evelation j and tlitrefore wliosoever is prononn-
■sore pecu ced just by the Judge ol all the earth, must be so, eitiiei'
iiarly t;hii-|)ec.uise> though not absolutely blameless, be has per-
, stUi!1- | formed the conditions required of him in the covenant
of grace, or because Christ has fulfilled all righteousness
in his stead. ~
If this be the Scripture notion of justification, it
must be wholly the act of God, and cannot be the ef¬
fect either of our faith or of our virtue. Accordingly,
we are said by the apostle to be justified freely by his
grace through the redemption that is in Jesus Christ j
whom God hath net forth to be a propitiation through
faith in his blood*/ The act of justification therefore
proceeds from the divine philanthropy, and cannot he
performed by the instrumentality of faith j for it is not
God, but man, who believes j and man is not the jnsti-
fier of himself. To talk of any kind of instrument of
justification besides the propitiation set forth by God, is
indeed to make use of very improper language : “ Om-
f llarmonia n^g causa instrumentalis (says Bishop Lull !), suo modo
Apostohca, jn eft-ectum Jnflult, eique effect! productio proprie at-
tribui potest. Jam vero, cum justificatio nihil aliud sit
quam gratiosus Dei actus, quo peccata nostra nobis con-
donet, ac nos ad salutem acoeptet, valde absurdum esset
dicere, vel fidem, vel opera nostra, vel quidvis aliud,
nostri autremittere peccata nostra, aut personas nostras
acceptare: quod tamert, si instrumentalis causa justifica-
tionis fides sit, plane dicendum esset.
In this sentiment of the bishop ot St David’s some of
the most eminent divines both among the Calvinists and
Arminians agree. Many, however, have chosen to treat
of justification not only 111 the active sense, as it is the
act of God, for all admit that it is ha who justifies ; but
likewise in a passive sense, as it means our privilege or
possession holden of him, when we are said to he justified
by his grace. In this view of the subject they may talk
with sufficient propriety, of an instrument of justifica¬
tion, not as the mean by which it is conveyed, but as
the medium througlGwhich it is received by the true
Christian. And hence it follows, that Waterland and
"Warburton strenuously maintain the doctrine of the
Westminster Confession, “ that faith receiving and rest¬
ing on Christ is the alone instrument of justification ;
though it cannot be alone in the person justified, but
must ever be accompanied with all other saving graces,
and he a faith which worketh by love.”
But notwithstanding this agreement between the lead -
ers of the rival sects, they have found abundant matter
of controversy respecting faith and works, in deciding
the great question, “ Whether, when God justifies man,
he considers him as absolutely righteous on account of
Christ’s righteousness performed in his stead ; or only as
just, because he has fulfiled the conditions of the cove¬
nant of grace, which does not require of him perfect
righteousness ?” The former is the doctrine of the more
rigid Calvinists, the latter that of the Arminians orlie-
monstrants.
“ A notion (says Dr Gill obtained some years ago,
that a relaxation of the law and the severities of it has
been obtained by Christ ; and a new law, a remedial
law, a law of milder terms, been introduced by him,
which is the gospel 5 the terms of which are, faith, re¬
pentance, and new obedience j and though these he im¬
perfect, yet, being sincere, they are accepted by God in
the room of perfect righteousness. But every article of
I 'Body of
Divinity,
vol. ii.
book iii.
abap. 8.
$ S-
LOG Y. Part
this scheme (continues he) is wrong j for the law is not T1*'1
relaxed, nor any of its severities abated ; Christ catnejA]^
not to destroy, but to fulfil it; and therefore it requires
the same holy, just, and good things, as ever. Nor is' ,
the gospel a new law. There is nothing.in it (he says)
which looks like a law ; for it has no commands in it, ^
but all promises, being a pure declaration of grace andvimsa
salvation by Christ ; nor are faith, repentance, and a newspectii
obedience, required by it as conditions of man’s accep¬
tance with God. Faith and repentance are gospel doc¬
trines, and parts of the gospel ministry ; they are graces,
and not terms required to he performed hymen of them¬
selves. Faith is the gift of God, and repentance is a
grant from him. It is not true (continues our author)
that God will accept of an imperfect righteousness in the
room of a perfect one ; nor can any thing more highly
reflect upon the justice and truth of God, -who is the
judge of all the earth, than to suppose that he can ever
account that as a righteousness which is not one.” * Se
Ha ving thus proved by arguments which were almost Privi
in the same words stated long before by Bishop Beve-
ridge *, that the gospel is no relaxation of the law, heA tJ
proceeds to lay down his own notions of justification, of
which (he says) “ the sole matter, or that for the sake
of which a sinner is justified before God, is the righte¬
ousness of Christ—that which he did and suffered on
earth, in our nature, in our stead, and as our represen¬
tative. This is commonly called his active and passive
obedience ; and when the purity and holiness of his own
nature was added to it, the whole made up the cmctiupa
too vopov, the righteousness of the law, which was ful¬
filled by him as tbe head and representative of his peo- !
pie f ; for whatever the law required is necessary to a/jH
sinner’s justification before God, and it required of sin- f
ners more than it did of man in innocence. Man was
created with a pure and holy nature, conformable to tlie
pure and holy law of God ; and it was incumbent on
him to continue so, and to yield in it perfect and sinless
obedience, in the failure whereof he was threatened with
death. Man did fail, by which his nature was vitiated
and corrupted, and his obedience became faulty and im- j
perfect. Fie therefore became liable to the penalty of
the law, and still perfect obedience was required him. [
To the justification of a sinner therefore is required the
most complete obedience, active and passive; or, in other
words, purity of nature, perfect obedience, and the suffer¬
ings of death ; all which meet in Christ-, the representa¬
tive of his people, in whom they are justified. There
are indeed some divines (continues our author) who ex¬
clude the active obedience of Christ from being any part
of the righteousness by which men are justified. They
allow it to have been a condition requisite in him as a
Mediator, qualifying him for his office ; hut deny that it
is the matter of justification, or reckoned for righteous¬
ness to man. But without the active obedience of Christ
the law would not he satisfied ; the language of which
is, Do and live; and unless its precepts he obeyed, as
well as its penalty endured, it cannot be satisfied ; anti
unless it be satisfied there can he no justification. U
therefore men are justified by the righteousness of Chnst,
it must be by his active obedience imputed and made
over to them, so as to become their’s, even as David de-
scribeth the blessedness of the man untowhom God impu-
teth righteousness without works X- That this is really jflk
the way in which men are justified, our author thinks
evident,
irt II. T II E O
oloa.y evident, because tliey must be justified either by an inhe-
e pccu-rent or by an imputed righteousness j but they cannot be
y Ciai-justified by their own inherent righteousness, for that is
p«c
P«ii
I0uk
iap
imperfect, and therefore not justifying. Hence the
apostle ‘ counts all things but dung, that he may win
Christ and be found in him 5 not having his own righ¬
teousness, which is of the law, but that which is through
the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God bij
lilip. m. faith But by such a righteousness as this a man can¬
not be justified in any other way than by an imputation
of it to him. Whence it follows, that ‘ as htj one man's
disobedience many were made sinners by imputation, so
bij the obedience of one shall many be made righteous, by
having that obedience placed to their own account.”
As this author properly considers justification as the
act of God, he does not approve of the language in
which faith is called the instrument either of conferring
!;/ 0/ or receiving it. u Faith (says hef) is merely the evi¬
dence of justification to the person justified ; for ‘ faith
is the evidence of things not seen.’ The righteousness
"'of God, of the God-man and Mediator Jesus Christ, is
revealed from faith to faith in the everlasting gospel if j
and therefore must be before it is revealed, and before
the faith to which it is revealed. Faith is that grace
whereby a soul, having seen its want of righteousness,
beholds in the light of the Divine Spirit a complete
righteousness in Christ, renounces its own, lays hold on
that, puts it on as a garment, rejoices in it, and glories
of it; the Spirit of God witnessing to his spirit that he
is a justified person : and so he is evidently and declara-
tiveiy ‘ justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by
. the spirit of our God {)’. Faith adds nothing to the esse,
only to the bene esse of justification ; which is a com¬
plete act in the eternal mind of God, without the being
or consideration of faith, or any foresight of it. In the
account of God, a man is as much justified before his
laith as after it;-and after he does believe, his justifica¬
tion depends not on his acts of faith, for though we be¬
lieve not, yet God abides faithful to his covenant-engage¬
ments with his Son, by whose suretyship-righteousness
the elect are justif cd ; but by faith men have a comfort¬
able sense, perception, and apprehension, of their justifi¬
cation, and enjoy that peace of soul which results from
it. It is by that only, under the testimony of the Di¬
vine Spirit, that they know their interest in it, and can
claim it, and so have the comfort of it.” ,
1 hough this language differs from that of the West¬
minster Confession, the author seems not to teach a dif¬
ferent doctrine; for if faith be that grace by which a
soul renounces its own righteousness, and lavs hold of
Christ’s, which it puts on as a garment, it must be that
very thing which the compilers of the Confession meant
by their definition of faith receiving and resting on
Christ and his righteousness, when they called it “ the
alone instrument of justification.” Accordingly our au-
tnorelsewhere * teaches, that “ true faith in sensible sin¬
ners assents to Christ and embraces him, not merely as a
Saviour of man in general, but as a special suitable Sa-
v>our lor them in particular. It proceeds upon Christ’s
being revealed ?'n them as well as to them, by the spirit
of wisdom and revelation, in the knowledge of him as a
mmoiir that becomes them. It comes not merely
through external teachings by the hearing of the word
Com men ; for no man, saith our blessed Lord, can
Come to me except the Father draw him ; but such souls
as are thus drawn, having heard and learned of the
LOGY. 391
Father, believe not only in the doctrine of Christ, but Theology
also in himself, trusting in him alone for everlasting morepecu-
life and salvation.” liarly Chri-
Were it not that this author, in every thing that lie , ^ f"' ■
writes, has an eye to the doctrine of election and repro- 204
bation, which he carries to a greater height than almost And of the
any other divine with whose works we are acquainted, niol’e 1110~
he would differ little in his notions of justification fromEnlte ^1"
xl , a • • < t ^ mimans.
the more moderate Arminians. “ Justification (says
Limborch) is the merciful and gracious act of God,
whereby he fully absolves from all guilt the truly peni¬
tent and believing soul, through, and for the sake of
Ch rist apprehended by a true faith ; or gratuitously re¬
mits sins upon the account of faith in Jesus Christ, and
graciously imputes that faith for righteousness.” Here
indeed the imputation of Christ’s righteousness is ex¬
pressly denied ; but Dr Waterland, who can hardly he
considered as a Calvinist, seems to contend for the im¬
putation of that righteousness to the sinner, as well as
for faith being the instrument by which it is received.
“ It cannot he for nothing (says that able writer*)* Summa-
that StPaul so often and so emphatically speaks of man’s
being justified by faith, or through faith in Christ’s blood;
and that he particularly notes it of Abraham, that he be¬
lieved, and that his faith was counted to him for justifi¬
cation, when he might as easily have said that Abraham,
to whom the gospel was preached, was justified by gospel-
faith and obedience, had he thought faith and obedience
equally instruments of justification. Besides, it is on all
hands allowed, that though St Paul did not directly Ap¬
pose faith to evangelical works, yet he comprehended the
works of the moral law under those which he excluded
from the office oijustifying, in his sense of the word ju¬
st/ heat ion. He even used such arguments as extended to 20„
all kinds of works ; for Abraham’s works were exclud- Faith the
ed, though they were undoubtedly evangelical. To prove instrument
that he interprets the apostle’s doctrine fairly, our author
quotes, from the genuine epistle of Clemens of Home, a
passage, in which it appears beyond a doubt that this
fellow-labourer of St Paul so understood the doctrine of
justifying faith as to oppose it even to evangelical works,
however exalted. It is true (continues our author), Cle¬
mens elsewhere, and St Paul almost everywhere, insists
upon true holiness of heart and obedience of life as in¬
dispensable conditions of salvation or justification ; and
of that, one would think, there could be no question
among men of any judgment or probity. But the
question about conditions is very distinct from the other
question about instruments ; and therefore boib parts
may be true, viz. that faith and obedience are equally
conditions, and equally indispensable where opportuni¬
ties permit; and yet faith over and above is emphati¬
cally the instrument both of receiving and holding jus¬
tification, or a title to salvation.
“ To explain tin’s matter more distinctly, let it be re¬
membered, that God may be considered either as a party
contracting with man on very gracious (terms, or as a
Judge to pronounce sentence on him. Man can enter
into the covenant, supposing him adult, only by assent¬
ing to it, and accepting it, to have and to hold it on
such kind of tenure as God proposes: that is to say,
upon a self-denying tenure, considering himself as a
guilty man standing in need of pardon, and of borrowed
merits, and at length resting upon mercy. So here, the
previous question is, Whether a person shall consent to
hold a privilege upon this submissive kind of tenure or
not
S92
T H E O
Theology not ? Such assent or consent, if he comes into it, is the
more pecu- very thing which St Paul and St Clemens call faith.
liarty Clni- Anil this previous and general question is the question
. stl‘U1, , which both of them determine against any proud claim¬
ants who would hold by a more self-admiring tenure.
“ Or if we next consider God as sitting in judgment,
and man before the tribunal going to plead his cause j
here the question is, What kind of plea shall a man re¬
solve to trust his salvation upon ? Shall he stand upon
his innocence, and rest upon strict law ? or shall he plead
guilty, and i‘est in an act of grace ? If he chooses the
former, he is proud, and sure to be cast: if he chooses
the latter, he is safe so far in throwing himself upon an
act of grace. Now this question also, which St Paul
has decided, is previous to the question, What condi¬
tions even the act of grace itself finally insists upon ? A
question which St James in particular, and the general
tenure of the whole Scripture, has abundantly satisfied j
and which could never have been made a question by
any considerate or impartial Christian. None of our
works are good enough to stand by themselves before
him who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. Christ
only is pure enough for it at first hand, and they that
are Christ’s at second hand in and through him. Now
because it is by faith that we thus interpose, as it were,
Christ betw-een God and us, in order to gain acceptance
by him j therefore faith is emphatically the instrument
whereby we receive the grant of justification. Obedi¬
ence is equally a condition or qualification, but not an
instrument, not being that act of the mind whereby we
look up to God and Christ, and whereby we embrace
205 the promises.”
Faith and But though our author contends that faith is the in-
obedience strument of justification, he does not, like the Antino-
1_ mians, teach that it will save men without works. “ The
covenant of grace (says he) has conditions annexed to it
of great importance, for without them no instruments
. can avail. These are faith and obedience, as St James
hath particularly maintained. St Paul had before de¬
termined the general and previous question respecting
the plea by which we ought to abide', and when some
libertines, as is probable, had perverted his doctrine of
faith and grace, St James showed that the very faith
which rests in a covenant of grace implies a cordial sub¬
mission to the conditions of that covenant, otherwise it
would be nothing but an empty ceremony. The per¬
fect agreement between St Paul and St James in the ar¬
ticle of justification, appears very clear and certain. St
Paul declares, that in order to come at justification, it is
necessary to stand upon grace, not upon merit; which
St James does not deny, but rather confirms, in what
he says of the perfect law of liberty (James i. 25. ii. 1 7..f
St Paul makes faith the instrument of receiving that
grace \ which St James does not dispute, but approves
by what he says of Abraham (ii. 23.)', only he main¬
tains also, that in the conditionate sense, justification
depends equally upon faith and good works ; which St
Paul also teaches and inculcates.in effect, or, in other
words, through all his writings. If St Paul had had
LOGY. Part
precisely the same question before him which St James xiitc
happened to have, he would have decided just as St more;
James did 5 and if St James had had precisely the same ^arl.'
question before him which St Paul had, he would have, i,tLi
determined just as St Paul did. Their principles were
exactly the same, but the questions were diverse j and
they had different adversaries to deal with, and opposite
extremes to encounter, which is a common case.
“ It may be noted, that that faith which is here call¬
ed a condition, is of much wider compass than that par¬
ticular kind of faith which is precisely the instrument of
justification. For faith as a condition means the whole
complex of Christian belief, as expressed in the creeds j
while faith as an instrument means only the laying hold
on grace, and resting in Christ’s merits, in opposition to
our own deservings : though this also, if it is a vital and
operative principle (and if it is not, it is nothing worth),
must of course draw after it an hearty submission to, and
observance of, all the necessary conditions of that cove¬
nant of grace wherein we repose our whole trust and
confidence. So that St Paul might well say, “ Do we
then make void the law (the moral law) through faith ?
God forbid, Yea, we establish the law*.” Weex-*Rc
empt no man from religious duties j which are duties 51-
still, though they do not merit nor are practicable to
such a degree as to be above the need of pardon : they
are necessary conditions in their measure of justification,
though not sufficient in themselves to justify, nor perfect
enough to stand before God or to abide trial : therefore
Christ’s merits must be taken to supply their defects :
and so our resting in Christ’s atonement by an humble
self-denying faith is our last resort, our anchor of sal¬
vation both sure and steadfast, after we have otherwise
done our utmost towards the fulfilling of God’s sacred
laws, towards the performing of all the conditions re¬
quired.
“ That good works, internal and external, are ac¬
cording as opportunities oiler and circumstances permit,
conditions properly so called, is clear from the whole
tenor of Scripture, as hath been often and abundantly
proved by our own divines (m), and is admitted by the
most judicious among the foreign Reformed (n). Yet
some have been very scrupulous as to this innocent name,
even while they allow the absolute necessity of good
works as indispensable qualifications for future blessed¬
ness. Why not conditions therefore as well as qualifi¬
cations ? Perhaps because that name might appear to
strike at absolute predestination, or unconditional elec¬
tion 5 and there may lie the scruple: otherwise the dif¬
ference appears to lie rather in words than in things.
“Some will have them called not conditions, but
fruits or consequents of justification. If they mean by
justification the same as the grace of the Holy Spirit,
and the first grace of faith springing from it, they say
true ; and then there is nothing more in it than an
improper use of the wordjustif cation, except that irom
abuse of words very frequently arises some corruption of
doctrine. If they mean only, that outward acts of
righteousness are fruits of inward habits or dispositions;
(M) Bul1- Op- Latin, p. 412, 414, 415, 430, 434, ci4, 516, 544, 583, 645, 668. Edit, a//.—Stillingfleet’a
^ orks, vol. iii. P- 3^7' 393> 39^'—^ illotson’s Posthumous Sermons, vT. ii. j. 484, 487.
00 ^ ossius de bonis Operihus, Thes. x. p. 370.—Op. (cm. vi.—Frid, Spcnhi?n.jii. Op. tom. in. p. 141, *59'
V
if"’
Hr"
mi ns to
tiiii’ate-
irtn. ■ T H E o
,0lo?y that also is undoubtedly true : blit that is no reason v.-liy
; pecu-internal acts, virtues, graces (good works of the mind),
v i-hu-shou!d not be called conditions of justification ; or why
1<ilL , ■ the outward acts should not be justly thought conditions
of preserving it. But if they mean that justification is
ordinarily given to adults, without any preparative or
previous conditions of faith and repentance, that indeed
is very new doctrine and dangerous, and opens a wide
door to carnal security and to all ungodliness.”
Such is the doctrine of Christian justification as it has
been taught by the followers of Calvin, and by some of
the most eminent Arminiahs who flourished in the end
of the 17th and beginning of the 18th century. They
appear not, from this view of their opinions/ to differ
so widely as some of them have wished the world to be¬
lieve. It is evident that Dr Waterland, though he re¬
jects some of the distinguishing tenets of Calvinism,
lays greater stress upon faith in his scheme of justifica¬
tion than X)r Gill himself j and that they both consider
it as the instrument by which the adult Christian must
receive the imputed righteousness of Christ. The great¬
er part of modern Arminians, however, exclaim against
the imputation of Christ’s righteousness, as a doctrine
false in itself, and fraught with the most pernicious con-
„ . sequences ; and they would be ready to tell Dr Gill, in
mejof the h'18 ovvn wor<lg> that of his scheme every article is wrong.
It is not true (say they) that God exacts of man, Gr¬
eyer did exact of him, an obedience absolutely perfect j
for under every dispensation man was in a state of dis¬
cipline, and had habits of virtue and piety to acquire ;
and it is probable that his progress in piety, virtue, and
wisdom, will continue for ever, as none but God is perfect
and stationary, and incapable of deviating from the line
of rectitude. Most of them, after Bishop Bull, dislike
the use of such unscriptural phrases as instrument of
justification, applied either to faith or to works •, and
think, that by considering God as the sole justifier of
man, upon certain conditions, they can more precisely
ascertain the distinct provinces of faith and obedience
in the scheme of justification, than either their brethren
of the old school of Armimus, or their rivals of the
school of Calvin,
r]ra , By the very constitution of man, piety and virtue are
stiu ent duties which, if he do not sincerely perform, he must
181 of course forfeit the favour of his Maker; but the most
perfect performance of his natural duties would not en¬
title him to a supernatural and eternal reward. Kternal
fife is ^ gift of God through Jesus Christ ; and it is
surely reasonable that we should acknowledge it to be
so, and not claim it as a debt due to our merits. The
pious and virtuous man has a natural claim to more hap¬
piness than misery during the period of his existence, a
claim founded on the attributes of that God who called
!,m ^nto firing; but he has no natural claim to a future
1 e, and still less to a perpetuity of existence. This is
a truth not more clearly taught in the holy scripture
tian consonant to the soundest philosophy : and yet, by
not attending to it, have St Paul and St James been set
at vauance, and the most opposite doctrines taught re¬
specting the justification of Christians.
ecause faith in Christ cannot entitle a w-icked man
|o eternal happiness, one class of divines seem to infer
-iat such faith is not necessary to Ciiristi-An justificnlion,
ri” hp1’^ T Btith cannot be wrong whose life is in the
V. ’ They proceed upon the supposition that man is
VOL. XX. Part I. f
Til:
P
D'.VH
L O G Y. 39 3
naturally immoral; that piety and virtue are entitled Theolonv
to reward ; and that therefore the pious and virtuous more pecu-
man, whatever be his belief, must undoubtedly inheritliarly ciui'
an eternal reward. But this is very fallacious reason- . stia11, f
ing. I hat piety and virtue are through the divine jus¬
tice and benevolence entitled to reward, is indeed a
truth incontrovertible; but that man who is of yester¬
day is naturally immortal ; that a being who began to
exist by the mere good will of his Maker, has in him¬
self a principle of perpetual existence independent of
that will—is a direct contradiction, Whatever began
to he, can be continued in being only by the power, and
according to the pleasure, of the infinite Creator; but
it pleased the Creator ol his free grace at first to pro¬
mise mankind eternal life, on the single condition of
their first father’s observing one positive precept. That
precept was violated, and the free gift lost : but the co¬
venant was renewed in Christ, who “ by his death hath
abolished death, and by his resurrection hath brought Faitlf tlie
to light life and immortality.” The condition annexed sole con-
to the gift thus restored was faith ; for “ being justified ditic.n ot'.
by faith *, we have peace with God through our Lord
Jesus Christ; by whom also we have access by faith culiarly'6'
into this grace w herein we stand, and rejoice in the Christian;
hope of the Glory of God.” Faith therefore in the * Rom- v*
Son of God and Saviour of the world, is not only aeon-1' 2*
dition, but the We condition, of that justification which
is peculiarly Christian ; for since Christ, w-ithout any
co-operation of ours, hath purchased for us the free gift
of eternal life, we shall be guilty of the grossest ingra¬
titude to our Divine Benefactor, and impiously claim
an independence on God, if we look upon that gift ei¬
ther as a right inherent in our nature, or as a debt due
to our meritorious deeds. 2io
But though faith lie the condition of justification, as but not of
that implies the inheritance of eternal life, there are obtaining
other conditions to he performed before a man can be clernal
put in possession oi eternal felicity. By a law long priorliapi>ilUkS”
to the promulgation of the gospel—a law’ interwoven
with our very bring—no man can enjoy the favour of
his Maker, who does not make it his constant endea¬
vour “ to do justly, to love merCy, and to walk humbly
with his God.” I his law was in force before man fell ;
it continues to be in force now that lie is redeemed ;
and it will not be abrogated even at that period when
faith shall give place to vision, and hope to enjoyment. 2II
By the grace of the Christian covenant, all mankind The dif¬
are rendered immortal in consequence of the death and ferent con-
resurrection of Christ, who is the Lamb slain, in the di-diti°ns of
vine decree, from the foundation of the world; but todmnefa'
obtain immortal happiness, they must observe the con-et^l'Wl
ditions both of nature and of revealed religion, which
are repentance from dead works, and faith in Christ
the Redeemer. The former is that condition upon
which alone we can retain the Divine favour, and of
course enjoy either present or future happiness ; the lat¬
ter is a most equitable acknowledgement required of us,
that perpetual conscious existence is neither a right in¬
herent in our nature, nor a debt due to our virtuous
obedience, but merely the gift of God through Jesus
Christ our Lord.
“ To make the distinct provinces of faith and works
in the business of justification clear, let us suppose (says
Bishop Warburtonf), that, at the publication of the|0^/L^'
I
gospel, all to whom the glad tidings of immortality chap. 3*.
3 D
394
THEOLOGY.
Part
Theology were offered on the Condition offaith in Jesus had been
move pecu-moral or virtuous men, and on that account entitled (as
liarly Chri-natural religion teacheth) to the favour of God and an
. St^an- abundant reward ; is it not self-evident that FAITH
ALONE, exclusive of the condition of good works, would,
in that case, have been the very thing justified or
entitled them to life everlasting ‘J But are good woi'ks,
therefore, of no use in the Christian system ? So far
from it, that those only who serve God in sincerity and
in truth are capable of the justification which faith alone
Illustrated embraces j for, to illustrate this matter by a familiar in-
by a fami- stance, suppose, a British monarch tobestow, ix\ free gift,
liar exam- a certain portion of his own domains, to which immor-
ple,
213
tr.
* Gal.
from the dead to perpetual conscious existence, are made The
to us upon the express condition that we obey the law more;
of the gospel $ “ for God will render to every man ac-
cording to his deeds : to them that are contentious and , ti s
do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, indig¬
nation and wrath j tribulation and anguish upon every
soul of man that doth evil, of the Jew first and also of
the Gentile j but glory, honour, and peace to every
man that worketh good, to the Jew first and also to the
Gentile * ”
IU:
tality may well be compared, upon such of his subjects
as should perform a certain service to which they were
not obliged by the laws of the kingdom ; it is evident
that the performance of this last service ONLY would be
the thing which entitled them to the free gift. Yet it
is obvious that obedience to the laws, which gave them
a claim to protection as subjects, in the enjoyment OF
THEIR OWN PROPERTY (to which the reward offered by
natural religion may be compared), would be a previous
and necessary qualification to their enjoyment of their
new' possession 5 since it is absurd to suppose that such a
gift could be intended for rebels and traitors, or indeed
for any but good and faithful servants of their king and
country.” Well therefore might the apostle reprove the
ignorance or licentiousness of certain of his converts at
Koine,' in his question—“ Do we then make void the
law through faith P God forbid ! yea, we establish
the law obedience to it being the previous qualifi¬
cation of all who are entitled to the fruits of justifying
faith LIFE AND IMMORTALITY.
Had proper attention been paid to this distinction,
which St Paul everywhere makes between such duties as
are common to all religions that are true, and those
which are peculiar to the Christian revelation, many
useless controversies might have been avoided respecting
the instrument of justification and the conditions of the
Christian covenant. By not attending to it, the divines
of one school, who perceive that the mere belief of any
truth whatever cannot entitle a man to eternal felicity,
have almost dropt faith from their system of Christianity,
and taught moral duties likePagan philosophers ; whilst
another party, who err almost as far in their interpre¬
tations of scripture, finding eternal life represented as
the gift of God, and faith in Christ as the instrument
or means by which that gift must be accepted, haveex-
Sum of punged from their system the necessity of good woiks,
Llmstiani- forgetting surely that wicked believers, like believing
devils, may be doomed to an eternity of torments. But
the sum of Christianity, as we are taught by the beloved
disciple, is comprehended in this one commandment of
God, “ that we should believe on the name of his Son
Jesus Christ, and love one another as he gave us com¬
mandment.” In perfect harmony with him, the great
6 apostle of the Gentiles assures us^, that “ in Christ Je¬
sus nothing can avail to our eternal happiness but faith
f Chap. iii. WORKETH BY LOVE j” and he informs Titus t,
8, that it “ is a true saying, and what he wills to be con¬
stantly affirmed, that they who have believed in God
be careful to maintain good works.”
Indeed no man can have complete faith in Christ
who believes not the promises of the gospel 5 but all
those promises, except the single one of resurrection
Such are the notions of justification entertained by 8,5.
those who in the present age have been considered as
the leaders f of the sect of Arminians. How far theyf Wal
are just, the reader must decide for himself 5 but undertow ail
every vieiv of this doctrine which we have taken, the-Ij“tt'i
Christian covenant appears much more gracious than
that into which Adam was admitted in paradise : sinceTheii
it affords room for repentance, even to that man, whostian
may be so unhappy as to be drawn fora time into apos-nant
tasy from the terms of the covenant. Whether thej>'“J
death of Christ therefore was a direct atonement for theparac
actual sins of men, or only operated as such indirectly m\.
by procuring for them repeated opportunities of repent¬
ance, it is an undoubted truth, that “ if through the
offence of one many be dead, much more the grace of
God, and the gift by grace, which is by' one man, Jesus
Christ, hath abounded unto many. And not as it was
by one that sinned, so is the gift: for the judgment
was of one offence to condemnation, but the free gift is
of many offences to justification {.” t Rc
Thus graciously has the divine goodness displayed it-16’1
self in the restoration of our lost inheritance. But it
stopt not here. The same bountiful Lord of life, for its
further security, imparts to every true believer the
strength and light of his holy spirit to support faith in
working out our own salvation. Our blessed Saviour
promised, before he left this world, to send to his
followers the Holy Ghost or Comforter to abide
with them for ever, to guide them into all truth,
to bring all things to their remembrance whatso¬
ever he had said unto them, and, as we learn from
other passages of scripture, to “ work in them both
to will and to do of his good pleasure.” How amply
this promise w7as fulfilled to the apostles, we have al¬
ready seen ; but we are not to suppose that it was re¬
stricted to them. As man is designed for a supernatural cjir n
state in heaven, he stands in need of supernatural direc-sant^
tion to guide him to that state. “ No man (says our^
by t.
Saviour) can come to me except the Father draw him v
for as no man knoweth the things of a man save the
spirit of a man which is in him, even so none knoweth
the things of God but the Spirit of God.” This om¬
niscient Spirit indeed searcheth all things, yea even
the deep things of God,” and revealeth them to the
sons of men, to enlighten their understandings and pu¬
rify their hearts. The grace which he sheds abroad is
either external and general, or internal and particular.
The former has been extended to the whole church of
God under the patriarchal, Mosaic, and Christian dis¬
pensations, in such a revelation of the divine will as was
sufficient to instruct men unto eternal life, whether they
had a clear view or not of that stupendous plan of re¬
demption, by which the kingdom of heaven was opened
to them after the forfeiture of the terrestrial paradise;
for there have been “ holy prophets ever since the world
began;
| ;ts xvi.
{ b.iv.J
J m. xu.
3-
J l. a- S,
iS
ne-
them,
'us i.
iCl -e
fni filer,
md
T H E O
began; ami prophecy came not at any time by the will
of man, but holy men of Gotl spake as they were moved
by the Holy Ghost Hence it is that all scripture
was given by inspiration of God to teach us every thing
which it is necessary for us to know and believe;
and the scripture is that work of the Spirit which is ex¬
tended to the universal church.
But the same spirit which thus generally reveals the
object of faith to the church, does likewise particularly
illuminate the minds of individual believers, working in
them an assent to that which is taught them from the
written word. It was thus that “ the Lord opened the
heart ofLydiat*, that she attended to the things which
were spoken by Paul-,” it is thus that “ the word
preached doth not profit if it be not mixed with faith in
them who hear it^ j” and it is thus that “ God deals
to every man the measure of faith ^ }” for “ by grace
are we Saved through faith, which is not of ourselves j
it is the gilt of God ||.” This illumination of the Spirit
was conveyed to the apostles “ in a sound from heaven
as of a rushing mighty wind,” because it was meant to
testify to the world that they were chosen ministers of
the gospel; but the ordinary Christian receives it “ in
the still small voice,” because it is conveyed to him only
to “ open bis understanding that he may understand
the scriptures.”
Another operation of the Spirit on the minds of be¬
lievers is that which in scripture is called Regenera¬
tion j for “ according to his mercy God saveth us by
the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy
Ghost which he sheds on us abundantly through Jesus
Christ our Lord.” To those who believe that we de¬
rive from Adam a corrupted nature, this particular
grace must appear so absolutely necessary, that without
it we could have no relish for heaven or heavenly things.”
“ I he natural man (we are told) receiveth not the
things of the spirit ot God $ for they are foolishness to
him $ neither can he know them, because they are spi*
ritually discerned.” Indeed whatever be the powers of
our moral laculties, when compared with those of our
first father, it is so long before they he completely de¬
veloped, that we should infallibly be lost, if we were
not blessed by a supernatural guide, when reason is in¬
capable of directing our conduct. Our passions and ap¬
petites are in their full strength before experience has
furnished the mind with materials, by means of which
motives may he weighed j and therefore it would be im¬
possible, during the giddy period of youth, to keep them
in due subjection, or to prevent vicious habits from
being formed, were we not influenced by divine grace.
So true is it, that “except a man he born again of wa¬
ter and of the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the
kingdom ot God.” This change in our dispositions,
horn an immoderate attachment to earth to a relish for
the things of heaven, is in scripture called “ a renew¬
ing of our minds, a new creation, a new man ;” in op¬
position to our natural disposition, which is called “the
obi man, corrupted according to the deceitful lusts.”
he ancient fathers of the church, as well as some very
eminent modern divines f, generally speak of baptism
the instrument in God’s hand of man’s regeneration j
and tor the truth of their opinion they appeal to John
a1, 3) 5- Lphes. v. 25, 26. and 1 Cor. vi. II. in which
great stress is certainly laid on the washing of water, as
well as on sanctification by the word.
LOGY.
395
A third office of the Holy Spirit is to lead, direct, Theology
and govern us through all the periods of our lives, more peou-
Without such a leader and guide, the temptations with liarl>'. cl,ri-
which we are surrounded would certainly overcome us, , stat11' .
and we should faint long before we arrive at the end of
our journey. By the very constitution of our nature we guides
are subjected in some degree to the influence of sense,t,ieni
of which the objects are present, whilst the enjoyments
of heaven are future, and seen, as at a distance, only by lU’
the eye of faith ; hut “ the law of the Spirit of life, in
Christ Jesus, hath made us free from the law of sin and
death j” for God worketh in us both to will and to do
of his good pleasure ; and as many as aie thus led by the
spirit of God, they are the sons of God 5 and while they
walk in the Spirit, they do not fulfil the lusts of the
flesh.” Without the aid ot the same Spirit, we could
not even make our prayers acceptable j for since “ our
confidence in God is, that he heareth us only when we
ask any thing according to his will j and since we know
not what we should pray for as we ought, the Spirit it¬
self maketh intercession for us with groaning.s which
cannot be uttered *. * Rom. viii.
A fourth operation of the Holy Ghost, as he is the1^
sanctifier of Christians, is to join them to Christ, and
make them members of that one body of which he is
the head. “ For by one Spirit are we all baptized in¬
to one bodyf •, and as the body is one and hath manyf 1 Cor.
members, and all the members of that one body heingxii. 12, 13.
many are one body, so also is Christ.” “ Hereby we .2lS
know that God abideth in us, by the Spirit which
given us; and as, in the ordinary course ot his
hath
dealings with Christians, this Spirit is first given in bap¬
tism, so is it continued to the faithful by the instrumen¬
tality of the Lord’s supper. That ordinance we have
elsewhere (see Suppet: of the Lord) proved to he a fe¬
deral rite ; and surely no time can he supposed so high¬
ly sanctified for the reception of the graces of the Holy
Spirit, as that in which we renew our federal union
with our Lord and Master in the communion of his
body and blood.
It is likewise the office of the Holy Ghost to give us
an earnest of our everlasting inheritance, to create in us
a sense of the paternal love of God, and thereby to as¬
sure us of the adoption of sons. “ As many as are led
by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God ; and
because we are sons, God hath sent forth the spirit of
his Son into our hearts. For we have not received the
spirit of bondage again to fear ; hut we haye received
the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba Father;
the Spirit itself hearing witness with our spirit, that we
are the children of God J.”
As the gifts of grace are generally annexed to means, Rom* viii.
to the proper use of the word and sacraments, it is a 15,16.
sixth office of the same Spirit to sanctify such persons as
are regularly set apart for the work of the ministry, and ZXl)
ordained to offer up the public prayers of the people ; to and sancti.
bless them in the name of God ; to teach the doctrines fies llle ad-
of the gospel; to administer the sacraments instituted by niinistra'
Christ; and to perform all things necessary “ for the
perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, of the gos-
for the edifying of the body of Christ §.” The same pel.
Spirit which illuminated the apostles, and endowed § ir*
them with power from above to perform personally their l2’
apostolic functions, fitted them also for sending others,
as they were sent by their Divine Masters ; and foresta-
3^2 blishing
2 20
Con trover
sies occa¬
sioned by
this doc¬
trine.
39<5 T H E O
Theology Wishing such a constitution of the church as was best
more pecu-adapted for preserving Christians in the unity of the
liarly Chri-gpjrjt an(j fomW of peace. They committed a standing
, 8 ^ . power to a successive ministry to be conveyed down to
the end of the world ; and those who are vested with
that power are obliged to “ take heed unto themselves,
and to all the flock over which the Holy Ghost hath
made them overseers, to feed the church of God, and
to contend earnestly for the faith which was once deli-
* Acts xx vere(l unto the saints See Episcopacy, Indepen-
r s. and * dents, Presbyterians, Pope, and Quakers.
Jude ver.j. By these, and the like means, doth the Spirit of God
sanctify the sons of men j and in consequence of this
santification proceeding immediately from his ofllce, he
is called the Holy Spirit and the Comforter. This
is such a provision “ for renewing us in the spirit of our
minds, and enabling us to put on the new man, which,
after God, is created in righteousness and true holiness,”
as, when made known by revelation, appears to have
been expedient, may he conceived to have been even
necessary, and though reason could hardly have hoped
for it, is contradicted by none of our natural notions
either of God or of man. Many, however, are the con¬
troversies to which it has given rise in the church of
God ; some contending that it is given only unto the
elect, upon whom it operates with resistless efficacy 5
others affirming that it is offered to all, but in such a
manner as that, by the abuse of their free will, it may
be “ resisted, grieved, and quenched}” and some few,
still intoxicated with the pride of PELAGIUS, think it
is not necessary, and of course is not bestowed.
The questions concerning election, the efficacy of
grace, and the final perseverance of the saints, w'e have
stated elsewhere, and given a summary view of the ar¬
guments by which the contending parties maintain their
respective opinions (see Predestination) ; and the
texts of Scripture which we have just quoted, under the
different heads of sanctification, show sufficiently that
the opinion of Pelagias is directly contrary to the doc¬
trine of the apostles. It may not be improper to en¬
quire whether it be as agreeable to reason and experi¬
ence as its patrons seem to imagine.
If it be unreasonable to expect any assistance from
the Spirit of God in carrying on the work of our own
salvation, how came so many of the wisest and best of
men in all ages to believe, that he who sincerely endea¬
vours to discharge his duty is supported in that endea¬
vour by assistance from heaven ? That such was the po¬
pular belief of the early Greeks, is evident from the
poems of Homer ; in which we everywhere find some
god calming the passions of the heroes, altering their
determinations when improper, and inspiring them with
wisdom. Nor was this the sentiment of the poets only.
Socrates, it is well known, professed to believe that his
^ own conduct was under the direction of a superior spirit,
Opinions of whmh he called a oVewcm; and Plutarch, as we find
the hca- him quoted by Wollaston, speaks of the gods assisting
thens con- men, by “ exciting the powers or faculties of the soul *, by
eemin^ it. suggesting secret piinciples, imaginations, or thoughts ;
or, on the contrary, by diverting or stopping them.”
Of the same opinion must Cicero have been, when he
said, “ stabit illud quidem, quod locum hunc continet,
| Be Div. de quo agimus, e»se Deos, et eorum providentia mun-
hb. 1. sect, dum administrari, eosdemque consulere rebus humanis,
51* ncc solum universis, verum etiam singulis f j” for it is
221
discussed
elsewhere.
LOGY. Pan
not conceivable that a particular providence can be ad- xhe-
ministered without the influence of the Deity on the more J
minds of men. That the poets and philosophers of the‘'“‘Vlj
heathen world derived these notions from primeval tra-, stijl
dition, cannot, we think, be questioned •, but if they 1
were absurd in themselves, or apparently contradictory
to the laws of nature, they would not surely have been
so universally embraced j for it will scarcely be denied,
that Socrates and Cicero were men of as great natural
sagacity as Pelagius or anv of his followers. It is in¬
deed so far from being incredible that the Father of 1
spirits occasionally directs the thoughts and actions of
men, that we believe there are very few who have made
observations on themselves and their own affairs, who
have not found, on reflection, many instances in which
their usual judgment and sense of things were over¬
ruled, they know not how, or why ; and that the actions
which they performed in those ciicumstances have had
consequences very remarkable in their general history.
See Providence, N° 18, 19.
This being the case, why should the pride of Chri¬
stians make them hesitate to admit, on the authority of
divine revelation, what Socrates, and Plutarch, and Ci¬
cero, and all the virtuous and wise men of antiquity,
admitted in effect, on no better evidence than that of
oral tradition, supported by their own meditations on
their own thoughts, and the principles of their own
conduct ? Is it that they see not such beneficial effects
of Christianity as to induce them to believe the profes¬
sors of that religion to be indeed “ chosen to salvation
through the sanctification of the Spirit J ?” Let them|xiil i
study the practical precepts of the gospel, consider the3. I
consequences which they have had on the peace and
happiness of society, and compare the general conduct
of Christians with that of the Jews, Pagans, and Maho¬
metans (see Beligion), and they will doubtless find
reason to alter their opinion; and let those who em¬
brace the truth remember, that as they are the temple
of God, if the Spirit of God dwell in them, “ it is their
indispensable duty to cleanse themselves from all filthi¬
ness of the flesh and spirit j to follow peace with all men,
and holiness, without which, no man shall see the Lord;
and to work out their own salvation with fear and trem¬
bling, since it is God who worketh in them both to will
and and to do of his good pleasure.” 2j
From this short view of the several dispensations of The p
revealed religion, it is evident that the gospel is not on-the 1j ie
ly the best but the last gift of the kind which man l)asvc,aL‘
to expect from his Maker ; that the scheme of revela¬
tion is completed ; and that the pretences of Mahomet
and of more modern enthusiasts to divine inspiration are
not only false, but fraught with contradictions. All
these men admit the divine origin of the Mosaic and
Christian religions ; but it appears from the scriptures,
in which those religions are taught, that the system ol
revealed truths which constitute the Patriarchal, Mo¬
saic, and Christian revelations, commenced with the fall
of man, and that it must therefore necessarily end with
his restoration to life and immortality by the sacrifice ol
Christ upon the cross. A new revelation therefore like
that of Mahomet cannot he admitted without rejecting
the whole Bible, though the impostor himsell every¬
where acknowledges the inspiration ot Abraham, oi
Moses, and of Christ. Nor is greater regard due to
the claims of Christian enthusiasts. Such as pretend to
have
art II. Ill £, u
ieolosy have been in heaven *, and thence to have brought
e pecu- spiritual discoveries to the earth, have either forgotten
jy Chri-or neVer understood, that in the scriptures of the Old
lia11, and New Testaments the great scene of Providence ap-
, m pears to be closed in the full completion of its one re-
den- ' gular, entire, and eternal purpose ; that St Paul has
t rg, and pronounced f a curse on any man or angel from heaven
| en. who shall preach another gospel than what has been al-
'•ready preached by the apostles and evangelists ; that in
L O G Y 397
their writings wc are taught every thing which it is our Theology
duty to believe or to practise in order to our own salva- more pecu-
tion ; and that we have the promise of our blessed luUi3r_(!,ri-
Lord himself, that the Spirit of truth shall remain , S 1 '' ■
with us to guide us into all necessary truth, till that
great day when he shall come again to judge the world
in righteousness, and render to every man according to
his works.
T H E
T H E
r epliras-
ta
II
! eorera.
 <
1 v'd',
h iry of
P wphy.
TH E O P HR A ST A , a genus of plants belonging to
the class of pentandria. See Botany Index.
THEOPHRASTUS, the philosopher, was born
about 371 years before Christ, and was successively the
disciple of Plato and of Aristotle. He succeeded Ari¬
stotle in the Peripatetic school, and conducted the
charge with such high reputation that he had about
2000 scholars. He is highly celebrated for Ins Industry,
learning, and eloquence ; and for his generosity and pub¬
lic spirit. He is said to have twice freed bis country
from the oppression of tyrants. He contributed libe¬
rally towards defraying the expence attending the pub¬
lic meetings of philosophers ; which were held, not for
the sake of show, but for learned and ingenious conver¬
sation. In the public schools he commonly appeared, as
Aristotle had done, in an elegant dress, and was very
attentive to the graces of elocution. He lived to the
advanced age of 85 : some say of 107. Towards the close
of his life, he grew exceedingly infirm, and was carried
to the school on a couch. He expressed great regret on
account of the shortness of life ; and complained that
nature had given long life to stags and crows, to whom
it is of so little value, and had denied it to man, who, in
a longer duration, might have been able to attain the
summit of science ; but now, as soon as he arrives with¬
in sight of it, is taken away. His last advice to his
disciples was, that, since it is the lot of man to die as
soon as he begins to live, they would take more pains
to enjoy life as it passes, than to acquire posthumous
fame. His funeral was attended by a large body of
Athenians. He wrote many valuab’e works, of which
all that remain are, several treatises on the Natural Hi¬
story of Plants and Fossils j Of Winds, Of Fire, &x.
a rhetorical work entitled “ Characters,” and a few
Metaphysical Fragments.
To Theophrastus we are indebted for preserving the
works of Aristotle. See ARISTOTLE.
THEOPOMPUS, a celebrated Greek orator and
historian, was born in the island Chios, and flourished
in the reign of Alexander the Great. He was one of
the most famous of all the disciples of Isocrates, and
Won the prize from all the panegyrists whom Artemisia
invited to praise Mausolus. He wrote several works,
which are lost.
THEOREM, a proposition which terminates in
theory, and which considers the properties of things
already made or done ; or it is a speculative proposition
deduced irom comparing together several d finitions.
A theorem is something to be proved, and a problem
something to be done.
THEORETIC, something relating to theory, or Theoretic
that terminates in speculation. II
THEORY, in general, denotes any doctrine which ■ ^ ieiiuae-
terminates in speculation, without considering the prac¬
tical uses or application thereof.
THEOSOPHISTS, a sect of men who pretend to
de rive all their knowledge from divine illumination.
They boast that, by means of this celestial tight, they
are not only admitted to the intimate knowledge of
God, and of all divine truth, but have access to the
most sublime secrets of nature. They ascribe it to the
singular manifestation of divine benevolence, that they Ibid.
are able to make such a use of the element of fire, in
the chemical ait, as enables them to discover the essen¬
tial principles of bodies, and to disclose stupendous my¬
steries in the physical world. They even pretend to an
acquaintance with those celestial beings which form the
medium of intercourse between God and man, and to a
power of obtaining from them, by the aid of magic,
astrology, and other similar arts, various kinds of infor¬
mation and assistance.
To this class belonged Paracelsus, Robert Fludd, Ja¬
cob Boshmen, Van Helmout, Peter Poiret, and the Ro-
sicrucians. They are also called Fire-Philosophers.
THERAPEUTiE, a term applied to those that ares
wholly in the service of religion. This general term
has been applied to particular sects of men, concern¬
ing whom there have been great disputes among the
learned.
THERAPEUTICS, that part of medicine which
acquaints us with the rules that are to be observed,
and the medicines to be employed, in the cure of dis¬
eases.
THERM/E, hot baths or bagnios. Luxury and
extravagance were in notliing carried to such heights as
in the thermae of the Roman emperors. Ammian com¬
plains, that they were built to such an extent as to equal
rvhole provinces; from which Valesius would abate, by
reading piscina' instead of provincice. And yet after all,
the remains of some still standing are sufficient testimo¬
nies for Ammian’s censure ; and the accounts transmit¬
ted of their ornaments and furniture, such as being laid
with precious stones (Seneca), set round with seats of
solid silver (Pliny), with pipes and cisterns of the same
metal (Statius), add to, rather than take from, the cur-
sure. The most remarkable bagnios were those of Dio-
clesian and Caracalla at Rome, great part of which re¬
mains at this day ; the lofty arches, stately pillars, varie¬
ty of foreign marble, curious vaulting of the roofs, great
number of spacious apartments, all attract the curiosity
of
IiiTentiou
of the ther¬
mometer.
Marline's
JEs‘ayr.
* Chcm. I-
p. i$i, 156.
+ Life of
F. Paul,
p. 15S.
* Vit. Ga-
lil. p. 67.
|| Com. in
Galen, p.
73^—842.
| Be Mot.
Animal. II.
prop. 175.
* Opera
Posth. p. 30.
The air-
thermome¬
ter descri-
hed.
Plate
DXXXIII.
%• 1.
THE [ 398 ]
of the traveller. They had also their summer and win¬
ter baths.
THERMOMETER, an instrument for measuring
the degree of heat or cold in any body.
The thermometer was invented about the beginning
of the 17th century j but, like many other useful in¬
ventions, it has been found impossible to ascertain to
whom the honour of it belongs. Boerhaave * ascribes
it to Cornelius Drebbel of Alcmar, his own country¬
man. Fulgenziot attributes it to his master Paul Sarpi,
the great oracle of the Venetian republic ; and Viviani
gives the honour of it to Galileo J. But all these are
posthumous claims. Sanctorio || claims this honour to
himself; and his assertion is corroborated fey Borelli §
and Malpighi * of the Florentine academy, whose par¬
tiality is not to be suspected in favour of a member of
the Patavinian school.
Perhaps the best way to reconcile these difl’erent
claims would be, to suppose that the thermometer was
really invented by different persons about the same time.
We know that there are certain periods in the progress
of the arts when the stream of human genius runs in
the same direction, and moves towards the same ob¬
ject. That part of the current which reaches the ob¬
ject first may possess the title ; but the other parts fol¬
low so rapidly and arrive so soon after, that it is impos¬
sible for a spectator to decide which is first in point of
time.
The first form of this instrument for measuring the
degrees of heat and cold, was the air-thermometer. It
is a well known fact that air expands with heat so as to
occupy more space than it does when cold, and that it is
condensed by cold so as to occupy less space than when
warmed, and that this expansion and condensation is great¬
er or less according to the degree of heat or cold applied.
The principle then on which the air-thermometer was
constructed is very simple. The air was confined in a
tube by means of some coloured liquor; the liquor roseor
fell according as the air became expanded or condensed.
What the first form of the tube was, cannot now per¬
haps be well known ; but the following description of
the air-thermometer will fully explain its nature.
The air-thermometer consists of aglass tube BE, fig. 1.
connected at one end with a large glass ball A, and at
the other end immersed in an open vessel, or terminat¬
ing in a ball DE, with a narrow orifice at D ; which
vessel, or ball, contains any coloured liquor that will
not easily freeze. Aquafortis tinged of a fine blue co¬
lour with a solution of vitriol or copper, or spirit of wine
tinged with cochineal, will answer this purpose. But
the ball A must be first moderately warmed so that a
part of the air contained in it may be expelled through
the orifice D; and then the liquor pressed by the weight
of the atmosphere will enter the ball HE, and rise, for
example, to the middle of the tube at C, at a mean
temperature of the weather ; and in this state the liquor
by its weight, and the air included in the ball A, &c.
by its elasticity, will counterbalance the weight of the
atmosphere. As the surrounding air becomes warmer,
the air in the ball and upper part of the tube, expand¬
ing by heat, will drive the liquor into the lower ball,
and consequently its surface will descend ; on the con¬
trary, as the ambient air becomes colder, that in the
ball is condensed, and the liquor pressed by the weight
of the atmosphere will ascend ; so that the liquor in the
3
THE
tube will ascend or descend more or less according to 'flievs
the state of the air contiguous to the instrument. To metn
the tube is affixed a scale of the same length, divided 1T*
upwards and downwards from the middle C into 100
equal parts, bv means of which the ascent and descent
of the liquor in the tube, and consequently the varia¬
tions in the cold or heat of the atmosphere, may be ob¬
served. . [
This instrument was extremely defective ; for the air its dc:
in the tube was not only affected by the heat and cold
of the atmosphere, but also by its weight. ^
The air being found improper for measuring with ac- rhe sj
curacy the variations of heat and cold according to the of wine
form of the thermometer which was first adopted, ano-t'ltrni -|
ther fluid was proposed about the middle of the I7thmete1,
century by the Florentine academy. This fluid was
spirit of wine, or alcohol, as it is now generally named.
The alcohol being coloured, was inclosed in a very fine
cylindrical glass tube previously exhausted of its air, ha¬
ving a hollow ball at one end A, fig. 2. and hermetically
sealed at the other end H. The ball and tube are filled
with rectified spirit of wine to a convenient height, as to
C, when the weather is of a mean temperature, which
may be done by inverting the tube into a vessel of stag¬
nant coloured spirit, under a receiver of the air-pump,
or in any other way. When the thermometer is proper¬
ly filled, the end H is heated red hot by a lamp, and
then hermetically sealed, leaving the included air of
about one-third of its natural density, to prevent the air
which is in the spirit from dividing it in its expansion.
To the tube is applied a scale, divided from the middle,
into 100 equal parts, upwards and downwards.
As spirit of wine is capable of a very considerable de¬
gree of rarefaction and condensation by heat and cold,
when the heat of the atmosphere increases the spirit di¬
lates, and consequently rises in the tube ; and when the
heat decreases, the spirit descends, and the degree or
quantity of the motion is shown by a scale. J
The spirit of wine thermometer was not subject to Its defi;
some of the inconveniences which attended the air ther¬
mometer. fn particular, it was not aftected by varia¬
tions in the weight of the atmosphere: accordingly it Marin
soon came into general use among philosophers. It was,Essayi
at an early period, introduced into Britain by Mr Boyle.
To this instrument, as then used, there are, however,
many objections. The liquor was of different degrees
of strength, and therefore different tubes filled with it,
when exposed to the same degree of heat, would not
correspond. There was also another defect : The scale
which w'as adjusted to the thermometer did not com¬
mence at any fixed point. The highest term was ad¬
justed to the great sunshine heats of Florence, which
are too variable and undetermined ; and frequently the
workman formed the scale according to his own fancy*
While the thermometer laboured under such disadvan¬
tages it could not be of general use. ^
To obtain some fixed unalterable point by which afliflere
determined scale might be discovered, to which all ther- fixedpp’
mometers might be accurately adjusted, was the subject pj0P' ‘
which next drew the attention of philosophers. Mi P,*1^
Boyle, who seems at an early period to have studied1’
this subject with much anxiety, proposed the freezing ot
the essential oil of aniseeds as a convenient point lor
graduating thermometers ; but this opinion he soon laid
aside. Hr Halley next proposed that thermometers
should
fhil.
vis. Abr.
m-
7
! Isaac
} ivton’s
c ;hermo-
i er.
t7.
is. N°
or
vol. iv,
ps Ik.
iper-
)
raur’s
of
ther-
niq
THE l 3
should be graduated in a deep pit under ground, where
the temperature both in winter and summer is pretty
uniform j and that the point to which the spirit of wine
should rise in such a subterraneous place should be the
point from which the scale should commence. But this
proposal was evidently attended with such inconve¬
niences that it was soon abandoned. He made experi¬
ments on the boiling point of water, of mercury, and of
spirit of wine •, and he seems rather to give a preference
to the spirit of wine *. He objected to the freezing of
water as a fixed point, because be thought that it ad¬
mitted considerable latitude.
It seems to have been reserved to the all-conquering
genius of Sir Isaac Newton to determine this important
point, on which the accuracy and value of the thermo¬
meter depends. He chose, as fixed, those points at
which water freezes and hoils ; the very points which
the experiments of succeeding philosophers have deter¬
mined to be the most fixed and convenient. Sensible of
the disadvantages of spirit of wine, he tried another
liquor which was homogeneous enough, capable of a
considerable rarefaction, about 15 times greater than
spirit of wine. This was linseed oil. It has not been
observed to freeze even in very great colds, and it bears
a heat about four times that of water before it boils.
With these advantages it was made use of by Sir Isaac
Newton, who discovered by it the comparative degree
of heat for boiling water, melting wax, boiling spirit of
wine, and melting tin j beyond which it does not ap¬
pear that this thermometer was applied. The method he
used for adjusting the scale of this oil thermometer was
as follows: Supposing the bulb, when immerged in
thawing snow, to contain 10,000 parts, he found the
oil expand by the heat of the human body so as to take
np -y^th more space, or 10,256 such parts 5 and by the
heat of water boiling strongly 10,725 ; and by the heat
of melting tin 11,516. So that reckoning the freezing
point as a common limit between heat and cold, he be¬
gan his scale there, marking it o, and the heat of the
human body he made 12°; and consequently, the de¬
grees of heat being proportional to the degrees of rare¬
faction, or 256 : 725 : : 12 : 34, this number 34 will
express the heat of boiling water ; and by the same
rule, 72 that of melting tinf. This thermometer was
constructed in 1701.
To the application of oil as a measure of heat and
cold, there are insuperable objections. It is so viscid,
that it adheres too strongly to the sides of the tube.
On this account it ascends and descends too slowly in
case of a sudden heat or cold. In a sudden cold, so
great a portion remains adhering to the sides of the
tube after the rest has subsided, that the surface appears
lower than the corresponding temperature of the air re¬
quires. An oil thermometer is therefore not a proper
measure of heat and cold.
All the thermometers hitherto proposed were liable to
many inconveniences, and could not he considered as
exact standards for pointing out the various degrees of
temperature. This led Reaumur to attempt a new one,
an account of which was published in the year 1730 in
the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences. This ther¬
mometer was made with spirit of wine. He took a
large ball and tube, the dimensions and capacities of
which were known 5 he then graduated the tube, so
that the space from one division to another might con-
99
T H E
tain 1020th part of the liquor; the liquor containing Thermo-
1000 parts when it stood at the freezing point. He ad- meter,
justed the thermometer to the freezing point by an ar- * v;
tificial congelation of water: then putting the ball of
his thermometer and part of the tube into boiling water, tiie Con-
he observed whether it rose 80 divisions : if it exceeded of
these, he changed his liquor, and by adding water Thermomc.
lowered it, till upon trial it should just rise 80 divi-<ers*
sions; or if the liquor, being too low, fell short of 80
divisions, he raised it by adding rectified spirit to it.
The liquor thus prepared suited his purpose, and served
for making a thermometer of any size, whose scale
would agree with his standard. jq
This thermometer was far from being perfect. As Its defect*,
the bulbs u'ere three or four inches in diameter, the sur¬
rounding ice would be melted before its temperature
could he propagated to the whole spirits in the bulb,
and consequently the freezing point would be marked
higher than it should he. Dr Martine accordingly
found, that instead of coinciding with the 32d degree
of Fahrenheit, it corresponded with the 34th, or a
point a little above it. Reaumur committed a mistake
also respecting the boiling point; for he thought that
the spirit of w'ine, whether weak or strong, when im-
merged in boiling water, received the same degree of
heat with the boiling water. But it is well known that
highly rectified spirit of wine cannot be heated much
beyond the 175th degree of Fahrenheit, while boiling
water raises the quicksilver 37 degrees higher. There
is another thermometer that goes by the name of JReau-
mur's, which shall be afterwards described. ^
At length a different fluid was proposed, by which Mercurial
thermometers could be made free from most of the de-theimome-
fects hitherto mentioned. This fluid was mercury, ters‘
and seems first to have occurred to Dr Halley in the
last century ; but it was not adopted by him on account
of its having a smaller degree of expansibility than the
other fluids used at that time*. Boerhaave says that*
the mercurial thermometer was first constructed by Trans, vol.
Glaus Roemer ; but the honour of this invention is ge- Xvii. or
nerally given to Fahrenheit of Amsterdam, who present- ^r‘ 'v°l-li¬
ed an account of it to the Royal Society of London in
1724.
That we may judge the more accurately of the pro¬
priety of employing mercury, we will compare its qua¬
lities with those of the fluids already mentioned, air, al¬
cohol, and oil. I2
Air is the most expansible fluid, but it does not re-Properties
ceive nor part with its heat so quickly as mercury. Al-0^a'j>
cohol does not expand much by heat. In its ordinary^10 ’ a
state it does not bear a much greater heat than 175
of Fahrenheit; but when highly rectified it can bear a
greater degree of cold than any other liquor hitherto
employed as a measure of temperature. At Hudson’s
Bay, Mr Macnab, by a mixture of vitriolic acid and
snow, made it to descend to 69 below o of Fahrenheit.
This is an inconvenience, however, attending the use
of this liquor; it is not possible to get it always of the
same degree of strength. As to oil, its expansion is
about 15 times greater than that of alcohol; it sustains
a heat of 6oo°, and its freezing point is so low that it
has not been determined; but its viscosity renders it
useless. Thermo
Mercury is superior to alcohol and oil, and is much metrical
more manageable than air. 1. As far as the experi-properties
ments of mercur>j
Recherckes
sur les
Mod. de
V Atmo¬
sphere.
* Phil.
Trans, for
1786.
14
Fixed
pointi.
THE [ 400
ments already made can determine, it is of all the fluids
hitherto employed in the construction of thermometers,
that which measures most exactly equal differences of
heat by equal differences of its bulk : its dilatations are
in fact very nearly proportional to the augmentations of
heat applied to it (a). 2. Of all liquids it is the most
easily freed from air. 3. It is fitted to measure high de ¬
grees of heat and cold. It sustains a heat of 6oo° of
Fahrenheit’s scale, and does not congeal till it fall 39 or
40 degrees below o. 4. It is the most sensible of any
fluid to heat and cold, even air not excepted. Count
Rumford found that mercury was heated from the free¬
zing to the boiling point in 58 seconds, while water took
two minutes 13 seconds, and common air 10 minutes and
17 seconds. 5. Mercury is a homogeneous fluid, and
every portion of it is equally dilated or contracted by
equal variations of heat. Anyone thermometer made
of pure mercury is, cceterispai'ibus, possessed of the same
properties with every other thermometer made of pure
mercury. Its power of expansion is indeed about six
times less than that of spirit of wine, but it is great
enough to answer most of the purposes for which a ther¬
mometer is wanted.
The fixed points which are now universally chosen for
adjusting thermometers to a scale, and to one another,
are the boiling and freezing points of water. The boil¬
ing water point, it is well known, is not an invariable
point, but varies some degrees according to the weight
and temperature of the atmosphere. In an exhausted
receiver, water will boil with a heat of 98° or ioo°;
whereas in Papin’s digester it will require a heat of 41 2.
Hence it appears that water will boil at a lower point,
according to its height in the atmosphere, or to the weight
of the column of air which presses upon it. In order to
ensure uniformity therefore in the construction of ther¬
mometers, it is now agreed that the bulb of the tube be
]
T H E
plunged in the water when it boils violently, the barome- T]ieri
ter standingat 3oEnglish inches (which is its mean height met
round London, and the temperature of the atmosphere 550. '“■“Y
A thermometer made in this way, with its boiling point
at 21 2°, is called by Dr Horsley Bird's Fahrenheit, be¬
cause Mr Bird was the first person who attended to the
state of the barometer in constructing thermometers. r
As artists may be often obliged to adjust thermometers Rule t
under very different pressures of the atmosphere, philo-
sophers have been at pains to discover a general rule^™"
which might be applied on all occasions. M. de Luc, in
bis Recherches sur les Mod. de l'Atmosphere, fromla series
of experiments, has given an equation for the allowance
on account of this difference, in Paris measure, which
has been verified by Sir George Shuckburgh * ; also * Phd
Dr Horsley, Dr Maskelyne, and Sir George Shuck- Tmts.
burgh, have adapted the equation and rules to English “
measures, and have reduced the allowances into tables
for the use of tire artist. Dr Horsley’s rule deduced
from De Luc’s, is this :
99
log. 3—92.804—h,
8990000
where h denotes the height of a thermometer plunged in
boiling water, above the point of melting ice, in de¬
grees of Bird’s Fahrenheit, and z the height of the ba¬
rometer in xoths of an inch. From this rule he has
computed the following table, for finding the heights, to
which a good Bird’s Fahrenheit will rise when plunged
in boiling water, in all states of the barometer, from 27
to 31 English inches ; which will serve, among other
uses, to direct instrument-makers in making a true al-
low'ance for the effect of the variation of the barometer,
if they should be obliged to finish a thermometer at a
time when the barometer is above or below 3c inches j
though it is best to fix the boiling point when the baro¬
meter is at that height.
Equation
(a) We have affirmed that the expansions of the bulk of quicksilver by heat are nearly (for they are not strictly
so) in a regular arithmetical pi-ogression, according to the quantity of heat it is exposed to j and such seems to be
the case according to the Table published by M. de Luc, at page 309 of his first volume on the Modifications of
the Atmosphere. The following extract of this table shows these variations: and the first and second differences are Cro«< 5
added, in order to render these irregularities more sensible. They are such as can hardly be conceived from the (
nature of any substance, without the influence of extraneous and accidental causes, which may have escaped the
attention of the observer; neither have they been found exactly true by Dr Crawford. M. de Luc supposes the
whole heat from melting ice to that of boiling water to be divided into 80 parts ; by the fractional subdivisions of
which he expresses the absolute quantities of heat, answering to each 5 or 10 degrees of Reaumur’s thermometer
(=22,5 of Fahrenheit’s scalej so that the whole sum of these fractions amounts exactly to the assumed number
80. They are as follow :
Reaumur's
Thermometer.
Fahrenheit's
Thermometer.
Quantities
of heat.
First
differences.
Second
differences.
Degrees 80
70
60
50
40
3°
20
10
o
212
l89o
167
H5-S
122
99’S
77
54-5
32
9.44
9.60
9.70
9.86
10.08
10.20
10.38
30.74
.16
.10
.16
.22
.12
.18
.56
.06
— .06
— .06
-j- .10
— .06
— .18
THERMOMETER S
PLATE EXXXII/.
A
Eng fl fry Hr.. «t'// Lv/.m wKt hH V
//1: r i r/ :>/. z / ■-v'. /
T H E
[ 401 ]
THE
Equation of the Boiling Point.
16
Table form¬
ed from the
rale.
Barometer'.
■31.0
3°*5
50.0
29.5
29.0
28.5
28.0
27-5
27.0
Equation.
+ I*57
+ o-79
0.00
— 0.80
— 1.62
— 2.45
— 3-31
— 4.16
— 5.04
Difference.
0.78
0.79
0.80
0.82
0.83
0.85
0.86
0.88
9
ir George
1 hck-
irgh’s ob-
rrations
' impared
ith De
nc’s rules
Height of
the Baro¬
meter redu
ced to the
same tem¬
perature of
5°°
Inch.
26.498
27.241
27- 954
28- 377
28.699
28.898
28.999
29.447
29.805
Mean
Boiling
-^oint by
observa
tion.
207.07
208.64
209.87
210.50
211.27
211.50
2Il.6o
212.55
212.95
Boiling
Point b\
De Luc’s
Rules.
208.54
208.84
210.05
210.8]
211.34
21 I.67
21 1.85
212.74
213’15
Height
of Baro¬
meter.
Inch.
30.008
30.207
30.489
30-763
30.847
30.957
Boiling
Point by
Observa¬
tion
213.22
213- 58
214.15
214- 37
214.83
214.96
Boiling
Point by
De laic’s
Rules,
213-47
213-79
214.23
214.66
2x4.79
214.96
tr George Shuckburgh has also subjoined the folloxv-
jng general table lor the use of artists in constructing
,.e tlemometer, both according to his own observa-
t'ons and those of M. de Luc.
V°Li XX. Part II.
The numbers in the first column of this table express
heights of the quicksilver in the barometer in English
inches and decimal parts : the second column shows the
equation to be applied, according to the sign prefixed,
to 2i20ofBiid’s Fahrenheit, to find the true boiling
point for eveiy such state of the barometer. The boil¬
ing point for all intermediate states of the barometer
may be had with sufficient accuracy, by taking propor¬
tional parts, by means of the third column of differences
of the equations. See Philosophical Transactions, vol.
Ixiv. art. 30.; also Dr Maskelyne’s Paper, vol. Ixiv.
art. 20.
In the following table we have the result of fif¬
teen different observations made by Sir George Shuck-
burgh compared with the result of M. de Luc’s
rules.
Height of the
Barometer.
26.O
26.5
27.O
27-5
28.0
28.5
29.0
29-5
3°.o
30.5
3x.o
CorrecEofthe
Boiling Point
— 7.O9
— 6.18
— 5-27
— 4-37
— 3-48
— 2-59
—1.72
— 0.85
0.00
+ °-85
-f- 1.69
Differ¬
ence.
91
91
90
89
89
87
87
85
85
84
Correct ac¬
cording to
M. de Luc.
Diffcr-
~6.83
— 5-93
— 5-°4
— 4.16
— 3 31
— 2.45
 1.62
— 0.80
0.00
+ °-79
+ I-57
90
89
88
87
86
83
82
80
79
78
l he Royal Society, fully apprised of the importance Observa-
of adjusting the fixed points of thermometers, appointed tions made
a committee of seven gentlemen to consider of the bestbXa com“
method for this purpose ; and their report is published
in the Phil. Trans, vol. Ixvii. part ii. art. 37. Societyfor
Ihey observed, that though the boiling point be pla-adjusting
ced so much higher on some of the thermometers now tb« fi,ted
made than on others, yet this does not produce any con-^°^als'
siderable error in the observations of the weather, at
least in this climate; for an error of i^° in the position
of the boiling point, will make an error only of half a
degree in the position of 920, and of not more than a
quarter ol a degree in the point of 62°. It is only in
nice experiments, or in trying the heat of hot liquors,
that this error in the boiling point can be of much im¬
portance.
In adjusting the freezing as well as the boiling point,
the quicksilver in the tube ought to be kept of the same
heat as that in the ball. When the freezing point is
placed at a considerable distance from the ball, the
pounded ice should be piled to such a height above the
hall, that the error which can arise from the quicksilver
in the remaining part of the tube not being heated
equally with that in the ball, shall he very small, or the
observed point must be corrected on that account ac¬
cording to the following table :
Heat of the
Air.
42°
52
62
72
82
Correction.
00087
00174
00261
00384
00435
*9
Table for
correcting
the freezing
point.
The correction in this table is expressed in 1000th
parts of the distance between the freezing paint and the
surface of the ice : e. gr. if the freezing point stands
seven inches above the surface of the ice, and the heat
of the room is 62, the point of 320 should be placed
7X00261, or .018 of an inch lower than the obser¬
ved point. A diagonal scale will facilitate this correc¬
tion.
3 E The
THE
r 4°2 ]
THE
20
The quick
silver in
the tube
The committee observe, that in trying the heat of
liquors, care should be taken that the quicksilver in the
tube of the thermometer be heated to the same degree
as that in the ball \ or if this cannot be done conveni¬
ently, the observed heat should be corrected on that ac¬
me count; for the manner of doing which, and a table cal-
ought to be culated for this purpose, we must reier to their excellent
heated to rep0rt [n t]ie Phil. Trans, vol. Ixvii. part ii. art. 37.
decree as With regard to the choice of tubes, they ought to be
that in the exactly cylindrical. But though the diameter should
ball. vary a little, it is easy to manage that matter in the
2T manner proposed by the Abbe Nollet *, by making a
“S small portion of the quicksilver, e. gr. as much as tills
be^cylindri-up an inch or halt an inch, slide backward and forward
cal and ca-Jn the tube 5 and thus to find the proportions ot all its
pillary. inequalities, and from thence to adjust the divisions to a
scale of the most perfect equality. The capillary tubes
1 ny*. ]■  c 11 . thpv rcmiire smaller
torn, iv
P- 37
The num¬
ber of de¬
grees into
which the
ded
are preferable to others, because they require smaller
bulbs, and they are also more sensible, and less brittle.
The most convenient size for common experiments has
the internal diameter about the 40th or 50th ot an
inch, about nine inches long, and made of thin glass,
that the rise and fall of the mercury may be better
seen.
The next thing to he considered, is of what number
of degrees or divisions the scale ought to consist, and
, ; ,,, Ml„ from what point it ought to commence. As the number
ale ought of the divisions ot the scale is an arbitrary matter, the
tobedivi- scales which have been employed differ much from one
another in this circumstance. Fahrenheit has made 180
degrees between the freezing and boiling water point.
Amontons made 73, and Sir Isaac Newton only 34.
There is, however, one general maxim, which ought to
be observed : T/iai such an arithmetical number should
be chosen as can easily be divided and subdivided, and
that the number of divisions should be so great that
there shall seldom be occasion for fractions. The num¬
ber 80 chosen by Reaumur answers extremely well in
this respect, because it can he divided by several figures
without leaving a remainder \ but it is too small a num¬
ber : the consequence of which is, that the degrees are
placed at too great a distance from one another, and
fractions must therefore be often employed. We think,
therefore, that 160 would have been a more convenient
number.’ Fahrenheit’s number 180 is large enough,
but when divided its quotient soon becomes an odd
number.
....... As to the point at which the scale ought to corn-
paint the mence? var;0C1s opinions have been entertained. If we
scale ought tjie beginning or lowest degree of heat, all phi¬
losophers would agree, that the lowest point of the ther¬
mometer ought to he fixed there; but we know neither
the lowest nor the highest degrees of heat ; we observe
only the intermediate parts. All that we can do, then,
is to begin it at some invariable point, to which thermo¬
meters made in different places may easily be adjusted.
If possible too, it ought to be a point at which a natu^
ral well-known body receives some remarkable change
from the effects of heat or cold. Fahrenheit began his
scale at the point at which snow and salt congeal. Kir-
wan proposes the freezing point of mercury. Sir Isaac
Newton, Hales, and Reaumur adopted the freezing
point of water. The objection to Fahrenheit’s lowest
point is, that it commences at an artificial cold never
known in nature, and to which we cannot refer our
23
At what
to com¬
mence.
feelings, for it is what few can ever experience. There Therm:
would be several great advantages gained, we allow, by mete
adopting the freezing point of mercury. It is the low-
est degree of cold to which mercury can be applied as a
measure ; and it w'ould render unnecessary the use of
the signs plus and minus, and the extension of the scale
below 0. But we object to it, that it is not a point
well known ; for few,'comparatively speaking, who use
thermometers, can have an opportunity of seeing mer¬
cury congealed. As to the other advantage to be
gained by adopting the freezing point of mercury,
namely, the abolition of negative numbers, we do not
think it would counterbalance the advantage, to be en¬
joyed by using a well known point. Besides, it may be
asked, Is there not a propriety in using negative num¬
bers to express the degree of cold, which is a negative
thing? Heat and cold we can only judge of by our feel¬
ings : the point then at which the scale should com¬
mence, ought to be a point which can form to us a
standard of heat and cold ; a point familiar to us from
being one of the most remarkable that occurs in nature,
and therefore a point to which we can with most dear¬
ness and precision refer to in our minds on all occa¬
sions. This is the freezing point of water chosen by
Sir Isaac Newton, which of all the general changes
produced in nature by cold is the most remarkable. It
is, therefore, the most convenient point, for the thermo¬
meters to be used in the temperate and frigid zones;
we may say over the globe, for even in the hottest
countries of the torrid zone many of the mountains are
perpetually covered with snow. , (
The thermometers which are at present in most ge-Tbenl
neral use, are Fahrenheit’s, Hel’Isle’s, Reaumur’s, andters d
Celsius’s. Fahrenheit’s is used in Britain, He 1’isle’sralb ;
in Russia, Reaumur’s and the tl.ermometre centigrade
in France, and Celsius’s, the same as the last named, in
Sweden. They are all mercurial thermometers, lor
their description and the method of comparing them to¬
gether, see Chemistry, N° 198—201. See also Fiate
HXXXIV.
As in meteorological observations it is necessary to Aceo
attend to the greatest rise and fall of the thermometer,®*se 1
attempts have been made to construct a thermometer^,,
which might register the greatest degree of heat, or
greatest degree of cold, which took place during the ab¬
sence of the observer. In 1757 Lord Charles Caven-Lont
dish presented to the Royal Society of London a ther-^T,
mometer in two different forms; the one contrived to
mark the greatest degree of heat, and the other the ter.
greatest degree of cold. , j
The first consists of a glass tube AB, fig. 3. with a cy- J| ^
lindrical bulb B at the lower end, and capillary at the13 ^
top, over which there isfixed a glass ball C. 1 be bulb and
part of the tube are filled with mercury, the top of which
shows the degrees of heat as usual. The upper part of
the tube above the mercury is filled with spirit of wine;
the hall C is also filled with the same liquor almost to
the top of the capillary tube. W hen the mercury rises
the spirit of wine is also raised, and falls into the ball
which is so made that the liquor cannot return into the
tube when the mercury sinks ; consequently the height
of the spirit of wine in the ball, added to that in the
tube, will give the greatest degree of heat to which the
thermometer has pointed since last observation. ^ hen
a new observation is to be made, the instrument must be
inclined
]
THE
Six’s
aiomc-
V-
the [403
Inclined till the liquor in the ball cover the end of the for registering the highest and the other for registering Tliertso-
capillary tube. the lowest degree ot heat to which the thermometer I) as meter.
mercury risen or fallen during the absence of the observer. An v ' ^
account of them may be found in the third volume of
the Transactions of the Society.
A new self-registering thermometer has been in-^jr Keith’s
vented by Mr Keith of Ravelstone, which we consider thermome-
as the most ingenious, simple, and perfect, of any whichter-
has hitherto appeared. Its simplicity is so great, that
In this thermometer it is evident that the
must be affected by the weight and elasticity of the spi¬
rit of wine, and therefore it will not correspond to any
of the common mercurial thermometers.
The thermometer for showing the greatest degree of
cold is represented in fig. 4. by the crooked tube ABCD.
This instrument is filled with spirit of wine, with the
addition of as much mercury as is sufficient to fill both
legs of the syphon, and about a fourth or fifth part of the
hollow ball C. We are not told what the proportion of
mercury was to that of spirit of wine. The degrees of
heat are shown by the rise or fall of the mercury in the
leg AB. The thermometer marks the greatest fall by
means of the hollow ball C. When the mercury in
the longer leg sinks by cold, that in the shorter will
rise and run over into the ball C, from which it can¬
not return when the mercury subsides in the shorter
and rises in the longer leg. The upper part of the
shorter leg will therefore be filled with a column of
spirits of a length proportional to the increase of heat j
the bottom or lower surface of which, by means of a
proper scale, will show how much the mercury has been
lower than it is; which being subtracted from the pre¬
sent height will give the lowest point to which the mer¬
cury has lallen. That the thermometer may be fitted for
a new observation, the mercury must be made to run
back from the ball into the shorter leg, by inclining the
tube and heating the ball.
In Mr Six proposed another self-registering
thermometer. It is properly a spirit of wine thermome¬
ter, though mercury is also employed for supporting an
index, a b, fig. 5. is a thin tube of glass 16 inches long,
and i^gths of an inch caliber : c dc and fg h are smaller
tubes about -^th of an inch caliber. These three tubes
are filled with highly rectified spirit of wine, except the
space between d and g, which is filled with mercury.
As the spirit of wine contracts or expands in the mid¬
dle tube, the mercury falls or rises in the outside tubes.
An index, such as that represented in fig. 6. is placed
on the surface, within each of these tubes, so light as to
float upon it. A: is a small glass tube ^ths of an inch
long, hermetically sealed at each end, and inclosing a
piece of steel wire nearly of its own length. At each
end A, m, of this small tube, a short tube of black glass
JS fixed, of such a diameter as to pass freely up and down
within either of the outside tubes of the thermometer
ee ox fh. From the upper end of the index is drawn a
spring of glass to the fineness of a hair, and about 4ths
of an inch long; which being placed a little oblique,
presses lightly against the inner surface of the tube, and
prevents the index from descending when the mercury
descends. These indexes being inserted one into each
of the outside tubes, it is easy to understand how they
point out the greatest heat or cold that has happened in
tbe observer’s absence. When the spirit of wine in the
middle tube expands, it presses down the mercury in
the tube h f and consequently raises it in the tube e c ;
consequently tbe index on the left hand tube is left be-
'iod and marks the greatest cold, and the index in the
nght hand tube rises and marks the greatest heat.
In 1790 a paper was given in to the Royal Society of
Edinburgh, describing two thermometers, newly invent¬
ed, by Dr John Rutherford of Middle Bailish ; the one
as mtnerco appeare<
it requires only a very short description to make it in¬
telligible.
A-B, fig. 7. is a thin glass tube about 14 inches long Fig. 7.
and 4i*ls °f a'i inch caliber, close or hermetically seal¬
ed at top. To the lower end, which is open, there is
joined the crooked glass tube BE, seven inches long,
and i%ths ol an inch caliber, and open at top. The
tube AB is filled with the strongest spirit of wine, and
the tube BE with mercury. This is properly a spirit
of wine thermometer, and the mercury is used merely
to support a piece of ivory or glass, to which is affixed a
wire for raising one index or depressing another, accord¬
ing as the mercury rises or falls. E is a small conical
piece of ivory or glass, of such a weight as to float on
the surface of the mercury. To the float is joined a
wire called the float-wire, which reaches upwards toll,
where it terminates in a knee bent at right angles. The
float-wire, by means of an eye at a, moves easily along
the small harpsichord wire GK. LL are two indexes
made of thin black oiled silk, which slide upwards or
downwards with a force not more than two grains. The
one placed above the knee points out the greatest rise,
and the one placed below it points out the greatest fall,
of the thermometer.
When the instrument is to be prepared for an obser¬
vation, both indexes are to be brought close to the knee
II. It is evident, that when the mercury rises, the float
and float-wire, which can be moved with the smallest
force, will be pushed upwards till the mercury become
stationary. As the knee of tbe float-wire moves up¬
wards, it will carry along with it the upper index L.
When the mercury again subsides, it leaves the index
at the highest point at which it was raised, for it will
not descend by its own weight: As tbe mercury falls
the float-wire does the same ; it therefore brings along
with it the lower index L, and continues to depress it
till it again becomes stationary or ascend in the tube ;
in which case it leaves the lower index behind it as it
had formerly left tbe upper. The scale to which tbe
indexes point is placed parallel to the slender harpsi¬
chord wire. It may he seen more distinctly in fig. 8. 8,
That the scale and indexes may not he injured by
the wind and rain, a cylindrical glass cover, close at
top, and made so as exactly to fit the part G F, is placed
over it.
The ingenious inventor has another improvement in
contemplation, which, if upon trial it be found to an¬
swer, will make this thermometer as perfect as can he
desired, provided there do not arise some errors from the
variable pressure, of the atmosphere. He proposes to
adapt clock-work to this thermometer, in such a way
as to register with the utmost precision the decrees of
heat and cold for every month, day, and minute in the
year. The principles on which this clockwork is to be
formed we shall forbear to describe, hoping that the au¬
thor himself,after hisexperimenthas met with the success
3 E 2 which
THE
[ 4°4 ]
THE
jjosed
t.hermome-
1 pica! baro¬
meter.
The ther¬
mometers
described
above too
limited.
Thermo- which we ardently wish, will favour the world with his
meter, own account of it.
^ 'r" ' The same ingenious gentleman has invented a self-re¬
gistering barometer, upon the same principles with the
self registering thermometer. We have had the plea¬
sure of seeing both j and are convinced that they will
fully gratify the wishes of all who are engaged in meteo¬
rological studies. He is also in expectation of being
soon able to produce an air-thermometer free from the
defects of those which w'ere formerly made, as he has
found out a way of preventing it from being affected by
yo the pressure of the atmosphere.
iM.de Luc’s M. de Luc has described'the best method of con-
suppo&e.d structing a thermometer, fit for determining the tempe-
ments. rature of the air, in the mensuration of heights by the
barometer. He h as also shown how to divide the scale
of a thermometer, so as to adapt it for astronomical pur-
poses in the observation of refractions.
IWr Cavallo Mr Cavallo, in 1781, proposed the construction of a
has pro- thermometrical barometer, which, by means of boiling
water, might indicate the various gravity of the atmo¬
sphere, or the height of the barometer. But as he does
not say that the instrument has been tried with the de¬
sired success, we forbear to describe it. Those who wish
to know his ideas respecting it may consult the Philoso¬
phical Transactions, vol. Ixxi. p. 524.
The thermometers hitherto described are very limited
in their extent ; they indeed point out to us the lowest
degrees of heat which are commonly observed even in
cold climates, but they by no means reach to those de¬
grees of heat which are very familiar to us. The mer-
cnrial thermometer extends no farther than to 600 of
Fahrenheit’s scale, the heat of boiling mercury $ but we
are sure that the heat of solid bodies, when heated to
ignition, or till they emit light, far exceeds the heat of
boiling mercury.
In order to remedy this defect, Sir Isaac Newton,
whose genius overcame those obstacles which ordinary
minds could not approach, attempted by an ingenious
the scale’ofexperiment to extend the scale to any degree required,
the thermo-Having heated a mass of iron red hot, and exposed it
meter. the cold air, he observed the time which elapsed till
it became cold, or of the same temperature with the
aT } and when the heat so far decreased that he could
apply some known measure (as a thermometer) to it,
he observed the degrees of heat lost in given times ; and
thence drew the general conclusion, that the quantities
of heat lost in given small spaces are always proportional
to the heat remaining in the body, reckoning the heat
to be the excess by which it is warmer than the ambient
air. So that taking the number of minutes which it
took to cool after it came to a determined point in an
arithmetical progression, the decrements of the heat of
Martine's the iron would be continually proportional. Having
hssays. ^ this proportion found out the decrements of heat in a
given time after it came to a known point, it was easy,
by carrying upwards the same proportion to the begin¬
ning of its cooling, to determine the greatest heat which
the body had acquired. This proportion of Sir Isaac’s
was found by Dr Marline to be somewhat inaccurate.
The heat of a cooling body does not decrease exactly in
proportion to that which the body retains. As the re¬
sult of many observations, he found that two kinds of
proportion took place, an arithmetical as well as the
geometrical proportion which Sir Isaac Newton lm$l
03
Sir Isaac
Newton's
method of
extend in
adopted ; namely, that the decrements of heat were t
partly proportional to the times (that is, that quantities r
of heat are lost in equal times), as well as partly in T1
proportion to the remaining heat} and that if these two
are added together the rule will be sufficiently accurate.
By the geometrical proportion which Sir Isaac Newton
adopted he discovered the heat of metals red hot or in
fusion.
This method, so successfully pursued by Sir Isaac, M
was sufficient to form a scale of high degrees of heat, wo:
but was not convenient for practical purposes. Ac-^
cordingly the late Mr Wedgwood invented a very
ter
simple thermometer which marks with much precision hj,
the different degrees of ignition, from a dull red heatgre
visible in the dark to the heat of an air-furnace. It^63
consists of two rulers fixed upon a smooth flat plate, a
little farther asunder at the one end than at the other,
leaving an open longitudinal space between them.
Small pieces of alum and clay mixed together are made
of such a size as just to enter at the wide end j and are
heated along with the body whose heat we wish to de¬
termine. The earthy body contracts according to the
degree of heat, so that when applied to the wide end of
the gage, it will slide on towards the narrow end, less
or more according to the degree of heat to which it has
been exposed.
A BCD, fig. 9. is a smooth flat plate ; and EF anddesj
GH two rulers or flat pieces, a quarter of an inch thick, p.
fixed flat upon the plate, with the sides that are towards
one another made perfectly true, a little farther asun¬
der at one end EG than at the other end FH : thus
they include between them a long converging canal,
which is divided on one side into a number of small
equal parts, and which may be considered as perform¬
ing the offices both of the tube and scale of the com¬
mon thermometer. It is obvious, that if a body, so pi,i
adjusted as to fit exactly at the wider end of this canal, <wi 3
be afterwards diminished in its hulk by fire, as the tlier-flCI ‘
mometer pieces are, it will then pass further in the ca-T0 !
nal, and more and more so according as the diminution
is greater; and conversely, that if a body, so adjusted
as to pass on to the narrow end, he afterwards expanded
by fire, as is the case with metals, and applied in that
expanded state to the scale, it will not pass so far ; and
that the divisions on the side will be the measures of
the expansions of the one, as of the contractions of the
other, reckoning in both cases from that point to which
the body was adjusted at first.
I is the body whose alteration of bulk is thus to be
measured. This is to be gently pushed or slid along to¬
wards the end FH, till it is stopped by the converging
sides of the canal. See Chemistry, N* 1412.
A very ingenious application of Fahrenheit’s ther¬
mometer has been made by Mrs Lovi, glass-blower in
Edinburgh, for ascertaining the temperature of compost
dunghills, for regulating the temperature of hot-beds,
and observing the changes of temperature in corn and
haystacks when they are put up damp. This may be
called an agricultural thermometer, and has been found
of great use for the above purposes.
THERMOPYLAE,, in Ancient Geography, a nar¬
row pass or defile, between the Sinus Maliaens on
the east, and a steep branch of Mount Oeta, co¬
vered with unpassable woods, on the west ; leading
from Thessaly to Locris Rnd Boeotia. These moun¬
tain*
THE
[ 405 ]
THE
■rmopy
lw,
li .
_espis.
tains divide Greece in the middle, in the same manner
as the Apennine does Italy 5 forming one continued
ridge from Leucate on the west to the sea on the east,
with thickets and rocks interspersed. The valley is of
small breadth, and completely occupied by a marsh,
through which it is impossible for horse or foot to pe¬
netrate. Through the middle of this marsh a paved
road was made by the Greeks, which still remains, and
affords the only path to Greece from Thessaly. The
Thermae or hot springs, from which the place had its
name, are near the narrowest part of the pass; and
their temperature was found by Dr Clarke to be 111°.
At the south entrance of the defile is a small eminence,
on which Dr Clarke found a tumulus, with the remains
of a massive pedestal of red breccia much time-worn,
and evidently the tonib of the 300 Spartans, to whose
immortal memories this monument was consecrated.
The rising ground on which the monument stands is
the spot where the Spartans fell. The remains of the
wall which shut up the pass are also vet visible. For
an account of the battle of Thermopylae, see Sparta.
THESE A, in antiquity, feasts celebrated by the A-
thenians in honour of Theseus, consisting of sports and
games, with mirth and banquets. Such as were poor
and unable to contribute to them were entertained at
the public expence.
THESEUS, a famous hero of antiquity, ranked
among the demigods, whose history is fabulous. He
was the reputed son of /E,geus king of Athens. He
threw Sciron, a cruel robber, down a precipice *, fasten¬
ed Procrustes tyrant of Attica to a bending pine, which
being let loose tore him asunder ; killed the Minotaur
kept in the labyrinth by King Minos, in Crete •, and
by the assistance of that prince’s daughter, Ariadne,
who gave him a clue, escaped out of that labyrinth,
and sailed with his deliverer to the isle of Naxos, where
he had the ingratitude to leave her.
Theseus afterwards overcame the Centaurs, subdued
the Thebans, and defeated the Amazons. He assisted
his Iriend Pirithous in his expedition to the infernal re¬
gions to carry off Proserpine ; but was imprisoned by
Pluto, till be was released by Hercules. He is also said
to have established the Isthmian games, in honour of
Neptune j to have united the twelve cities of Attica j
and to have founded a republic there, 1236 B.C. Some
time after, taking a voyage into Epirus, be was seized
by Aidonus king of the Molossians ; meanwhile Me-
nestheus rendered himself master of Athens. But at
length Theseus being released from prison, retired to
ficyros, where King Lycomedes caused him to he
thrown from the top of a rock. Theseus had several
Wives; the first of whom was Helena the dangh'er of
Tyndarus; the second, Hypolita queen of the Ama-
ions; and the last, Phedra sister to Ariadne, who pu¬
nished him for his infidelity to her sister, by her inces¬
tuous passion for his son Hippolitus.
THESIS, a general position which a person advan¬
ces, and offers to maintain. In taking degrees in uni¬
versities, the candidates are generally obliged to write
a thesis, which they must afterwards defend.
THESIUM, Base Flueelin ; a genus of plants
belonging to the class of pentandria, and order of mo-
nogynia. See Botany Index.
THESPIS, a famous Greek tragic poet, and the
“rst reprcsenter of tragedy at Athens. He carried his
troop from village to village in a waggon, from which
they performed their pieces. Alcestis was the first
tragedy they performed at Athens, 536 B. C. See
Theatre.
THESSALIAN CHAIR, so called from Thessaly,
where chairs of this figure were most in use ; it is re¬
commended by Hippocrates* in place of a machine for*
reducing a recenj; luxation of the shoulder bone. The"
back of this chair is perpendicular to the seat, as Galen
tells us; by which construction it is distinguished and
accommodated to the operation.
THESSALY, a country of Greece, whose bounda¬
ries have been different at different periods. Properly
speaking, Thessaly was bounded on the south by the
southern parts of Greece, or Graecia Propria ; east, by
the AEgean ; north, by Macedonia and Mygdonia; ami
"west, by Ulyricum and Epirus. It was generally di¬
vided into four separate provinces, Thessaliotis, Pelas-
giotis, Istiaeotis, and Phthiotis, to which some add Mag¬
nesia. It has been severally called JEmonia, Pc/asgi-
cum, Argos, Hellas, Argeia, Dryopis, Pelasgia, Pyr-
rheea, &c. The name of Thessaly is derived from
Thessalus, one of its monarchs. Thessaly is famous for tionary
a deluge which happened there in the age of Deucalion.
Its mountains and cities are also celebrated, such as
Olympus, Pelion, Ossa, Larissa, &c. The Argonauts
were partly natives of Thessaly. The inhabitants of the
country passed for a treacherous nation, so that false mo¬
ney was called Thessalian coin, and a perfidious action a
Thessalian deceit. Thessaly was originally governed by
kings, till it became subject to the Macedonian mo¬
narchs. The cavalry was universally esteemed, and the
people were superstitious and addicted to the study of
magic and incantations. See Lacan, lib. vi. ver. 438.
&.c. ; Dionys. 219 ; Curt. lib. iii. cap. 2.; /Elian, Far.
Hist. lib. iii. cap. 1.; Pans, lib.iv. cap. 36. lib.x. cap. 1.;
Mela, lib. ii. cap. 3.; Jiistin, lib. vii. cap. 6.; Diod. ir. .
Thessaly is now called Janna, a province of Euro¬
pean Turkey, bounded by Macedonia on the north, by
the Archipelago on the east, by Achaia or Livadia on
the south, and by Epirus on the west.
THETIS, in Pagan mythology, the wife of Ocea-
nus, and the mother of Nereus and Doris, who were
married to each other ; and from this marriage sprung
the nymphs of the earth and sea. Among the sea
nymphs there was one named Thetis the Younger, who
excelled all the rest in beauty, and for whom Jupiter
conceived such a passion, that he resolved to espouse
her : hut being informed by the Destinies that she.
would bring forth a son who would rise above his father,
he married her to Peleus. To their nuptials all the
gods and goddesses were invited except Discord, who,
to be revenged for this contempt, threw a golden apple
into the assembly, on which Was engraven, For the Fair¬
est. Juno, Pallas, and Venus, disputed for this apple ;
hut Paris being chosen to decide the difference, adjudg¬
ed it to Venus. From this marriage of Thetis and Pe¬
leus sprung Achilles.
THEURGY, a name which the ancients
gave to that sacred part of magic which we sometimes
call white magic, or the white art.
The word is formed from ©soj, “ God,” and
“ work ;” q. d. the art of doing divine things, or tilings
which God alone can do : or the power of working ex¬
traordinary and supernatural things, by invoking the
nanies
THE [ 406 ] T H O
Theurgy names of God, saints, angels, &c. Accordingly, those
II who have written of magic in general, divide it into
•t^st*e' , three parts : the first whereof is called theurgy, as ope¬
rating by divine or celestial means 5 the second natural
magic, performed by the powers of nature} and the
third, comprehending necromancy, sorcery, and witch¬
craft or magic, performed by the assistance of demons
or departed men. See Magic.
THIBET. See Tibet.
THIGH. See Anatomy, N° 58.
THINKING, a general name for an act or opera¬
tion of the mind. See Metaphysics.
THIRL AGE. See Law, N° clxx. 12—18.
THIRST, an uneasy sensation arising from a defi¬
ciency of the saliva to moisten the inward parts of the
mouth. Hence arises a strong desire for drink ; and
thirst is a symptom generally attending fevers of all
kinds.—Thirst is best allayed by acids, water kept a
while in the mouth, then spit out, and repeated as re¬
quired ; a pit of bread chewed with a little water,
which latter may be gradually swallowed 5 if the person
is very hot, brandy is the best for holding in the mouth,
but should be spit out again : except in fevers, large
draughts of cold water are hurtful.
Preservation against Hunger and 'Thirst. See
Hunger.
THISTLE, a name applied to different genera and
species of plants belonging chiefly to the syngenesia
class. See Carduus, Onopordum, Serratula, Son-
chus, and also Dipsacus, Botany Index.
Order of the Thistle, or of St Andre w, a military
order of knighthood in Scotland, the rise and institution
of which is variously related by different authors. Les¬
ley bishop of Ross reports, that the night before the
battle between Athelstan king of Northumberland and
Hungus king of the Piets, a bright cross, in form of
that whereon St Andrew (the tutelar saint of Scotland)
suffered martyrdom, appeared to Hungus •, who having
gained the victory, ever after bore the figure of that
cross on his banners. Others assert, that Achaius king
of Scotland first instituted this order, after having made
the famous league offensive and defensive with Charle¬
magne king of France. But although the thistle had
been acknowledged as the symbol of the kingdom of
Scotland from the reign of Achaius, yet some refer the
beginning of this order to Charles VIT. of France.
Others place the foundation of it as low as the year
1500.
The chief and principal ensign is a gold collar com¬
posed of thistles and sprigs of rue interlinked with amu¬
lets of gold, having pendent thereto the image of St
Andrew with his cross, and the motto, Nemo me im-
PUNE LACESSET. “ No body shall provoke me rvith
impunity.”
The ordinary or common ensign worn by the knights
is a star of four silver points, and over them a green cir¬
cle, bordered and lettered with gold, containing the
said motto, and in the centre is a thistle ; all which is
embroidered on their left breast, and worn with the col¬
lar, with a green ribband over the left shoulder, and
brought under the right arm j pendent thereto is the
image of St Andrew, with his cross, in a purple robe,
within an oval of gold enamelled vert, with the former
motto j but sometimes they wear, encircled in the same
manner, a thistle crowned.
About the time of the Reformation, this order was
dropped, till James II. of Great Britain resumed it, by
creating eight knights. The Revolution unsettled it T1
again ; and it lay neglected, till Queen Anne, in 1703, ^
restored it to the primitive design, of twelve knights of
St Andrew.
THLAPSI, Bastard-cress, or Mithridate-Mus¬
tard; a genus of plants belonging to the class of tetra*
dynamia. See Botany Index.
THOLOUSE. See Toulouse.
THOMiEANS, Thomists. See Christians of
St Thomas.
THOMAS Aquinas. See Aquinas.
St Thomas'1 s Day, a festival of the Christian church,
observed on Dec. 21. in commemoration of St Thomas
the apostle.
St 1 i 10mas of Canterbury''s Day, a festival of the
Romish church, observed on Dec. 29. in memory of
'Ihomas Becket archbishop of Canterbury, who was
murdered, or as the Romanists say, martyred, in the
reign of King Henry II.
Thomas the Reymour, called also Thomas Lermont
and 'Thomas of Trceldon, was born at Eiceldon, or
Earlston, a village near Melrose in Tweeddale, in what
year is uncertain ; but he was an old man when Edward
I. was carrying on war in Scotland.
The character of Lermont as a prophet, and which
was common to him with Linus, Orpheus, and other
early poets in many countries, arose, if we may believe
Mackenyie in his Lives of Scottish Writers, from his
having conferences with Eliza, a nun and prophetess at
Haddington. Lermont put her predictions into verse,
and thus came in for his share of the prophetic spirit.
None of these ancient prophecies now remain ; but thepJ
following, which pretends to be one of them, is given Jml
from a manuscript of the time of Edward I. or II. The toil
countess of Dunbar is the lady famous for the defence
of her castle against the English. Her proper title was
Countess of March ; but it was common in these times
to style a nobleman from his chief residence, Thus Gil¬
bert Strongbow, earl of lyembroke, is called Karl of
Striguil, from his residence at Striguil castle, near Chep¬
stow, Monmouthshire, &c.
La Countesse de Donbar demandc a Thomas de Esse-
doune, quant la guere d'Escoce prendreit fyn. E yl
la repoundy, et dyt—
When man as mad a kyng of a capped mon.
When mon is levere other mons thyng than is ewen.
When londe thouys forest, and forest ys felde.
When hares kendles othe herston.
When Wyt an d Will e vverres togedere.
When mon makes stables of kyrkesj and steles castles
wyth styes.
When Rokesbourh nys no burgh ; ant market is at
Forwyleye.
When the aide is gan, and the newe is come that
doue noht.
Wh en BamboUrne ys donged with dede men.
When men ledes men in ropes to buven ant to sellen.
When a quarter of whaty whete is chaunged for a
colt often markes.
When prude prikes, ant pees is levd in prisoun.
When a Scot ne may hvm hude ase hare in forme,
that the Englysh ne shall hym fynde.
4
When
T H O [ 407 ] T H O
1
omas 'When ryht ant wrong astente the togedere.
|| When laddes vveddeth lovedies.
;mson. When Scottes fieri so faste, that for faute of ship, hy
   drouneth hemselve.
When shal this be ?
Nouther in thyne tyme, ne in myne.
Ah comen, ant gone,
Withinne twenty wynter ant on.
In fact, the prophecies of Lermont appear to have
been merely traditional ; nay, it seems doubtful if he
ever pretended to such folly, notwithstanding Mac-
kenyie’s story of Eliza. The reverence of the people
for a learned and respectable character seems to have
been the sole foundation of Thomas’s claim to prophecy.
But, in the 16th century, prophecies were made, and
ascribed to him, as well as others given to Bede, Mer¬
lin, &c. (a). They were printed at Edinburgh, 1615 j.
reprinted 1680, and 1742.
THOMISM. See Aquinas.
THOMSON, James, an excellent British poet, the
son of a Scotch divine, -was born in the shire of Rox¬
burgh in 1700, and was educated in the university of
Edinburgh with a view to the ministry. But his ge¬
nius inclining him to the study of poetry, which he
soon found would be incompatible with that of theology,
or at least might prevent his being provided for in
that way in his own country, he relinquished his views
of engaging in the sacred function, and repaired to
London in consequence of some encouragement which
he had received from a lady of quality there, a friend
of his mother.
The reception he met with wherever he -was intro-
! duced, emboldened him to risk the publication of his
excellent poem on Winter.—This piece was published
in 1726; and from the universal applause it met with,
Mr Thomson’s acquaintance wras courted by people of
the first taste and fashion. But the chief advantage
which it procured him u'as the acquaintance of Dr
Bundle, afterward bishop of Derry, w'ho introduced
him to the late lord chancellor Talbot; and some years
after, when the eldest son of that nobleman was to make
his tour on the continent, Mr Thomson was chosen as
a proper companion for him. The expectations which
Ids Winter bad raised, were fully satisfied by the suc¬
cessive publications of the other seasons ; of Summer,
m the year 17275 ot Spring, in the following year; and
of Autumn, in a quarto edition of his works, in 1730.
Beside the Seasons, and his tragedy of Sophonisba,
written and acted with applause in the year 1729, he
had, in 1727, published his poem to the memory of
Sir Isaac Newton, with an account of bis chief dis¬
coveries ; in which he was assisted by his friend Mr
Gray, a gentleman well versed in the Newtonian phi¬
losophy. That same year the resentment of our mer¬
chants, for the interruption of their trade by the Spa¬
niards in America, running very high, Mr Thomson
zealously took part in it, and wrote his Britannia, to
rouse the nation to revenge.
With the honourable Charles Talbot, our author vi- Thomson,
sited most of the courts in Europe, and returned with 1 v——<
his views greatly enlarged j not only of exterior nature
and the works of art, but of human life and manners,
and of the constitution and policy of the several states,
their connections, and their religious institutions. How
particular and judicious his observations were, we see in
his poem of Liberty, begun soon after his return to
England. We see at the same time to what a high
pitch his care of his country was raised, hy the com¬
parisons he had all along been making of our happy go¬
vernment with those of other nations. To inspire his
fellow-subjects with the like sentiments, and show them
by what means the precious freedom we enjoy may be
preserved, and how it may be abused or lost, he employ
ed two years in composing that noble work, upon which
he valued himself more than upon all his other writings
On his return to England with Mr Talbot (who soon
after died), the chancellor made him his secretary of
briefs ; a place of little attendance, suiting his retired
indolent way of life, and equal to all his wants. From
this office he was removed, when death, not long after,
deprived him of his noble patron. He then found him¬
self reduced to a state of precarious dependence. In
this situation, having created some few debts, and his cre¬
ditors finding that he had no longer any certain support,
became inexorable ; and imagined by confinement to
force that from his friends, which his modesty would
not permit him to ask. One of these occasions furnish¬
ed Quin, the celebrated actor, with an opportunity of
displaying the natural goodness of his heart, and the dis¬
interestedness of bis friendship. Hearing that Thom¬
son was confined in a spunging house for a debt of
about 70I. lie repaired to the place; and, having inqui¬
red for him, was introduced to the bard. Thomson was
a good deal disconcerted at seeing Quin, as he bad al¬
ways taken pains to conceal his wants ; and the more
so, as Quin told him he 4vas come to sup with him.
His anxiety upon this head was however removed, upon
Quin’s informing him, that, as he supposed it would
have been inconvenient to have had the supper dressed
in the place they were in, he had ordered it from an
adjacent tavern ; and, as a prelude, half a dozen of
claret was introduced. Supper being over, and the
bottle circulating pretty briskly, Quin said, “ It is time
now we should balance accounts.” This astonished
Thomson, who imagined he had some demand upon him;
but Quin perceiving it, continued, “ Mr Thomson, the
pleasure I have had in perusing your works I cannot
estimate at less than a hundred pounds, and I insist up¬
on now acquitting'"the debt.” On saying this, be put
down a note of that value, and took bis leave, without
waiting for a reply.
The profits arising from bis works were not inconsider¬
able; bis tragedy of Agamemnon, acted in 1738, yield¬
ed a good sum. But his chief dependence was upon
the prince of Wales, who settled on him a handsome
allowance, and honoured him with many marks of par¬
ticular favour. Notwithstanding this, however, he
was
A
In the
(a) Sibilla and Banister Anglicus are mentioned in the time of Edward IV. (MSS. Cot. Dom. A. IX.).
ong Batin prophecy of Bridlington is there given. Waldhave and Eltraine seem also English prophets,
whole collection, therefore, Thomas is the only Scottish
one.
T H O [ 408 ] ^ T H O
Thomson, was refused a licence for his tragedy of Edward and
' y—■’ Eleonora, which he had prepared for the stage in the
year 1736, for some political reasons. Mr Thomson’s
next performance was the Masque of Alfred, written
in the vear 1740 jointly with Mr Mallet, by the com¬
mand of the prince of Wales, for the entertainment of
his royal highness’s court at Clifden, his summer resi¬
dence.
Mr Thomson’s poem, entitled the Castle of Indo¬
lence, was his last work published by himself j his tra¬
gedy of Coriolanus being only prepared for the theatre,
when a fatal accident robbed the world of one of the best
of men and best of poets. He would commonly walk
the distance between London and Richmond (where he
lived) with any acquaintance that offered, with whom
he might chat and rest himself, or perhaps dine by the
way. One summer evening being alone in his walk
from town to Hammersmith, he had over-heated him¬
self, and in that condition imprudently took a boat to
carry him to Kew ; apprehending no bad consequence
from the chill air on the river, which his walk to his
house, tow7ards the upper end of Kew-lane, had always
hitherto prevented. But now the cold had so seized
him, that the next day he was in a high fever. This,
however, by the use of proper medicines, was removed,
so that he was thought out of danger; till the fine
weather having tempted him to expose himself once
more to the evening dews, his fever returned with
violence, and with such symptoms as left no hopes of
a cure. His death happened on the 27th of August
1748.
Mr Thomson had improved his taste upon the finest
originals, ancient and modern. The autumn was his
favourite season for poetical composition, and the deep
silence of the night he commonly chose for his studies.
The amusement of his leisure hours were civil and natu¬
ral history, voyages, and the best relations of travellers.
Though he performed on no instrument, he was passion¬
ately fond of music, and would sometimes listen a full
hour at his window to the nightingales in Richmond
gardens; nor was his taste less exquisite in the arts of
painting, sculpture, and architecture. As for the more
distinguishing qualities of his mind and heart, they best
appear in his writings. There his devotion to the Su¬
preme Being, his love of mankind, of his country, and
friends, shine out in every page; his tenderness of heart
was so unbounded, that it took in even the brute crea¬
tion. It is not known, that through his Wfrole life he
.ever gave any person a moment’s pain, either by his
writings or otherwise. He took no part in the political
squabbles of his time, and was therefore respected and
left undisturbed by both sides. These amiable virtues
did not fail of their due reward ; the applause of the
public attended all his productions, and his friends loved
him with an enthusiastic ardour.
Johnsons “Asa writer (says Dr Johnson), he is entitled to
L ves of one praise of the highest kind ; his mode of thinking,
the Poets. .ia({ 0f expressing his thoughts, is original. His blank
verse is no more the blank verse of Milton, or of any
other poet, than the rhymes of Prior are the rhymes of
Cowley. His numbers, his pauses, his diction, are of
his own growth, without transcription, without imita¬
tion. He thinks in a peculiar train, and thinks always
as a man ot genius ; he looks round on Nature and on
life with the eye which Nature bestows only on a poet;
the eye that distinguishes, in every thing represented to
its view, whatever there is on which imagination can de¬
light to be detained, and with a mind that at once com- TJio
prebends the vast, and attends to the minute. The
reader of the Seasons wonders that he never saw before
what Thomson shews him, and that he never yet has felt
what Thomson impresses.”
His testamentary executors were the lord Lyttelton,
whose care of our poet’s fortune and fame ceased not
with his life; and Mr Mitchell, a gentleman equally
noted for the truth and constancy of his private friend¬
ship, and for his address and spirit as a public minister.
By their united interests, the orphan play of Coriolanus
was brought on the stage to the best advantage; from
the profits of which, and the sale of manuscripts and
other effects, a handsome sum was remitted to bis sisters.
His remains were deposited in the church of Richmond,
under a plain stone, without any inscription. A hand¬
some monument was erected to him in Westminster
abbey in the year 1762, the charge of which was de¬
frayed by the profits arising from a splendid edition of
all his works in 4to ; Mr Millar the bookseller, who
had purchased all Mr Thomson’s copies, giving up his
property on this grateful occasion. A monument has
also been erected to him at the place of his birth.
THOR, the eldest and bravest of the sons of Odin
and Frea, was, after his parents, the greatest god of the
Saxons and Danes while they continued heathens. They
believed, that Thor reigned over all the aerial regions,
which composed his immense palace, consisting of 540®r.eat
halls; that he launched the thunder, pointed the light-
ning, and directed the meteors, winds, and storms. To
him they addressed their prayers for favourable winds,
refreshing rains, and fruitful seasons; and to him the
fifth day of the week, which still bears his name, was
consecrated.
THORAX. See Anatomy.
White or THORN. See Crataegus, Bo¬
tany Index.
Thorn, a town of Poland, in Regal Prussia, and in
the palatinate of Culm. It was formerly a Hanseatic
town, but is now subject to Prussia ; it is large and
well fortified. Copernicus, the celebrated discoverer of
the true system of the universe, was born here in 1472.
It is seated on the Vistula, and contains io,cco inha¬
bitants. E. Long. 18. 30. N. Lat. 52. 55.
THORNBACK. See Raia, Ichthyology Index. . ,
THORNHILL, Sir James, an eminent English i
painter, was born in Dorsetshire in 1676, of an ancient'
family ; but was constrained to apply to some profession
by the distresses of his father, who had been reduced to
the necessity of selling his family estate. His inclina¬
tion directed him to the art of painting ; and on his
arrival at London he applied to his uncle, the famous
Dr Sydenham, who enabled him to proceed in the study
ot the art under the direction of a painter who was not
very eminent. However, the genius of Thornhill made
ample amends for the insufficiency oi his instructor, and
by a happy application of his talents he made so great
a progress, that he gradually rose to the highest reputa¬
tion.
His genius was well adapted to historical and allego¬
rical compositions ; he possessed a fertile and fine inven¬
tion ; and he sketched his thoughts with gre.it ease,
freedom, and spirit* He excelled also equally in por¬
trait,
T H ft
r .400 ]
T H ft
trait, perspective, am] architecture; shewed an excel¬
lent taste for design, and had a free and firm pencil.
Had he beer; so fortunate as to have studied at Rome
and Venice, to acquire greater correctness at the one,
and a more exact knowledge of the perfection of colour¬
ing at the other, no artist among the moderns might
perhaps have been his superior. Nevertheless, he was
so eminent in many parts of his profession, that he must
for ever be ranked among the best painters of his time ;
and his performances in the dome of St Paul’s church
at London, in the hospital at Greenwich, and at Hamp-
ton-court, are such public proofs of his merit as will con¬
vey his name to posterity with great honour.
This painter lived in general esteem $ he enriched
himself by the excellence of his works $ was appointed
state-painter to Queen Anne, from whom he received
the honour of knighthood ; had the singular satisfaction
to repurchase his family estate', and was so much di¬
stinguished as to be elected one of the members of par¬
liament. He died in 1732.
THOROUGH-wax, in Botany. See Bupleurum.
THOTH, or Theut, (called by the Phoenicians
Taaut, by the Greeks Hermes, and by the Romans
Mercury), was a Phoenician of very superior talents,
and one of the civilizers of mankind. lie was prime
minister to Osiris, whom, after his death, he deified ;
and he was himself deified by his countrymen the
Egyptians, for the benefits that he had rendered to the
human race. See Mercury, Mythology, N° 34.
and Polytheism, N° 18.
THOUGHT, a general name for all the ideas con¬
sequent on the operations of the mind, and even on the
operations themselves. See Metaphysics.
Thought, in composition. See Oratory, Part I.
and II.
THOUJNIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class or diandria, and order of monogynia. See Bo¬
tany Index.
THRACE, a country very frequently mentioned by
the Greek and Latin writers, deriving its name, ac¬
cording to Josephus, from Tiras one of the sons of Ja-
phet. Tt was bounded on the north by Mount Hsemus;
on the south, by the JEgean sea 3 on the west, by Ma-
cedon and the river Strymon 3 and on the east, by the
Euxine sea, the Hellespont, and the Propontis.*—The
Thracian Chersonesus js a peninsula inclosed on the
south by the Hlgean sea, on the west by the gulf of
Melas, and on the east by the Hellespont 3 being join¬
ed on the north to the continent by a neck of land
about 37 furlongs broad. The inland parts of Thrace
are very cold and barren, the snow lying on the moun¬
tains the greatest part of the year 3 but the maritime
provinces are productive of all sorts of grain and neces¬
saries for file ; and withal so pleasant, that Mela com¬
pares them to the most fruitful and agreeable countries
uf Asia.
^he ancient Thracians were deemed a brave and
I'arlike nation, but ot a cruel and savage temper 3 be-
nig, according to the Greek writers, strangers to all hu-
Jnanity and good nature. It was to the Thracians,
lowever, that the Greeks were chiefly indebted for the
polite arts that flourislied among them 3 for Orphaeus,
nius, Musaeus, Thamyris, and Eumolpus, all Thra¬
cians, were the first, as Eustathius informs us, who
c armed the inhabitants of Greece with, their eloquence
^OL. XX. Part II. f
and melody, and persuaded them to exchange their Thrace,
fierceness for a sociable life and peaceful manners ; nuv, Thrahhin^.
great part of Greece was anciently peopled by Thra-—y——'
Hans. TVreus, a Thracian, governed at Daulis in Plio-
cis, where the tragical story of Philomela and Progne
was acted. From thence a body of Thracians passed
over to Euboea, and possessed themselves of that island.
Of the same nation were the Aones, Tembices, and
Hyanthians, who made themselves masters of Bceotia 3
and great part of Attica itself was inhabited by Thra¬
cians, under the command of the celebrated Eumolpus.
It is not, therefore, without the utmost ingratitude and
injustice that the Greeks style them Barbarians, since
to them chiefly they were indebted both for the peo¬
pling and polishing of their country.
Thrace was anciently divided into a number of petty
states, which were first subdued by Philip of Macedon.
On tho decline of the Macedonian empire, the country
fell under the power of the Romans. It continued un¬
der subjection to them till the irruption of the Turks,
in whose hands it still remains.
THRASHING, in Agriculture, the operation bv
which corn is separated from the straw. This opera¬
tion is performed in a variety of ways, sometimes by the
feet of animals, sometimes by a flail, and sometimes by
a machine.
The most ancient method of separating the corn from
the straw was by the hoofs of cattle or horses. This
was practised by the Israelites, as we find from the
books of Moses 3 it was also common among the Greeks
and Romans*. Flails and thrashing machines were al- * Pliny,
so not uncommon among these nationsf. The flail xvh'* .30.
which was used by the Romans, called bacillus, fustis,^?^1' ...
or pertica, was probably nothing more than a cudgel or
pole. The thrashing machine, which was called tribula zt. Tibult.'
or tribulum, and sometimes traha, was a kind of sledgei* £•
made of boards joined together, and loaded with stone or ^
iron. Horses were yoked to this machine, and a man was ‘ ji
seated upon it to drive them over the sheaves of corn. Xx. 49c.
Different methods are employed indifferent countries
for separating the corn from the stalk. In the greatest
part of France the flail is used 3 hut in the southern
districts it is generally performed by the feet of animals.
Animals are also used for the same purpose in Spain, in
Italy, in the Morea, in the Canaries, in China, and in the
vicinity of Canton, where the flail is also sometimes used.
It appears that in hot climates the grains do not adhere
so firmly to the stalk as in Cold countries, and therefore
may be more easily separated. This will explain the
reason why animals are co frequently employed in hot
countries for treading out the corn 3 whereas in cold
climates we know they are seldom tried, and have no
reason to suppose thst they would answer the purpose.
In the Isle of France in Africa, rice and wheat are
thrashed with poles, and maize with sticks ; for it has
not been possible to teach the negroes the use of the
flail.
The animals used for treading out corn are, oxen,
cows, horses, mules, and even asses when the quantity
is not great. The operation is performed in this man¬
ner : The sheaves, after being opened, are spread in
such a manner that the ears of the corn are laid as
much uppermost as possible, and a man, standing in the
centre, holds the halters of the cattle, which are made
to trot round as in a manege 3 whilst other men with
3 1 forks
T H R [ 410 ] THE
forks shake the straw up from time to time, anil the
cattle are trotted over it again and again till they have
beaten out all the grain. This method is expeditious
enough ; but besides bruising a considerable quantity of
corn, it requires a great many cattle, and injures the
legs of the horses and mules, which are preferred before
cows and oxen for this work.
The flail is undoubtedly a much better instrument for
thrashing corn than the feet of animals, for it separates
the grain from the straw and husks both more effectual¬
ly and more expeditiously j yet it is liable to many ob¬
jections. It is a very laborious employment, too severe
indeed even for a strong man j and as it is usually the
interest of the thrasher rather to thrash much than to
thrash clean, a good deal of corn will generally he left
upon the straw. It is therefore an object of great im¬
portance in husbandry to procure a proper machine for
separating the corn from the straw.
The first thrashing machine attempted in modern
times, of which we have received any account, was in¬
vented in Edinburgh by Mr Michael Menzies about the
year 1732. It consisted of a number of instruments like
flails, flxed in a moveable beam, and inclined to it at an
angle of ten degrees. On each side of the beam in
which the flails were fixed, floors or benches were pla¬
ced for spreading the sheaves on. The flails were mo¬
ved backwards and forwards upon the benches by means
of a crank fixed on the end of an axle, which made
about 30 revolutions in a minute.
The second thrashing machine was invented by Mr
Michael Stirling, a farmer in the parish of Dunblane,
Perthshire. Of this discovery ve have received a very
accurate and authentic account from his son, the reve¬
rend Mr Robert Stirling minister of Crieff.
It is an old proverb, that necessity is the mother of in¬
vention. This was verified on the present occasion. Be¬
sides his ordinary domestic servants, Mr M. Stirling had
occasion sometimes to hire an additional number to
thrash out his grain, and frequently found it difficult to
procure so many as he needed. This naturally led him
to reflect whether the operation of thrashing could not
easily be performed by machinery. Accordingly, so
early as the year 1753, under the pretence of joining in
the amusements of his children, he formed in miniature
a water mill, in which two iron springs made to rise and
fall alternately, represented the motion of two flails, by
which a few stalks of corn put under them might be
speedily thrashed. This plan he executed on a scale
sufficiently large within two years after, making the
springs about ten feet long, each of which had one end
firmly screwed into a solid plank, and the other termi¬
nated in a round batoon of solid iron, two feet long and
above an inch in diameter. Under these the sheaves
were conveyed gradually forward in a narrow channel
or trough, by passing between two indented horizontal
cylinders, similar to those now used in the most of the
thrashing mills in that part of the country, and called
feeders. In this manner the thrashing was executed
completely, and with considerable rapidity; but as the
operation was performed on a low floor, and no me¬
thod contrived for carrying off the straw, the accumu¬
lation of it produced such confusion, and the removal
of it was attended with such danger that this scheme
was very soon entirely abandoned. The mortification
arising from disappointment, and especially the scoffs of
his neighbours, for what was universally accounted an xhr,iS
absurd and ridiculous attempt, served only to stimulate
the exertions of the inventor to accomplish his designs
on another plan.
Laying aside therefore the iron springs with the feed¬
ers, and all the apparatus adapted to them, he retained
only an outer or water wheel, with an inner or cog¬
wheel moving on the same axle : to this inner wheel,
which had 48 teeth or cogs, he applied a vertical trun¬
dle or pinion, with seven notches, the axle of which
passed through a floor above the wheel, and having its
upper pivot secured in a beam six feet above that floor.
At the distance of three feet three inches above th«
floor two straight pieces of squared wood, each four feet
long, passed through the axle of the trundle at right
angles, forming four arms, to be moved round hori¬
zontally. To the extremities of these arms were fixed
four iron plates, each 20 inches long, and eight broad
at the end next the arms, but tapering towards a point
at the other end. This large horizontal fly constitu¬
ting four thrashers, was inclosed within a wooden cylin¬
drical box three feet and a half high and eight in dia¬
meter. On the top of the box was an opening or port
(two or three ports were made at first, but one was
found sufficient) eight inches wide, and extending from
the circumferece a foot and a half towards its centre,
through which the corn sheaves descended, being first
opened and laid one by one on a board with two ledges
gently declining towards the port ; on which board
they were moderately pressed down with a boy’s hand,
to prevent them from being too hastily drawn in by the
repeated strokes of the thrashers. Within the box was
an inclined plane, along which the straw and grain fell
down into a wide wire riddle two feet square, placed
immediately under a hole of nearly the same size. Tbs
riddle received a jerk at every revolution of the spindls
from a knob placed on the side of it, and was instantly
thrust backward by a small spring pressing it in the op¬
posite direction. The short straw, with the grain and
chaff which passed through the wide riddle, fell imme¬
diately into an oblong straight riddle, which hung with
one end raised and the other depressed, and was moved
by a contrivance equally simple as the other; and ha¬
ving no ledge at the lower end, the long chaff which
could not pass through the riddle dropped from thence
to the ground ; while the grain and most of the chafi
falling through the riddle into a pair of common barn-
fanners that stood under it on the ground floor, the
strong grain, the weak, and the chaff, were all sepa¬
rated with great exactness. The fanners were moved
by a rope or baud running circuitously in a shallow
niche cut on the circumference of the cog-wheel. The
straw collected gradually in the bottom of the box over
the wide riddle, and through an opening two and a
half feet wide, and as much in height, left in that side
of the box nearest the brink of the upper floor, was
drawn down to the ground with a rake by the person or
persons employed to form it into sheaves or rolls.
Such was the thrashing mill invented by Mr Michael
Stirling, which, after various alterations and improve¬
ments he completed in the form now described, A. D.
1758. By experiment it was found that four bolls of
oats, Linlithgow measure, could be thrashed by it in 25
minutes. From that period he never used a common
flail in thrashing, except for humbling or bearding bar-
tr:j
X" 3
PL ATI: DXXXT.
TIIRASKING MAC HIM,.
JSk./7trn*f fy fftb fl /AZury Afinlritr«/7t
i
T H R C 4U ] T H R
ley. In every other kind of grain he performed the
whole operation of thrashing with the mill; and con¬
tinued always to use it till 1772, when he retired from
business, and his thrashing mill became the property
of his second son, who continued to use it with equal
advantage and satisfaction. Several machines were con¬
structed on the same plan, particularly one near Stir¬
ling, under Mr Stirling’s direction, lor Mr Moir of
Leckie, in 1765, which, we undertand, has been used
ever since, and gives complete satisfaction to the pro¬
prietor. There was another erected in 1778 by Mr
Thomas Keir (in the parish of Muthil and county of
Perth), who has contrived a method of bearding barley
with it: and by the addition of a small spindle with
short arms contiguous to the front of the box, and moved
by a band common to it and the great spindle to which
it is parallel, the straw is shaken and whirled out of the
box to the ground. That this machine did not come
immediately into general use, was owing partly to the
smallness of the farms in that part of the country, whose
crops could easily be thrashed by the few hands neces¬
sarily retained on them for other purposes; and chiefly
to an apprehension that the machine could only be
moved by water; an apprehension which experience
proves to be entirely groundless. The machine, how¬
ever, was ingenious, and did great credit to the worthy
inventor, and certainly deserved a better fate than it was
destined to undergo.
A third thrashing mill was invented in 1772, by two
persons nearly about the same time, and upon the same
principles. The inventors were, Mr Alderton who
lived near Alnwick, and Mr Smart at Wark in North¬
umberland. The operation was performed by rubbing.
The sheaves were carried round between an indented
drum ol about six feet diameter, and a number of in¬
dented rollers arranged round the circumference of the
drum, and attached to it by means of springs ; so that
while the drum revolved, the fluted rollers rubbed the
corn oil from the straw by rubbing against the flutings
ot the drum. But as a considerable quantity of the
grain was bruised in passing between the rollers, the
machine was soon laid aside.
In 1776 an attempt was made by Mr Andrew Mex-
kle, an ingenious millwright in the parish of Tyning-
ham, East Lothian, to construct a new machine upon
the principles which had been adopted by Mr Menzies
already mentioned. This consisted in making joints in
the flails, which Mr Menzies had formed without any.
Hut this machine, after much labour and expence, was
soon laid aside, on account of the difficulty of keeping
it in repair, and the small quantity of work performed,
which did not exceed one boll or six Winchester bushels
of barley per hour.
Some time alter this, Mr Francis Kinlocb, then junior
of Gilmer ton, having visited the machine invented in
Northumberland, attempted an improvement upon it.
Ie inclosed the drum in a fluted cover ; and instead of
making the drum itself fluted, he fixed upon the outside
of it lour fluted pieces of wood, which by means of
spungs could be raised a little above the circumfei ■ence
0 the drum, so as to press against the fluted covering,
an ^ms ruh oil the ears of corn as the sheaves passed
r°ond between the drum and the fluted covering. But
Not finding this machine to answer his expectation (for it
mised the grain in the same manner as the Northum¬
berland machine did), he sent it to Mr Meikle, that Thrashing,
he might, if possible, rectify its errors. ^
Mr Meikle, who had long directed his thoughts to
this subject, applied himself with much ardour and per¬
severance to the improvement and correction of this ma¬
chine ; and after spending a good deal of time upon it,
found it was constructed upon principles so erroneous,
that to improve it was impracticable.
At length, however, Mr Meikle’s own genius invent¬
ed a model, different in principle from the machines
which had already been constructed. This model was
made in the year 1785 ; and in the following year the
first thrashing machine on the same principles was erect¬
ed in the neighbourhood of Alloa, in the county of
Stirling, by Mr George Meikle the son of the inven¬
tor. This machine answered completely the wishes of
Mr Stein, the gentleman for whom it was erected, who
gave the most ample testimony of bis satisfaction both
to the inventor and to the public. The fame of this
discovery soon spread over the whole country, and a
great many farmers immediately applied to Mr Meikle,
desiring to have thrashing-mills erected on their farms.
The discovery, it ajrpeared, would be profitable, and it
was reasonable that 'he inventor should enjoy the profits
of his invention. He accordingly applied for a patent;
which, after considerable expence, arising from the op¬
position of some persons, who claimed a share in the dis¬
covery, was granted.— Ihese machines are now becom¬
ing very common in many parts of Scotland, and are
increasing very considerably in number every year over
all the united kingdom.
We will now endeavour to describe this machine in
its most improved state ; which is so simple, that with
the assistance of a plate, exhibiting the plan of eleva¬
tion, fig. 1. the ground plan, fig. 2. and the 3d showing Plate
its essential parts in a distinct manner, we hope it will DXXXV,
be easily understood by all our readers who have not
had an opportunity of seeing it. The power employed
for turning that part of the machine which separates the
corn from the straw is produced by four wheels (when
moved by horses), the teeth of which move in one an¬
other and turn the drum, on which four scutchers are
fixed. The sheaves are introduced between two fluted
rollers, which hold them firm, and draw them in gra¬
dually, while the scutchers strike off the grain from the
straw as it passes through. Ihis will suffice for a ge¬
neral idea of this machine. We will now be more
particular.
The large spur-wheel A, fig. 1. and 2. which hasFig. 1. and
276 cogs, is horizontal, and moves the pinion D, which 2.
has 14 teeth. The pinion B moves the crown-wheel
G, which has 84 teeth ; the wheel C moves a second
pinion D, which has 16 teeth ; and the pinion D moves
the drum H1KL. The drum is a hollow cylinder three
feet and a half diameter, and placed horizontally ; on
the outside of which the scutchers are fixed by strong
screw bolts. The scutchers consist of four pieces of
wood, faced on one side with a thin plate of iron, placed
at an equal distance from each other, and at right angles
to the axis of the drum.
The sheaves are spread on an inclined board F, fig. 3.fj(r
from which they are introduced between two fluted rol¬
lers GG made of cast iron, about three inches and a
half in diameter, and making about 35 revolutious in a
minute. As these rollers are only about three quarters
3 F 2 of
THE [ 412 ] THE
Thrashing .of an inch distant from the scutchers or leaves of the
v— ' drum HTKL, they serve to hold the sheaves fast, while
the scutchers fl, b, c, d, moving with prodigious veloci¬
ty, separate the grain completely from the straw, and
at the same time throw out both grain and straw upon
the concave rack M, lying horizontally with slender
parallel ribs, so that the corn passes through them
into a hopper N placed below. From the hopper it
passes through a harp or riddle O into a pair of fanners
P, from which, in the most improved machines, it comes
out clean and fit for the market. The straw, after be¬
ing thrown by the scutchers a, b, c, d, into the rack, is
removed from it by a rake QRST into a place contigu¬
ous V. The rake consists of four thin pieces of wood
or leaves 5 on the end of each of these leaves is ranged
a row of teeth e, /j (g, /?, five inches long. The rake
moves in a circular manner in the convave rack, while
the teeth catch hold of the straw, and throw it out of
the rack. These are all the essential parts of the ma¬
chine ; the rest may he easily understood by the refer¬
ences to the plate. AV is the horse-course, N° 1, which
is 27 feet diameter. X is the pillar for supporting
the beams on which the axle of the spur-wheel is fixed.
YYY are three spindles for moving the two fluted rol¬
lers, the rake, and fanners. To the description now
given we have only to add, that the drum has a covering
of wood Z at a small distace above it, for the purpose of
keeping the sheaves close to the scutchers.
The advantages of this machine are many. As the
drum makes 300 revolutions in a minute, the four
scutchers together make 200 strokes in the same space
of time. From such power and velocity, it is evident
that much work must be performed. YVhen the horses
go at the rate of two and one-third miles per hour, from
three to six bolls will be thrashed ; but as the quantity
thrashed will be less when the straw is long than when
it is short, we shall take the average at four bolls. One
gentleman, whose veracity and accuracy we can depend
on, assures us, that his mill thrashed 63 bolls in a day ;
by which, we suppose, he meant 10 hours. To prove
the superior advantage of this machine to the common
method of thrashing with flails, a gentleman ordered
two equal quantities of oats to be thrashed by the mill
and by flails. When the corn was cleaned and measur¬
ed, he obtained one-sixteenth more from the sheaves
thrashed by the mill than from those thrashed bv the
flail. We are also informed by another gentleman who
has studied this machine with much attention, and cal¬
culated its advantages with care, that, independently of
having the corn much cleaner separated from the straw
than is usually done by flails, there is a saving of 30 or
40 per cent, in the expence of thrashing.
The number of persons requisite for attending the
mill when working is six : One person drives the horses ;
a second hands the sheaves to a third, who unties them,
while a fourth spreads them on the inclined boards and
presses them gently between the rollers ; a fifth person
is necessary to riddle the corn as it falls from the fan- i'im!
ners, and a sixth to remove the straw (a). ||
l his machine can be moved equally well by water, rR|'(
wind, or horses. Mr Meikle has made such improve- 1—v
ments on the wind-mill as to render it much more ma¬
nageable and convenient than formerly ; and we are,in¬
formed many windmills are now erecting in different
parts of the country. As to the comparative expence
of these different machines, the erection of the horse
machine is least j hut then the expence of employing
horses must be taken into consideration. One of this
kind may be erected for 70I. A water-mill will cost
10I. more on account of the expence of the water-wheel.
A wind-mill will cost from 200I. to 300!. sterling.
THRAVE of Corn, an expression denoting 24
sheaves or four shocks of six sheaves to the shock;
though in some countries they only reckon 1 2 sheaves
to the thrave.
THRASYBULUS, a renowned Athenian general
and patriot, the deliverer of his country from the yoke
of the 30 tyrants, lived about 294 B. C. *
THRASYMENUS LACUS, in Ancient Geography,
a lake of Etruria, near Perusia, and not far from the^J.,.
Tiber, fatal to the Romans in the Punic w'ar. Now
II Logo de Perugia in the Ecclesiastical State.
THREAD, a small line made up of a number sf fine
fibres of any vegetable or animal substance, such as flax,
cotton, or silk ; from which it takes its name of linen,
cotton, or silk thread.
THREATENING letters. Knowingly to send
any letter without a name, or with a fictitious name,
demanding money, or any other valuable thing, or
threatening (without any demand) to kill or fire the
house of any person, is made felony without benefit of
clergy. And sending letters, threatening to accuse any
person of a crime punishable with death, transportation,
pillory, or other infamous punishment, with a view to
extort from him any money or other valuable chattels,
is punishable by statute 30 Geo. II. cap. 24. at the dis¬
cretion of the court, with fine, imprisonment, pillory,
whipping, or transportation for seven years.
THRESHING. See Thrashing.
THRIFT. See Statice, Botany Index.
TP1RINAX, Small Jamaica Fan-Palm, a gemis
of plants belonging to the class of palmse. See Botany
Index.
THRIPS, a genus of insects belonging to the order
of hemiptera. See Entomology Index.
THROAT, the anterior part of an animal, between
the head and the shoulders.
THROAT-wort. See Campanula, Botany In¬
dex.
THRONE, a royal seat or chair of state, enriched
with ornaments of architecture and sculpture, raised on
one or more steps, and covered with a kind of canopy.
Such are the thrones in the rooms of audience ot kings
and other sovereigns.
THROSTLE.
(a) We add, on the authority of an experienced farmer, that of the six persons necessary to attend the thrash¬
ing machine, only two can in justice be charged to the account of the machine ; namely, the person who manages
the horses, and the one who feeds the machine : For in the usual mode of thrashing by the flail, it requires the
same number of persons as the thrashing machine does to clear an equal quantity of corn from the chaft in the
same manner.
THU [413] THU
! )i resile
II
nucy-
1 iiides.
THROSTLE. See Turdus, 7 Ornithology I/i-
THRUSH. See Turdus, \ dex.
Thrush, or Aphtha. See Medicine Index.
THRYALLIS, a genus of plants belonging to the
class decandria, and order of monogynia j and in the
natural system ranging under the 38th order, Tricoccce.
See Botany Index.
THUANUS, Jacobus Augustus, youngest son of
the president de Thou, was famous for his erudition.
He‘was born in 1553 *, and having finished his studies
and travels, was made president a-mortier, and took
possession thereof in 1595. He was employed in several
important offices of state, and in reforming the univer¬
sity of Paris. He wrote the history of his own time in
Latin, from the year 1543 to 1608, in 138 books; a
work, both for subject and style, worthy of the ancients.
He also left memoirs of his own life, besides poems ;
and died at Paris, 1617.
THUCYDIDES, a celebrated Greek historian, was
born at Athens 471 B. C. He was the son of Olorus,
and grandson of Miltiades, who is thought to have been
descended from Miltiades the famous Athenian general,
and to have married the king of Thrace’s daughter.
He was educated in a manner suitable to his quality,
that is, in the study of philosophy and eloquence. His
master in the former was Anaxagoras, in the latter An¬
tiphon ; one, by his description in the eighth book of
his History, for power of speech almost a miracle, and
feared by the people on that account. Suidas and Pho-
tius relate, that when Herodotus recited his history in
public, a fashion in use then and many ages after, Thu¬
cydides felt so great a sting of emulation, that it drew
tears from him ; insomuch that Herodotus himself took
notice of it, and congratulated his father on having a
son who showed so wonderful an affection to the Muses.
Herodotus was then 29 years of age, Thucydides about
16.
When the Peloponnesian war began to break out,
Thucydides conjectured truly, that it would prove a
subject worthy of his labour ; and it no sooner com¬
menced than he began to keep a journal. This explains
the reason why he has attended more to chronological
order than to unity of design. During the same war he
W’as commissioned by his countrymen to relieve Amphi-
pohs; but the quick march of Brasidas the Lacedaemo¬
nian general defeated his operations ; and Thucydides,
unsuccessful in his expedition, was banished from A-
thens. This happened in the eighth year of this cele-
, brated war: and in the place of his banishment the ue-
m / " nera‘ began to write an impartial history of the import¬
ant events which had happened during his administra¬
tion, and which still continued to agitate the several
states of Greece. This famous history is continued only
t<5 the 21 st year of the war; and the remaining part of
the time till the demolition of the Avails of Athens Avas
described by the pen of Theopompus and Xenophon.
Thucydides wrote in the Attic dialect, as being posses¬
sed ot most vigour, purity, elegance, and energy. He
spared neither time nor money to procure authentic ma¬
terials ; and the Athenians, as well as their enemies,
/urnislied him with many valuable communications,
which contributed to throiv great light on the different
transactions of the Avar. His history has been divided
mto eight books ; the last of which is imperfect, and
supposed to have been written by his daughter.
2
The historian of Halicarnassus has often been com- Thuey-
pared ivith the son of Olorus, but each has his peculiar dides
excellence. Sweetness of style, grace and elegance of li
expression, may be called the characteristics of the for- Thuringi-w.
mer ; Avhile Thucydides stands unequalled for the fire v '
of h is descriptions, the conciseness, and at the same time
the strong and energetic manner of his narratives. His
relations are authentic, as he himself was interested in
the events he mentions ; his impartiality is indubitable,
as he nowhere betrays the least resentment against his
countrymen, and the factious partisans of Cleon, who
had banished him from Athens. The history of Thu¬
cydides Avas so admired by Demosthenes, that he trans¬
cribed it eight different times, and read it ivith such at¬
tention, that he could almost repeat it by heart. Thu¬
cydides died at Athens, where he had been recalled
from his exile about 411 years B. C.
The best edition of Thucydides is that of Oxford,
published in 1696, folio, and that of Duker, published
at Amsterdam in 1731, folio.
THUJA, the Arbor Vit^ ; a genus of plants be-
longing to the class of monadelphia, and order of mo-
noecia ; and in the natural system ranging under the
51st order, Coniferee. See Botany Index.
I HULE, or ThyLjE, in Ancient Geography, an
island in the most northern parts of the German ocean.
Its situation w'as never accurately ascertained by the
ancients, hence its present name is unknown by modern
historians. Some suppose that it is the island now call¬
ed Iceland, or part of Greenland, and others that it was
Foula. See Foula.
THUMB, in Anatomy, one of the extremities of the
hand.
Thumb Cap, an uninhabited island in the South sea,
lies about seven leagues north-west of Lagoon island ; it
is low, ivoody, of a circular form, and not much above
a mile in compass.
THUMMIM. See Urim.
rI HUNBERGIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of didnyamia. See Botany Index.
THUNDER, the noise occasioned by the explosion
of a flash of lightning echoed back from the inequalities
on the surface of the earth, in like manner as the noise
of a cannon is echoed, and in particular circumstances
forms a rolling lengthened sound. See Electricity.
THUNDERBOLT. When lightning acts ivith ex¬
traordinary violence, and breaks or shatters any thing,
it is called a thunderbolt; which the vulgar, to fit it for
such effects, suppose to be a hard body, and even a
stone. But that ive need not have recourse to a hard
solid body to account for the effects commonly attribu¬
ted to the thunderbolt, will be evident to any one who
considers those of the pulvis fulminans and of gunpow¬
der ; and more especially the astonishing powers of elec¬
tricity. It has been supposed that meteoric stones may
have given rise to the notion of a thunderbolt.
TnuNDER-House. See Electricity.
THURINGIA, a division of the circle of Upper
Saxony in Germany. It is a fruitful tract, abounding
in corn, especially wheat ; in black cattle, sheep, and
horses. It is about 73 miles in length, and as much in
breadth. It contains 47 towns, 14 boroughs, betwixt
700 and 800 villages, 300 noble estates, 7 superinten¬
dencies, and 5 under consistories. Thuringia, the coun¬
try of the ancient Thuringi, or Catti, a branch of the
Vandals*
TIB [4
Thuringia Vandals, mentioned by Tacitus, was formerly a king-
11 dom, afterwards a county, then a landgravate, and was
Tibet, governed by its own princes for many ages, till 1124,
v when it devolved to the marquis of Misnia, and, with
that country, afterwards to the duke of Saxony. But
the modern Thuringia is only a part of the ancient, nay,
but a part of the ancient South Thuringia, which com¬
prehends besides, a large share of the modern Franconia,
Hesse, &c. On the extinction of the male line of the
ancient landgraves in 1247, came to the margraves
of Meissen, ancestors to the present electoral family.
The elector has no voice in the diet, on account of his
share in the landgravate or circle of Thuringia. Erfurt
is the capital.
THURSDAY, the fifth day of the Christian week,
but the sixth of that of the Jews.
THUS, Frankincense, a solid brittle resin, brought
to us in little globes or masses, of a brownish or yellow¬
ish colour on the outside, internally whitish or variega¬
ted with whitish specks. It is supposed to be the pro¬
duce of the pine that yields the common turpentine,
and to concrete upon the surface of the terebinthinate
juice soon after it has issued from the tree. See In¬
cense.
THUYA. See Thuja.
•THYMUS, Thyme j a genus of plants belonging
to the class of didynamia, and in the natural system
ranging under the 42d order, Verticillatce. See Bo¬
tany Index.
Thymus. See Anatomy Index.
THYRSUS, in antiquity, the sceptre which the
poets put into the hand of Bacchus, and wherewith
they furnished the menades in their Bacchanalia.
Thyrsus, a mode of flowering resembling the cone
of a pine. It is, says Linnaeus, a panicle contracted in¬
to an oval or egg-shaped form. The lower footstalks,
which are longer, extend horizontally, whilst the upper
ones are shorter and mount vertically. Lilac and but¬
ter-bur furnish examples.
TIARA, an ornament or habit wherewith the an¬
cient Persians covered their head j and with which the
Armenians and kings of Pontus are represented on me¬
dals ; these last, because they were descended from the
Persians. Latin authors call it indifferently tiara and
cidaris. Strabo says the tiara was in form of a tower ;
and the scholiast on Aristophanes’s comedy,
act i. scene 2. affirms that it was adorned with pea¬
cocks feathers.
Tiara is also the name of the pope’s triple crown.
The tiara and keys are the badge of the papal dignity j
the tiara of his civil rank, and the keys of his jurisdic¬
tion : tor as soon as the pope is dead, his arms are re¬
presented with the tiara alone, without the keys. The
ancient tiara was a round high cap. John XXIII. first
encompassed it with a crown. Boniface VIII. added a
second crown ; and Benedict XII. a third.
11ARELLA, a genus of plants, belonging to the
class of decandria; and in the natural system ranging
under the 13th order, Succulentm. See Botany Index.
'I IBER, a great river of Italy which runs through
the pope’s territories, passing by Perugia and Orvietto •,
and having visited Rome, falls into the Tuscan sea at
Ostia, 15 miles below that city.
3 TBE T, called by the T-drtnrs Barantola, Bootan,
or lajigoot, and by the Chinese Tsangy is situated be-
3
4 1 TIB
. tween 270 and 33° north latitude; and is reckoned to 7;
be 1350 miles from east to west, and 480 from north to1—^
south. It is bounded on the north by the country of
the Mongols and the desert of Kobi ; on the east by
China ; on the west by Hindostan, and on the south by
the same country and the kingdom of Ava. In the
valleys lying between the lower mountains are many
tribes of Indian people ; and a dispute happening be¬
tween the heirs of one of the rajahs or petty princes,
one party called to their assistance the Boutaners, and
the other the British. The latter prevailed ; and the
fame of British valour being carried to the court of Ti¬
bet, the Teeshoo Lama, who ruled the state under the
Delai-Lama, at that time in his minority, sent a depu¬
tation to Bengal, desiring peace for the prince who had
been engaged in war with the British. This was rea¬
dily granted by the governor ; and Mr Bogle was sent
ambassador to the court of Tibet, where he resided se¬
veral months ; and after an absence of a year and a
quarter, returned to Calcutta. The account of this
gentleman’s expedition hath not been published by him¬
self; but from Mr Stewart’s letter to Sir John Pringle,
published in the Philosophical Transactions, vol. Ixvii.
we learn the following particulars, collected from his'
papers.
“ Mr Bogle divides the territories of the Delai-Lama
into two different parts. That which lies immediately
contiguous to Bengal, and which is called by the inha¬
bitants Doopo, he distinguishes by the name of Bootan;
and the other, which extends to the northward as far as
the frontiers of Tartary, called by the natives Pv, he
styles Tibet. Bootan is ruled by the Dah Terriah, or
Deb Rajah. It is a country of,steep and inaccessible
mountains, whose summits are crowned with eternal
snow ; they are intersected with deep valleys, through
which pour numberless torrents that increase in their
course, and at last, gaining the plains, lose themselves
in the great rivers of Bengal. These mountains are co¬
vered down their sides with forests of stately trees of va¬
rious sorts; some (such as pines, &c.J which are known
in Europe ; others, such as are peculiar to the country
and climate. The valleys and sides of the hills which
admit of cultivation are not unfruitful, but produce
crops of wheat, barley, and rice. The inhabitants are
a stout and warlike people, of a copper complexion, in
size rather above the middle European stature, hasty
and quarrelsome in their temper, and addicted to the
use ot spirituous liquors ; but honest in their dealings,
robbery by violence being almost unknown among
them. The chief city is Tassey Seddein, situated on the
Patchoo. Tibet begins properly from the top of the
great ridge of the Caucasus, and extends from thence in
breadth to the coniines of Great Tartary, and perhaps
to some of the dominions of the Russian empire. I he
woods, which everywhere cover the mountains in Bou-
tan, are here totally unknown ; and, except a few
straggling trees near the villages, nothing of the sort is to
be seen. The climate is extremely severe and rude.
At Chamnanning, where he wintered, although it be
in latitude 310 39', only 8° to the northward of Cal¬
cutta, he often found the thermometer in his room at
290 by Fahrenheit’s scale; and in the mi ddle of April
the standing waters were all frozen, and heavy showers
ot snow perpetually fell. This, no doubt, must be
owing to the great elevation of the country, and to the
T I B
L 4
vast frozen space over which the north wind blows un¬
interrupted from the pole, through the vast deserts of
Siberia and Tartary, till it is stopped by this formid¬
able wall.
“ The Tibetians are of a smaller size than their
southern neighbours, and of a less robust make. Their
complexions are also fairer, and many of them have even
a ruddiness in their countenances unknown to the other
climates of the east. Those whom Mr Bogle saw at
Calcutta appeared to have quite the Tartar face. They
are of a mild and cheerful temper ; the higher ranks are
polite and entertaining in conversation, in which they
never mix either strained compliments or flattery. The
common people, both in Bootan and Tibet are clothed
in coarse woollen stuffs of their own manufacture, lined
with such skins as they can procure : but the better or¬
ders of men are dressed in European cloth, or China
silk, lined with the finest Siberian furs. The use of
linen is totally unknown among them. The chief food
of the inhabitants is the milk of their cattle, prepared
into cheese, butter, or mixed with the flour of a coarse
barley or of pease, the only grain which their soil pro¬
duces-, and even these articles are in a scanty propor¬
tion : but they are furnished with rice and wheat from
Bengal and other countries in their neighbourhood.
They also are supplied with fish from the rivers in their
own and the neighbouring provinces, salted and sent in¬
to the interior parts. They have no want of animal
food from the cattle, sheep, and hogs, which are raised
on their hills j and are not destitute of game. They
have a singular method of preparing their mutton, by
exposing the carcase entire, after the bowels are ta¬
ken out, to the sun and bleak northern winds which
blow in the months of August and September, without
frost, and so dry up the juices and parch the skin, that
the meat will keep uncorrupted for the year round.
This they generally eat raw, without any other prepara¬
tion.
“The religion and political constitution of this coun¬
try, which are intimately blended together, would make
a considerable chapter in its history. It suffices to say,
that at present, and ever since the expulsion of the Eluth
lartars, the kingdom of Tibet is regarded as depending
on the empire of China, which they call Cathay ; and
there actually reside two mandarins, with a garrison of
a thousand Chinese, at Lahassa the capital, to support
tne government; but their power does not extend far:
and in fact the Lama, whose empire is founded on the
surest grounds, personal affection and religious reverence,
governs every thing internally with unbounded au¬
thority. Every body knows that the Delai Lama is
the great object of adoration for the various tribes of
heathen Tartars, who roam through the vast tract of
continent which stretches from the banks of the Volga
to Correa on the sea of Japan, the most extensive reli¬
gious dominion, perhaps, on the face of the globe. See
Lama.
It is an old notion, that the religion of Tibet is a
corrupted Christianity; and even Father Disederii, a Je-
su*t (hut not of the Chinese mission) who visited the
country about the beginning of this century, thinks he
can resolve all their mysteries into ours ; and asserts,
'nth a truly mystical penetration, that they have cer-
tamly a good notion of the Trinity, since in their ad-
i5 ] TIB
dress to the Deity, they say as often konciok-oik in the Til>«
plural as konciok in the singular, and with their rosaries ■ /-
pronounce these words om, ha, hum. The truth is,
that the religion of Tibet, from whatever source it
sprung, is pure and simple m its source, conveying very
exalted notions of the Deity, with no contemptible sy¬
stem ot morality : but in its progress it has been greatly
altered and corrupted by the inventions of worldly men;
a fate we can hardly regret in a system of error, since w«
know that that of truth has been subject to the same.
Polygamy, at least in the sense we commonly receive
the word, is not in practice among them; but it exists
in a manner still more repugnant to European ideas ;
for there is a plurality of husbands, which is firmly esta¬
blished and highly respected there. In a country where
the means of subsisting a family are not easily found, it
seems not impolitic to allow a set of brothers to agree in
raising one, which is to be maintained by their joint ef¬
forts. In short, it is usual in Tibet for the brothers in
the family to have a wife in common, and they general¬
ly live in great harmony and comfort with her; not but
sometimes little dissensions will arise (as may happen in
families constituted upon different principles), an in¬
stance of which Mr Bogle mentions in the case of a mo¬
dest and virtuous lady, the wife of half a dozen of the
Teeshoo Lama’s nephews, who complained to the uncle
that the two youngest of her husbands did not furnish
that share of love and benevolence to the common stock
which duty and religion required of them. In short,
however strange this custom may appear to us, it is an
undoubted fact that it prevails in Tibet.
“ The dead are exposed on the pinnacle of some neigh¬
bouring mountain, to be devoured by wild beasts and
birds of prey, or wasted away by time and the vicissi¬
tudes of the weather in which they lie. The mangled
carcases and bleached bones lie scattered about; and
amidst this scene of horror, some miserable old wretch,
man or woman, lost to all feelings but those of su¬
perstition, generally sets up an abode, to perform the
dismal office of receiving the bodies, assigning each a
place, and gathering up the remains when too widely
dispersed.”
To the account of Tibet which we have given from
the communications of Mr Bogle, we may add the in¬
formation which we have obtained from a later traveller,
Mr Saunders * surgeon at Boglepoer in Bengal, who * r,
made a journey into Tibet in the year 1783. His ob- the'l'hti
servations chiefly respect the natural productions and Trans.
diseases of the country. vol. ixxix
The plants which Mr Saunders found were almost all
European plants, a great number of them being natives
of Britain. From the appearance of the hills he con¬
cludes that they must contain many ores of metal and
pyrites. There are inexhaustible quantities of tincal
or borax, and rock-salt is plentiful ; gold-dust is found
in great quantities in the beds of rivers, and sometimes
in large masses, lumps and irregular veins; lead, cinna¬
bar containing a large proportion of quicksilver, copper,
and iron, he thinks might easily be procured. But the
inhabitants of Tibet have no better fuel than the dung
of animals. A coal mine would be a valuable disco¬
very. We are told, that in some parts of China bor¬
dering on Tibet coal is found and used as fuel.
It is remarkable that the same disease prevails at the
foot
TIC [41
Tibet foot of the mountains of Tibet as in Switzerland at the
II foot of the Alps, a glandular swelling in the throat
lic^eii‘ , commonly called goitre.
The language spoken in Tibet is different from that
of the Tartars. The astronomers are acquainted with
the motion of the heavenly bodies, and able to cal¬
culate eclipses j but the lamas are generally ignorant j
few of them can read, much less understand their an¬
cient books. See Asia, Supplement.
TIBULLUS, Aulus Albius, a Roman knight, and
a celebrated Latin poet, was born at Rome 43 B. C.
He was the friend of Horace, Ovid* Macer, and olher
great men in the reign of Augustus. He accompanied
Me.ssala Corvinus in his expedition against the island ot
Corcyra : but falling sick, and being unable to support
the fatigues of war on account of the weakness ot his
constitution, he quitted the profession of arms, and re¬
turned to Rome, where he died before the year 17 $
when Ovid showed his grief for his death by writing a
fine elegy upon him. Tibullus wrote four books of ele¬
gies, which are still extant: they are written in a ten¬
der and agreeable style, and in very elegant Latin. Mu-
ret and Joseph Scaliger have written learned and curi¬
ous commentaries on the works of this poet. The best
edition of Tibullus is that of Janus Bronckhusius, pu¬
blished at Amsterdam in 1708, in one volume quarto.
We have an English poetical version by Mr Grainger.
TIBUR, in Ancient Geography, a town of Latium,
pleasantly situated on the Anio. Here Horace had his
villa and house •, and here he wished to end his days.
Here Adrian built an extraordinary villa called Tibur-
tina, inscribed with the names of the provinces and of
the most considerable places, (Spartian) 5 near which
Zenobiahad a house called Zenobia, (Trebellius.PoHi0)*
Hither Augustus often retreated on account of its salu¬
brity, (Suetonius) : for which it is greatly recommend¬
ed (Martial). Anciently, when the Romans had far
extended their territory, it was the utmost place of ba-
' nishment, (Ovid). It had a temple of Hercules 5 and
therefore called Herculeum. In the temple was a li¬
brary, (A. Gellius). Now Tivoli in the Campagna di
Roma, on the Teverone.
TICINUS, in Ancient Geography, a river in Insubria,
rising in Mount Adula, traversing the Lacus Verbanus
southwards, and falling into the Ro near Ticinum. Be¬
tween this river and the Po Hannibal gained his first
victory over the Romans under P. Scipio. The general
himself escaped with the utmost difficulty, and that by
the bravery of his son the first Scipio Africanus. Nowr
the Tesino, rising in Mount Godard, running south
through the Lago Maggiore and Milan, by Pavia, into
the Po.
TICK. See Acarus, Entomology Index.
TICK ELL, T HOMAS, an excellent English poet,
was the son of the Reverend Richard Tickell, and was
born in 1686, at Bridekirk in Cumberland. He was
educated at Queen’s college, Oxford, of which he was
. made fellow; and while he continued at that university,
he addressed to Mr Addison a complimentary copy of
verses on his Opera of Rosamond, which introduced him
to an acquaintance with that gentleman, who discover¬
ing Ins merit, became his sincere friend. On Mr Ad¬
dison being made secretary of state, he appointed Mr
Tickell h is under-secretary ; and on his being obliged
4q resign that office on account of his ill-health, he re¬
ft ] Tit)
commended him so effectually to Mr Craggs his succes¬
sor, that he was continued in his post till that gentle¬
man’s death. In 1724, Mr Tickell was appointed se¬
cretary to the lords justices in Ireland, and enjoyed that
place as long as he lived. He wrote some poems,
which, when separately published, met with a favourable
reception, and passed through several editions : they are
now printed in the second volume of the Minor Poets-.
After Mr Addison’s death Mr Tickell had the care
of the edition of his works printed in 4 vols. 410; to
which he prefixed an account of Mr Addison’s life,
and a poem on his death. Mr Tickell died in the
year 1740.
TICKER A, a considerable article of merchandise in
Fezzan in Africa ; it is valued by travellers as a porta¬
ble and highly salubrious food. It is a preparation of
-pounded dates, and the meal of Indian corn, formed into
a paste, and highly dried in an oven.
TICKSEED, Sun-flower. See Coreopsis, Bo¬
tany Index.
TICUNAS. See Poison.
TIDE, is a word which expresses that rising and
falling of the waters which are observed on all maritime
coasts.
There is a certain depth of the waters of the ocean
which would obtain if all were at rest : hut observation
shows that they are continually varying from this level,,
and that some of these variations are regular and perio¬
dical.
\st, It is observed, that on the shores of the ocean, and
in bays, creeks, and harbours, which communicate freely
with the ocean, the waters rise up above this mean height
twice a-clay, and as often sink below it, forming vJiat
is called a FLOOD and an EBB, a HIGH and LOW WATER.
The whole interval between high and low water is call¬
ed a TIDE ”, the water is said to FLOW and to EBB; and
the rising is called the FLOOD TIDE, and the falling is
called the ebb tide.
2d, It is observed, that this rise and fall of the wa¬
ters is variable in quantity. At Plymouth, for instance,
it is sometimes 21 feet between the greatest and least
depth of the water in one day, and sometimes only 12
feet.
These different heights of tide are observed to suc¬
ceed each other in a regular series, diminishing from the
greatest to the least, and then increasing from the least
to the greatest. The greatest is called a SPRING TIDE,
and the least is called a neap tide.
3c/, This series is completed in about 15 days. More
careful observation shows that two series are completed
in the exact time of a lunation. Eor the spring tide in
any place is observed to happen precisely at a certain
interval of time (generally between two and three days)
after new or full moon ; and the neap tide at a certain
interval after half moon : or, more accurately speaking,
it is observed that the spring tide always happens uhen
the moon has got a certain number of degrees eastward
of the line of conjunction and opposition, and the neap
tide happens when she is a certain number ot degrees
from her first or last quadrature. Thus the w hole senes
of tides appears to be regulated by the moon.
/\th, It is observed that high water happens at new
and full moon, when the moon has a certain deter¬
mined position with respect to the meridian ot the
place of observation, preceding or following the moon s
southing
T I D [ 4
southing a certain interval of time ; which is constant
' with respect to that place, but very different in differ¬
ent places.
5^, The time of high water in any place appears to
be regulated by the moon ; for the interval between the
time of high water and the moon’s southing never
changes above three quarters of an hour, whereas the
interval between the time of high water and noon
changes six hours in the course of a fortnight.
The interval between two succeeding high wa¬
ters is variable. It is least of all about new and full
moon, and greatest when the moon is in her quadra¬
tures. As two high waters happen every day, we may
call the double of their interval a tide day, as we call
the diurnal revolution of the moon a lunar day. The
tide is shortest about new and full moon, being then
about 24h 37'; about the time of the moon’s quadra¬
tures it is 25h 27'. These values are taken from a
mean of many observations made at Barbadoes by Dr
Maskelyne.
^th. The tides in similar circumstances are greatest
when the moon is at her smallest distance from the
earth, or in her perigee, and, gradually diminishing,
are smallest when she is in her apogee.
8^, "I he same remark is made with respect to the
sun’s distance, and the greatest tides are observed dur¬
ing the winter months of Europe.
9///, i he tides in any part of the ocean increase as
the moon, by changing her declination, approaches the
zenith of that place.
10M, The tides which happen while the moon is
above the horizon are greater than the tides of the same
day when the moon is below the horizon.
Such are the regular phenomena of the tides. They
are important to all commercial nations, and have there¬
fore been much attended to. It is of the tides, in ail
probability, that the Bible speaks, when God is said to
set bounds to the sea, and to say, “ thus far shall it go,
and no farther.”
Homer is the earliest profane author who speaks of
the tides. Indeed it i> not very clear tb it it is of them
that he speaks (in the I2iii book o( the Odyssey) when
he speaks ol Charybdis, which rises and retires tin ice in
every day. Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus speak more
distinctly of the tides in the Red sea. Pytbeas of Mar¬
seilles is the first who says any thing of their cause. Ac¬
cording to Strabo be bad been in Britain, where be must
have observed the tides of the ocean. Plutarch says ex¬
pressly that Pytbeas ascribed them to the moon. It is
somewhat wonderful that Aristotle says so little about the
tides.. 1 lie army of Alexander, bis pupil, were startled
at their first appearance to them near the Persian gulf;
wid we should have thought that Aristotle would be
well informed of all that had been observed there. But
there are only three passages concerning them in all
Aristotle’s writings, and they are veiy trivial. In one
place he speaks of great tides observed in the north of
Euiope; in another, he mentions their having been
o^tribed by some to the moon; and in a third, he says,
mat the tide in a great sea exceeds that in a small one.
•j16 had little opportunity of observing the
1 es- J he conquests and the cornu erce of the Romans
gave them more acquaintance with them. Caesar speaks
o| them in the 4th book of bis Gallic War. Strabo, af-
er osidonius, classes the phenomena into daily,month-
Vol. XX. Part II. 7 f
17 ] TIB
ly, and annual. He observes, that the sea rises as the
moon gets near the meridian, whether above or below
the horizon, and falls again as she rises or falls; also, that
the tides increase at the time of new and full moon, and
are greatest at the summer solstice. Pliny explains the
phenomena at some length; and says, that both the sun
and moon are their cause, dragging the waters along
with them (B. II. c. 97.). Seneca (Nat. Quest. HI.
28.) speaks of the tide with correctness ; and Macro-
bius (Somn. Slip. I. 6.) gives a very accurate descrip¬
tion of their motions.
It is impossible that such phenomena should not exer¬
cise human curiosity as to their cause. Plutarch (Plant.
Phil. III. 17.), Galileo (Syst. Mund. Dial, 4.), Ric-
cioli in his Almagest, ii. p. 374, and Gassendi, ii. p. 27.
have collected most of the notions of their predecessors
on the subject; but they are of so little importance, that
they do not deserve our notice. Kepler speaks more like
a philosopher (De Stella Mortis, and Epit. Astron. p.
555-)* He says that all bodies attract each other, and
that the waters of the ocean would all go to the moon
were they not retained by the attraction of the earth ;
and then goes on to explain their elevation under the
moon and on the opposite side, because the earth is lesi
attracted by the moon than the nearer waters, but more
than the waters which are more remote.
The honour of a complete explanation of the tides
Was reserved for Sir Isaac Newton. He laid hold of this
class of phenomena as the most incontestable proof of
universal gravitation, and has given a most beautiful and
synoptical vie\V of the whole subject; contenting him¬
self, however, with merely exhibiting the chief conse¬
quences of the general principle, and applying it to the
phenomena with singular address. But the wide steps
taken by this great philosopher in his investigation leave
ordinary readers frequently at fault: many of his as¬
sumptions require the greatest mathematical knowledge
to satisfy us of their truth. The academy of Paris there¬
fore proposed to illustrate this among other parts of the
principles of natural philosophy, and published the the¬
ory of the tides as a prize problem. This produced three
excellent dissertations by M‘Laurin, Daniel Bernoulli,
and Euler. Aided by these, and chiefly by the second,
we shall here give a physical theory, and accommodate
it to the purposes of navigation by giving the rules of
calculation. We have demonstrated in our disserta¬
tions on the physical principles of the celestial mo¬
tions, that it is an unexcepted fact, that every particle of
matter in the solar system is actually deflected toward
every other particle; and that the deflection of a parti¬
cle of matter toward any distant sphere is proportional
to the quantity of matter in that sphere directly, and to
the square of the distance of the particle from the centre
of that sphere inversely: and having found that the hea¬
viness of a piece of terrestrial matter is nothing but the
supposed opponent to the force which we exert in car¬
rying this piece of matter, we conceive it as possessing
a property, that is, distinguishing quality, manifested by
its being gravis or heavy. This is heaviness, gravitas,
gravity ; and the manifestation of this quality, or the
event in which it is seen, whether it be directly falling,
or deflected in a parabolic curve, or stietching a coiled
spring, or breaking a rope, or simply pressing on its sup¬
port, is gravitatio, gravitation ; and the body is said to
gravitate. When all obstacles are removed from the
3 G body,
T I D
Tuk. body, as when we cut the string by which a stone is
—hung, it moves directly downwards, tendit ad terram.
Si discindatur funis tenderet lapis ad terram. Dam vero
funis integer perstet, lapis terram versus niti censetur.
By some metaphysical process, which it is needless at
present to trace, this nisus ad motum has been called
a tendency in our language. Indeed the word has
now come to signify the energy of any active quality in
those cases where its simplest and most immediate mani¬
festation is prevented by some obstacle. The stone is
now said to tend towards the earth, though it does not
actually approach itj being withheld by the string. The
stretching the string in a direction perpendicular to the
horizon is conceived as a full manifestation of this ten¬
dency. This tendency, this energy of its heaviness, is
therefore named by the word which distinguishes the
quality \ and it is called gravitation, and it is said to
gravitate.
But Sir Isaac Newton discovered that this deflection
of a heavy body differs in no respect from that general
deflection observed in all the bodies of the solar system.
For 16 feet, which is the deflection of a stone in one
second, has the very same proportion to -^th of an inch,
which is the simultaneous deflection of the moon, that
the square of the moon’s distance from the centre of the
earth has to the square of the stone’s distance from it,
namely, that of 3600 to 1.
Thus we are enabled to compare all the effects of the
mutual tendencies of the heavenly bodies with the ten¬
dency of gravity, whose effects and measures are fami¬
liar to us.
If the earth were a sphere covered to a great depth
with water, the water would form a concentric spherical
shell} for the gravitation of every particle of its surface
would then be directed to the centre, and would be
equal. The curvature of its surface therefore would be
every where the same, that is, it would be the uniform
curvature of a sphere.
It has been demonstrated in former articles, after Sir
Piste Isaac Newton, that the gravitation of a particle C
DXXXVi. (fig. i.) to the centre O, is to that of a particle E at
I* the surface as CO to EO. In like manner the gravita¬
tion of 0 is to that of p as 0 tojo O. If therefore EO
and O p are two communicating canals, of equal lengths,
the water in both would be in equilibrio, because each
column would exert the same total pressure at O. But
if the gravitation of each particle inO be diminished
by a certain proportion, such as T^th of its whole
weight, it is plain that the total pressure of the column
p O will be T^-otb Part less than that of the column
EO. Therefore they will no longer be in equilibrio.
The weight of the column EO will prevail ; and if a
hollow tower Pbe built at the mouth of the pit p 0,
the water will sink in EO and rise in Op, till both are
again in equilibrio, exerting equal total pressures at O.
Or we may prevent the sinking at E by pouring in
more water into the tower Vp. The same thing must
happen in the canal fc perpendicular to EO, if the gra¬
vitation of every particle be diminished by a force acting
in the direction CF, and proportional to the distance of
the particle from C, and such, that when c C is equal
to 0 O, the force acting on r is equal to the force acting
on 0. In order that the former equilibrium may be re¬
stored after this diminution of the gravitation of the co¬
lumn/"C, it is plain that more water must be poured in-
T I D
to the oblique tower /-F. All this is evident when we re¬
consider the matter hydrostatically. The gravitation of U-Ly.
the particle c may be represented by 0 O j but the di¬
minution of the pressure occasioned by this at O is re¬
presented by C c.
Plence we can collect this much, that the whole di¬
minution of pressure at C is to the whole diminution of
pressure at O as the sum of all the lines c C to the sum
of all the lines 0 O, that is, as f & to PO*. But the
weight of the small quantity of water added in each
tower is diminished in the same proportion j therefore
the quantity added at Fjf must be to the quantity added
at Pjo as fC topO. Therefore we must have Ff\
Yp—fC : p O, and the points E, F, P, must be in the
circumference of an ellipse, of which PO and EO are
the transverse and conjugate semi-axes.
What we have here supposed concerning the diminu¬
tion of gravity in these canals is a thing which really
obtains in nature. It was demonstrated, when treating
of the Precession of the Equinoxes, that if the sun or
moon lie in the direction OP, at a very great distance,
there results from the unequal gravitation of the differ¬
ent particles of the earth a diminution of the gravity of
each particle j which diminution is in a direction paral¬
lel to OP, and proportional to the distance of the par¬
ticle from a plane passing through the centre of the
earth at right angles to the line OP.
Thus it happens that the waters of the ocean have
their equilibrium disturbed by the unequal gravitation
of their different particles to the sun or to the moon}
and this equilibrium cannot be restored till the waters
come in from all hands, and rise up around the line
joining the centres of the earth and of the luminary.
The spherical ocean must acquire the form of a pro¬
late spheroid generated by the revolution of an ellipse
round its transverse axis. The waters will be highest
in that place which has the luminary in its zenith, and
in the antipodes to that place } and they will be most
depressed in all those places which have the luminary in
their horizon. P and P' will be the poles, and EOQ
will be the equator of this prolate spheroid.
Mr Ferguson, in his Astronomy, assigns another
cause of this arrangement, viz. the difference of the cen¬
trifugal forces of the different particles of water, while
the earth is turning round the common centre of gravi¬
ty of the earth and moon. This, however, is a mistake.
It would be just if the earth and moon wrere attached to
the ends of a rod, and the earth kept always the same
face toward the moon.
It is evident that the accumulation at P and P', and
the depression at the equator, must augment and diminish
in the same proportion with the disturbing force. It is
also evident that its absolute quantity may be discover¬
ed by our knowledge of the proportion of the disturbing
force to the force of gravity.—Now this proportion is
known } for the proportion of the gravitation of the
earth’s centre to the sun or moon, to the force of gravi¬
ty at the earth’s surface, is known } and the proportion
of the gravitation of the earth’s centre to the luminary,
to the difference of the gravitations of the centre and of
the surface, is also known, being very nearly the pro¬
portion of the distance of the luminary to twice the ra¬
dius of the earth.
Although this reasoning, by which we have ascertain¬
ed the elliptical form of the wratery spheroid, he sotii-
ciently
[ 418 ]
T I E>
irde.
w
Fig
clently convincing, it is very imperfect, being accom
modated to one condition only of equilibrium, viz. the
equilibrium of the canals f c and c o. There are several
other conditions equally necessary to which this lax rea¬
soning will not apply, such as the direction of the whole
remaining gravitation in any point F. This must be
perpendicular to the surface, &c. &c. Nor will this
mode of investigation ascertain the eccentricity of the
spheroid without a most intricate process. We must
therefore take the subject more generally, and show
the proportion and directions of gravity in every point
of the spheroid. We need not, however, again demon¬
strate that the gravitation of a particle placed any where
without a perfect spherical shell, or a sphere consisting
of concentric spherical shells, either of uniform density,
or of densities varying according to some function of the
radius, is the same as if the whole matter of the shell
or sphere were collected in the centre. This has been
demonstrated in the article Astronomy. We need
only remind the reader of some consequences of this
theorem which are of continual use in the present in¬
vestigation.
1. The gravitation to a sphere is proportional to
its quantity of matter directly, and to the square of the
distance of its centre from the gravitating particle in¬
versely.
2. If the spheres he homogeneous and of the same
density, the gravitations of particles placed on their
surfaces, or at distances which are proportional to their
diameters, are as the radii j for the quantities of mat¬
ter are as the cubes ot the radii, and the attractions
are inversely as the squares of the radii j and there-
fore the whole gravitations are as —, or as r.
A particle placed within a sphere has no tendency
to the matter of the shell which lies without it, because
its tendency to any part is balanced by an opposite ten¬
dency to the opposite part. Therefore,
4« A particle placed any where within a homogene¬
ous sphere gravitates to its centre with a force propor¬
tional to its distance from it.
It is a much more difficult problem to determine the
gravitation of particles to a spheroid. To do this in
general terms, and for every situation of the particle,
would require a train ot propositions which our limits
Will by no means admit; we must content ourselves
with as much as is necessary for merely’ ascertaining
the ratio of the axes. This will be obtained by know¬
ing the ratio of the gravitation at the pole to that at
the equator. Therefore,
Let NmSyN (fig. 2.) be a section through the axis
ot an oblate homogeneous spheroid, which differs very
little from a sphere. NS is the axis, mq is the equato¬
rial diameter, O is the centre, and NMSQ is the sec¬
tion ot the inscribed sphere. Let P be a particle si¬
tuated at any distance without the sphere in its axis
pioduced ; it is required to determine the gravitation
et this particle to the whole matter of the spheroid ?
Draw two lines PAC, PBD, very near to each other,
^ two small arches AB, CD; draw G A o,
ICr, KDtf, perpendicular to the axis; also draw
tJL and AL perpendicular to PAC, and OF perpen-
dicu.ar to PD, cutting PC in f Join OA.
Let OA, the radius of the inscribed sphere, he r, and
the distance of the gravitating particle be dr and
r 419 1
T I D
M wz, the elevation of the equator of the spheroid,
or the ellipticity, be e. Also make AE = a?, and
°E=y, Then AE—BF~j/ and F/=ry,
xx
>J r*—x* ‘
Suppose the whole figure to turn round the axis OP.
The little space AB&a will generate a ring of the re¬
dundant matter; so will CDrfc. This ring may be
considered as consisting of a number of thin rings gene¬
rated by the revolution of Ao. The ring generated by
A a is equal to a parallelogram whose base is the cir¬
cumference described by A, and whose height is Am
Therefore let c be the circumference of a circle whose
radius is 1. The ring will be AoX^xAG. But be¬
cause ma N is an arch of an ellipse, we have Mw \ Aa
= MO : AGrrr : AG, and A a~]VI m X ——, —-
r r
AG. Therefore the surface of this ring is zr c -- AG*.
r
We have supposed the spheroid to be very nearly
spherical, that is, e exceedingly small in comparison of
r. Ibis being the case, all the particles in A o, and
consequently all the particles in the ring generated by
the revolution of A a, will attract the remote particle P
with the same force that A does very nearly. We may
say the same thing of the whole matter of the ring gene¬
rated by the revolution of AB£m This attraction is
exerted in the direction PA by each individual particle.
But every action of a particle A is accompanied by the
action of a particle A' in the direction PA7. These two
compose an attraction in the direction PO. The whole
attraction in the directions similar
AG
PA
to PA is zr c X -
r
X GH, for GH measures the number of parallel
plates of which the solid ring is composed. This
being decomposed in the direction PG is =r c X — X
AG* • PG
AG* OE*
X GH. But
, PG
PO2’ aRd PA
PE.
PO
PA* ~~PA __
Therefore the attraction of the ring, estimated in the
e OF* • PF
direction PO, is =c X - X —X GH.
r PO3
Further, by the nature of the circle, we have HG :
ABzzAG : AO ; also AB : BL=AO : OE. But PA:
AG=PO : OE, and OE = Therefore
AB : BL=AO
AG . PO
PA
=AO.PA:PO.AG
PA
Also BL : LA=EO : EA,
And LA : Fyiz:PA : Yf, rr ultimately PA : PE.
Therefore, by equality, HG : F/, zzAG . AO . PA.
EO . PA : AO . PO . AG . EA . PE.
Or HG : F/=EO . PA2: PO . EA . PE.
, ^ EO . PA*
and HG _ F/ x po
Now substitute this value of HG in the formula ex¬
pressing the attraction of the ring. This changes it to
e OE*. PE OE .PA2 _ _ *
CrX P03
OE3. PA* ^
PO< . EA X
X
PO . PE . EA
XF/,
or c-X
r
F/ In like manner, the attraction of
3 G ' the
Tide
Tide.
T I D
the ring generated by the revolution of CD Jc is e — X
420 ] T I D
small in comparison of r, a particle on the equator of
OEJ . PC*
PO* . EA
X Eyi Therefore the attraction of both is
OE3
d*. x
2 EA1
e
crx Ff x Y&TeX* VA'~c 7 x Ff
X~PA* + PC*. But PA* + PC* = 2 PE* +
2C   X
r ur
2 PE* + 2 x%. Therefore the attraction is
X PE* + «*.
Yfy—
J x
ButF/=y, = -
Therefore F /' — =-* X =V* xi ——x* x.
J x y x J
Therefore the attraction of the two rings is 2 c
X
r d'
r*—a* X PE2 + a;* X x. ButPE* = POa—OE2, =
d'1—(r*—x‘1)—d1'—r*-|-x* Therefore the attraction
of the two rings is
2 c —- X r*—x* X d*-
r d*
-r* 4- 2x*x. “ 2c  
r d*
r* dx x
e
r d*
-iAx2rtxi x—d2 x* xr* x* x — 2x*x— 2c
r1d1x-{-^r1x2 x——d2 x* x—2x*x.
The attraction of the whole shell of redundant mat¬
ter will be had by taking the fluent of this formula,
which is
e / , , 2r2 x* . d2 x' 2xs\
rd* \ 3 3 5 J
2 C
and then make x—r. This gives 2c
r d*
e
3
(of* r1
-j- rs —
■Tr's)> which is =r 2e—4(4of*r}-
4 c e r
4 r
d1
5d*'
To this add the attraction of the
inscribed sphere, which is y ——and we have the at¬
traction of the whole spheroid
_2 cr
+4-
,cer*
d*
Cor. I. If the particle P is situated precisely in N,
the pole of the spheroid, the attraction of the spheroid
r + tV c
the oblong spheroid will be as much attracted by these ^
circles of equal areas, with their corresponding ellipses,
as by the ellipses. Now the attraction at the pole of an
' v
oblate spheroid was \ c r -\-^y c e. Therefore putting
J e in place of e, the attraction on the equator of the
oblong spheroid will be equal to y c r c e.
Thus we have ascertained the gravitations of a parti¬
cle situated in the pole, and of one situated in the equa-
tor, of a homogeneous oblong spheroid. This will en¬
able us to solve the following problem :
If the particles of a homogeneous oblong fluid spheroid
attract each other with a force inversely as the squares
of their distances, and if they are attracted by a very
distant body by the same law, and if the ratio of th*
equatorial gravity to this external force be given ; to
find what must be the proportion of the semiaxis, so
that all may be in equilibrio, and the spheroid preserv*
its form ?
Let r be the equatorial radius, and r-f-ebe the polar
semiaxis. Then the gravitation at the pole tm is c r
*f* tt c ei antl ^ie gravitation at the equator is cr -J-
c e. Now by the gravitation towards the distant
body placed in the direction of the polar axis, the polar
gravitation is diminished, and the equatorial gravitation
is increased ; and the increase of the equatorial gravita¬
tion is to the diminution of the polar gravitation as NO
to 2 m O. Therefore if the whole attraction of the ob¬
long spheroid for a particle on its equator be to the force
which the distant body exerts there, as G to P, and if
the spheroid is very nearly spherical, the absolute weight
P
at the equator will be-f-cr + t c r TT‘ •^n‘^
G
the absolute weight at the pole will be y
2 P . P
' c r Their difference is c e 2 cr
If the spheroid is not oblate, but oblong, and if the
greater semiaxis be r, and the depression at the equator
be c, the analysis is the same, taking e negatively.
Therefore the attraction for a particle in the pole, or
the gravitation of a particle in the pole, iscr—xyce.
But if the polar semiaxis be r -f- e, and the equatorial
radius be r, so that this oblong spheroid has the same
axis with the former oblate one, the gravitation of a
particle in the pole is ^ cr + Ty c e.
Cor. 2. It a number of parallel planes are drawn per¬
pendicular to the equator of an oblong spheroid, whose
longer semiaxis is r-j-c, and equatorial radius r, they
will divide thespheroid into a number of similar ellipses j
and since the ellipse through the axis has r+e and r for
its two semiaxes, and the radius of a circle of equal area
with this ellipse is a mean proportional between r and
r -}- c, and therefore very nearly =r 4- -Jcjwhencis very
3
G’ * 15 ~~ ' G*
Now if we suppose this spheroid to be composed of
similar concentric shells, all the forces will decrease in
the same ratio. Therefore the weight of a particle in a
column reaching from the equator to the centre will b#
to the weight of a similarly situated particle of a column
reaching from the pole to the centre, as the weight of a
particle at the equator to the weight of a particle at the
pole. But the whole weights of the two columns must
be equal, that they may balance each other at the cen¬
tre. Their lengths must therefore be reciprocally as the
w’eights of similarly situated particles-, that is, the polar
semiaxis must be to the equatorial radius, as the weight
of a particle at the equator to the weight of a particle at
the pole. Therefore we must have -J-2cr^,
cr ■\-yyce—ycr-Q,=. e : r,
Hence we derive 2 r T8T or 4 ^ : 15 •' *•
This determines the form of the fluid spheroid when
tl c ratio of G to P is given.
It is well known that the gravitation of the moon to
the earth is to the disturbing force of the sun as i78>725
to 1 very nearly. The lunar gravitation is increased a»
she approaches the earth in the reciprocal duplicate ratio
of the distances. The disturbing force of the sun dimi¬
nishes in the simple ratio of the distances} therefore the
weight of a body on the surface of the earth is to the
disturbing
T I D
[ 421 ]
T I D
it. disturbing force of the sun on the same body in a ra-
J tio compounded of the ratio of 178,72510 I, tlie ratio of
3600 to 1, and the ratio of 60 to 1 ; that is, in the ra¬
tio of 38604600 to I. If the mean radius of the earth
be 20934500 feet, the difference' of the axis, or the ele¬
vation of the pole of the watery spheroid produced by
the gravitation to the sun, will be V X-ffl<yH§§ feet">
or very nearly 24^ inches. This is the tide produced
by the sun on a homogeneous fluid sphere.
It is plain, that if the earth consists of a solid nucleus
of the same density with the water, the form of the solar
tide will be the same. But if the density of the nucleus
be different, the form of the tide will be different, and
will depend both on the density and on the figure of the
nucleus.
If the nucleus be of the same form as the surrounding
fluid, the whole will still maintain its form with the
fame proportion of the axis. If the nucleus be spheri¬
cal, its action on the surrounding fluid will be the same
as if all the matter of the nucleus by which it exceeds
an equal bulk of the fluid were collected at the centre.
In this case, the ocean cannot maintain the same form :
for the action of this central body being proportional to
the square of the distance inversely, will augment the
gravity of the equatorial fluid more than it augments
that of the circumpolar fluid ; and the ocean, which was
in equilibrio (by supposition), must now become more
protuberant at the poles. It may, however, be again
balanced in an elliptical form, when it has acquired a
just proportion of the axes. The process for deter¬
mining this is tedious, but precisely similar to the pre¬
ceding.
If the density of the nucleus exceed that of the fluid
about we shall have r : crzG : 3 P, which is nearly
5t
the form which has been determined for the earth, by
the mensuration of degrees of the meridian, and by the
vibration of pendulums. The curious reader will do
well to consult the excellent dissertations by Clairaut
and Boscovich on the Figure of the Earth, where this
•urious problem is treated in the most complete manner.
Mr Bernoulli, in his dissertation on the Tides, has com¬
mitted a great mistake in this particular. On the other
hand, if the nucleus be less dense than the waters, or if
there he a great central hollow, the elevation produced
by the sun will exceed 24^- inches.
It is needless to examine this any farther. We have
•ollected enough for explaining the chief affections of
the tides.
It is known that the earth is not a sphere, but swel¬
led out at the equator by the diurnal rotation. But the
change of form is so very small in proportion to the
whole bulk, that it cannot sensibly affect the change of
form afterwards induced by the sun on the waters of the
•cean. For the disturbing force of the sun would pro¬
duce a certain protuberance on a fluid sphere ; and this
protuberance depends on the ratio of the disturbing force
to the force of gravity at the surface of this sphere. If
the gravity be changed in any proportion, the protube¬
rance will change in the same proportion. Therefore if
the body be a spheroid, the protuberance produced at
*ny point by the sun will increase or diminish in the
fame proportion that the gravity at this point has been
changed by the change of form. Now the change of
gravity, even at the pole of the terrestrial spheroid, is
extremely small in comparison with the whole gravity. Tide.
Therefore the change produced on the spheroid will not ^ y—
sensibly differ from that produced on the sphere ; and
the elevations ol the waters above the surface, which
they would have assumed independent of the sun’s ac¬
tion, will be the same on the spheroid as on the sphere,
lor the same reason, the moon will change the surface
already changed by the sun, in the same manner as she
would have changed the surface of the undisturbed
ocean. Therefore the change produced by both these
luminaries in any place will he the same when acting
together as when acting separately ; and it will be equal
to the sum, or the difference of their separate changes,
according as these would have been in the same or in
opposite directions.
Let us now consider the most interesting circum¬
stances of the form of an elliptical tide, which differs
very little from a sphere.
Let T (fig. 2.) he a point in the surface of the in- rig. a.
scribed sphere, and let Z express the angular distance
TOQ from the longer axis of the surrounding spheroid
S w N 9. Let TR, T W be perpendicular to the equa¬
torial diameter and to the axis, so that they are the co¬
sine and the sine of TOQ to the radius TO or QQ.
Let S' <7 N' be a section of the circumscribed sphere.
Draw OT cutting the spheroid in Z and the circum-
sciibed sphere in t. Also let sow be a section of a
sphere which has the same capacity with the spheroid,
and let it cut the radius in r. Then,
1. The elevation TZ of the point Z of the spheroid
above the inscribed sphere is =Q^ X cos.® Z, and the
depression t Z below the circumscribed sphere is r=Q <7
X sine* Z. Produce RT till it meet the surface of the
spheroid in V. The minute triangle VTZ may be con¬
sidered as rectilineal, right-angled at Z, and therefore
similar to OTR. Therefore OT : TR—TV : TZ. But
in the ellipse OQ, or OT : TRdQ y : TV. There¬
fore OT* : TR*=Q q
. Q </ X cos.* Z
TZ, and
=Q q
, =Q q X cos.3 Z.
And in the very same manner it may be shown, that
t Z—Q q X sin.* Z.
2. The elevation of the point T above another point
T', whose angular distance TOT' from the point T 10
90°, is rrQy X cos.* Z—sin.* Z. Call the angle QOT;
Z'. Then T' Z'—Qy X cos.* Z', and TZ—T', Zy,
— Qy X cos.1 Z—cos.* Z'. But the arch QT'is tfi*
complement of QT, and therefore cos.* Z' — sin.* Z.
Therefore TZ—T', Z'=Q q X cos.* Z—sin.* Z,
3. Qor=^Q^. For the inscribed sphere is to tfi*
spheroid as OQ to O q. But the inscribed sphere is to
the sphere ^ 0 « as OQ3 to O o*. Therefore because the
sphere son is equal to the spheroid S 7 N, we havo
OQ : O ^rrOQ3 : O o3, and O 0 is the first of two mean
proportionals between OQ and O q. But Q y is very
small in comparison with OQ. Therefore Q 0 is very
nearly } of Q <7.
Since s 0 n \s the sphere of equal capacity, it is th«
form of the undisturbed ocean. The best way therefor*
of conceiving the changes of form produced by the sun
or moon, or by both together, is to consider the eleva¬
tions or depressions which they produce above or below
this surface. Therefore,
4. Tb*
T I D
T I D
4. The elevation r Z of the point Z above the equi-
' capacious sphere is evidently =rQ q X cos.*Z
Also the depression r1 7J of the point Z'is X
sin,* 7J—j Q q.
N. B. Either of these formulae will answer for either
fhe elevation above, or the depression below, the natural
Ocean : For if cos.sZ is less than the elevation given
by the formula will be negative j that is, the point is
below the natural surface. In like manner, when
sin^Z' is less than -y, the depression is negative, and
the point is above the surface. But if cos,*Z be rr*, or
sin/Z' be the point is in the natural surface. This
marks the place where the spheroid and the equal sphere
intersect each other, viz* in P', the arch P' 0 being
540 44' very nearly, and PSr:350 16'.
Let S represent the whole elevation of the pole of the
solar tide above its equator, or the difference between
high and low water produced by the sun : and let M
represent the whole elevation produced by the moon.
Let x and y repi’esent the zenith distances of the sun
and moon with respect to any point whatever on the
ocean. Then x and y will be the arches intercepted
between that point and the summits of the solar and
lunar tides. Then the elevation produced by both lu¬
minaries in that plane is S* cos*#—y S-J-M • cos.*^
—yM •, or, more concisely, S • Cos.* ar-j-M • cos} y—y
S + M, and the depression is 8 • sin.*#-j-M* sin.*y—-§•
S+M.
Let the sun and moon be in the same point of the
heavens. The solar and lunar tides will have the same
axis } the cosines of x and y will each be I, and the
elevation at the compound pole will be S-f-M—y
S+M=4S + M. The depression at any point 90°
from this pole will be -l- S-l-M, and the whole tide is
S + M.
Let the moon be in quadrature, as in a (fig. 3.). The
appearance at s will be known, by considering that in this
place the cosine of # is 1, and the cosine of y is o. There¬
fore the elevation at 5 = S — S + M, —y S y M.
The depression at a = S — | S + M =y S 4 M.
The difference or whole tide = S  JVL
In like manner, the whole elevation at a above the in¬
scribed sphere is M—-S.
Hence we see that the whole tide, when the moon is
in quadrature is the difference of S and M. We also
see, that if M exceeds S, the water will be higher at a
than at s. Now it is a matter of observation, that in
the quadratures it is high water under the moon, and
low water under the sun. It is also a matter of obser¬
vation, that in the free ocean, the ebb tide, or the water
, at s, immediately under the sun, is below the natural
surface of the ocean. Hence we must conclude, that
T ^ ^SS than ■j M, or that M is more than double of
This agiees with the phenomena of nutation and
precession, which seem to make 8=4 of M.
In all other positions of the sun and moon, the place
of high water will be different. It is high water where
the sum of the elevations produced by both luminaries
above the natural ocean is greatest j and the place of
low water is where the depression below the natural
ocean is greatest. Therefore, in order that it may be
high water, we must have 8 • cos.*#+M • cos.*y—4
.S + M a maximum ; or, neglecting the constant quan-
we must have 8 • cos.* x+M • cos.* y a __fl^
maximum.
In like manner, to have low water in a place where
the zenith distance of the sun and moon are v and w,
we must have 8 • sin.* t’+M • sin.* w a maximum.
Lemma 1. If we consider the sines and cosines of
angles as numeral fractions of the radius 1, then we
have cos.* Z=r4+4- cos.* Z, and sin.* ~ cos.2Z.
Let a m s (fig. 3.) be a quadrant of a circle of which % «.
O is the centre, and O .? is the radius. On O .9 describe
the semicircle OMS, cutting O m in M. Draw s M,
and produce it till it cut the quadrant in n. Also draw
MC to the centre of the semicircle, and MD and n d
perpendicular to O s.
It is plain that s M is perpendicular to OM; and if
O s be radius, s M is the sine of the angle ,9 OM, which
we may call Z ; OM is its cosine: and because O9:
OM—OM : OD, and O s : 01) = O A* : OM*, and
OD may represent cos.* Z. Now ODzrOC+CD.
If O .9-!, then 0C=4. CDzrCM • cos. MCD, =
CM • cos. 2 MOD, =4 * cos« 2 Z. Therefore, cos.*Z
-— COS. 2 Z.
In like manner, because O9: = sM : sD, sD
is — sin.*Z. This is evidently r= 4—i cos. 2 Z.
Lemma 2. Cos.*Z—sin.*Z^: cos. 2 Z. For, because
^ M is perpendicular to OM, the arch .9 ra is double of
the arch s m, and because MD is parallel to n d, s d is
— 2 .9 D, and c/D— sin.2Z. Therefore O c/ r: cos.2Z
-—sin.*Z. But O d is the cosine of n s, zrcos. 2Z and
cos.*Z—sin.*Z—cos. 2 Z.
By the first Lemma we see, that in order that there
may be high w'ater at any place, when the zenith di¬
stances of the sun and moon are x and y, we must have
8 * cos. 2x +M • cos. 2 y a maximum.
That this may be the case, the fluxion of this for¬
mula must be m o. Now we know that the fluxions of
the cosines of two arches are as the sines of those arches.
Therefore we must have 8 • sin. 2# + M'sin. 2y=o, or
8 • sin. 2#= —M * sin. 2 y, which gives us sin. 2x:
sin. 2y= M : S.
In like manner, the place of low water requires sin.
2v : sin. 2wz:M : 8.
From this last circumstance we learn, that the place
of low water is o, removed 90° from the place of high
water; whereas we might have expected, that the sphe¬
roid would have been most protuberant on that side on
which the moon is : For the sines of 2i> and of 2tv have
the same proportion with the sines of 2x and of 2y.
Now we know that the sine of the double of any arch is
the same with the sine of the double of its complement.
Therefore if low water be really distant 90° from high
water, we shall have sin. 2x: sin. 2y=z sin. 2v : sin. 2W.
But it it is at any other place, the sines cannot have this
proportion.
Now let s be the point of the earth’s surface which
has the sun in the zenith, and m the point which has
the moon in the zenith. Let h be any other poin^.
Draw O /i cutting the semicircle OM .9 in H. Make
OM to CS as the disturbing force of the moon to that
of the sun ; and draw 8 v parallel, and 8 t, M r pe>*
pendicular to HH\ Join MH and MH'. The angle
HC ,9 is double of the angle HO .9, and MCH is double
of Mil'll, or of its equal MOH. Because HMH i*
a semicircle, HM is perpendicular to MO. There-
[ 422 ]
rQ 9'-
tity
S+M
T 1 15 L 423 ] T I D
je, fore if HH' be considered as radius, HM is the sine
y—and H'M is the cosine of MH'H. And C r is rrMC •
cos. nj, — M * cos. 2y. And C t is SC • cos. 2x.
Theref ore t r or S' is — S • cos. 2 x + M • cos. 2ij.
Therefore f r or S r will express the whole difference of
elevation between h and the points that are 90 degrees
from it on either side (by Lemma 2.) j and if h be the
place of high water, it will express the whole tide, be¬
cause the high and low waters were shown to be 90°
asunder. But when h is the place of high water, S v is
a maximum. Because the place, of the moon, and
therefore the point M, is given, S v will be a maxi¬
mum when it coincides with SM, and CH is parallel
to SM.
This suggested to us the following new, and not in¬
elegant, solution of the problem for determining the
place of high water.
Let s Q 0 r/s (fig. 4. and 5.) he a section of the ter¬
raqueous globe, by a plane passing through the sun and
moon, and let O be its centre. Let s be the point
which is immediately under the sun, and m the place
immediately under the moon. Bisect Os in C, and
describe round C the circle OM s LO, cutting O m in
M. Take Cs to represent the disturbing force of the
moon, and make C s to CS as the force of the moon to
that of the sun (supposing this ratio to be known). Join
MS, and draw CH parallel to it. Draw OH/*, and
/OL/' perpendicular to it. And lastly, draw Cl per¬
pendicular to SM. Then we say that m and its oppo¬
site m! are the places of high water, / and l' are the
places of low water, MS is the height of the tide, and
MI, SI are the portions of this tide produced by the
moon and sun.
For it is plain, that in this case the line S 1; of the
last proposition coincides with MS, and is a maximum.
We may also observe, that MC : CSzrsin. MSC : sin.
SMC, — sin. HCS : sin. MCH, — sin 2 A Or : sin.
2 /i O ?«, rr sin. 2 x : sin. 2 y, or M : S sin. 2 x :
sin. 2y, agreeably to what was required for the maxi¬
mum.
It is also evident, that MI =r MC • cos. CMI, =
M • cos. 2 y, and SI SC • cos. ISC, — S • cos. 2 x j
and therefore MS is the difference of elevation between
/^and the points / and which are 90° from it, and is
therefore the place of low water; that is, MS is the
whole tide.
The elevation of every other point may be determin¬
ed in the same w'ay, and thus may the form of the sphe¬
roid be completely determined.
If we suppose the figure to represent a section through
the earth’s equator (which is the case when the sun and
moon are in the equator), and farther suppose the two
luminaries to be in conjunction, the ocean is an oblong
spheroid, whose axis is in the line of the syzigies, and
whose equator coincides with the six hour circle. But
if the moon be in any other point of the equator, the
figure of the ocean will he very complicated. It will
not be any figure of revolution ; because neither its
equator (or most depressed part) nor its meridians are
circles. The most depressed part of its equator will be
in that section through the axis which is perpendicular
to the plane in which the luminaries are situated. And
tins greatest depression, and its shortest equatorial dia¬
meter will be constant, while its other dimensions vary
with the moon’s place. We need not inquire more mi¬
nutely into its form ; and it is sufficient to know that
all tlie sections perpendicular to the plane passing through
the sun aud moon are ellipses.
1 his construction will afford us a very simple, and,
we hope, a very perspicuous explanation of the chief
phenomena of the tides. The well informed reader will
be pleased with observing its coincidence with the alge¬
braic solution of the problem given by Daniel Bernoulli,
in his excellent dissertation on the Tides, which shared
with M‘Laurin and Euler the prize given by the Aca¬
demy of Sciences at Paris, and with the ease and per¬
spicuity with which the phenomena are deducible from
it, being in some sort exhibited to the eye.
In our application, we shall begin with the simplest
cases, and gradually introduce the complicating circum¬
stances which accommodate the theory to the true state
of things.
We begin, therefore, by supposing the earth covered,
to a proper depth, with water, forming an ocean con¬
centric with its solid nucleus.
In the next place, we suppose that this ocean adopts
in an instant the form which is consistent with the equi¬
librium of gravity and the disturbing forces.
Thirdly, We suppose the sun stationary, and the moon
to move eastward from him above 124° every day.
Fourthly, We suppose that the solid nucleus turns
round its proper axis to the eastward, making a rotation
in 24 solar hours. Thus any place of observation will
successively experience all the different depths of water.
Thus we shall obtain a certain Succession of pheno¬
mena, precisely similar to the succession observed in na¬
ture, with this sole difference, that they do not cor¬
respond to the contemporaneous situations of the sun and
moon. When we shall have accounted for this differ¬
ence, we shall presume to think that we have given a
just theory of the tides.
We begin with the simplest case, supposing the sun
and moon to be always in the equator. Let the
series begin with the sun and moon in conjunction in
the line O s. In this case the points s, m, and h coin¬
cide, and we have high water at 1 2 o’clock noon and
midnight.
W bile the moon moves from s to Q, O m cuts the
upper semicircle in M; and therefore CH, which is al¬
ways parallel to MS, lies between MC and C .9. There¬
fore h is between m and s, and we have high water
after 12 o’clock, but before the moon’s southing. The
same thing happens while the moon moves from 0 to q,
during her third quarter.
But while the moon moves from her first quadrature
in Q to opposition in 0 (as in fig, 5.), the line m O
drawn from the moon’s place, cuts the lower semicircle
in M, and CH, parallel to SM, again lies between M
and s, and therefore h lies between m and 0. The place
of high water is to the eastward of the moon, and we
have high water after the moon’s southing. The same
thing happens while the moon is moving from her
last quadrature in q to the next syzigy. In short, the
point II is always between M and s, and the place of
high water is always between the moon and the nearest
syzigy. The place of high water overtakes the moon,
in each quadrature, and is overtaken by the moon in
each syzigy. Therefore during the first and third quar¬
ters, the place of high water gradually falls behind the
moon far some time,, and then gains upon her again, so
TIB
Tide
as to overtake her in the next quadrature
1 the second and fourth quarters, the place ol high wa¬
ter advances before the moon to a certain distance, and
then the moon gains upon it, and overtakes it in the next
sy.zigy. .f
If therefore we suppose the moon to advance umtorm-
ly along the equator, the place of high water moves un¬
equally, slowest in the time of new and full moon, and
swiftest in the time of the quadratures. There must
be some intermediate situations where the place ot
high water neither gains nor loses upon the moon, but
moves with the same velocity.
The rate of motion ol the point h maybe determined
as follows : Draw C /, S w, making very small and equal
angles with HC and MS. Draw r. C, and about S,
with the distance S «, describe the arch « u, which may
be considered as a straight line perpendicular to n S, or
to MS.
Then, because SM and S n are parallel to CD and
C?', the points n and i are contemporaneous situations
of M and H, and the arches n M, i H, are in the ratio
of the angular motions of m and h. Also, because n v
and n M are perpendicular to w S and n C, the angle
o « M is equal to the angle S « C, or SMC. Also, be¬
cause the angles w u M and MIC are right angles, and
the angles r »M, CM I, are also equal, the triangles
«wM, CM I, are similar. Therefore
n M : n v— MC : MI. And
n v : m~n S : i C, or = MS : MC ; therefore
n M : fH—MS : MI. Therefore the angular mo¬
tion of the moon is to the angular motion of the place
of high water as MS to MI
Therefore, when M'S is perpendicular to SC, and the
coincides with S, the motion of high water is
point I coi..»..„.w   — . .
equal to that of the moon. But when M S is perpen¬
dicular to SC, H'C is also perpendicular to C and the
angle ti Os is 450, and the high water is in the octant.
While the moon passes from s to m', or the high water
from .9 to h', the point 1 bills between M and S, and
the motion of high water is slower than that of the
moon. The contrary obtains while the moon moves
from m' to Q, or the high water from the octant to the
quadrature. - * . , 1 • 1
It is evident, that the motion of h in the third quar¬
ter of the lunation, that is, in passing from 0 to 9, is
similar to its motion from s to Q. Also, that its mo¬
tion from Q to 0 must retard by the same degrees as it
accelerated in passing from s to Q, and that its motion
in the last quarter from <7 to s is similar to its motion
from Q to 0. • r • ■ 1 -*i r
At new and full moon the point I coincides with U,
and the point M coincides with s. Therefore the mo¬
tion of the high water at full and change is to the mo¬
tion of the moon as a C to s S. But when the moon is
in quadrature, I coincides with C, and M with 0.
Therefore the motion of the moon is to that of high
wa*er as OS to OC or * C. Therefore the motion of
high water at full and change is to its motion in the
quadratures as OS to S .v, or as the difference of the
disturbing forces to their sum. The motion of the tide
is therefore slowest in the syzigies and swiftest in the
quadratures ; yet even in the syzigies it passes the sun
along with the moon, but more slowly.
Let the interval between the morning tide of one
day and that of the next day be called a tide-day.
C 4H ] T I D
But during This is always greater than a solar day, 0 r 2I1 ou*
because the place of high water is moving faster to the
eastward than the sun. It is less than a lunar day, or
24b. 50', while the high water passes from the second
to the third octant, or from the fourth to the first. It ia
equal to a lunar day when high water isinthe octants,and
it exceeds a lunar day while high water passes from the
first to the second octant, or from the third to the fourth.
The difference between a solar day and a tide day is
called the PRIMING or the RETARDATION of the tides.
This is evidently equal to the time of the earth’s de¬
scribing in its rotation an angle equal to the motion of
the high water in a day from the sun. The smallest of
these retardations is to the greatest as the difference of
the disturbing forces to their sum. Ot all the pheno¬
mena of the tides, this seems liable to the fewest and
most inconsiderable derangements from local and acci¬
dental circumstances. It therefore affords the best
means for determining the proportion of the disturbing
forces. By a comparison of a great number of observa¬
tions made by Dr Maskelyne at St Helena, and at Bar-
badoes (places situated in the open sea), it appears that
the shortest tide-day is 24I1. 37', and the longest is 25b.
27'. This gives M—S : M-|-S~37 : 87* an^ ®
= 2 : 4.96 ; which differs only 1 part in 124 from the
proportion of 2 to 5, which Daniel Bernoulli collected
from a variety of different observations. W e shall there¬
fore adopt the proportion of 2 to 508 abundantly exact.
It also agrees exactly with the phenomena ot the nuta¬
tion of the earth’s axis and the precession of the equi¬
noxes j and the astronomers affect to have deduced this
proportion from these phenomena. But an intelligent
reader of their writings will perceive more finesse than
justice in this assertion. The nutation and preces¬
sion do not afford phenomena of which we can assign the
share to eacli luminary with sufficient precision for de¬
termining the proportion of their disturbing forces 5 and
it is by means ot many arbitrary combinations, and
without necessity, that D’Alembert has made out thi*
ratio. We cannot help being of opinion, that D’Alem¬
bert has accommodated his distribution ot the pheno¬
mena to this ratio of 2 to 5, which Daniel Bernoulli
(the best philosopher and the most candid man of that
illustrious family of mathematicians) had, with so much
sagacity and justness ot inference, deduced from the phe¬
nomena of the tides. D’Alembert could not but see
the value of this inference ; but he wanted to show hi*
own address in deducing it propno marte forsooth from
the nutation and precession. His procedure in tins re¬
sembles that of his no less vain countryman De la 1 lace,
who affects to be highly pleased with finding that Mr
Bode’s discovery that Meyer had seen the Geoigiun1
Sidus in 1756, perfectly agreed with the theory of its
motions which he (De la Place) had deduced from Ins
own doctrines. Any well informed mathematician wi
see, that De la Place’s data afforded no such precision;
and the Book on the Elliptical Motions of the Planets,
to which he alludes, contains no grounds for bis in e-
rence. This observation we owe to the author ot a pa¬
per on that subject in the Transactions of the Rova so¬
ciety of Edinburgh. We hope that our readers wi ex
cuse this occasional observation, by which we wish to
justice to the merit ot a modest man, and one 0
greatest philosophers of his time. Our only c
the present dissertation is the making his exce^rnraa„ce
Tide
T I D
T I D f 425 ]
formance on tlie tides accessible to an Enlish reader
not muf.li versant in mathematical researches 5 jjnd we
are sorry that our limits do not admit any thing more
than a sketch of it. But to proceed.
Assuming 2 : .5 as the ratio of SC to CM', we have
the angle CM'S=23°34' nearly, and m'oh'—w0^^
and this is the greatest difference between the moon’s
place and the place of high water. And when this ob¬
tains, the moon’s elongation m' 0 r is 56° 47' from the
nearest syzigy. Hence it follows, that while the moon
moves uniformly from 56* 47' west elongation to 56°
47'east, or from 123° 13' east to 1230 13' west, the
tide day is shorter than the lunar day ; and while she
moves from 56° 47' east to 1230 13', or from 1230 13'
west to 56° 47', the tide day is longer than the Ipnav
day.
We see now the reason why
•The swelling tides obey the moon.
The time of high water, when the sun and moon are
in the equator, is never more than 47 minutes different
from that of the moon’s southing or—a certain
fixed quantity, to be determined once for all by obser¬
vation).
It is now an easy matter to determine the hour of
high water corresponding to any position of the sun and
moon in the equator. Suppose that on the noon of a
certain day the moon’s distance from the sun is m s.
The construction of this problem gives ns s h, and the
length of the tide day. Call this T. Then say 360° :
s w=T : and t is the hour of high water.
Or, if we choose to refer the time of high water to
the moon’s southing, we must find the value of w h at
the time of the moon’s southing, and the difference d
between the tide day and the mean lunar day L, and say
360 : m h—d : 5, the time of high water before the
njoon’s southing in the first an.d third quarters, but after
it in the second and fourth. The following table by
Daniel Bernoulli exhibits these limes for every 10th de¬
gree of the moon’s elongation front the sun. The first
er leading column is the moon’s elongation from the sun
•r from the point of opposition. The second column is
the minutes ot time between the moon’s southing and
the place of high water. The marks — and distin¬
guish whether the high water is before or after the
rgoon’s southing. Thq third column is the hour and
minute of liigh water. But we must remark that the
first column exhibits the elongation, not on the noon of
apy day, but at the v^ry time of high water. The two
remaining columns express the heights of the tides and
their dailj variations.
’Vql. XX. Part H
t
resting circumstance in practice. Many circumstances
render it almost impossible to say what is the elevation*
of high water above the natural surface of the ocean.
In many places the surface at low water is above the na¬
tural surface of the ocean. This is the case in rivers at
a great distance from their mouths. This may appear
absurd, and is certainly very paradoxical; but it is a
fact established on the most unexceptionable authority.
One instance fell under our own observation. The low-
water-mark at spring tide in the harbour of Alloa was
found by accurate levelling to be three feet higher than
the top of the stone pier at Leith, winch is several feet
above the high water mark of this harbour. A little
attention to the motion of running waters will explain
this completely. Whatever cheeks the motion of water
in a canal must raise its surface. Water in a canal runs
only in consequence of the declivity of this surface :
(See Kiver). Therefore a flood tide coming to the
mouth of a river checks the current of its waters, and
they accumulate at the mouth. This checks the cur¬
rent farther up, and therefore the waters accumulate
there also ; and this checking of the stream, and con¬
sequentrising of the waters, is gradually communicated
up the river to a great distance. The water rises every¬
where, though its surface still has a slope. In the
mean time, the flood tide at the mouth passes by, and
an ebb succeeds. This must accelerate even the ordi¬
nary course of the river. It will more remarkably ac¬
celerate the river now raised above its ordinary level,
because the declivity at the mouth will be so muck
greater. Therefore the waters near the mouth, by ac¬
celerating, will sink in their channel, and increase the
declivity of the canal beyond them. This will accele¬
rate the waters beyond them ; and tbu^i a stream more
rapid than ordinary will be produced along the whole
3 rive*.
TIB
TIB
[ 426 ]
Tide, river, and the waters will sink below their ordinary le-
v-—vel. Thus there will be an ebb below the ordinary sur¬
face as well as a flood above it, however sloping that
surface may be.
Hence it follows, that we cannot tell what is the na¬
tural surface of the ocean by any observations made in
a river, even though near its mouth. Yet even in
rivers we have regular tides, subjected to all the varie¬
ties deduced from this theory.
We have seen that the tide is always proportional to
MS. It is greatest therefore when the moon is in con¬
junction or opposition, being then S s, the sum of the
separate tides produced by the sun and moon. It gra¬
dually decreases as the moon approaches to quadrature j
and when she is at Q or q, it is SO, or the difference
of the separate tides. Supposing S s divided into 1000
equal parts, the length of MS is expressed in these parts
in the fourth column of the foregoing table, and their
differences are expressed in the fifth column.
We may here observe, that the variations of the tides
in equal small times are proportional to the sine of twice
the distance of the place of high water from the moon.
For since M « is a constant quantity, on the supposi¬
tion of the moon’s uniform motion, M v is proportion¬
al to the variation of MS. Now M n : M c—MC :
CIzri : sin. 2y, and M n and MC are constant quan¬
tities.
Thus we have seen with what ease the geometrical
construction of this problem not only explains all the
interesting circumstances of the tides, but also points
them out, almost without employing the judgment, and
exhibits to the eye the gradual progress of each pheno¬
menon. In these respects it has great advantages over
the very elegant algebraic analysis of Mr Bernoulli.
In that process we advance almost without ideas, and
obtain our solutions as detached facts, without perceiv¬
ing their regular series. This is the usual pre-eminence
of geometrical analysis 5 and we regret that Mr Ber¬
noulli, who was eminent in this branch, did not rather
employ it. We doubt not but that he would have shown
still more clearly the connection and gradual progress of
every particular. His aim, however, being to instruct
those who were to calculate tables of the different affec¬
tions of the tides, he adhered to the algebraic method.
Unfortunately it did not present him with the easiest
formula: for practice. But the geometrical construction
which we have given suggests several formulae which
are exceedingly simple, and afford a very ready mode of
calculation.
The fundamental problems are to determine the
angle s Q 7i ov m O hy having mQi s given j and to
determine MS.
Let the given angle m O s be called a; and, to
avoid the ambiguity of algebraic signs, let it always be
reckoned from the nearest syzigy, so that we may al¬
ways have a equal to the sum of x and y. Also make
‘)1=M-+S- + 2MxSxcos.2a’ presents the
So1 S Xsih. ia
oViT °1 hg* 4-or sin. 2y,and make —— ————
SM* 1 M-J-S x cos. 2 a
. . . Sc
which is the expression of of that figure, or of tan.
2y. Then we shall have,
0. /1—s/1 —d2
I. Sin. i/—S/  
^ 2
^y-sj
sj\—d%
For we shall have cos.
1 1
But sin.*y=i cos. 2y = i—•
2 2
, and sin. y
,=Ji=dj=^.
2.
Tan. y:
For because is =: tan.
  +\/I+JP*  
2 y, sj 1 -\-p* is the secant of 2y, and 1 -!->/1 -f-p* : 1
—p : tan. y.
These processes for obtaining y directly are abundantly
simple. But it will be much more expeditious and easy
to content ourselves with obtaining 2y by means of the
S • sin. 2 c „
value of its tangent, viz. '    —. Ur,we may'
0 M -j- o ’ cos. 2 a
find x by means of the similar value of its tangent .
Me? „ c
~Srf °f 6g' 4‘
There is still an easier method of finding both 2*
and 2y, as follows.
Make M + S : M—Szrtan. a : tan. b. Then b is
the difference of x and y, as u is their sum. lor this
analogy evidently gives the tangent of half the difler-
ence of the angles CSM and CMS of fig. 4* or 2 K
and 2 ?/. Therefore to or, which is half the sum of 2#
o-J-fi
-f-2y, add b, and we have 2x—a-]rbi or a\_—
a—b
and y———.
^ 2
By either of these methods a table may be readily
computed of the value of a? or y for every value of a.
But we must recollect that the values of S and M
are by no means constant, but vary in the inverse tri¬
plicate ratio of the earth’s distance from the sun and
moon •, and the ratio of 2 to 5 obtains only when these
luminaries are at their mean distances from the earth.
The forces corresponding to the perigean, medium, and
apogean distances are as follow.
Apogean
Medium
Perigean
Sun.
1.901
2.
2.IO5
Moo».
4.258
5-
5-925
Hence we see that the ratio of S to M may vary from
1.901 : 5.925 to 2.105 : 4.258, that is, nearly from
1 : 3 to 1 : 2, or from 2 : 6 to 2 : 4. The solar force
does not vary much, and may be retained as constant
without any great error. But the change of the moon’s
force has great effects on the tides both as to their time
and their quantity.
I. In respect of their Time.
1. The tide day following a spring tide is 24 h. 27'
when the moon is in perigee, but 24 h. 33' when she is
in apogee.
2. The tide day following neap tide is 25 h. an(*
25 h. 40' in these two situations of the moon.
3. The greatest interval of time between high wa¬
ter and the moon’s southing is 39' and 6i'j the angle
f
II*
T I D
lie. y being 90 45' in the first case, and 150 I j' in the se-
cond.
II. In respect of their Heights.
I. If the moon is in perigee when new or full, the
spring tide will be 8 feet instead of 7, which corresponds
to her mean distance. The Very next spring tide hap¬
pens when she is near her apogee, and will be 6 feet
instead of 7. The neap tides happen when she is at
her mean distance, and will therefore be 3 feet.
But it the moon be at her mean distance when new
or full, the two succeeding spring tides will be regular
or 7 feet, and one of the neap tides will be 4 feet and
th&other only 2 feet.
Mr Bernoulli has given us the following table of the
time of high water for these three chief situations of the
moon, namely, her perigee, mean distance, and apo¬
gee. It may be had by interpolation for all interme¬
diate positions with as great accuracy as can be hoped
for in phenomena which are subject to such a complica¬
tion of disturbances. The first column contains the
moon’s elongation from the sun. The columns P, M,
A, contain the minutes of time which elapse between
the moon’s southing and high water, according as she
is in perigee, at her mean distance, or in apogee. The
sign — indicates the priority, and -j- the posteriority,
of high water to the moon’s southing.
[ 427 1
T I B
The reader will undoubtedly be making some compa¬
rison in his own mind of the deductions from this theory
with the actual state of things. He will find some con¬
siderable resemblances •, but he will also find such great
differences as will make him very doubtful of its justness.
In very few places does the high water happen within
three-fourths of an hour of the moon’s southing, as the
theory leads him to expect j and in no place whatever
doe* the spring tide fall on the day of new and full
woon, nor the neap tide on the day of her quadrature.
These always happen two or three days later. By com¬
paring the difference of high water and the moon’s 1
southing in different places, he will hardty find any
connecting principle. This shows evidently that the
cause of this irregularity is local, and that the justness
of the theory is not affected by it. By considering the
phenomena in a navigable river, he will learn the real
cause of the deviation. A flood tide arrives at the
mouth of a river. Ihe true theoretical tide differs in
no respect from a wave. Suppose a spring tide actually
formed on a fluid sphere, and the sun and moon then
annihilated. Ihe elevation must sink, pressing the un¬
der waters aside, and causing them to rise where they
were depressed. The motion will not stop when the
surface comes to a level j for the waters arrived at that
position with a motion continually accelerated. They
will therefore pass this position as a pendulum passes the
perpendicular, and will rise as far on the other side,
forming a high water where it was low water, and a
low water where it was high water *, and this would go
on for ever, oscillating in a time which mathematicians
can determine, if it were not for the viscidity, or some¬
thing like friction, of the waters. If the sphere is not
fluid to the centre, the motion of this wave will be dif¬
ferent. The elevated waters cannot sink without dif¬
fusing themselves sidewise, and occasioning a great ho¬
rizontal motion, in order to fill up the hollow at the
place of low water. Ibis motion aviII be greatest about
half way between the places of high and low water.
The shallower we suppose the ocean, the greater must
this horizontal motion be. The resistance of the bot¬
tom (though perfectly smooth and even) will greatly
retard it all the way to the surface. Still, however, it
will move till all be level, and will even move a little
farther, and produce a small flood and ebb where the
ebb and flood bad been. Then a contrary motion will
obtain ; and after a few oscillations, which can be cal¬
culated, it will be insensible. If the bottom of the
ocean (which we still suppose to cover flie whole earth.)
he uneven, with long extended valleys running in va¬
rious directions, and with elevations reaching near the
surface, it is evident that this must occasion great irre¬
gularities in the motion of the undermost waters, both
in respect of velocity and direction, and ey,gn occasion,
small inequalities on the surface, as we^pe in a river
with a rugged bottom and rapid current. The devia¬
tions of the under currents will drag with them the con¬
tiguous incumbent waters, and thus occasion greater sur
perficial irregularities. j>jy.
Now a flood arriving at the moii|]j of a river, must
act precisely as this great wave does. It must he pro¬
pagated up the river (or along it, even though perfect¬
ly level) in a certain time, and we shall have high wa¬
ter at all the different places in succession. This is di-
stinctly seen in all rivers. It is high water at the month
of the lhames at three o’clock, and later as we go up
the river, till at London bridge we have n0t high water
till three o’clock in the morning, at which time it is
ag"n high water at the Nore. But, in the mean time
there has been low water at the Nore, and high water
about half way to London ; and while the high water
is proceeding to London, it is ebbing at this interme¬
diate place, and is low water there when it is high wa
ter at London and at the Nore. Did the tide extend
as far beyond London as London is from the Nore, we
3 ^ 3 should
Tide.
—1—
Tide.
—V—
T I D [428] T I D
should have three high waters with two low waters in-
^ terposed. The most rertiaikahle instance of this kind is
the Maragnon or Amazon river in South America. It
appears by the observations ot‘ Comlamine and others,
that between Para, at the mouth of the river, and the
conflux of the Madera and Maragnon, there are seven
eoexistent high waters, with six low waters between
them. Nothing can more evidently show that the tides
in these places are nothing but the propagation of a
wave. The velocity of its superficial motion, and the
distance to which it will sensibly go, must depend on
many circumstances. A deep channel and gentle ac¬
clivity will allow it to proceed much farther up the ri¬
ver, and the distance between the successive summits
will be greater than when the channel is shallow and
steep. If we apply the ingenious theory of Chevalier
Boat delivered in the article River, we may tell both
the velocity of the motion and the interval of the suc¬
cessive high waters. It may be imitated in artificial
canals, and experiments of this kind would be very in¬
structive. We have said enough at present for our pur¬
pose of explaining the irregularity of the times of high
water in different places, with respect to the moon’s
Southing. For we now see clearly that something of
the same kind must happen in all great arms of the sea
which arc of an oblong shape, and communicate by one
end with the open ocean. The general tide in this
ocean must proceed along lids channel, and the high
water will happen on its shores in succession. This also
is distinctly seen. The tide in the Atlantic ocean pro¬
duces high water at new and full moon at a later and
later hour along the south coast of Great Britain in pro¬
portion as we proceed from Scilly islands to Dover. In
the same manner it is later and later as we come along
the east coast from Orkney to Dover. Yet even in this
progress there are considerable irregularities, owing to
the sinuosities of the shores, deep indented bays, promi¬
nent capes, and extensive ridges and valleys in the chan¬
nel. A similar progress is obseived along the coasts of
Spain and France, the tide advancing gradually from
the south, turning round Cape Finisterre, ranging along
the north coast of Spain, and along the west and north
coasts of France.
The attentive consideration of these facts will not
only satisfy »s with respect to this difficulty, but will
enable us to trace a principle of connection amidst all
the irregularities that we observe.
We now add, that if we note the difference between
the time of high water of spring tide, as given by the¬
ory, for any place, and the observed time of high water,
we shall find this interval to be very nearly constant
through the whole series of tides during a lunation.
Suppose this interval to be 40 hours. We shall find
every other phenomenon succeed after the same inter¬
val. And if we suppose the moon to be in the place
where she was 40 hours before, the observation will
agree pretty well with the theory, as to the succession
of tides, the length of tide day, the retardations of the
tides, and their gradual diminution from spring to neap
tide. We say pretty well •, for there still remain seve¬
ral small irregularities, different in different places, and
not following any observable law. These are therefore
local, and owing to local causes. Seme of these we
shall afterwards point out. There is also a general de-
tjaitign of the theory from the real series of tides. The
neap tides, and those adjoining, happen a little earlier
than the corrected theory points out. Thus at Brest -—v-
(where more numerous and accurate observations have
been made than at any other place in Europe), when
the moon changes precisely at noon, it is high Water at
3 h 28'. When the moon enters her second quarter at
noon, it is high water at 8 h. 40', instead of 9 h. 48',
which theory assigns.
Something similar, and within a very few minutes
equal, to this is observed in every place on the sea-coast.
Tliis is therefore something general, and indicates a
real defect in the theory.
But this arises from the same cause with the other ge¬
neral deviation, viz. that the greatest and feast tides do
not happen on the days of full and half moon, but a
eertain time after. We shall attempt to explain this.
We set out with the supposition, that the water ac¬
quired in an instant the elevation competent to its equi¬
librium. But this is not true. No motion is instanta¬
neous, however great the force j ami every motion and
change of motion produced by a sensible or finite force
increases from nothing to a sensible quantity by infinitely
small degrees. Time elapses before the body can ac¬
quire any sensible velocity ; and in order to acquire the
same sensible velocity by the action of different forces
acting similaily, a time must elapse inversely propor¬
tional to the force. An infinitely small force requires a
finite time for communicating even an infinitely small
velocity j and a finite force, in an infinitely small time,
communicates only an infinitely small velocity 5 and if
there be any kind of motion which changes by insensi¬
ble degrees, it requires a finite force to prevent this
change. Thus a bucket of water, hanging by a cord
lapped round a light and easily moveable cylinder, will
run down with a motion uniformly accelerated j but
this motion will be prevented by hanging an equal
bucket on the other side, so as to act with a finite
force. This force prevents only infinitely small accele¬
rations.
Now let ALKF (fig. 6.) be the solid nucleus of theFig*#
earth, surrounded by the spherical ocean b h dg. Let
this be raised to a spheroid BH DG by the action of the
moon at M, or in the direction of the axis CM. If all
be at rest, this spheroid may have the form precisely
competent to its equilibrium. But let the nucleus, with
its spheroidal ocean, have a motion round C in the di¬
rection AFKL from west to east. When the line of
water BA is carried into the situation s q infinitely near
to BA, it is no longer in equilibrioj for s is too eleva¬
ted, and the part now come to B is too much depressed.
There is a force tending to depress the waters at 5, and
to raise those now at B ; but this force is infinitely
small. It cannot therefore restore the shape competent
to equilibrium till a sensible time has elapsed 5 therefore
the disturbing force of the moon cannot keep the sum¬
mit of the ocean in the line MC. The force must be
of a certain determinate magnitude before it can in an
instant undo the instantaneous effect «f the rotation of
the waters and keep the summit of tire ocean in the
same place. But this effect is possible j for the depres¬
sion at s necessary for this purpose is nearly as the di¬
stance from B, being a depression, not from a straight
line, but from a circle described with the radius CB.
It is therefore an infinitesimal of the first order, and may
be restored in ant instant, or the continuation of the de-
•r r & [ 4 2 9 | t r it
pression prcventfe^ by a'certain finite farce. Therefore
tlitre is some distance, such as By, where the disturb¬
ing force of the moon may have the necessary intensity.
Therefore the spherical ocean, instead of being kept
continually accumulated at B and D,' as the waters turn
round, will be kept accumulated at y ami y', but at a>
height somewhat smaller. It is much in this way that
we keep melted pitch or other clammy matter from run¬
ning off from a brush,, by continually turning it round,
and it hangs protuberant, not from the lowest ppint,
but from a point beyond it, in the direction of its mo¬
tion. The facts are very similar. The following expe¬
riment will illustrate this completely, and is quite ai
parallel fact. Conceive GDH, the lower half of the
ellipse, to be a supple heavy rope or chain hanging from
a roller with a handle. The weight of the rope makes
it hang., in an oblong curve, just as the force of the
moon raises the waters of the ocean. Turn the roller
very slowly, and the rope, unwinding at one side and
winding up on the other side of the roller, will continue
to form the same curve : but turn the roller very briskly
in the direction FlvL, and the rope will now hang like
the curve if v, considerably advanced from the per¬
pendicular, so far, to wit, that the force of gravity may
be able in an instant to undo the infinitely small eleva*
tion produced by the turning.
We are very anxious to have this circumstance clear¬
ly conceived, and its truth firmly established; because
we have observed it to puz,zle many persons not unac¬
customed to such discussions : we therefore hope that
our readers, who have got over the difficulty, will in¬
dulge us while w'e give yet another view of this matter,
which leads us to the same conclusion.
It is certain that the interval between high and low
water is not sufficient for producing all the accumulation
necessary for equilibrium in an ocean so very shallow.
The horizontal motion necessary fer gathering together
so much water along a shallow sea would be prodigious.
Therefore it never attains its full height; and when the
waters, already raised to a certain degree, have passed
the situation immediately under the moon, they are still
under the action of accumulating forces, although these
forces are now diminished. They will continue rising,
till they have so far past the moon, that their situation
subjects them to depressing forces. If they have acqui¬
red this situation with an accelerated motion, they will
rise still farther by their inherent motion, till the depres¬
sing forces have destroyed all their acceleration, and
then they will begin to sink again. It is in this way
that the nutation of the earth’s axis produces the great¬
est inclination, not when the inclining forces are great¬
est, bnt three months after. It is thus that the warm¬
est time of the day is a considerable while after noon,
and that the warmest season is considerably after mid¬
summer. The warmth increases till the momentary
waste of heat exceeds the momentary supply. We con¬
clude by saying, that it may be demonstrated, that, in
a sphere fluid to the centre, the time of high water can-
not be less, and may be more, than three lunar hours
after the moon’s southing. As the depth of the ocean
diminishes, this interval also diminishes.
It is perhaps impossible to assign the distance By at
which the summit of the ocean may be kept while the
2arlh turns round its axis. We can only see, that it
must-be less when the- accumulating force is-greater*
jmd therefore less irpspring tides-than i» neap tides ;.'
but the difference may-be insensible. All this depends
on circorrKrtanceB .which* we are little acquainted with :
many of these circumstances are local; and the situa¬
tion of; the; summit of the< ocean,. with respect to tbe<>
moon, may- he different in different places.
Nor; have- vve been able to determine theoretically*
what will be the height of the summit. It will certainly/
he less than thcheight necessary for perfect equilibrium^
Daniel Bernoulli says, that, after very attentive consi¬
deration, he is convinced that the height at new or full
moon will he to tire theoretical height as the cosine of
the angle BCy to radius, or that the height at y will
beBiX§f.
The result of all this reasoning is, that We must al¬
ways suppose the summit of the tide is at a certain di¬
stance eastward from the place assigned by the theory.
Mr Bernoulli concludes, Irom a very copious compari¬
son of observations at different places, that the place of
high water is about 20 degrees to the eastward of the
place assigned by the theory. Therefore the table for¬
merly given will correspond with observation, if the
leading column of the moon’s elongation from the sun
be altered accordingly. We have inserted it again in
this place, with this alteration, and added three co¬
lumns for the times of high water. Thus changed it
will be of great use.
We have now an explanation of the acceleration of
the neap tides, which should happen 6 hours later than
the spring tides. They are in fact tides corresponding to
positions of the moon, which are 20* more, and not the
real spring and neap tides. rI hese do not happen till two
days alter; and if the really greatestand least tides be ob¬
served, the least will be found 6 hours later than the first.
o
c: c
o w—
r-rl
0
10
2C
30
4c
50
6c
7
8c
90
ICO
IIC
I2C
13c
H
150
1603
170
18c
High Water before or after
Moon’s Southing.
Perigee. M. Disk Apogee.
18 after
Pv do.
o do.
bef.
18 do.
26
33
37r
38-5-
33t
22
o
22 after
334-after
3^
37l
3
26
18
22 after
o
114; bef.
22
or1
40
45
40^
2J
o
25 after
4°v
46I
45
40
22
2 yf after
r4
o
14 bef.
27i
39f
5°
56
58
5°i
31
_ o
31 after
5°i
58-
56
5°
27i
Time of High Water
This table is general, and exhibits the time of high
water,.
Tide,
—y-—
T I D
[ 430 ]
T I D
Tide.
water, and their difference from those of the moon’s
southing, in the open sea, from all local obstructions. If
therefore the time of high water in any place on the
earth’s equator (for we have hitherto considered no
other) be different from this table (supposed correct),
we must attribute tbe difference to tbe distinguishing
circumstances of the situation. Thus every place on the
equator should have high water on the day that the
moon, situated at her mean distance, changes precisely
at noon, at 22 minutes past noon •, because the moon
passes the meridian along with the sun by supposition.
Therefore, to make use of this table, we must take the
difference between the first number of the column, in-
titled time of high water, from the time of high water
at full and change peculiar to anyplace, and add this to
all the numbers of that column. 'Ibis adapts the table
to the given place. Thus, to know the time of high
water at Leith, when the moon is 50° east of the sun, at
her mean distance from the earth, take 22; from 4b* 3i-, >
there remains 4.08. Add this to 2I1. 48' and we have
6° 56' for the hour of high water. The hour of high
water at new and full moon for Edinburgh is marked
4h. 30' in Maskelyne’s tables, but we do not pretend to
give it as the exact determination. This would require
a series of accurate observations.
It is by no means an easy matter to ascertain the time
of high water with precision. It changes so very slowly,
that we may easily mistake the exact minute. The best
method is to have a pipe with a small hole near its bot¬
tom, and a float with a long graduated rod. The water
gets in by the small hole, and raises the float, and the
smallness of the hole prevents the sudden and irregular
starts which waves would occasion. Instead of observing
the moment of high water, observe the height of the rod
about half an hour before, and wait alter high water till
the rod comes again to that height. Take tbe middle
between them. The water rises sensibly half an hour
before the top of the tide, and quickly changes the height
of the rod, so that we cannot make a great mistake in
the time.
Mr Bernoulli has made a very careful comparison of
the theory thus corrected, with the great collection of
observations preserved in \\\elL)epot cle /e/il/cr/we at Brest
and Rochfort * ; and finds tbe coincidence very great,
and far exceeding any rule which we had ever seen. In-
Mcm.Acad. we jiave no rules but what are purely empirical, or
Par. 1734. w|ijc|1 SUpp0se a uniform progression of the tides.
The heights of the tides are much more affected by
local circumstances than the regular series of their times.
The regular spring tide should be to the neap tide in the
same proportion 111 all places j but nothing is more dif¬
ferent than this proportion. In some places the spring
tide is not double of the neap tide, and in other places it
is more than quadruple. This prevented Bernoulli from
attempting to fix the proportion of M to S by means of
the heights of the tides. Newton had, however, done
it by the tides at Bristol, and made the lunar force al¬
most five times greater than the solar force. But this
was very ill-founded, for the reason now given.
Yet Bernoulli saw, that in all places the tides gra¬
dually decreased from the syzigies to the quadratures.
He therefore presumed, that they decreased by a simi¬
lar law with the theoretical tides, and has given a
•very ingenious method of accommodating the theory
.to any tides which may be observed. Let A be the
4
spring tide, and B the neap tide in any place. Then
form an M and an S from these, by making M= ,
A B
and S =r‘t $ so that M-j-S may be r= A, and M-—
2
Sr=B agreeable to the theory. Then with this M and
S compose the general tide T, agreeable to the con¬
struction of the problem. We may be persuaded that
the result cannot be far from the truth. The following
table is calculated for the three chief distances of the
moon from the earth.
Tide;
* See Mr
Ga*sini,
ib ©
J
Height of the Tide.
M oon in Perigee.
O
IO
20
3°
40
5°
60
70
80
90
IOC
110
120
130
I40
l5c
16
170
180
Moon in. M Dist,
O.99A+O.I5B
i.ioA-j-o.04B
1.14A-I-0.00B
i.ioA-j-o.o4B
0.99A+0.15B
0.85A4-0.32B
0.67A4-0.53B
0.46A + 0.75B
0.28A + 0.96B
0.13A-I-1.13B
o.o3A4x*24B
o.ooA-f-i. 28B
o.o3A-j-i. 24B
0.13A + 1.13B
0.28A-I-0.96B
0.46 A 4-0.75®
0.67A4-0.53B
085A4-0.32B
0.99A4-0.15B
Moon in Apogee.
O.88A4-O. I2B
O.97A-I-O.03B
i.ooA-j-o.ooB
3.97A4-0.03B
0.88A4-0.12B
3-75a+°-25b
3.59A4-0.41B
0.41 A 4-0.59 B
0.25A4-0.7 sB
3.12A4-0.88B
3.03A4-0.97B
0.00A -j-o.ooB
0.03A4-0.97B
O.I 2A4-O.88B
0.25A4-0.75B
3.4IA4-0.59B
3.59A4-0.4IB
o.75a+°-25®
0.88A4-0.12B
0.79A4-0.08B
0.87A4-0.C2B
0.90A4-0.00B
0.87A4-0.02B
0.79A4-0.08B
0.68A4-0.18B
°-53a+0-29b
0.37A4-0.41B
0.23A4-C.53B
0.11 A4-0.62B
0.03 A -}-o.68B
0.00A4-0.70B
0.03A4- 0.68B
0.11A 4-0.626
0.23A4-0.53B
0-37a+0,4iB
o.53A 4-0.29B
0.68A4-0.18B
0.79A4-0.08B
Observe that this table is corrected for the retardation
arising from the inertia of the waters. Thus when the
moon is 20 degrees from the sun, the mean distance tide
is 1.00A 4-0.00B, which is the theoretical tide cone-
sponding to conjunction or opposition.
We have now given in sufficient detail the phenomena
of the tides along the equator, when the sun and moon
are both in the equator, shewing both their times and
their magnitude. When we recollect that all the sec¬
tions of an oblong spheroid by a plane passing through
an equatorial diameter are ellipses, and that the com¬
pound tide is a combination of two such spheroids, we
perceive that every section of it through tbe centre, and
perpendicular to the plane in which tbe sun and moon
are situated, is also an ellipse, whose shorter axis is the
equatorial diameter of a spring tide. 1 his is the great
estdepression in all.situations of the luminaries} ^01 tie
points of greatest depression are the lower poles ot eveiy
compound tide. When the luminaries are in t..e equa
tor, these lower poles coincide with the poles ot t
earth. The equator, therefore, of every compound tide
is also an ellipse : the whole circumference ot which is
lower than any other section of this tide, and S*'es.!,
place of low water in every part of the earth, in
manner, the section through the tour poles, upper aiu
lower, gives the place of high water. These two sec
tions are terrestrial meridians or hour circles, w #n
luminaries are in the «quator. JIe!ice
T I D [43
Hence it follows, that all we have already said as to
the times of high and low water may he applied to every
place on the surface of the earth, when the sun and moon
aie in the equator. But the heights of tide will diminish
as we recede from the equator. The heights must be re¬
duced in the proportion of radius to the cosine of the la¬
titude of the place. But in every other situation of the
sun and moon all the circumstances vary exceedingly. It
is very true, that the determination of the elevation of
the waters in any place whatever is equally easy. The
difficulty is, to exhibit for that place a connected view
of the whole tide, with the hours of Hood and ebb, and
the difference between high and low water. This is not
indeed difficult; but the process by the ordinary rules of
spherical trigonometry is tedious. When the sun and
moon are not near conjunction or opposition, the shape
of the ocean resembles a turnip, which is flat and not
round in its broadest part. Before we can determine
with precision the different phenomena in connection, we
must ascertain the position or attitude of this turnip ;
marking on the surface of the earth both its ellipticaf
equators. One of these is the plane passing through the
son and moon, and the other is perpendicular to it, and
marks the place of low water. And we must mark in
like manner its first meridian, which passes through all
the four poles, and marks on the surface of the earth the
place of high water. The position of the greatest sec¬
tion of this compound spheroid is frequently much incli¬
ned to the earth’s equator; nay sometimes it is at right
angles to it, when the moon has the same right ascension
with the sun, but a different declination. In these cases
the ebb tide on the equator is the greatest possible; for
the lower poles of the compound spheroid are in the
equator. Such situations occasion a very complicated
calculus. We must therefore content ourselves with a
good approximation.
And first, with respect to the times of high water. It
will be sufficient to conceive the sun and moon as always
in one plane, viz. the ecliptic. The orbits of the sun
and moon are never more inclined than 5^ degrees.
Ibis will make very little difference; for when the lu¬
minaries are so situated that the great circle through
them is much inclined to the equator, they are then
very near to each other, and the form of the spheroid is
little different from what it would be if they were really
in conjunction or opposition. It will therefore be suffi¬
cient to consider the moon in three different situations.
!• In the equator. The point of highest water is ne¬
ver farther from the moon than 150, when she is in apo¬
gee, and the sun in perigee. Therefore if a meridian
be drawn through the point of highest water to the
equator, the arch m h of fig. 4. will be represented on
the equator by another arch about of this by reason
of the inclination of the equator and ecliptic. There¬
fore to have the time of high water, multiply the num¬
bers of the columns which express the difference of high
water and the moon’s southing by x9^, and the products
give the real difference.
2. Let the moon be in her greatest declination. The
arch of right ascension corresponding to m h will be had
y multiplying m h, or the time corresponding to it in
the table, by 1 b
, 3* ^ hen the moon is in a middle situation between
ese two extremes, the numbers of the table will give
16 right ascension corresponding to m h without any
i ] T I D
correction, the distance from the equator compensating Tide,
for the obliquity of the ecliptic arch mh. u—y—
T.he time of low water is not so easily found; and
we must either go through the whole trigonometrical
process, or content ourselves with a less perfect appro¬
ximation. The. trigonometrical process is not indeed dif¬
ficult : we must find the position of the plane through
the sun and moon. A great circle through the moon
perpendicular to this is the line of high water ; and an¬
other perpendicular circle cutting this at right angles is
the circle of low water.
But it will be abundantly exact to consider the tide
as accompanying the moon only.
Let NQSE (fig. 7.) be a section of the terraqueous Fig. 7.
globe, of which N and S are the north and south poles
and EOQ the equator. Let the moon be in the direc¬
tion OM, having the declination BQ. Let D he any
place on the earth’s surface. Draw the parallel LDC
of latitude. Let B'F b'f be the ocean, formed into a
spheroid, of which B £ is the axis and/F the equator.
As the place D is carried along the parallel CDL by
the rotation of the earth, it will pass in snecession through,
different depths of the watery spheroid. It wrill have
high water when at C and L, and low water when, it
crosses the circle/'OF. Draw the meridian N c? G, and
the great circle B d b. The arch GQ, when converted
into lunar hours (each about 62 minutes), gives the du¬
ration of the flood dc and of the subsequent ebb c d^
which happen while the moon is above the horizon : and
the arch EG will give the durations of the flood and of
the ebb which happen when the moon is below the hori¬
zon. It is evident, that these two floods and two ebbs
have unequal durations. When D is at C it has high
water, and the height of the tide is CC'. For, the sphe¬
roid is supposed to touch the sphere on the equatory OF,
so that of CC' is the difl’erence between high and low
water. At L the height of the tide is LL'; and if
we describe the circle LN <7, C <7 is the difference of
these high waters, or of these tides.
Hence it appears, that the two tides of one lunar day
may be considerably different, and it is proper to distin¬
guish them by different names. We shall call that a su¬
perior tide which happens when the moon is above tire
horizon during high water. The other may be called
the infei'ior tide. The duration of the superior tide is
measured by 2GQ, and that of the inferior tide by
2EG; and 4GO measures the difference between tire
whole duration of a superior and of an inferior tide.
From this construction we may learn in general,
I. Wh en the moon has no declination, the durations and
also the heights of the superior and inferior tides are
equal in all parts of the world. For in this ease the tide
equator/‘F coincides with the meridian NOS, and the
poles B'6' of the watery spheroid are on the earth’s equa¬
tor.
2. When the moon has declination, the duration and
also the height of a superior tide at anyplace is greater
than that of the inferior; or is less than it, according as
the moon’s declination and the latitude of the place are
of the same or opposite names.
This is an important circumstance. It frequently
happens that the inferior tide is found the greatest when
it should be the least; which is particularly the case at
the Nore. This shows, without further reasoning, that
the tide at the Nore is only a branch of the regular
tide,.
r I D I 4S« 1 Til)
tide. Tlic regular tide comes in between Scotland and
the continent; and after travelling along the coast
reaches the Thames, while the.regular tide is just com¬
ing in again between Scotland and the continent.
3. It the moon’s declination is equal to the colati¬
tude of the place, or exceeds it, there will be only one
tide in a lunar day. It will be a superior or an inferior
tide, according as the declination of the moon and the
latitude of the place are of the same or opposite kinds.
For the equator of the tide cuts the meridian in/"and
F. Therefore a place which moves in the parallel cf
lias high water when at c, and 12 lunar hours after¬
wards has low water when at f. And any place k
which is still nearer to the pole N has high water when
at /c, and 12 lunar hours afterwards has low water at
ni. Therefore, as the moon’s declination extends to
30°, all places farther north or south than the lati¬
tude 6o° will sometimes have only one tide in a lunar
day.
4. The sine of the arch GO, which measures Jtl> of
tbe difi’erence between the duration of a superior and
inferior tide, is = tan. lat. X tan. deck For in the
spherical triangle dOG
Rad. : cotan. dOG ~ tan. dG : sin. GO, and
Sin. GO —tan. t/OQ x tan. dG, — tan. deck x tan. lat.
Hence we see, that the difl’erence of tbe durations of
the superior and inferipr tides of tbe same day increase
both with the moon’s declination and with the latitude
of the place.
The different situations of the moon and of the place
of observation affect the heights of the tides no less re¬
markably. When the point D comes under the meri¬
dian NBQ in which the moon is situated, there is a
superior high water, and the height of the tide above
the low water of that day is CC'. W hen D is at L,
the height of the inferior tide is LLk The elevation
above the inscribed sphere is Mxcos.*y, y being the
zenith distance of the moon at the place of observation.
Therefore at high water, which by the theory is in the
place directly under the moon, the height of the tide is
as the square of the cosine of the moon’s zenith or nadir
distance.
Hence we derive a construction which solves all que¬
stions relating to the height of the tides with great fa¬
cility, free from all the intricacy and ambiguities of the
algebraic analysis employed by Bernoulli.
With the radius CQ—M (the elevation produced
by the moon above the inscribed sphere) describe the
circle />QPE (fig. 8.) to represent a meridian, of which
P and p are the poles, and EQ the equator. Bisect
CP in O ; and round O describe the circle PBCD.
Eet M be the place over which the moon is vertical, and
Z be the place of observation. MQ is the moon’s de¬
clination, and ZQ is the latitude of the place. Draw
MC tn, ZCN, cutting the small circle in A and B.
Draw AGI perpendicular to CP, and draw Gift, which
will cut off an arch E /t—QM. MZ and ft N are the
moon’s zenith and nadir distances. Draw the diameter
BD, and the perpendiculars IK, GH, and AF. Also
^raw OA, PA, AB, ID.
Th en DF is the superior tide, D.K is the inferior tiije,
and DH is the arithmetical mean tide.
For the angles BCA, BDA, standing on BA, are
equal. Abo the angles IDB, /«CN, are equal, being
J
supplements of the angle LCB. Therefore, If BD be
made radius, DA and D1 are the sines ot the zenith
and nadir distances of the moon.
But BD : DA — DA : DF. Therefore DF=:
M X cosi* y, = the height Z 55 of the superior tide.
Also DK=M * cos,*y', == the height n ri of the inte¬
rior tide.
Also, because IA is bisected in G, KF is bisected i|i
DK+DF
 —— , = the medium tide.
2
H, and DH =
Let us trace the relation of the consequences of the
various positions of Z and M, as we formerly consider¬
ed the results of the various situations of the sun agd
moon.
First, then, let Z retain its place, and let M gradual¬
ly approach it from the equator. When M is in the
equator, A and I coincide with C, and the three poin^
F, K, and H, coincide in i.
As M approaches to Z, A and I approach to B and
D ; DF increases, and DK diminishes. The superior
or inferior time is greatest when the moon is in M or
in N j and DF is then = M. As the moon passes to
to the northward of the place, the superior and inferior
tides both diminish till I comes to D j at which time
MQ is equal to ZP, and there is no inferior tide. This
however cannot happen if as P is greater than 30°, be¬
cause the moon never goes farther from the equator. M
still going north, we have again a perpendicular from I
on BD, but below I, indicating that the inferior tide,
now measured by DK, belongs to the hemispheroid
next the moon. Also, as M advances from the equator
northward, DH diminishes continually. First, while
H lies between O and B, because G approaches 0 j
and afterwards, when G is above O and H lies between
O and D. It is otherwise, however, if ZQ is greater
than 43" ; for then DB is inclined to EQ the other
wav, and DH increases as the point G rises.
In the next place, let M retain its position, aud Z
proceed along the meridian.
Let us begin at the equator, or suppose Q the place
of observation. BD then coincides with CP, and the
three lines DF, DK, and DH, all coincide with PC,
denoting the two equal tides Qy and Ee and their me¬
dium, equal to either. As Z goes northward from Q,
BOD detaches itself from COP; the line DF increases,
while DK and DH diminish. When Z has come tp
M, F and B coincide with A, and DK and DH are still
more diminished. When Z passes M, all the three
lines DF, DK, and DH, continue to diminish. When
Z comes to latitude 45*, DB is parallel to IA and
EQ, and the point H coincides with O. This situa¬
tion of Z has the peculiar property that DH (now DO)
is the same, whatever be the declination of the moon.
For IA being always parallel to DB, OK and Of wi
he equal, and DO will he half of DK and DF, how¬
ever they may vary. When Z gets so far north t?at
ZB is rr MQ, the diameter b d falls on I; so that a
vanishes, and we have only df. And when Z gQ^s
still farther north, dk appears on the other side 01 ■
When Z arrives at the pole, BD again coincides wit
PC, D with C, and DF, DK, and DH, coincide With
CG. ’ . .
These variations of the points I , K, and H> ipd*ca-,e
the following jdienomemi.
T I D
id?. I* The greatest tides happen when the moon is in the
t_ y—'zenith or nadir of the place of observation j for then
the point E coincides with A, and DF becomes DB j
that is, = M, indicating the full tide BE'*
2. When the moon is in the equator, the superior and
inferior tides have equal heights, =r M • cos.* lat. For
then A and I coincide with C, and the points Fand K
coincide in i, and D i is rrDB • cos.* BDC, =M • cos *
lat.
3. If the place of observation is in the equator, the
inferior and superior tides are again equal, whatever is
the moon’s declination : For then B coincides with C,
and the points F, K, and H, coincide with G j and PG
XPF ‘ cos.* APG, ~ M * cos.2 decl. moon.
4. The superior tides are greater or less than the in-
feiior tides according as the latitude and declination are
of the same or of opposite names. For by making Q £
— QZ, and drawing £ C n, cutting the small circle in /3,
we see that the figure is reversed. The difference be¬
tween the superior and inferior tides is KF, or IAx
cosin. of the angle formed by IA and J)B ; that is, of
the angle B13 5, which is the complement of twice
ZQ; because BOC = 2 ZCQ. Now IA is 2 G A,
=r 2 OA - sin. 2 MQ — PC • sin. 2 MQ, = M. * sin.
2 decl. Therefore the difference of the superior and
inferior tides is M • sin. 2 declin. sin. 2 lat.
5. If the colatitude be equal to the declination, or less
than it, there will be no inferior tide, or no superior tide,
according as the latitude of the place and declination of
the moon are of the same or opposite names.
For when PZ = MQ, D coincide with I, and IK
vanishes. W hen I Z is less than MQ, the point 1) is
between C and I, and the point Z never passes through
the equator of the watery spheroid ; and the low water of
its only tide is really the summit of the inferior tide.
6. At the pole there is no daily tide : but there are
two monthly tides ~M • sin.* declin. and it is low wa¬
ter when the moon is in the equator.
7- The medium tide, respresented by DH, is —M X
i-J-cos. 2 lat. X cos. 2 declin.   
    I orDIirrDO + OIT.
Now OH is equal to OG X cos. GOH=:OG • cos. 2ZQ.
And OGrrOA • cos. GOA, =OA • cos. 2.MQ. There¬
fore OH=OA • cos. 2ZQ • cos. 2MQ, Therefore DIT
—OA-fOA • cos. 2ZQ • COS. 2MQ —
I +COS. 2ZQ • COS. 2MQ
I   . Let this for the fu-
C 433 1
T I D
creases or diminishes while the point G separates from Tide.
C according as the angle COD is greater or less than 1 /—*
CQL> 5 that is, according as PCZ is greater or less than
ZCQ.
4. M hen Z is in the equator, H coincides with G, and
the effect of the moon’s declination on the height of the
tides is the most sensible. The mean tide is then — M
I -f-cos. 2 MQ
2
All that we have now said may be said of the solar-
tide, putting S in place of M.
T» r^'o°.^ie Same thin§s true of spring tides, putting
M-f-S in place of M.
But in order to ascertain the effects of declination and
latitude on other tides, we must make a much more
complicated construction, even though we suppose both
luminaries in the ecliptic, ior in this case the two de-
pressed poles of the watery spheroid are not in the poles
of the earth ; and therefore tiie sections of the ocean
made by meridians, are by means ellipses.
In a neap tide, the moon is vertical at B (fig. 7. or 8.) Fig. 7. or 1
and the sun at some point of/F, 900 from B. Iff) be
this point, the construction for the heights of the tides
may be made by adding to both the superior and inferior-
tides for any point D, the quantity M-{-S D'I' or DK
X sin.* dOy~ M-fb-lTId; X —as is evi¬
dent.
MQ’
fare be called m.
Ihe moon’s declination never exceeds 30°.
be re fore cos. 2MQ is always a positive quantity, and
never less than 4, which is the cosine of 6o°. While
he latitude is less than 45°, cos. 2 lat. is also a posi-
.»e quantity. Wl,c„ it i. preciaely 45°, the c„Je of accuse, v“iv ob p ^ “d, Isf hkf T*
But if the sun be vertical at J, d will be the highest
part ot the circle/Of, and no correction is necessary.
But in this case the circle of high water will be inclined
to the meridian in an angle equal tor/BO (fig. 7.), and
neither the times nor elevations of high water will be
properly ascertained, and the error in time may be con¬
siderable in high latitudes.
. ,The inaccuracies are not so great in intermediate
tides and respect chiefly the time of high water and the
height of low water.
I he exact computation is very tedious and peculiar,
so that it is hardly possible to give any account of a re¬
gular progress of phenomena; and all we can do is, to
a‘•certain the precise heights of detached points. For
which reasons, we must content ourselves with the con¬
struction already given. It is the exact geometrical
expression of Bernoulli’s analysis, and its consequences
now related contain all that he has investigated. We
may accommodate it very nearly to the real state of
things, by supposing PC equal, not to CO of fig. 4. but
to MS, exhibiting the whole compound tide. And the
point B, instead of representing the moon’s place, must
represent the place of high water.
Ihus have we obtained a general, though not very
/-Ml 1*0 f ^ ir'mwtr /-»F f L ~ ~ I  1-1 ° _ J
sine of its double is negative. ''Hence we see",
I" ^le medium tides are equally affected by the
northern ant^ southern declinations of the moon.
• 2: lai.ltllde, °/ t.,le P,ace is 45°, the medium tide
,1 a 'vays M- This is the reason why the tides alone*
>e coasts 0t France and Spain are so little affected by
16 declination of the moon.
3- If the latitude is less than 450, the mean tides in-
ease as the moon’s declination diminishes. The con-
wary happens if ZQ is greater than 45°. For DH in-
,V«L. A A. Part.IJ. j
sun and moon, provided that the physical theory which
determines the form and position of the watery snheroid
be just. We have only to compute, by a v^simple
process of spherical trigonometry, the place of the pole
of this spheroid. The second construction, in fig. 8.
shows us all the circumstances of the time and height of
high water at any point. It will be recollected, that in
computing this place of the pole, the anticipation of 20
degrees, arising from the inertia of the waters, must be
attended to.
3 I Were.
I D
,~.j .— t,~ -t > c^iaRges corre-
spoiulinfr botli to the sun’s distance from the earth and
his declination agreed almost exactly.
All these things considered together, we have abun¬
dant reason to conclude, that not only the theory itself
is just in principle (a thing which no intelligent natura¬
list can doubt), but also that the data which are assumed
in the application are properly chosen j that is, that the
proportion of two to five is very nearly the true propor¬
tion of the mean solar and lunar forces. If we now
compute the medium tide for any place in succession,
from spring tide to neap tide, and still more, if we
compute the series of times of their occurrence, we
shall find as great an agreement as can be desired.
Not hut that there are many irregularities ; but these
are evidently so anomalous, that we cun ascribe them
to nothing hut circumstances which are purely local.
This general rule of computation must be formed in
the following manner:
The spring tide, according to theory, being called A,
and the neap tide B, recollect that the springtide, ac-
coiding to the regular theory, is measured by M + S.
Recollect also, that when the lunar tide only is consider¬
ed the superior spring tide is M X sin.1, ZM (fig. 8.).
But when we consider the action ol two adjoining tides
on each other, we find it sater to take the medium of
the superior and inferior tides for the measure j and this
i -}-cos.2 2 ZQ X cos. 2MQ
is M X —
T I D [ 43+ ' ] . T
Were we to institute a comparison of this theory with of a very large spring tide,
observation, without farther consideration, we should
still find it unfavourable, partly in respect of the heights
of the tides, and more remarkably in respect ol the time
of low water. We must again consider the effects of
the inertia of the waters, and recollect, that a regular
theoretical tide differs very little in its progress from the
motion of a wave. Even along the free ocean, its mo¬
tion much resembles that of any other wave. All waves
are propagated by an oscillatory motion of the waters,
precisely similar to that of a pendulum. It is well
known, that if a pendulum receive a small impulse in
the time of every descent, its vibrations may be increas¬
ed to infinity. Did the successive actions of the sun or
moon just keep time with the natural propagation ot the
tides, or the natural oscillations of the waters, the tides
would also augment to infinity : But there is an infinite
odds against this exact adjustment. It is much more
probable that the action of to-day interrupts or checks
the oscillation produced by yesterday’s action, and that
the motion which we perceive in this day’s tide is what
remains, and is compounded with the action of to-day.
This being the case, we should expect that the nature
of any tide will depend much on the nature of the pre¬
ceding tide. Therefore we should expect that the supe¬
rior and inferior tides of the same day will be more near¬
ly equal than the theory determines. The whole course
of observation confirms this. In latitude 45 ’ ^ie suPe“
rior and inferior tides of one day may differ in the pro¬
portion of 2i to i, and the tides corresponding to the
greatest and least declinations of the moon may differ
nearly as much. But the difference of the superior and
inferior tides, as they occur in the list or Observations
at Rochefort, is not the third part of this, and the
changes made by the moon’s declination is not above
one-half. Therefore we shall come much nearer the
true measure of a spring tide, by taking the arith¬
metical mean, than by taking either the superior or
inferior.
We should expect less deviation from the theory in
the gradual diminution of the tides from spring tide to
neap tide, and in the gradual changes of the medium
tide by the declination of the moon *, because the suc¬
cessive changes are very small; and when they change
in kind, that is, diminish after having for some time
augmented, the change is by insensible degrees. This
is most accurately confirmed by observation. The vast
collection made liy Cassini of the observations at Brest
being examined by Bernoulli, and the medium of the
two tides in one day being taken for the tide ot that
day, he found such an agreement between the pro¬
gression of these medium tides and the progression of
the lines MS of fig. 4. that the one seemed to be
calculated by the other. He found no less agreement
in the changes of the medium tide by the moon’s de¬
clination.
. In like manner, the changes produced by the differ¬
ent distances of the moon from the earth, were found
abundantly conformable to the theory, although not so
exact as the other. This difference or inferiority is easily
accounted for: When the moon changes in her mean
di-dance, one of the neap tides is uncommonly small,
and therefore the successive diminutions are very great,
and one tide sensibly affects another. The same circum¬
stance operates when she changes in apogee, by reason
Let this be call¬
ed m. This being totally the effect of M as modified
by latitude and declination, may be taken as its pro¬
per measure, by which we are to calculate the other
tides of the monthly series from spring tide to neap
tide.
in like manner, we must compute a value for S, as
modified by declination and latitude j call this s. Hien
say,
m -l-s
M-f-S : Airm-f s : A X
This fourth proportional will give the spring tide as
modified for the given declination ot the luminaries, and
the latitude of the place.
Now recollect, that the medium tide, when the lumi¬
naries are in the equator, is A X cos.1 lat. Therefore
let F be the spring tide observed at any place when the
luminaries are in the equator j and let this be the me
dium of a great many observations made in these cir¬
cumstances. This gives A * cos. 1 la', (as modified by
the peculiar circumstances of the place) =rF. 1 iere
fore the fourth proportional now given changes to I X
And a similar substitute for B is G
M-{-S*cos.
VI .v
‘ lat.
M—S* cos.2 lat.
Lastly, To accommodate our formulae to every
stance of the earth from the sun and moon, let D and
be the mean distances of the sun and moon, and d&w
their distances at the given time j and then the two su *
stitutes become
A3 r/3 M -f P D3 S
^(M+S)
A3 d* M—P D3 S
r/3 P (M—S)
X F X
X Gx
m+s
lat.
(M-fS)cos.
T7l-\-S
(M—S) cos.2 lat
The
TIB t 435 ] T I i)
;je. The half sum of these two quantities will he the MC,
—'and their half difference will be the SC, of fig. 4. vvith
which we may now operate, in order to find the tide for
any other uay of the menstrual series, by means of the
elongation a of the moon from the sun ; that is, we must
say MC-f-CS : MC—CS=:tan. a : tan. b; then x~
-I—-, ant^ y——MS, the height of the tide,
isMCxcos. 2 y-f-CS x cos. 2x.
Such is the general theory of the tides, deduced from
the principle of universal gravitation, and adjusted to
that proportion of the solar and lunar forces which is
most consistent with other celestial phenomena. The
comparison of the greatest and least daily retardations of
the tides was with great judgment preferred to the pro¬
portion of spring and neap tides, selected by Sir Isaac
Ntwton for this purpose. This proportion must depend
on many local circumstances. When a wave or tide
comes to the mouths of two rivers, and sends a tide up
each, and another tide of half the magnitude comes a
fortnight after ; the proportion of tides sent up to any
given places of these rivers may be extremely different.
Nay, the proportion of tides sent up to two distant
places of the same river can hardly be the same j nor
are they the same in any river that we know. It can
he demonstrated, in the strictest manner, that the farther
we go up the river, where the declivity is greater, the
neap tide will be smaller in proportion to the spring
tide. But it does not appear that the time of succession
of the different tides will be much affected by loyal cir¬
cumstances. The tide of the second day of the moon
being very little less than that of the first, will be near¬
ly as much retarded, and the intervals between their
arrivals cannot he very different from the real intervals
of the undisturbed tides; accordingly, the succession of
the highest to the highest but one is found to be the
same in all places, when not disturbed by different winds.
In like manner the succession of the lowest and the
lowest but one is found equally invariable ; and the
highest and the lowest tides observed in any place must
be accounted the spring and neap tides of that place,
whether they happen on the day of full and half moon
or not. Nay, we can see here the explanation of a ge¬
neral deviation of the theory which we formerly no¬
ticed. A low tide, being less able to overcome ob¬
structions, will be sooner stopped, and the neap tides
should happen a little earlier than by the undisturbed
theory.
J With all these corrections, the theory now delivered
will be found to correspond with observation, with all
the exactness that we can reasonably expect. We had
an opportunity of comparing it with the phenomena in
a place where they are very singular, viz. in the harbour
ef Bissestedt in Iceland. The equator of the watery
spheroid frequently passes through the neighbourhood
of this place, in a variety of positions with respect to its
parallel of diurnal revolution, and the diflerences of su¬
perior and interior tides are most remarkable and va¬
rious. W7e found a wonderful conformity to the most
diversified circumstances of the theory.
there is a period of 18 years, respecting the tides in
celand, taken notice of by the ancient Saxons ; but
is not distinctly described. Now this is the period
0 Inoon,s nodes, and of the greatest and least incli¬
nation of her orbit to the equator. It is therefore the
period of the positions of the equator of the tides
which ranges round this island, and very sensibly affects
them.
Hitherto we have supposed the tides to be formed on
an ocean completely covering the earth. Let us see
how those may be determined which happen in a small
and confined sea, such as the Caspian or the Black sea.
The determination in this case is very simple. As no
supply of water is supposed to come into the bason, it is
susceptible of a tide only by sinking at one end and ri¬
sing at the other. This may be illustrated by fig. 6.
where C s, C y, are two perpendicular planes bounding
a small portion of the natural ocean. The water will
sink at 2; and rise at x, and form a surface 0 t r parallel
to the equilibrated surface ijs. It is evident that there
will be high water, or the greatest possible rise, at r,
when the bason comes to that position where the tan¬
gent is most of all inclined to the diameter. This will
be when the angle f CB is 45° nearly, and therefore
three lunar hours after the moon’s southing; at the same
time, it will be low water at the other end. It is plain
that the rise and fall must he exceedingly small, and that
there will he no change in the middle. The tides of
this kind in the Caspian sea, in latitude 450, whose ex¬
tent in longitude, does not exceed eight degrees are not
above seven inches ; a quantity so small, that a slight
breeze of wind is sufficient to check it, and even topio-
duce a rise of the waters in the opposite direction. We
have not met with any accounts of a tide being observed
in this sea.
It should be much greater, though still very small, in
the Mediterranean sea. Accordingly, tides are observed
there, but still more remarkably in’tbe Adriatic, for a
reason which will be given by and by. We do not
know that tides have been observed in the great lakes
of North America. These tides, though small, should
be very regular.
Should there be another great bason in the neigh¬
bourhood oi %x, lying east or west of it, we should ob¬
serve a curious phenomenon. It would be low water
on one side of the shore » when it is high water on the
other side of this partition. If the tides in the Euxine
and Caspian seas, or in the American lakes which are
near each other could be observed, this phenomenon
should appear, and would be one of the prettiest exam¬
ples of universal gravitation that can be conceived.
Something like it is to be seen at Gibraltar. It is high
water on the east side of the rock about 10 o’clock at
full and change, and it is high water on the west sidq
not a mile distant, at 12. This difference is perhaps
the chief cause of the singular current which is observed
in the straits mouth. There are three currents observ¬
ed at the same time which change their directions
eveiy 12 hours. Hie small tide of the Mediterranean
proceeds along the Barbary shore, which is very uni¬
form all the way from Egypt, with tolerable regularity,
But along the northern side, where it is greatly ob¬
structed by Italy, the islands, and the east coast of
Spain, it sets very irregularly ; and the perceptible high
water on the Spanish coast differs four hours from that
of the southern coast. Thus it happens, that one tide
ranges round Europa point, and another along the shore
near Ceuta, and there is a third current in the middle
different from both. Its general direction is from the
3 * 2 Atlantic
TIB [ 436 ] TIB
Tide. Atlantic ocean into the Mediterranean sea, but it sorae-
—v—' •' times comes out when the ebb tide in the Atlantic is
considerable.
Suppose the moon over the middle of the Mediter¬
ranean. The surface of the sea will be level, and it will
be half tide at both ends, and therefore within the
Straits of Gibraltar. But without the Straits it is with¬
in half an hour of high water. Therefore there will be
a current setting in from the Atlantic. About three
and a half hours after, it is high water within and half
ebb without. The current now sets out from the Me¬
diterranean. Three hours later, it is low water with¬
out the Straits and half ebb within ; therefore the cur¬
rent has been setting out all this while. Three hours
later, it is half flood without the Straits and low water
within, and the current is again setting in, &c.
Were the earth fluid to the centre, the only sensible
motion of the waters would be up and down, like the
waves on the open ocean, which are not brushed along
by strong gales. But the shallowness of the channel
makes a horizontal motion necessary, that water may be
supplied to form the accumulation of the tide. When
this is formed on a flat shelving coast, the water must
flow in and out, on the flats and sands, while it rises
and falls. These horizontal motions must he greatly
modified by the channel or bed along which they move.
When the channel contracts along the line of flowing
water, the wave, as it moves up the channel, and is
checked by the narrowing shores, must be reflected
back, and keep a-top of the waters still flowing in un¬
derneath. Thus it may rise higher in these narrow seas
than in the open ocean. This may serve to explain a
little the great tides which happen on some coasts, such
as the coast of Normandy. At St Malo the flood fre¬
quently rises 50 feet. But we cannot give any thing
like a full or satisfactory account of these singularities.
In the bay of Fundy, and particularly at Annapolis
Royal, the water sometimes rises above 100 feet. This
asems quite inexplicable by any force of the Sun and
moon, which cannot raise the waters of the free ocean
more than eight feet. These great floods are unquestion¬
ably owing to the proper timing of certain oscillations
or currents adjoining, by which they unite, and form
one of great force. Such violent motions of wrater are
frequently seen on a small scale in the motions of brooks
and rivers *, but we are too little acquainted with hy¬
draulics to explain them with any precision.
We have seen that there is an oscillation of waters
formed under the sun and moon $ and that in conse¬
quence of the rotation of the earth, the inertia and the
want of perfect fluidity of the waters, and obstructions
in tbe channel, this accumulation never reaches the
place where it would finally settle if the earth did not
turn round its axis. The consequence of this must be a
general current of the waters from east to west. This
may be seen in another way. The moon in her orbit
round the earth has her gravity to the earth diminished
by the sun’s disturbing force, and therefore moves in an
orbit less incurvated than she would describe independent
of the sun’s action. She therefore employs a longer
time. If the moon were so near the earth as almost to
touch it, the same thing would happen. Therefore sup¬
pose the moon turning round the earth, almost in con¬
tact with the equator, with her natural undisturbed pe-
2
riodic time, and that the earth is revolving round its Tide
axis in the same time, the moon would remain continu-y
ally above the same spot of the earth’s surface (suppose
the city of Quito), and a spectator in another planet
would see the moon always covering the same spot. Now
let the sun act. This will not afl’ect the rotation of the
earth, because the action on one part is exactly balanced
by the action on another. But it will affect the moon.
It will move more slowly round the earth’s centre, and
at a greater distance. It will be left behind by the city
of Quito, which it formerly covered. And as the earth
moves round from west to east, the moon, moving more
slowly, will have a motion to the wTest with respect to
Quito. In like manner, every particle of water has its
gravity diminished, and its diurnal motion retarded j
and hence arises a general motion or current from east
to west. This is very distinctly perceived in the At¬
lantic and Pacific oceans. It comes round the Cape of
Good Hope, ranges along the coast of Africa, and then
sets directly over to America, where it meets a similar
stream w hich comes in by the north of Europe. Meet¬
ing the shores of America, it is deflected both to the
south along the coast of Brazil, and to the north along
the North American shores, where it forms what is call¬
ed the Guff Stream, because it comes from the gulf of
Mexico. This motion is indeed very slow, this being
sufficient for the accumulation of seven or eight feet on
the deep ocean ; but it is not altogether insensible.
We may expect differences in the appearances on the
western shores of Europe and Africa, and on the western
shore of America, from the appearances on the eastern
coasts of America and of Asia, for the general current
obstructs the waters from the western shores, and sends
them to the eastern shores. Also when we compare the
wide opening of the northern extremity of the Atlantic
ocean with the narrow opening between Kamtschatka
and America, we should expect differences between the
appearances on the west coasts of Europe and ot Ame¬
rica. The observations made during the circumnaviga¬
tions of Captain Cook and others show a remarkable
difference. All along the west coast of North America
the inferior tide is very trifling, and frequently is not
perceived.
In the very same manner, the disturbing forces of the
sun and moon form a tide in the fluid air which sur¬
rounds this globe, consisting of an elevation and de¬
pression, which moves gradually from east to west. Nei¬
ther does this tide ever attain that position with respect
to the disturbing planets which it would do were the
earth at rest on its axis. Hence arises a motion of the
whole air from east to west; and this is the principal
cause of the trade-winds. They are a little accelerated
by being heated, and therefore expanding. They ex¬
pand more to the westward than in the opposite direc¬
tion, because the air expands on that side into air which
is now cooling and contracting. These winds very evi¬
dently follow the sun’s motion, tending more to the ,
south or north as he goes south or north. Were this
motion considerably affected by the expansion of heated
air, we should find the air rather coming northward and
southward from the torrid zone, in consequence of its
expansion in that climate. We repeat it, it is almost
solely produced by the aerial tide, and is necessary for
the very formation of this tide. We cannot perceive
the accumulation. It cannot affect the barometer, as
many
TIB [ 437 ] TIL
many think, because, though the air becomes deeper, it
becomes deeper only when it is made lighter by the
gravitation to the sun. Instead of pressing more on the
cistern of the barometer, we imagine that it presses less j
because, like the ocean, it never attains the height to
which it tends. It remains always too low for equili¬
brium, and therefore it should press with less force on
the cistern of a barometer.
There is an appearance precisely similar to this in the
planet Jupiter. He is surrounded by an atmosphere
which is arranged in zones or belts, probably owing to
climate diflerences of the dilFerent latitudes, by which
each seems to have a different kind of sky. Something
like this will appear to a spectator in the moon looking
at this earth. The general weather and appearance of
the sky is considerably difl'erent in the torrid and tem¬
perate zones. Jupiter’s belts are not of a constant shape
and colour $ but there often appear large spots or tracts
of cloud, which retain their shape during several revo¬
lutions of Jupiter round his axis. To judge of his rota¬
tion by one of these, we should say that he turns round
in 9.55. There is also a brighter spot which is fre¬
quently seen, occupying one certain situation on the
body of Jupiter. This is surely adherent to his body,
and is either a bright-coloured country, or perhaps a
tract of clouds hovering over some volcano. This spot
turns round in 9.5 i^. And thus there is a general cur¬
rent in his atmosphere from east to west.
Both the motion of the air and of the water tend to
diminish the rotation of the earth round its axis j for
they move slower than the earth, because they are re¬
tarded by the luminaries. They must communicate this
retardation to the earth, and must take from it a quan-
tky of motion precisely equal to what they want, in or¬
der tq make up the equilibrated tide. In all probability
this retardation is compensated by other causes 3 for no
retardation can be observed. This would have altered
the length of the year since the time of Hipparchus,
giving it a smaller number of days. We see causes of
compensation. The continual washing down of soil from
the elevated parts of the earth must produce this effect,
by communicating to the valley on which it is brought
to rest the excess of diurnal velocity which it had on the
mountain top.
While we were employed on this article, a book was
put into our hands called Studies oj Nature, by a Mr
Saint Pierre. This author scouts the Newtonian theory
of the tides, as erroneous in principle, and as quite in¬
sufficient for explaining the phenomena; and he ascribes
all phenomena of the tides to the liquefaction of the ices
and snows of the circumpolar regions, and the greater
length of tiie polar than of the equatorial axis of the
earth. He is a man of whom we wish to speak with re¬
spect, for his constant attention to final causes, and the
proof thence resulting of the wisdom and goodness of
God. For this he is entitled to the greater praise, that
it required no small degree of fortitude to resist the in¬
fluence of national example, and to retain his piety in
the midst of a people who have drunk the very dregs of
the atheism of ancient Greece. This is a species of merit
rarely to be met with in a Frenchman of the present
day 3 but as a philosopher, M. de St Pierre can lay
claim to no other merit except that of having collected
many important facts. The argument which , he em¬
ploys to prove that the earth is a prolate spheroid, is a
direct demonstration of the truth of the contrary opi¬
nion ; and the melting of the ice and snows at the poles
cannot produce the smallest motion in the waters. Were
there even ten times more ice and snow floating on the
northern sea than there is, and were it all to melt in
one minute, there would be no flux from it; for it
would only fill up the space which it formerly occupied
in the water. Of this any person will be convinced,
who shall put a handful of snow squeezed hard into a
jar of water, and note the exact height of the water.
Let the snow melt, and he will find the water of the
same height as before.
Tide-Waiters, or Tidesmen, are inferior officers be¬
longing to the customhouse, whose employment is to
watch or attend upon ships until the customs be paid :
they get this name from their going on board ships on
their arrival in the mouth of the Thames or other ports,
and so come up with the tide.
TIEN I) in Scots Law. See Teind.
IIERCE, or Ieirce, a measure of liquid things, as
wine, oil, &c. containing the third part of a pipe, or 42
gallons.
TIERCED, in Heraldry, denotes the shield to be
divided by any part of the partition lines, as party,
coupy, trancliy, or tailly, into three equal parts of dif¬
ferent colours or metals.
TIGER. See Eelis, Mammalia Index.
TiGER-Wof the name of the hytena at the Cape of
Good Hope. See Canis, Mammalia Index.
TIGRIS, a river of Asia, which lias its source near
that of the Euphrates in the mountain Tchildirin Tur-
komania : afterwards it separates Diarbeck fromErze-
rum, and Jvhusistan from Irac-Arabia3 and uniting with
the Euphrates at Gorno, it falls into the gulf of Bas-
soiah, under the name of Sc/iat el-Arab. This river
passes by Diarbekir, Gezira, Mousul, Bagdad, Gorno,
and Bassorah.
TIE! A, Lime or Linden tree, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of polyandria 3 and in the natural
system ranging under the Columniferce. See Botany
Index.
TILLEMONT, Sebastian le Nain de. See
Nain.
J ILLER of a Ship, a strong piece of wood fasten¬
ed in the head of the rudder, and in small ships and
boats called the helm.
TILLOEA, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of tetrandria 3 and in the natural system ranging under
the 13th order, Succulentee. See Botany Index.
TILLOTSON, John, a celebrated archbishop of
Canterbury, was the son of Robert Tillotson of Sower-
by, in the parish of Halifax in Yorkshire, clothier J
and was born there in the year 1630. He studied in
Clare-hall, Cambridge 3 and in 1656 left this college,
in order to become tutor to the son of Edmund Pri-
deaux, Esq. of Ford abbey in Devonshire. He was
afterwaids curate to Dr Hacket, vicar of Cheshunt, in
Hertfordshire. In 1663 he was presented by Sir Tho¬
mas Barnardiston to the rectory of Ketton or Kedding-
ton in the county of Suffolk 3 but was the next year
chosen preacher to Lincoln’s Inn, when he procured
Ketton to be bestowed on his curate. He was greatly
admired in London for his sermons 3 and in the same
year was chosen Tuesday-leeturer at St Lawrence’s
church, London, where his lectures were frequented by
all
TIM [ 438 ] TIM
Tillotson all the divines of the city, and by many persons of qua¬
il lity and distinction. In 1666, he took the degree oi
Time. Doctor of Divinity at Cambridge ; in 1669, was made
1 prebendary of Canterbury j in 1672, was admitted dean
of that cathedral j and three years after, was made a
prebendary of St Paul’s cathedral, London. In 1679,
he became acquainted with Charles earl ol Shrewsbury,
whom he converted from Popery; and the next year
refused to sign the clergy ot London’s address ot thanks
to King Charles II. for not agreeing to the bill of ex¬
clusion of the duke of York. In 1683, he visited the
unfortunate Lord Kussel when under condemnation ; and
attended him in his last moments on the scaffold. In
1689, he was installed dean of St Paul’s ; made clerk of
the closet to King William and Queen Mary 5 and ap¬
pointed one of the commissioners to prepare matters to
be laid before the convocation, in order to a compre¬
hension of all Protestants, as well dissenters as church¬
men ; but this attempt was frustrated by the z.eal of
those members of that body, who refused to admit of
any alteration in things confessedly indifferent. In 1691,
Dr Tillotson was, notwithstanding the warmest remon¬
strances and intreaties on his part, consecrated archbi¬
shop of Canterbury, and four days after was sworn one
of the privy council j their majesties always reposing an
entire confidence in his prudence, moderation, and in¬
tegrity. In 1694, he was seized with a palsy, of which
he died in the 65th year of his age. He was interred
in the church of St Lawrence Jewry, London, where a
handsome monument is erected to his memory. This
learned and pious divine, while living, was greatly in¬
veighed against by the enemies of the revolution. Af¬
ter his death there was found a bundle of hitter libels
which had been published against him, on which he had
written with his own hand, “ I forgive the authors of
these books, and pray God that he may also forgive
them.” It is remarkable, that while this truly great
man was in a private station, he always laid aside two-
tenths of his income for charitable uses. One volume
in folio of Dr Tillotson’s sermons was published in his
life-time, and corrected by his own hand ; they were
translated into French by Barbeyrac. Those which came
abroad after his death, from his chaplain Dr Barker,
made two volumes in folio, the copy of which was sold
for 2500I. This was the only legacy he left to his fa¬
mily, his extensive charity having consumed his yearly
revenues as constantly as they came to his hands. King
William, however, gave two grants to his widow ; the
first of which was an annuity of 400I. during the term
of her natural life, and the second of 200I. as an addi¬
tion to the former annuity. Dr Tillotson wrote some
other works besides his Sermons •, and also published
Dr Barrow’s works, and Dr Wilkin’s Treatise of the
Principles and Duties of Natural Religion, and a vo¬
lume of that divine’s Sermons.
TIMBER, wood fit for building, &c. See Tree,
and Strength of Materials.
TIMBERS, the ribs of a ship, or the incurvated
pieces of wood, branching outward from the keel in a
vertical direction, so as to give strength, figure, and so¬
lidity, to the whole fabric. See Ship-building, book i.
chap. ii.
* TIME, a succession of phenomena in the universe,
«r a mode of .duration marked by certain periods or
1
measures, chiefly by the motion and revolution of the T;m?
sun, [j
The general idea which time gives in every thing to Timon,
which it is applied, is that of limited duration. Thus W“'r’
wre cannot say of the Deity, that he exists in time; be¬
cause eternity, which he inhabits, is absolutely uniform,
neither admitting limitation nor succession. See Me¬
taphysics, N° 209.
Time, in Music, is an affection of sound, by which
it is said to be long or short, with regard to its continu¬
ance in the same tone or degree of tune.
Musical time is distinguished into common or duple
time, and triple time.
Double, duple, or common time, is when the notes
are in a duple duration of each other, viz. a semibreve
equal to two minims, a minim to twro crotchets, a
crotchet to two quavers, &c.
Common or double time is of two kinds. The first
when every bar or measure is equal to a semibreve, or
its value in any combination of notes of a less quantity.
The second is where every bar is equal to a minim, or
its value in less notes. The movements of this kind of
measure are various, but there are three common dis¬
tinctions ; the first slow, denoted at the beginning of
the line by the mark j the second brisk, marked
thus ; and the third very brisk, thus marked
Triple time is when the durations of the notes are
triple of each other, that is, when the semibreve is equal
to three minims, the minim to three crotchets, &c. and
it is marked T.
TiME-Keepers, or Instruments for measuring Time.
See Clock, Dial, Watch, &c.
Harrison's Time-Keeper. See Harrison and Lon¬
gitude.
TIMOLEON, a celebrated Corinthian general, who
restored the Syracusans to their liberty, and drove the
Carthaginians out of Sicily. See Syracuse, N° 50—
J4- . . „ , .
TIMON the Sceptic, who is not to be confounded
with Timon the Misanthrope, was a Phliasian, a disciple
of Pyrrho, and lived in the time of Ptolemy Philadel-
phus. He took so little pains to invite disciples to his
school, that it has been said of him, that as the Scy¬
thians shot flying, Timon gained pupils by running from
them. He was fond of rural retirement •, and was so
much addicted to wine, that he had a successful contest
with several celebrated champions in drinking. Like
Lucian, he wrote with sarcastic humour against the
w'hole body of philosophers. The fragments of his sati¬
rical poem Silli, often quoted by the ancients, have
been carefully collected by Henry Stephens in his Poests
P/iilosophica. Timon lived to the age of 90 years.
Timon, surnamed Misanthropes, or the Man-hater, a
famous Athenian, who lived about 420 B. C. He was
one day asked, why he loved the young Alcibiades
while he detested all the rest of the human race f on
which he replied, “ It is because I foresee that he will
be the ruin of the Athenians.” He carefully avoided
all sorts ot company ; yet went one day to an assembly
of the people, and cried with a loud voice, “ That he
had a fig-tree on which several persons had hanged
themselves;
TIM [ <
o(i themselves hut as he intended to cut it down, in order
I to build a house on the place where it stood, he gave
Itheus. them notice of it, that if any of them had a mind to
hang themselves, they must make haste and do it spee¬
dily.” He had an epitaph engraved on his tomb, filled
with imprecations against those who read it. Shake¬
speare has formed a tragedy on his story.
TIMOR, an island of Asia, in the East Indian sea,
to the south of the Moluccas, and to the east of the
island of Java, being 150 miles in length, and 37 in
breadth. It abounds in sandal-wood, wax and honey j
and the Dutch have a fort here. The inhabitants
are Pagans, and are little better than savages ; and
some pretend they had not the use of fire many years
ago.
TIMOTHEUS, one of the most celebrated poet-mu¬
sicians of antiquity, rvas born at Miletus, an Ionian city
ofCaria, 446 years B.C. He was contemporary with
Philip of Macedon and Euripides j and not only ex¬
celled in lyric and dithyrambic poetry, but in his per¬
formance upon the cithara. According to Pausanias,
he perfected that instrument by the addition of four
new strings to the seven which it had before ; though
Suidas says it had nine before, and that Timotheus only
added two, the 10th and nth, to that number. See
Lyre.
With respect to the number of strings upon the lyre
of Timotheus : The account of Pausanias and Suidas is
confirmed in the famous senatus-consultum against him,
still extant, preserved at full length in Boethius. Mr
Stillingfleet has given an extract from it, in proof of the
simplicity of the ancient Spartan music. The fact is
mentioned in Athenaeus ; and Casaubon, in his notes
upon that author, has inserted the whole original text
from Boethius, with corrections. The following is a
faithful translation of this extraordinary Spartan act of
parliament. “ Whereas Timotheus the Milesian, com¬
ing to our city, has dishonoured our ancient music, and,
despising the lyre of seven strings, has, by the introduc¬
tion of a greater variety of notes, corrupted the ears of
our youth ; and by the number of his strings, and the
novelty of his melody, has given to our music an effe¬
minate and artificial dress, instead of the plain and order¬
ly one in which it has hitherto appeared -, rendering me¬
lody infamous, by composing in the chromatic instead of
the enharmonic : The kings and
the ephori have therefore resolved to pass censure upon
Timotheus for these things : and, farther, to oblige him
to cut all the superfluous strings of his eleven, leaving
only the seven tones ; and to banish him from our city j
that men may be warned for the future not to introduce
mto Sparta any unbecoming custom.”^  
The same story, as related in Athenoeus, has this ad¬
ditional circumstance, That when the public executioner
Was on the point of fulfilling the sentence, by cutting off
the new strings, Timotheus, perceiving a little statue in
the someplace, with a lyre in his hand of as many strings
as that which had given the offence, and showing it to
the judges, was acquitted.
It appears from Suidas, that the poetical and musical
compositions of Timotheus were very numerous, and of
■various kinds. He attributes to him 19 nomes, or can¬
ticles, in hexameters ; 36 proems, or preludes ; 18 dithy-
rambics ; 21 hymns ; the poem in praise of Diana ; one
panegyric j three tragedies, the Bersinns, Phinidas, and
39 ] TIP
Laertes; to which must be added a fourth, mentionedTiniotWus
by several ancient authors, called Niche, without forget- !!
ting the poem on the birth of Bacchus. Stephen of ^'ppcrary«
Byzantium makes him author of 18 hooks of nomes, v
or airs, for the cithara, to 80CO verses ; and of IOOO
Il£soytc<5«, or preludes, for the nomes of the flutes.
Timotheus died in Macedonia, according to Suidas,
at tiie age of 97 ; though the Marbles, much better au¬
thority, say at 90 ; and Stephen of Byzantium fixes his
death in the fourth year of the 105th Olympiad, two
years before the birth of Alexander the Great ; whence
it appears, that this Timotheus was not the famous
player on the flute so much esteemed by that prince,
who was animated to such a degree by his performance
as to seize his arms ; and who employed him, as Athe-
naeus informs us, together with the other great musi¬
cians of his time, at his nuptials. However, by an in¬
attention to dates, and by forgetting that of these two
musicians of the same name the one was a Milesian
and the other a Theban, they have been hitherto often
confounded.
TIMUR-beck. See Tamerlane.
TIN, a metallic substance. See CHEMISTRY and
Mineralogy Index for an account of its qualities and
ores ; and for the method of reducing its ores, see Ores,
Reduction of.
TINCAL, the name by which crude or impure borax
is sometimes known. See Borax, Chemistry Index.
TINCTURE, in Pharmacy. See Materia Me-
dica Index.
T1NDAL, Dr Matthew, a famous English writer,
was the son of the revefend Mr John Tindal of Beer-
Ferresin Devonshire, and was born about the year 1657.
He studied at Lincoln college in Oxford, whence he
removed to Exeter, and was afterwards elected fellow
of All Souls. In 1685 he took the degree of doctor
of law, and in the reign of James II. declared himself a
Roman Catholic ; but soon renounced that religion.
After the revolution he published several pamphlets in
favour of government, the liberty of the press, &c.
His “ Rights of the Christian Church asserted,” occa¬
sioned his having a violent contest with the high-
church clergy *, and his treatise “ Christianity as old as
the Creation,” published in 1730, made much noise,
and was answered by several writers, particularly by
Dr Conybeare, Mr Foster, and Dr Leland. Dr Tin¬
dal died at London in August 1733. He left in
manuscript a second volume of his “ Christianity as old
as the Creation the preface to which has been pu¬
blished. Mr Pope has satirized Dr Tindal in his
Dunciad.
TIN DALE, William. See Tyndale.
TINNING, the covering or lining any thing with
melted tin, or tin reduced to a very fine leaf. Looking-
glasses are foliated or tinned with plates of beaten tin,
the whole bigness of the glass, applied or fastened
thereto by means of quicksilver. See Foliating of
Looking- Glasses.
TINNITUS AURIUM, a noise in the ears like the
continued sound of bells, very common in many disor¬
ders, particularly in nerveus fevers.
TIPPERARY, a county of the province of Munster
in Ireland, bounded on the west by those of Limerick
and Clare, on the east by the county of Kilkenny and
Queen's county, on the south by the county of Water¬
ford,
TIB, [ 440 ] TIT
Tipperary ford, and on the north and north-east by King’s-county
|i and the territory of the ancient O’Carols. It extends
Tirol. about 52 miles in length, and 27 in breadth, containing
„ cqq, coo acres, divided into 12 baronies, containing;
Gough's jyy'j ’ T . ’ "
tdit. of 169,000 innabitants. It sends three members to par-
Camddn's liament, viz. two for the county, and one for Clonmell.
Britannia. The north part of it is mountainous and cold j but in the
south the air is milder, and the soil much more fertile, pro¬
ducing plenty of corn, and good pasture for the numerous
herds of cattle and flocks of sheep with which it abounds.
The north part is called Ormond, and for a long time
gave the title of earl, and afterwards of marquis and duke,,
to the noble family of Butler, descended from a sis¬
ter of Thomas a Becket archbishop of Canterbury, till,
at the accession of George I. the last duke was attaint¬
ed of high-treason, and died abroad. In that part of the
county, the family had great prerogatives and privileges
granted them by Edward III. Another district in this
county was anciently called the County of the Holy Cross
of Tipperary, from a famous abbey in it styled Holy
Cross, on account of a piece of Christ’s cross that was
* said to be preserved there. The remains of the abbey,
or rather the spot where it stood, are still held in great
veneration. See Tipperary, Supplement.
TIPSTAFF, an oflucer who attends the judges with
a kind of staff tipped with silver, aud takes into his
charge all prisoners who are committed or turned over
at a judge’s chambers.
TIPULA, the Crane-fly j a genus of insects be¬
longing to the order of diptera. See Entomology
Index.
TIRE, in the sea language, is a row of cannon
placed along a ship’s side, either above upon deck, or
below, distinguished by the epithets of upper and lower
tires.
TIREE, or TlREY, one of the Western islands of
Scotland, 10 miles long, and from one to two in breadth,
contains above 2000 inhabitants, and produces sheep and
black cattle, with some grain and kelp. W. Long. 6.
48. N. Lat. 56. 32.
TIROL, or Tyrol, a county of Germany in the
circle of Austria, under which may be included the
territories belonging to the bishops of Brixen, Trent,
and Chur, the Teutonic Order, and the prince of Dei-
trichstein, the Austrian seigniories before the Arlberg,
and the Austrian districts in Swabia. It is 150 miles
in length, and 120 in breadth, and contains 28 large
towns.
The face of the country is very mountainous. Of
these mountains some have their tops always buried in
snow j others are covered with woods abounding with
game. Of the lower, some yield plenty of corn, others
wine, and woods of chesnut trees. The valleys are ex¬
ceeding fertile also, and pleasant. In some places consi¬
derable quantities of flax are raised, in others there is a
good breed of horses and horned cattle ; and, among the
mountains, abundance of chamois and wild goats. In
this country are also found garnets, rubies, amethysts,
agates, carnelians, calcedonies, malachites, &c. 5 nor is
it without hot baths, acid waters, salt pits, mines of sil¬
ver, copper, and lead. The principal river of Tirol
is the Inn, which, after traversing the country, and
receiving a number of lesser streams into it, enters
Bavaria, in which, at Passau, it falls into the Danube.
Ihe men here are very tall, robust, and vigorous j the
women also are stout, and generally fair ; and both sexes T „o!
have a mixture of the Italian and German in their tern- Tiial’
pers and characters. As there is little trade or manu-\—
facture in the country, except what is occasioned by the
mines and salt works, many of the common people are
obliged to seek a subsistence elsewhere. A particular-
kind of salutation is used all over Tirol. When a per¬
son comes into a house, he says, “Hail! Jesus Christ:”
the answer is, “ May Christ be raised, and the Holy
Virgin his mother.” Then the master of the house
takes the visitor by the hand. This salutation is fixed
up in print at all the doors, with an advertisement tacked
to it, importing that Pope Clement XI. granted 100
days indulgence, and a plenary absolution, to those who
should pronounce the salutation and answer, as often as
they did it. The emperor has forts and citadels so ad¬
vantageously situated on rocks and mountains all over the
country, that they command all the valleys, avenues, and
passes that lead unto it. The inhabitants, however, to
keep them in good humour, are more gently treated,
and not so highly taxed as those of the other hereditary
countries. As to the states, they are much the same in
this country as in the other Austrian territories, except
that the peasants here send deputies to the diets. Tirol
came to the house of Austria in the year 1363, when
Margaret, countess thereof, bequeathed it to her un¬
cles the dukes of Austria. Besides the governor, here
are three sovereign colleges, subordinate to the court
at Vienna, which sit at Inspruck, and have their different
departments. Towards the expences of the military
establishment of this country, the proportion is 100,000
florins yearly; but no more than one regiment of foot
is generally quartered in it.
Tirol is divided into six quarters, as they are called ;
namely, those of the Lower and Upper Innthal, Vints-
gow, Etch, Eisack, and Pusterthal. At the peace of
Presburg in 1805, Austria was compelled to cede the
Tirol. The brave inhabitants however took arms, and
under Andrew Hofer an innkeeper, made an obstinate
resistance. Deputies came to London to seek pecuni¬
ary supplies, and considerable sums were raised. But
the French at last succeeded in subduing the country.
I he greater part of the Tirol was annexed to Bavaria,
in whose possession it continued till 1815, when it was
restored to Austria. Its population in 1815 amounted
to 802,000 including Trent and Brixen.
TITAN, in fabulous history, the son of Coelus and
Terra, and the elder brother of Saturn, suffered the latter
to enjoy the crown, on condition that he should bring
up none of his male issue, by which means the crown
should at length revert to him; but Jupiter being spared
by the address of Rhea, Saturn’s wife, Titan and his
children were so enraged at seeing their hopes frus¬
trated, that they took up arms to revenge the injury;
and not only defeated Saturn, but kept him and his
wife prisoners till he was delivered by Jupiter, who de¬
feated the Titans; when from the blood of these Titans
slain in the battle, proceeded serpents, scorpions, and
all venomous reptiles. See Saturn.
Such is the account given by the poets of this family
of Grecian and Roman gods. From the fragments of
Sanchoniatho, however, and other ancient writers, many
learned men have inferred that the Titans were an early
race of ambitious heroes, who laid the foundation of
that idolatry which quickly overspread the world, and
that
TIT t 4
that by assuming the names of the luminaries of heaven
u they contrived to get themselves every where adored as
the DU majorum gentium. That the word Titan sig¬
nifies the sun, there can indeed be very little doubt.
Every one knows that such was its signification in the
iEolic dialect ; and as it is evidently compounded of
Tz, which, in some oriental tongues, signifies bright ov
clear, and Tan, which signifies a country or the earth,
it may be safely concluded that Titan was the name of
the sun before the word was imported into Greece. But
the great question among antiquarians is, of what coun¬
try was that race which, assuming to themselves the
names of the heavenly bodies, introduced into the ivorld
that species of idolatry which is known by the appella¬
tion of Hero-worship ?
M. Pezron, in a work published many years ago, and
entitled The Antiquities oj Nations, maintains that the
Titans were a lamily of Sacae or Scythians, who made
their first appearance beyond Media and Mount Imaus,
in the upper regions of Asia ; that they were the de¬
scendants of Corner the son ol Japheth and grandson of
Noah ; and that after conquering a great part of the
world, upon entering Upper Phrygia, they quitted
their ancient name of Gomerians or Cimmerians, and
assumed that of Titans. All this, he says, happened
before the birth of Abraham and the foundation of the
Assyrian monarchy j and he makes Uranus, their second
prince in the order of succession, to have conquered
Tin ace, Greece, the island of Crete, and a great part of
Europe. Uranus was succeeded by Saturn, and Saturn
by Jupiter, who flourished, he says, 300 years before
Moses, and divided his vast empire between himself, his
brother Pluto, and his cousin-german Atlas, who was
called Telamon. Tor the truth of this genealogy of the
litans M. Pezron appeals to the most approved Greek
historians; but unluckily for his hypothesis, these writers
have not a single sentence by which it can be fairly sup¬
ported. It supposes not only the great antiquity of the
Scythians, but likewise their early progress in arts and
sciences, contrary to what we have proved in other ar¬
ticles of this work. See Sculpture, N° 4 and c. and
Scythia.
. 9tliei!s’ taking the fragment of Sanchoniatho’s Phe-
mcian history for their guide, have supposed the Titans
to have been the descendants of Ham. Of this opinion
was Bishop Cumberland ; and our learned friend Dr
Doig, to whom vve have been indebted for greater fa-
vours, indulged us with the perusal of a manuscript, in
which, with erudition and ingenuity struggling for
t ie pre-eminence, he traces that impious family from
t ie profane son of Noah, and shows by what means
they spread the idolatrous worship of themselves over
the greater part of the ancient world. Cronus, of
wiose exploits some account has been given elsewhere
(see ^anchoniatho), he holds to be Ham ; and tra-
cing the progress of the family from Phoenicia to Cy-
ptus, from Cyprus to Rhodes, thence to Crete, and from
to Samothrace, he finds reason to conclude that
>e branch called Titans or Titanides flourished about
l‘le cra Abraham, with whom, or with bis son Isaac,
lt; thinks the Cretan Jupiter must have been contem-
poraiy. As they proceeded from countries which were
ie original seat of civilization to others in which man-
111 lad sunk into the grossest barbarism, it was easy
or t em to persuade the ignorant inhabitants that they
^OL. XX. Part II. 7
•1 ]
T I' T
derived the arts of civil life from their parent the sun, Titan,
and in consequence of their relation to him to assume to Tillies.
themselves divine honours. To ask hoiv they came to ''■•■"v 
think of such gross impiety, is a question as foolish as it
would be to ask how Ham their ancestor became so
wicked as to entail the curse of God upon himself and
his posterity. The origin of evil is involved in dif¬
ficulties ; but leaving all inquiries into it to be prose¬
cuted by the metaphysician and moralist, it is surely
more probable that the worship of dead men originated
among the descendants of Ham than among those of
Shem and Japheth ; and that the fragment of Sancho-
niatho, when giving an account of the origin of th«
d itans, the undoubted authors of that worship, is more
deserving of credit than the fabulous and comparatively
late writers of Greece and Rome.
^ HES, in ecclesiastical law, are defined to be the
tenth part of the increase, yearly arising and renewing
from the profits of lands, the stock upon lands, and the
peisonal industry of the inhabitants: the first species be¬
ing usually called predial, as of corn, grass, hops and
wood ; the second mixed, as of wool, milk, pigs, &c.
consisting of natural products, but nurtured and pre¬
served in part by the care of man ; and of these the
tenth must be paid in gross ; the third personal, as of
manual occupations, trades, fisheries, and the like; and
of these only the tenth-part of the clear gains and pro¬
fits is due.
We shall, in tins article, consider, 1. J he original of
the right of tithes. 2. In whom that right at present
subsists. 3. Who may be discharged, either totally or
in part, from paying them.
l. As to their original, we will not put the title of
the cleig> to tithes upon any divine right ; though such
a light certainly commenced, and we believe as certain¬
ly ceased, with the Jewish theocracy. Yet an honour¬
able and competent maintenance for the ministers of th*
gospel is undoubtedly jwre divino, whatever the particu¬
lar mode ot that maintenance may be. For, besides
the positive precepts of the New Testament,’ naturalComme>,t-
reason will tell us, that an order of men who are sepa¬
rated from the world, and excluded from other lucra¬
tive professions for the sake of the rest of mankind, have
a right to be furnished with the necessaries, conve¬
niences, and moderate enjoyments of life, at their ex-
pence ; for whose benefit they forego the usual mean*
of providing them. Accordingly all municipal laws
have provided a liberal and decent maintenance for their
national priests or clergy ; ours, in particular, have e-
stablisbed this of tithes, probably in imitation of the
Jewish law. and perhaps, considering the degenerate
state of the world in general, it may be more beneficial
to the English clergy to found their title on the law of
the land, than upon any divine right whatsoever, unac¬
knowledged and unsupported by temporal sanctions.
We cannot precisely ascertain the time when tithes
were first introduced into this country. Possibly they
were contemporary with the planting of Christianity
ameng the Saxons by Augustin the monk, about the
end of the sixth century. But the first mention of them
which vve have met with in any written English law,
is a constitutional decree, made in a synod held A. d!
786, wherein the payment of tithes in general is strong¬
ly enjoined. This canon or decree, which at first
bound not the laity, was effectually confirmed by two
^ 3 kingdoms
TIT
[ 442 ]
TIT
Tithes.
kingdoms of the heptarchy, in their parliamentary con¬
ventions of estates, respectively consisting of the kings
of Mercia and Northumberland, the bishops, dukes, sena¬
tors, and people. Which was a few years later than the
time that Charlemagne established the payment of them
in France, and made that famous division of them into
four parts one to maintain the edifice ot the church,
the second to support the poor, the third the bishop, and
the fourth the parochial clergy.
The next authentic mention of them is in ihefotdus
Echvardi et Guthruni ; or the laws agreed upon between
King Guthrun the Dane, and Alfred and his son Ed¬
ward the Elder, successive kings of England, about the
year 900. This was a kind of treaty between those
monarchs, which may be found at large in the Anglo-
Saxon laws : wherein it was necessary, as Guthrun was
a Pagan, to provide for the subsistence of the Christian
clergy under his dominion ; and accordingly, we find
the payment of tithes not only enjoined, but a penalty
added upon non-observance : which law iH seconded by
the laws of Athelstan, about the year 930. And this is
as much as can certainly be traced out with regard to
their legal original.
2. We are next to consider the persons to whom
tithes are due. Upon their first introduction, though
every man was obliged to pay tithes in general, yet he
might give them to what priests he pleased ; which
were called arbitrary consecrations of tithes; or he might
pay them into the hands of the bishop, who distributed
among his diocesan clergy the revenues ot the church,
which were then in common. But when dioceses were
divided into parishes, the tithes of each parish were al¬
lotted to its own particular minister ; first by common
consent or the appointments of lords of manors, and
afterwards by the written law of the land.
Arbitrary consecrations of tithes took place again
afterwards, and were in general use till the time of
King John. This was probably owing to the intrigues
of the regular clergy, or monks of the Benedictine and
other orders, under Archbishop Dunstan and his succes¬
sors j who endeavoured to wean the people from pay¬
ing their dues to the secular or parochial clergy (a
much more valuable set of men than themselves), and
were then in hopes to have drawn, by sanctimonious
pretences to extraordinary purity of life, all ecclesiasti¬
cal profits to the coffers of their own societies. And
this will naturally enough account for the number and
riches of the monasteries and religious houses which
rvere founded in those days, and which were frequently
endowed with tithes. For a layman, who was obliged
to pay his tithes somewhere, might think it good policy
to erect an abbey, and there pay them to his own
monks, or grant them to some abbey already erected j
since for this donation, which really cost the patron lit¬
tle or nothing, he might, according to the superstition
of the times, have masses for ever sung for his soul.
But in process of years, the income of the poor laborious
parish-priests being scandalously reduced by these ar¬
bitrary consecrations of tithes, it was remedied by Pope
Innocent III. about the year 1200, in a decretal epistle
sent to the archbishop of Canterbury, and dated from
the palace of Lateran : which has occasioned Sir Henry
Hobart and others to mistake it for a decree ot the coun¬
cil of Lateran, held A. D. H79> wfiicfi only prohibit¬
ed what tv as called the infeodation of tithes^ or their be¬
ing granted to mere laymen ; whereas this letter of
Pope Innocent to the archbishop enjoined the payment
of tithes to the parsons of the respective parishes where
every man inhabited, agreeable to what was afterwards
directed by the same pope in other countries. This
epistle, says Sir Edward Coke, hound not the lay sub¬
jects of this realm j but being reasonable and just, it
was allowed of, and so became lex terree. This put an
effectual stop to all the arbitrary consecrations of tithes;
except some footsteps which still continue in those por¬
tion of tithes which the parson of one parish hath, though
rarely' a right to claim in another: for it is now univer¬
sally held, that tithes are due, of common right, to the par¬
son of the parish,unless there be a special exemption. This
parson of the parish, maybe either the actual incumbent,
or else the appropriator of the benefice; appropriations
being a method of endowing monasteries, which seems
to have been devised by the regular clergy, by way of
substitution to arbitrary consecrations of tithes.
3. We observed that tithes are due of common right
to the parson, unless by special exemption ; let us there¬
fore see, thirdly, who may be exempted from the pay¬
ment of tithes, and how lands and their occupiers may
be exempted or discharged from the payment ot tithes,
either in a part or totally ; first, by a real composition;
or, secondly, by custom or prescription.
First, A real composition is when an agreement is
made between the owner of the lands and the parson or
vicar, with the consent of the ordinary and the patron,
that such lands shall for the future be discharged from
payment of tithes, by reason of some land or other real
recompense given to the parson in lieu and satisfaction
thereof. This was permitted by law, because it was
supposed that the clergy would be no losers by such
composition ; since the consent of the ordinary, whose
duty it is to take care of the church in general, and of
the patron, whose interest it is to protect that particular
church, were both made necessary to render the com¬
position effectua] : and hence have arisen all such com¬
positions as exist at this day by force ot the common
law. But experience showing that even this caution
was ineffectual, and the possessions ot the church being
by this and other means every day diminished, the dis¬
abling statute 13 Eliz. c. 10. was made; which pre¬
vents among other spiritual persons, all parsons and vi¬
cars from making any conveyances of the estates ot their
churches, other than for three lives of 21 years. 00
that now, by virtue of this statute, no real composition
made since the 13 Eliz. is good for any longer term
than three lives or 21 years, though made by consent
of the patron and ordinary : which has indeed ettectu-
ally demolished this kind of traffic ; such composition*
being now rarely heard of, unless by authority of par
liament. . .
Secondly, a discharge by custom or prescription, is
where time out of mind such persons or such lands have
been either partially or totally discharged from the pay¬
ment of tithes. And this immemorial usage is binding
upon all parties ; as it is in its nature an evidence ot uni¬
versal consent and acquiescence, and with reason sup¬
poses a real composition to have been formerly mae*
This custom or prescription is either demodo decimandt,
or de non decimando. . .
A modus decimandi, commonly called by the simp
name of a modus only, is where there is by
Tithi
T I T
r 445 ]
T I T
particular manner of tithing allowed, different from the
general law of taking tithes in kind, which are the
actual tenth-part of the annual increase. This is some¬
times a pecuniary compensation, as twopence an acre
for the tithe of land: sometimes it is a compensation in
work and labour, as that the parson shall have only the
twelfth cock of hay, and not the tenth, in consideration
of the owner’s making it for him : sometimes, in lieu of
a large quantity of crude or imperfect tithe, the parson
shall have a less quantity when arrived at greater ma¬
turity, as a couple of fowls in lieu of tithe-eggs, and
the like. Any means, in short, whereby the general
law of tithing is altered, and a new method of taking
them is introduced, is called a modus decimandi, or spe¬
cial manner of tithing.
A prescription de non decimando is a claim to be en¬
tirely discharged of tithes, and to pay no compensation
in lieu of them. Thus the king by his prerogative is
discharged from all tithes. So a vicar shall pay no tithes
to the rector, nor the rector to the vicar, for ecclesia de-
citnas non solvit ecclesice. But these personal privileges
(not arising from or being annexed to the land) are per¬
sonally confined to both the king and the clergy ; for
their tenant or lessee shall pay tithes, though in their
own occupation their lands are not generally tithable.
And, generally speaking, it is an established rule, that
in lay hands, modus de non decimando non valeL But
Spiritual persons or corporations, as monasteries, abbots,
bishops, and the like, were always capable of having
their lands totally discharged of tithes by various ways :
as, i. By real composition. 2. By the pope’s bull of
exemption. 3. By unity of possession ; as when the
rectory of a parish, and lands in the same parish, both
belonged to a religious house, those lands were dischar¬
ged of tithes by this unity of possession. 4. By pre¬
scription ; having never been liable to tithes, by being
always in spiritual bands. 5. By virtue of their order;
as the Knights Templars, Cistercians, and others, whose
lands were privileged by the pope with a discharge of
tithes. Though, upon the dissolution of abbeys by
Henry VIII. most of these exemptions from tithes
would have fallen with them, and the lands become
tithable again, had they not been supported and upheld
by the statute 31 Henry ^ III. c. 13. which enacts, that
all persons who should come to the possession of the
lands of any abbey then dissolved, should hold them free
and discharged of tithes, in as large and ample a man¬
ner as the abbeys themselves formerly held them. And
from this original have sprung all the lands which be¬
ing in lay hands, do at present claim to be tithe free :
for if a man can show his lands to have been such ab-
bry-lands, and also immemorially discharged of tithes
by any of the means before mentioned, this is now a
good prescript'on de non decimando. Bathe must show
both these requisites : for abbey-lands, without a special
ground ol discharge, are not discharged of course ;
neither will any prescription de non decimando avail
in total discharge of tithes, unless it relates to such ab¬
bey-lands.
It is universally acknowledged that the payment of
tithes in kind is a great discouragement to agriculture.
I hey are inconvenient and vexatious to the husband -
nian, and operate as an impolitic tax upon industry.
Ihe clergyman, too, frequently finds them ti’oublesome
and precarious ; his expences in collecting are a consi¬
derable drawback from their value, and his just rights Tithes
are with difficulty secured : he is too often obliged to U
submit to imposition, or is embroiled with his parishion-. Titian.
ers in disputes and litigations, no less irksome to his feel-
ings than prejudicial to his interest, and tending to pre¬
vent^,those good effects which his precepts should pro¬
duce. It is therefore of the utmost importance to pa¬
rochial tranquillity, and even to religion, that some just
and reasonable standard of composition could be fixed.
Land has been proposed, but in the px-esent state of the
division of property this is impossible : and as money is
continually changing in its value, it would also he a
very improper standard, unless some plan could be form¬
ed by which the composition could be increased as the
Value of money diminishes. A plan of this kind has
been published in the Transactions of the Society insti¬
tuted at Bath, vol. iv. which those who are interested
in this subject may consult for farther information.
TITHING, (Tithinga, from the Sax. Theothunge,
x. e. Decuriam), a number or company of ten men, with
their families, knit together in a kind of society, and
all bound to the king, for the peaceable behaviour of
each other. Anciently no man was suffered to abide in
England above fox-ty days, unless he were enrolled in
some tithing.—One of the principal inhabitants of the
tithing was annually appointed to preside over the rest,
being called the tithing-man, the head-borough, and in
some countries the borseholder, or box-ough’s ealder,
being supposed the discreetest man in the borough, town,
or tithing. The distribution of England into tithings
and hundreds Is oxving to King Alfred. See Borse¬
holder.
TITIANO Vecelli, or Titian, the most univer¬
sal genius for painting of all the Lombard-school, the
best colourist of all the moderns, and the most eminentPilking-
for histories, portraits, and landscapes, was born atCa-#o»'s Die-
dore, in the province of Friuli, in the state of Venice,
in 1477, or in 1480 according to Vasari and Sandrart.^a^nters-
His parents sent him at ten years of age to one of his
uncles at Venice, who finding that he had an inclina¬
tion to painting, put him to the school of Giovanni Bel¬
li no.
But as soon as Titian had seen the works of Giorgi¬
one, whose manner appealed to him abundantly more
elegant, and less constrained than that of Bellino, he
determined to quit the style to which he had so long
been accustomed, and to pursue the other that recom¬
mended itself to him, by having moi'e force, mox-e re¬
lief, more nature, and more truth. Some authors affirm,
that he placed himself as a disciple with Giorgione ;
yet others only say, that he cultivated an intimacy with
him ; but it is undoubtedly certain that he studied with
that great master; that he learned his method of blend¬
ing and uniting the colours ; and practised bis manner
so effectually, that several of the paintings of Titian
were taken for the performances of Giorgione ; and
then his success inspired that artist with an invincible
jealousy of Titian, which broke off their connection for
ever after.
The reputation of Titian rose continually; every new
work contributed to extend his fame through all Europe;
and he was considered as the principal ornament of the
age in which he flourished. And yet, Sandrart observes
that amidst all his applause and constant employment
at Venice, his income and fortune were inconsiderable •
3^3 and
TIT [ 444 ] TIT
Titian, and he was more remarkable for the extensiveness of his
——v- talents, tiian for the affluence of his circumstances. But
when his merit was made known to the emperor Chas. V.
that monarch knew how to set a just value on his supe¬
rior abilities j he enriched him by repeated bounties,
allowed him a considerable pension, conferred on him
the honour of knighthood, and, what was still more,
honoured him with his friendship. He painted the por¬
trait of that benefactor several times j and it is record¬
ed by Sandrart, that one day, while the emperor was
sitting for his picture, a pencil happening to drop from
the painter, he stooped, took it up, and returned it ;
obligingly answering to the modest apology of the artist
(who blushed at the condescension of so great a mo¬
narch), that the merit of a Titian was worthy of the at¬
tendance of an emperor.
The excellence of Titian was not so remarkably ap¬
parent in the historical compositions which he painted as
in his portraits and landscapes, which seem to be supe¬
rior to all competition j and even to this day, many of
them preserve their original beauty, being as much the
admiration of the present age as they have deservedly
been of the ages past.—It is observed of Titian by most
writers, that in the different periods of his life he had
four different manners j one resembling his first instructor
Bellino, which was somewhat stiff; another, in imita¬
tion of Giorgione, more bold, and full of force ; his
third manner was the result of experience, knowledge,
and judgment, beautifully natural, and finished with
exquisite care, which manner was peculiarly his own •,
and in those pictures which he painted between the years
of approaching old age and his death may be noticed
his fourth manner. His portraits w’ere very differently
finished in his early, and in his latter time, according
to the testimony of Sandrart. At first he laboured his
pictures highly, and gave them a polished beauty and
lustre, so as to produce their effect full as well when they
were examined closely as when viewed at a distance j
but afterwards, he so managed his penciling, that their
greatest force and beauty appeared at a more remote
view, and they pleased less when they w'ere beheld more
nearly. So that many of those artists who studied to
imitate him, being misled by appearances which they
did not sufficiently consider, have imagined that Titian
executed his work with readiness and a masterly rapidi¬
ty * and concluded that they should imitate his manner
most effectually by a freedom of hand and a bold pen¬
cil : Whereas in reality, Titian took abundance of pains
to work up his pictures to so high a degree of perfec¬
tion •, and the freedom that appears in the handling was
entirely effected by a skilful combination of labour and
judgment.
It cannot be truly affirmed, that Titian equalled the
great masters of the Homan school in design j but he al¬
ways took care to dispose his figures in such attitudes as
showed the most beautiful parts of the body. His taste
in designing men was not generally so corrector elegant
as it appeared in his boys and female figures ; but his
colouring had all the look of real flesh, his figures
breathe. He was not so bold as Giorgione, but in
tenderness and delicacy he proved himself much superior
to him and all other artists. The expression of the pas¬
sions was not his excellence, thougli even in that respect
many of his figures merited the justest commendation •,
but he always gave his figures an air of ease and digni¬
ty. His landscapes are universally allowed to be un¬
equalled, whether we consider the forms of his trees, the
grand ideas of nature which appear in his scenery, or
his distances which agreeably delude and delight the
eye of every observer ; and they are executed with a
light, tender, and mellow pencil. He learned from na¬
ture the harmony of colours, and his tints seem aston¬
ishing, not only for their force, but their sweetness; and
in that respect his colouring is accounted the standard
of excellence to all professors of the art.
It would prove almost an endless task to enumerate
the variety of works executed by this illustrious artist,
at Rome, Venice, Bologna, and Florence, as well as
those which are to be seen in other cities of Italy, in
England, Spain, Germany, and France ; but there are
two, which are mentioned as being truly admirable.
One is, a Last Supper, preserved in the refectory at the
Escurial in Spain, which is inimitably fine ; the other
is at Milan, representing Christ crowned with thorns.
The principal figure in the latter has an attitude full of
grace and dignity more than mortal, and the counte¬
nance shows a benevolence and humility, combined
with dignity and pain, which no pencil but that of Ti¬
tian could so feelingly have described. It is admirably
coloured, and tenderly and delicately penciled ; the
heads are wonderfully beautiful, the composition excel¬
lent, and the whole lias a charming effect by the chiaro¬
scuro.
He was of so happy a constitution, that he was never
ill till the year 1576, when he died of the plague, at
99 years of age. His disciples were Paulo Veronese,
Giacomo Tintoret, Giacomo de Porte Bassano, and his
sons.
Titian
Titla.
TITLARK. See Alauda, Ornithology Index.
TITLE, an appellation of dignity or rank given to
princes and persons of distinction.
Titles were not so common among the ancient Greeks
or Romans as they are in modern times. Till the reign
of Constantine the title of Illustrious was never given
except to those who were distinguished in arms or let¬
ters : But at length it became hereditary in the families
of princes, and every son of a prince was illustrious.
The title of Highness was formerly given only to kings.
The kings of England before the reign of Henryk HI-
were addressed by the title of your Grace. That mo-
narchfirst assumed the title of Highness, and afterwards
that of Majesty. The title of majesty was first given
him by Francis I. in their interview in 1520. Charles
V. was the first king of Spain who assumed the same
title. .
Princes, nobles, and clergy, generally have one title
derived from their territories and estates, and another
derived from their rank or from some other remarkable
circumstance. The pope is called the Bishop of Rome,
and has the title of Holiness. A cardinal has his name
generally from some church, and is saluted by the name
of Eminent, or most Eminent. An archbishop, besides
being named from his diocese, is called his Grace and
most Reverend •. a bishop is also distinguished by the
name of his diocese, and has the title of his Lordship
and right Reverend. Inferior clergymen are denomi¬
nated Reverend.
The titles of crowned heads derived from their domi¬
nions it is unnecessary to mention. It will be sufficient
to mention those by which they are addressed. To an
emperor
T O B [ 445 ] T O B
• je emperor is given the title of Imperial Majesty; to kings,
that of Majesty ; to the princes of Great Britain, Royal
lo '-00. Highness ; to those of Spain, Infant; to electors, Etec-
— toral Highness; to the grand duke of Tuscany, Most
Serene Highness; to the other princes of Italy and Ger¬
many, Highness ; to the doge of Venice, Most Serene
Prince ; to the grand-master of Malta, Eminence ; to
nuncios and ambassadors of crowned heads, Excellency;
to dukes, Grace ; to marquises, earls, and barons, Lord-
skip.
The emperor of China, among his titles, takes that
of Tien Su} “ Son of Heaven.” The Orientals, it is
observed, are exceedingly fond of titles; the simple go¬
vernor of Schiras, for instance, after a pompous enume¬
ration of qualities, lordships, &c. adds the titles of
Flower oj Courtesy, Nutmeg of Consolation, and Rose of
Delight.
Title, in Law, denotes any right which a person
has to the possession of a thing, or an authentic instru-
• ment whereby he can prove his right. See the articles
Right, Property, &c.
Title to the Crown in the British Constitution. See
Succession.
TITMOUSE. See Parus, Ornithology Index.
TITULAR, denotes a person invested with a title, in
virtue of which he holds an office or benefice, whether
be performs the functions thereof or not.
TITUS Vespasianus, the Roman emperor, the son
of Vespasian; of whom it is related, that not being able
to recollect any remarkable good action he had done on
a certain day, he exclaimed, “ I have lost a day !” He
might truly be called the father of his people; and
though Rome laboured under various public calamities
during his reign, such was his equitable and mild admi¬
nistration, that he constantly preserved his popularity.
He was a great lover of learning, and composed several
poems. He reigned but two years; and it is thought
Domitian his brother poisoned him, A. D. 81. aged 41.
See (History of) Rome.
TIVIOT hills. See Cheviot.
TIVOLI, the modern name of TlBUR.
TOAD. See Rana, Erpetology Index.
ToAD-Fish. See Lophius, Ichthyology Index.
Toae-FUix. See Antirrhinum, Botany Index.
ToAD-Stone, an argillaceous stone. See Geology.
TOBACCO. See Nicotiana, Botany Index,
and Snuff.
Tobacco-Pipe-Fish. See Fistularia, Ichthyo¬
logy Index.
ToBACCO-Pipee, Manufacture of. The art of making
tobacco-pipes, or, as it is commonly c&We.A,pipe-making,
though one of the simplest species of pottery, issufficient-
ly curious to merit description in a dictionary of arts
and sciences.
The process of pipe-making may be divided into
six stages; viz. 1. Beating or preparing the clay; 2.
Rolling; 3. Moulding; 4. Trimming; 5. Drying; and,
6. Burning.
Preparation of the Clay.—The fine white clay em¬
ployed by the pipe-makers, is dug from the quarries in
masses of about a cubic foot each. Before it can be
used in the manufacture of tobacco-pipes, it must be re¬
duced to the consistence of a tough paste. To effect
this, after its outer surface has been cleared from dirt
or dust, it is broken into small pieces about as large as
a goose’s egg, and thrown into a tub with such a quan- Tobacco,
tity of soft water as experience has shewn to be suffi-—v—~
cient to bring it to the proper consistence. After lying
till it has soaked up all the water, which usually re¬
quires from 12 to 24 hours, it is taken from the tub and
laid on a thick strong wooden bench. Here it is beat¬
en by a heavy four-square iron instrument, in such a
manner as to cut it from one end to the other into very
thin slices. It requires considerable address to perform
this operation, and it is surprising how thin the work¬
men will sometimes cut the slices, and how equally
they will thus divide the clay. This beating is con¬
tinued, alternately folding up the clay and slicing it,
till the whole is perfectly smooth. It is then ready for
rolling,
Rolling.—The operation of rolling reduces the clay
into pieces of a proper size and length for making pipes,
and almost to the proper form. The roller sits at a
bench with a smooth board before him, and holds in
his hand another smooth board about 18 inches long,
four broad, and about half an inch thick, having one
end rounded off on one side, so as to produce a corre¬
sponding hollow in the clay. He now takes a piece of
the beaten clay, and rolls it out, first with his hands,
and then with the board, till it acquire the form of a
long slender cylinder, with one end considerably larger
than the rest. This large end is to form the bole, and
the cylinder the shank of the future pipe. The pieces
of clay thus formed are laid beside each other on a flat
board, and are now ready for moulding.
Moulding.—This is the most complex operation, and
requires the greatest number of instruments. The prin¬
cipal of these is the mould, which is composed of two
long pieces of iron, formed so as to join together, and
having their corresponding sides cut into the shape of
half a tobacco pipe, each piece being hollowed so as to
form half a slender cylinder, with a larger cavity at the
upper end, and at such an angle as it is intended the
bole of the pipe shall make with the shank. Just above
that part of each side of the mould which stands be¬
yond what is intended to form the bole, there is a notch
for admitting a knife to cut off' the superfluous clay.
To receive the united mould there is a vice, having
at one end two upright posts, between which moves a
long lever, and to this lever, near the posts, there is
loosely attached a piece of iron ending below in a smooth
conical head, capable of entering the large opening of
the mould, but rather smaller than the opening, so as
that when forced down into it, a sufficient thickness of
clay may be left between the cone and the sides of the
mould, to form the bole of the pipe. One side of this
vice is fixed, and the other moveable, towards the form¬
er. The moveable side has attached to it an iron screw
with a very long lever as its handle, so that by turning
the screw one way or the other, the moveable side of
the vice may be forced nearer the fixed side, or suffered
to return to its original position.
Besides these principal instruments, the moulder re¬
quires a slender steel wire, fixed in a handle at one end,
and having its other extremity formed into a very small
head; a saucer containing wool well impregnated with
oil, and a small woollen or cotton brush.
When, about to mould his pipes, he lays hold of the
shank of one of the rolled pieces, and with great dexte¬
rity, which practice alone can teach, he passes up the
oiled
T O B [ 44<5 ] T O B
Tobacco, oiled wire through its whole length, till he finds it ar-
—v——; rived at the commencement of the larger extremity of
the clay. This extremity he then bends to the proper
angle, and having oiled the inside of each part of his
mould, he lays the piece of clay with the wire in it, in¬
to one part of the mould, and covers it with the other.
He now puts the mould containing the clay into the
vice, and with the left hand turning round the handle
of the screw, so as to fix the mould firmly within the
vice, he, with the right hand, presses down the lever with
its conical head, and thes forms the cavity of the hole.
He now withdraws the mould, cuts off with his knife
the superfluous clay from the bole, opens the mould,
takes out the pipe, and now only withdraws the wire.
He then lays the moulded pipe on a flat board, in the
same manner as the rolled pieces before described. The
pipes thus moulded require to be trimmed, that is, to
have the prominences arising from the joining of the
mould, and other superfluous pieces of clay taken off,
so as to render the surface smooth and round.
Trimming.—The operation of trimming is generally
performed by hoys and gills, as it requires very little
skill. The trimmer has before him a smooth block of
wood, about the length of the pipe, and of considerable
thickness, elevated a little at the remote end. He has
also a thick piece of smooth iron, one edge of which
has across it two or more semicylindrical grooves, capa¬
ble of receiving half the shank of a pipe. Taking one
of the rough moulded pipes, the trimmer carefully passes
up the hollow of the shank, a wire similar to that em¬
ployed in moulding, and holding the pipe by the bole,
while the shank lies before him on the wooden block,
he pares off with a blunt knife all the excrescences of
day, both from the. shank and bole, and rubs the for¬
mer, while lying on the block, with the grooved part
of his iron, so as to render it as smooth as possible. He
now cuts off the ragged piece at the extremity of the
shank, withdraws the wire, and lays the pipe on the
drying frame. One great object of the trimmer is, to
see that the pipe is completely perforated, which he dis¬
covers by blowing through it; and if he finds the hole
choked up, he must open it by pushing the wire as far
as possible. If this does not succeed, he breaks the
pipe as useless.
Drying.—The pipe has now received all the work
that can be bestowed on it by the maker, previous to its
being burned ; but as the exposing of it to heat, while
soft and pliable, would make it crack, it is necessary
that it be properly dried. For this purpose, a frame is
prepared, composed of three or four long pieces of
wood, fastened to two end pieces in such a manner, as
that the middle of the frame shall be the lowest, to give
the shanks of the pipes that curve which they generally
possess. After being trimmed, the pipes are laid beside
each other in this concave frame, with their boles hang¬
ing down over the edges of the frame, and their shanks
bending within its hollow. In this position they are ex¬
posed to the air till they are dry and firm. They are
then ready for burning or baking.
Burning.—For burning or baking the pipes, there is
to be prepared a kiln of a simple but peculiar construc¬
tion. It is built in the form of a cylinder, close at the
bottom and on the sides, and open at the top. Below
the bottom is a grate for receiving the fuel, and round
the sides are constructed vertical or spiral flues, opening
3
at the top, and communicating below with the grate. Tobaa
The sides of the furnace on its interior are pretty thin, Tobag
and are formed of a cement composed of clay mixed '‘■“V"
with fresh cow dung. In the middle of the cavity is
placed a pedestal composed of the same materials, for
the pipes to lean against. When the pipes are suffi¬
ciently dried, they are arranged round this pedestal,
resting against it, and against each other, with their
boles next the bottom of the furnace. They are thus
placed in successive layers, till the furnace be sufficiently
full, when the open space at top is filled up with brick*
placed over each other, so as to leave interstices for the
free circulation of the air, and of the smoke and flame
which issue through the flues. In these interstices are
laid several pieces of broken dried pipes, to serve as py¬
rometers for ascertaining the state of the included pipes
during the burning. The fire is now lighted, and kept
up, till, on examining the pieces of clay laid in the in¬
terstices of the bricks, it is concluded that the pipes
within the furnace are sufficiently baked. The fire is
then suffered to go out, and the whole to cool till the
next day, when the bricks are taken down, the pipes
removed, and packed in barrels for sale.
After being burnt, the pipes are sometimes glazed,
which is done by rubbing them, while warm, with flan¬
nel and a little white flax. In some places the extre¬
mities of the shanks are rendered smooth by dipping
them before burning in the ordinary potters glazing,
which prevents that adhesion to the lips so unpleasant
in new unglazed pipes.
TOBAGO, one of the Caribbee islands, ceded to
Great Britain by the treaty of Paris in 1763, taken by
the French in 1781, and retaken by the British in
1793. It lies in the latitude of 11 degrees 10 minutes
north, and 59 degrees 40 minutes longitude west from
London, about 40 leagues south-by-west from Barba-
does, 35 south-east from St Vincents, 20 south-east
from Grenada, 12 north-east from the Spanish island of
Trinidada, and between 30 and 40 north-east from the
Spanish main. According to the latest accounts, it is
somewhat more than 30 miles in length from north-east
to south-west, between 8 and 9 in breadth, and from 23
to 25 leagues in circumference. The English visited
this island very early, Sir Hubert Dudley being there in
the reign of Queen Elizabeth. In that of Charles I.
William earl of Pembroke procured a grant of this,
with two other small islands j but died betore he was able
to carry into execution his design of settling them. In
A. D. 1632 some merchants of Zealand sent over a
small colony thither, and gave it the name of New Walm
cheren ; but before they were able thoroughly to esta¬
blish themselves, they were destroyed by the Indians as¬
sisted by the Spaniards. Ten years after, James duke
of Courland sent a colony thither, who settled them¬
selves upon Great Courland bay, and made a consider¬
able progress in planting. A. D. 1654, Messieurs A-
drian and Cornelius Lampsius, two opulent merchants
of Flushing, sent a considerable number of people thi¬
ther, who settled on the other side of the island, and
lived in amity with the Courlanders, until they learned
that the king of Sweden had seized the person of their
duke and dispossessed him of his dominions, when they
attacked and forced his subjects to submit. Ihe duke
being afterwards restored, he obtained from Charles
a grant of this island, dated the 1711! °f Novem er
ioo4«
T O B [ 447 ] T O K
p0 ,9 1664. In the second Dutch war the count d’Estrees,
fo »k« by order of his master, totally mined it at the close of
the year 1677 J and from that time it continued waste
till Britain took possession of it after the treaty of Paris.
The climate, notwithstanding its vicinity to the line, is
so tempered by the breezes from the sea, as to be very
supportable even to Europeans ; and has the same ad¬
vantages with that of Grenada, in having regular sea¬
sons, and also in being exempt from the hurricanes.
There are throughout the island many rising grounds,
though, except at the north-east extremity, there is no
part of it that can be styled mountainous; and even there
the country is far from being rugged or impassable.
The soil, if we may credit either Dutch or French wri¬
ters, is as fertile and luxuriant as any of the islands,
and very finely diversified. Ground provisions of all
sorts have been raised in great plenty, a vast variety of
vegetables, excellent in their kind, some for food, some
for physic. Almost every species of useful timber is to
be found here, and some of an enormous size j amongst
others, the true cinnamon and nutmeg tree, as the
Dutch confess, and of which none could be better
judges •, whole groves of sassafras, and of trees that
bear the true gum copal, with other odoriferous plants
that render the air wholesome and pleasant. It is as
well watered as can be wished, by rivers that fall into
the sea on both sides, many smaller streams, and fine
fresh springs in almost every part of the island. The sea-
cost is indented by 10 or 12 fair and spacious bays, and
there are amongst these one or two ports capable of re¬
ceiving as large ships as ever visited those seas. There
are wild hogs in great plenty, abundance of fowls of
different kinds, and a vast variety of sea and river fish.
At the north-east extremity lies little Tobago, which is
two miles long, and about half a mile broad, very capa¬
ble of improvement.
TOBOLSK, the capital of a province of the same
name in Asiatic Russia, comprehending the greater part
t of the country known by the name of Siberia, is situated
at the confluence of the rivers Tobol and Irtish, in N.
Lat. 58° 12', E. Long. 68° 18.' The city stands up¬
on the ascent of a high hill, the lower part of which is
inhabited by Mahometan Tartars, who carry on a con¬
siderable traffic upon the river Irtish, and convey their
merchandise quite across Great Tartary, as far as
China. The river Irtish joins the Tobol, and both fall
into the Oby. By means of these two rivers, there is
a constant flow of merchandise into the city during the
summer season. Tobolsk is therefore a great mart for
I the commodities of Muscovy, Tartary, and other coun¬
tries : and here is a great concourse of merchants. All
sorts of provisions are plentiful and cheap. An hun¬
dred weight of rice is sold for 16 copecs, equal to about
e-ightpence sterlings a sturgeon weighing 40 pounds,
for half that money; an ox for two rix-dollars, and
every other article in proportion. The adjacent coun¬
try abounds with game in great variety. The su¬
preme court of judicature for all Siberia is held in this
ejty, which is also the seat of a metropolitan, sent
hither from Moscow to exercise spiritual jurisdiction
over the whole kingdom. Tobolsk is well fortified,
and defended by a strong garrison, under the com¬
mand of the governor, who resides , in the place, and
takes charge of the fur tribute, which is here deposited
iu proper magazines. This governor enjoys a very ex¬
tensive command, and can occasionally bring into the Tobolsk
field 9000 men besides a strong body of Tartars on II
horseback, to make head against the Kalmucks and To^y
Cossacks, in their repeated incursions. A sufficient num- , ^inc*
ber of Russians, called Jemskoiks, are kept in continual
pay by the government, on the banks of the Irtish, to
supply travellers on the czar’s account with men, boats,
or carriages, to convey them as far as Surgut on the
Oby, a voyage of 200 leagues by water. This is the
common method of travelling in the summer; but in¬
winter the journey by land is not half so long, being
performed in sleds over the ice and snowr, with which
the country is covered. These sleds are moved by a pair
of dogs, which will draw a load of 300 pounds with
surprising expedition. They are hired at easy rates,
and during one half of the year may be seen flying over
the snow in great numbers. The city is supposed to
contain 15,000 inhabitants. It is 900 miles east from
Moscow, and 1200 from Petersburgh.
TODDA Panna. See Cycas, Botany Index.
TODDY, a name given to the juice of the cocoa-
nut tree. See Arack.—Tody is also a name given to
a mixture of spirits, water, and sugar.
Toddy-Bird. See Loxia, Ornithology Index.
TODUS, the Tody ; a genus of birds belonging to
the order of picae. See Ornithology Index.
TOGA, in Roman antiquity, a wide woollen gown
or mantle, which seems to have been of a semicircular
form, without sleeves ; differing both in richness and
largeness, according to the circumstances of the wearer,
and used only upon occasion of appearing in public.
Every body knows that the toga was the distinguish¬
ed mark of a Roman : hence thej’w^ togce, or privilege
of a Roman citizen ; i. e. the right of wearing a Ro¬
man habit, and of taking as they explain it, fire and
water through the Roman empire.
TOKAT wine, derives its name from a town of
Hungary, where it is produced. There are four sorts
of wine made from the same grapes, distinguished at
Tokay by the names of essence, auspruch, masluch, and
the common wine. The essence is made by picking out
the half-dried and shrivelled grapes, and putting them
into a perforated vessel, where they remain as long as
any juice runs oflP by the mere pressure of their own
weight. This is put into small casks. The auspruch i*
made by pouring the expressed juice of the grapes from
which the former had been picked on those that yield¬
ed the essence, and treading them with the feet. The
liquor thus obtained stands for a day or two to ferment,
and then is poured into small casks, which are kept in
the air for about a month, and afterwards put into casks.
The same process is again repeated by the addition of
more juice to the grapes which have already undergone
the two former pressures, and they are now wrung with
the hands ; and thus is had the maslach. The fourth
kind is made by taking all the kinds together at first,
and submitting them to the greatest pressure: this is
chiefly prepared by the peasants. The essence is thick,
and very sweet and lucious : it is chiefly used to mix
with the other kinds. The auspruch is the wine com¬
monly exported, and which is known in foreign coun¬
tries by the name of Tokay.
The goodness of it is determined by the following
rules. The colour should neither be reddish nor very
pale, but a light silver : in trying it, the palate and tip.
#f
T O L [ 448 ] T O L
Tokay of the tongue should be wetted without swallowing it,
Wine and if it manifest any acrimony to the tongue it is not
^ ^ good } but the taste ought to be soft and mild : when
t 0°' , poured out, it should form globules in the glass, and
have an oily appearance : when genuine, the strongest
is always of the best quality: when swallowed, it should
have an earthy astringent taste in the mouth, which is
called the taste of the root. All tokay wine has an aro¬
matic taste, which distinguishes it from every other spe¬
cies of wine. It keeps to any age, and improves by
time : but is never good till about three years old. It
is the best way to transport it in casks j for when it is
on the seas, it ferments three times every season, and
thus refines itself. When in bottles, there must be an
empty space left between the wine and the cork, other-
wise it would burst the bottle. A little oil is put upon
the surface, and a piece of bladder tied over the cork.
The bottles are always laid on their sides in sand. Phil.
Trans, vol. Ixiii. part ii. p. 292, &c.
TOKENS. See Tradesmens Tokens.
TOISE, or Fathom, a French measure containing
six of their feet, equal to 6,3945 English feet.
TOLAND, John, a famous writer, was born near
Londonderry in Ireland in 1670, and educated in the
Popish religion ; but at 16 years of age embraced the
principles of the Protestants. He studied three years at
the university of Glasgow j was created master of arts in
the university of Edinburgh ; and afterwards completed
his studies at Leyden, where he resided two years. He
then went to Oxford, where, having the advantage of
the public library, he collected materials upon various
subjects, and composed some pieces; among which was,
A Dissertation to prove the received history of the tra¬
gical death of Atilius Regulus, the Roman consul, to
he a fable. He began likewise a work of greater con¬
sequence, in which he undertook to show that there are
no mysteries in the Christian religion. He published it
in 1696 at London, under the title of Christianity not
mysterious. This book gave great offence, and was at¬
tacked by several writers. He afterward wrote in fa¬
vour of the Hanoverian succession, and many other
pieces. In 1 707 he went into Germany, where he vi¬
sited several courts; and in 1710 he was introduced to
Prince Eugene, who gave him several marks of his ge¬
nerosity. Upon his returu to England he was for some
time supported by the liberality of the earl of Oxford
lord-treasurer, and kept a country house at Epsom; but
soon losing his lordship’s favour, he published several
pamphlets against that minister’s measures. In the last
four years of his life he lived at Putney, but used to
spend most part of the winter in London. Mr Toland
died at London in 1722. He was a man of uncommon
abilities, published a number of curious tracts, and was
perhaps the most learned of all the infidel writers ; but
his private character was far from being an amiable one;
for he was extremely vain, and wanted those social vir¬
tues which are the chief ornaments as well as duties of
life. His posthumous works, two volumes octavo, were
published in 1726, with an account of his life and writ¬
ings,.by Mr Des Maizeaux.
TOLEDO, an ancient and trading city of Spain in
Bourgeon- New Castile, of which it was formerly the capital.
ne's Travels About two centuries ago it is said to have contained
V* Spain, more than 200,000 inhabitants ; but they are now di-
7Ui. in minished to 20,000, or at most to 30,000. It is ad¬
vantageously seated on the river Tajo, which surrounds jolcd,
it on two sides ; and on the land side, it has an ancientTolerati
wall built by a Gothic king, and flanked with loo'*"~Y'"
towers. It is seated on a mountain, which renders the
streets uneven, and which are narrow ; but the houses
are fine, and there are a great number of superb struc¬
tures, besides 17 public squares, where the markets are
kept. The finest buildings are the royal castle and the
cathedral church ; which last is the richest and most
considerable in Spain. It is seated in the middle of the
city, joining to a handsome street, with a fine square
before it. Several of the gates are very large, and of
bronze. There is also a superb steeple, extremely high,
from whence there is a very distant prospect. The Sa-
grariro, or principal chapel, is a real treasury, in which
are 15 large cabinets let into the wall, full of prodigious
quantities of gold and silver vessels, and other works.
There are two mitres of silver gilt, set all over with
pearls and precious stones, with three collars of massy
gold, enriched in like manner. There are two brace¬
lets and an imperial crown of the Virgin Mary, consist¬
ing of large diamonds and other jewels. The weight
of the gold in the crown is 15 pounds. The vessel
which contains the consecrated wafer is of silver gilt,
as high as a man, and so heavy, that it requires 30 men
to carry it; within it is another of pure gold enriched
with jew7els. Here are 39 religious houses, most of
which are worthy a traveller’s notice, with many other
sacred buildings, besides seventy churches belonging
to 27 parishes, and fifteen hospitals. Without the town
are the remains of an amphitheatre, and other antiqui¬
ties.
Toledo is an archbishop’s see, who is primate of Spain,
and perhaps the richest prelate in Europe. His revenueSwi»-
is said to amount to X 25,000!. sterling, but there are large
deductions to be made from it. He pays 15,000 ducats
to the monks of the Escurial, besides several other pen-
sions. Toledo has also a university. It was formerly
celebrated for the exquisite temper of the sword blades
made there. It is situated in E. Long. 3. 15. N. Lat.
39, 50. and is 37 miles south from Madrid.
TOLERATION, in matters of religion, is either
civil or ecclesiastical. Civil toleration is an impunity
and safety granted by the state to every sect that does
not maintain doctrines inconsistent with the public
peace : and ecclesiastical toleration is the allowanc*
which the church grants to its members to differ in cer¬
tain opinions, not reputed fundamental.
As the gods of Paganism were almost all local and
tutelary, and as it was a maxim universally received
that it cvas the duty of every man to worship, together
with his own deities, the tutelary gods of the country
in which he might chance to reside, there was no room
for persecution in the Heathen world, on account ol dif¬
ferent sentiments in religion, or of the different rite*
with which the various deities were worshipped. Had
the primitive Christians joined their fellow-citizens in
the worship of Jupiter, Juno, and the rest of the rabble
of Roman divinities, they would have been suflered to
worship, without molestation, the Creator of the world
and the Redeemer of mankind ; for in that case the
God of the Christians would have been looked upon a*
a Being of the same kind with the gods of the empn'G
and the great principle of intercommunity would have
remained unviolated. But the true God had express!*
4 prohibited
t 449 1 T O L
(jicion. prohibited both Jews and Christians from worshipping
J any other god besides Himself j and it was their refusal
to break that precept of their religion which made their
Heathen masters look upon them as Atheists, and per¬
secute them as a people inimical to the state. Utility,
and not truth, was the object for which the Heathen
legislatures supported the national religion. They well
knew that the stories told by their poets of their differ¬
ent divinities, of the rewards of Elysium, and of the
punishments of Tartarus, were a collection of senseless
fables 5 but they had nothing better to propose to the
vulgar, and they were not such strangers to the human
heart, as to suppose that mankind could live together
in society without being influenced in their conduct by
some religion.
Widely different from the genius of Paganism was
the spirit of the Jewish dispensation. Truth, which is
in fact always coincident with general utility, was the
great object of the Mosaic law. The children of Israel
were separated from the rest of the world, to preserve
the knowledge and worship of the true God, at a time
when all the other nations on earth, forgetting the Lord
that made them, were falling prostrate to stocks and
stones, and worshipping devils and impure spirits. Such
Was the contagion ol idolatry, and so strong the propen¬
sity of the Israelites to the customs and manners of the
Egyptians, and other polytheistic nations around them,
that the purpose of their separation could not. have been
served, had not Jehovah condescended to become not
only their tutelary God, but even their supreme civil
Magistrate (see Theology, N° i51.) $ so that under
the Mosaic economy, idolatry was the crime of high
treason, and as such justly punished by the laws of the
state. Among the Jews, the church and state were not
indeed different societies. They were s» thoroughly in¬
corporated, that what was a sin in the one was a crime
in the other ; and the forfeiture of ecclesiastical privi¬
leges was the forfeiture of the rights of citizens.
In many respects the Christian religion is directly op¬
posite to the ritual law of Moses. It is calculated for
all nations, and intended to be propagated among all.
Instead of separating one people from another, one of
its principal objects is to disseminate universal benevo¬
lence, and to inculcate upon the whole human race,
that mutual love which naturally springs from the
knowledge that all men are brethren. Its ultimate end
being to train its votaries for heaven, it concerns itself
no farther with the affairs of earth than to enforce by
eternal sanctions the laws of morality j and the king¬
dom of its Founder not being of this world, it leaves
every nation at liberty to fabricate its orvn municipal
laws, so as best to serve its own interest in the various
circumstances in which it may be placed j and denounces
a curse upon all who pay not to those laws the fullest
obedience, when they are not obviously inconsistent
with the laws of piety and virtue, which are of prior
obligation. 1 he Christian church therefore must always
remain a distinct society from the state j and though,
till the present age of hazardous innovations, it has been
eemed expedient in every country, where the truth of
tie gospel is admitted, to give to the religion of Christ
a cgal establishment, and to confer immunities on its
ministers, this measure has been adopted, not to secure
ie purity of the faith, which appeals to the private
ju gment of each individual, but merely to preserve
* OL. XX. Part II. 4
the peace of society, and to put a restraint upon those Toleration,
actions of which human laws cannot take cognizance. * 1 '*
With religion, Christian governments have no farther
concern than as it tends to promote the practice of vir¬
tue. I he early Christians, however, not understanding
the principle upon which penal laws were employed to
preserve the purity of the Jewish religion ; and, as our
blessed Lord observed to two of his apostles, not know¬
ing what spirit they were of—hastily concluded that
they had a right to enforce the doctrines and worship of
the New Lestament, by the same means which had
been used to preserve the Israelites steady to the doc¬
trines and worship of the Old. Hence,’though they
had suffered the cruellest persecutions themselves (see
Persecution), they no sooner got the power of the
state in their hands, than they persecuted the Pagans
foi their idolatry j and afterwards, when heresies arose
in the church, persecuted one another for expressing in
different phrases metaphysical propositions, of such a
nature as no human mind can fully comprehend. The
apostle had forewarned them that there must be heresies
in the church, that they who are approved may be made
manifest ^ but it did not occur to them that persecution
for opinion is the worst of all heresies, as it violates at
once truth and charity.
Hitherto these unhallowed means of bringing Chri¬
stians to uniformity of faith and practice, had been only
occasionally employed, from their not accurately distin¬
guishing between the spirit of the gospel and that of the
law 5 but as soon as the bishops oi Home had brought
the inhabitants of Europe to recognize their infallibility
in explaining articles ol faith and deciding points of
controversy, persecution became a regular and perma¬
nent instrument of ecclesiastical discipline. To doubt
or to deny any doctrine to which these unerring instruc¬
tors had given the sanction of their approbation, was
held to be not only a resisting of the truth, but an act
of rebellion against their sacred authority ; and the se¬
cular power, of which, by various arts, they bad ac¬
quired the absolute direction, ivas instantly employed
to avenge both.
“ Thus Europe had been accustomed, during many Robertson?t
centuries, to see speculative opinions propagated or de- History of
fended by force •, the charity and mutual forbearance, Charles
which Christianity recommends with so much warmth,
were forgotten 5 the sacred rights of conscience and of
private judgment were unheard of; and not only the idea
of toleration, but even the word itself, in the sense now
affixed to it, was unknown. A. right to extirpate error
by force, was universally allowed to be the prerogative
of those who possessed the knowledge of truth ; and
though the first reformers did not arrogate to themselves
in direct terms that infallibility which they had refused
to the church of Rome, they were not less confident of
the truth of their own doctrines, and required with equal
ardour the princes of their party to check such as presu¬
med to impugn or to oppose them. To this request too
many of these princes lent a willing ear. It flattered at
once their piety and their pride, to be considered as pos¬
sessing all the rights of Jewish princes ; and Henry the
"Vill. of England, after labouring to make bis divines
declare that all authority ecclesiastical as well as civil
flows from the crown, persecuted alternately the Papists
and Protestants. Many of his successors, whose charac¬
ters were much better than his, thought themselves duly
3 E authorized
T O L [ 45° ] TOM
Toleration, authorized, in virtue of their acknowledged supremacy
> v t over all states and conditions of men, to enforce by
means of penal laws a uniformity of faith and worship
among their subjects: and it was not till the revolution
that any sect in England seems to have fully under¬
stood, that all men have an unalienable right to worship
God in the manner which to them may seem most suit¬
able to his nature, and the relation in which they stand
to him } or that it is impossible to produce uniformity
©f opinion by any other means than candid disquisition
and sound reasoning. That the civil magistrate lias a
right to check the propagation of opinions which tend
only to sap the foundations of virtue, and to disturb the
peace of society, cannot, we think, be questioned ; but
that he has no right to restrain mankind from publicly
professing any system of faith, which comprehends the
being and providence of God, the great laws of mora¬
lity, and a future state of rewards and punishments, is
as evident as that it is the object of religion to fit man¬
kind for heaven, and the whole duty of the magistrates
to maintain peace, liberty, and property, upon earth.
We have elsewhere observed (see Test), that among
a number of different sects of Christians, it is not the
superior purity of the system of faith professed by one
of them, that gives it a right to the immunities of an
establishment in preference to all its rivals; but though
the legislature is authorized, in certain circumstances,
to make a less pure system the religion of the state, it
would be the height of absurdity to suppose that any
man, or body of men, can have authority to prevent a
purer system from being acknowledged as the religion
of individuals. For propagating opinions and pursuing
practices which necessarily create civil disturbance,
every man is answerable to the laws of his country ;
but for the soundness of his faith, and the purity of his
worship, he is answerable to no tribunal but that which
can search the heart.
When churches are established, and creeds drawn up
as guides to the preaching of the national clergy, it
is obvious that every clergyman who teaches any thing
directly contrary to the doctrine of such creeds, violates
the condition on which he holds his living, and may be
justly deprived of that living, whether his obnoxious
opinion be in itself true or false, important or unimpor¬
tant ; but his punishment should be extended no farther.
To expel a Christian from private communion for teach¬
ing any doctrine which is neither injurious to the state
nor contrary to the few simple articles which comprise
the sum of the Christian faith, is the grossest tyranny ;
and the governors of that church which is guilty of it,
usurp the prerogative of the blessed Lord, who com¬
manded the apostles themselves not to be called masters
in this sense ; for one (says he) is your master (vpa/v »
xctiyyyhis), even Christ. It is indeed a hardship to de¬
prive a man of his living for conscientiously illustrating
what he believes to be a truth of the gospel, only be¬
cause his illustration may be different from that which
had formerly been given by men fallible like himself;
but if the establishment of human compilations of faith
be necessary, this hardship cannot be removed, but by
making such compilations as simple as possible, and
drawing them up in scripture language. Such a re¬
formation, could it be effected peaceably, would serve
other good purposes ; for while it would sufficiently
guard the purity of the faith, it would withdraw that
temptation which too many establishments throw in the Tolenuiu
way of men, to subscribe to the truth of what they do ||
not really believe; and it would effectually banish from Toi>ik
the Christian church every thing which can be called by ^ ^
the name oipersecution. See Nonconformists.
TOLL, a tax or custom paid for liberty to vend
goods in a market or fair, or for keeping roads in pro¬
per repair. The first appointment of a toll on highways
of which we read, took place in 1346. See Hoad.
TOLOUSE. See Toulouse.
TOLU, a town of South America in Terra Firma,
and in the government of Carthagena; famous for the
fine balsam of Tolu, brought into Europe from thence,
and produced from a tree like a pine. It is seated on
a bay of the Carribbean sea, 60 miles south of Cartha¬
gena. W. Long. 75. 25. N. Lat. 9. 45.
TOLUIFERA, the BALSAM-of-Touu Tree; a ge¬
nus of plants belonging to the class of decandria. See
Botany, p. 182. and Chemistry, N° 2483.
TOMATOES. See Solanum, Botany Imkx.
TOMB, includes both the grave or sepulchre wherein
a defunct is interred, and the monument erected to pre¬
serve his memory. The word is formed from the Greek
tumulus, “ sepulchre ;” or, according to Me¬
nage, from the Latin iumba, which signifies the same.
In many nations it has been customary to burn the
bodies of the dead, and to collect the ashes with pious
care into an urn, which was deposited in a tomb or se¬
pulchre. See Burning. Among many nations it has
also been the practice to lay the dead body in a tomb,
without consuming it, after having wrapped it up de¬
cently, and sometimes placing it in a coffin. See Cof¬
fin.
The tombs of the Jews were generally hollow places
hewn out of a rock. Abraham buried Sarah in a cave.
Such was the place too in which the kings of Judah and
Israel were interred : and such was the place in which
the body of onr Saviour was deposited by Joseph of
Arimathea. But it is probable that the common people
buried their dead in graves; for our Saviour compares
the Pharisees to “ graves ivhich appear not, and the
men that walk over them are not aware of them.” Over
the tombs, perhaps only of people of distinction, a stone
or monument was erected, to intimate to passengers that
they were burying places, that they might not pollute
themselves by touching them. With the same inten¬
tion, as Lightfoot informs us, they whitened them every
year on the 15th of February.
The Egyptians also buried their dead in caves, called
catacombs. See Catacomb. The pyramids, as some
think, were also employed for the same purpose. Some¬
times also, after embalming their dead, they placed
them in niches in some magnificent apartment in their
houses.
The Greeks and Romans burned their dead, and de¬
posited their ashes in a tomb. The Greeks interred the
ashes without the cities, by the sides of their highways.
Sometimes indeed, by way of particular honour, they
were buried in an elevated part of the town ; and the
Lacedaemonians were allowed by Lycurgus to bury m
the city and round their temples : But this was forbid¬
den among the Romans by the law of the twelve tables,
In urbe ne sepelito, neve urito; yet Valerius Publicola,
Posthumus Tubertius, and the family of the Claudu,
were buried in the Capitol. To bury by the sides of
public
; mb.
bcl*!
;ia, vo
TOM r 451 ] TON
public roads vras common among the Romans also $
1 hence their epitaphs frequently began with Sisie viator.
Highways were made choice of probably for two rea¬
sons: i. That the dead might not be ofi’ensive or injure
the health of the living, which they certainly would if
biuied in towns or populous places ; and, 2dly, That
they might hold out to travellers a lesson of mortality,
and teach the rustic moralist to die.
As it would swell this article to too great a size,
to describe all the difl’erent kinds of tombs which
have been used by different nations and ages, we must
content ourselves with shortly describing the tombs of
a few nations, and adding a few concomitant circum¬
stances.
The tombs of the Parsees are singular. The deceas¬
ed, after lying a proper time in his own house, for the
purposes of mourning, is carried, followed by his rela¬
tions and friends, the females chanting a requiem, and
deposited in a tomb of the following construction : It is
a circular building, open at top, about 55 feet diameter,
and 25 feet in height, filled to within 5 feet of the top,
excepting a well of 15 feet diameter in the centre. The
part so filled is terraced, with a slight declivity toward
the well. Two circular grooves three inches deep are
raised round the well j the first at the distance of four,
the second at ten, feet from the well. Grooves of the
like depth or height, and four feet distance from each
other at the outer part of the outer circle, are carried
straight from the wall to the well, communicating with
the circular ones, for the purpose of carrying off the
water, &c. The tomb, by this means, is divided into
three circles of partitions : the outer, about seven feet
by four: the middle six by three : the inner, four by
two : the outer for the men, the middle for the women,
the inner for the children ; in which the bodies are re¬
spectively placed, wrapped loosely in a piece of cloth,
and left to be devoured by the vultures j which is very
soon done, as numbers of those animals are always seen
hovering and watching about these charnel houses, in
expectation of their prey. The friends of the deceased,
or the persons who have charge of the tomb, come at
the proper time, and throw the bones into their recep¬
tacle, the well in the centre ; for which purpose, iron
rakes and tongs are deposited in the tomb. The en¬
trance is closed by an iron door, four feet square, on
the eastern side, as high up as the terrace, to which a
road is raised. Upon the wall, above the door, an addi¬
tional wall is raised, to prevent people from looking in¬
to the tomb, which the Parsees are particularly careful
to prevent. A Persian inscription is on a stone insert¬
ed over the door, which we once copied, but have for¬
gotten its tenor. From the bottom of the wall subter¬
raneous passages lead to receive the bones, &c. and
prevent the well from filling.
Of the ancient sepulchres found in Russia and Siberia,
some are perfect tumuli, raised to an enormous height,
while others are almost level with the ground Some of
them are encompassed with a square wall ot large quarry
stones placed in an erect position ; others are covered
only with a small heap of stones, or they are tumuli
adorned with stones at top. Some are walled with brick
withtn, and vaulted over ; others are no more than pits
or common graves. In some the earth is excavated seve¬
ral fathoms deep; others, and especially those which are
topped by a lofty tumulus, are only dug of a sufficient Tomb
depth for covering the carcase. In many of these se- |!
pulchres the bones of men, and frequently of horses, are lone,
found, and in a condition that renders it probable the 111 r_ “
bodies were not burnt before they were inhumed. Other
bones show clearly that they have been previously
burnt} because a part of them is unconsumed, and be¬
cause they lie in a disordered manner, and some of
them are wanting. Urns, in which other nations of
antiquity have deposited the ashes of their dead, are
never met with here. But sometimes what remained
of their bodies after the combustion, and even whole
carcases, are found wrapped up in thin plates of gold.
Many dead bodies are frequently seen deposited toge¬
ther in one tomb j a certain indication that either a
battle had been fought in the neighbourhood of the
place, or that some families buried their relations in an
hereditary tomb.
The Moors, like all other Mahometans, hold it
contrary to the spirit of religion to bury their dead ia
mosques, and to profane the temple of the Most Higi*
by the putrefaction of dead bodies. In the infancy of
the church the Christians had the like respect for their
temples. The burial grounds of the Mahometans are Chenier'j
without the city j the emperors have their sepulchres
distinct and distant from the mosque, in sanctuaries,**
built by themselves: their tombs are exceedingly
simple.
All Mahometans inter the dead at the hour set apart
for prayer. The defunct is not kept in the house, ex¬
cept he expires after sunset j but the body is transport¬
ed to the mosque, whither it is carried by those who arc
going to prayer. Each, from a spirit of devotion, is
desirous to carry in his turn. The Moors sing at their
burial service; which usage perhaps they have imita¬
ted after the Christians of Spain. They have no par¬
ticular colour appropriated to mourning. Women re¬
gularly go on the Friday to weep over and pray at
the sepulchres of the dead, whose memory they hold
dear.
Among the northern nations it was customary to bury
their dead under heaps of stones called cairns, or under
barrows: (See the articles Cairns and Barrow.)
The inhabitants of Tibet, it is said, neither bury nor
burn their dead ; but expose them on the tops of moun¬
tains. See Tibet.
TOMBUCI 00, a city of Africa, and capital of a
rich and populous country, situated near the Niger, in
E. Long. 1. 30. and N. Lat. 16. 30. Some manufac¬
tures, particularly that of cotton cloth, are carried on iu
Tombuctoo ; and it has a considerable trade with the
caravans. Many fruitless attempts have recently been
made by European travellers to reach this city, which is
supposed to be one of the most considerable in the in¬
terior of Africa. See Affrica, Supplement.
TOM PI ON, a sort of bung or cork used to stop the
mouth of a cannon. At sea this is carefully encircled
with tallow or putty, to prevent the penetration of the
water into the bore, whereby the powder contained in
the chamber might be damaged or rendered incapable of
service.
TON, a measure or weight. See Tun.
TONE 1 or Tune, in Music, a property of sound,
whereby it comes under the relation ofgmue and t/ewte,-
3 L 2 or
TON [ 452 ] TON
Blackst.
Comment.
vol. i.
or the degree of elevation any sound has, from the de¬
gree of swiftness of the vibrations of the parts of the so¬
norous body.
The variety of tones in human voices arises partly
from the dimensions of the windpipe, which, like a flute,
the longer and narrower it is, the sharper the tone it
gives ; but principally from the head of the larynx or
knot of the throat: the tone of the voice being more or
less grave as the rima or cleft thereot is more or less
open.
The word tone is taken in four different senses among
the ancients: i. For any sound •, 2. For a certain in¬
terval, as when it is said the difference between the dia-
pente and diatessaron is a tone; 3. For a certain locus
or compass of the voice, in which sense they used the
Dorian,Phrygian, Lydian tones; 4.For tension,as when
they speak of an acute, grave, or a middle tone.
Tone is more particularly used, in music, for a cer¬
tain degree or interval of tune, whereby a sound may be
either raised or lowered from one extreme of a concord
to the other, so as still to produce true melody.
TONGUE. See Anatomy, N° 102.
TONIC, in Music, signifies a certain degree of ten¬
sion, or the sound produced by a vocal string in a given
degree of tension, or by any sonorous body when put in
vibration.
Tonic, says Rousseau, is likewise the name given by
Aristoxenus to one of the three kinds of chromatic mu¬
sic, whose divisions he explains, and which was the or¬
dinary chromatic of the Greeks, proceeding by two
semitones in succession, and afterwards a third minor.
Tonic Dominant. See Dominant.
TONNAGE and Poundage, an ancient duty on
wine and other goods, the origin of which seems to have
been this : About the 21st of Edward III. complaint
was made that merchants were robbed and murdered on
the seas. The king thereupon, with the consent of the
peers, levied a duty of 2s. on every ton of wine, and
12d. in the pound on all goods imported; which was
treated as illegal by the commons. About 25 years
after, the king, when the knights of shires were re¬
turned home, obtained a like grant from the citizens
and burgesses, and the year after it was regularly grant¬
ed in parliament. These duties were diminished some¬
times, and sometimes increased ; at length they seem to
have been fixed at 3s. tonnage and is. poundage. They
were at first usually granted only for a stated term of
years, as, for two years in 5 Ilic. II. ; but in Henry
Vl.’s time they were granted him for life by a statute
in the 31st year of his reign ; and again to Edward IV.
for the term of his life also: since which time they
were regularly granted to all his successors for life,
sometimes at the first, sometimes at other subsequent
parliaments, till the reign of Charles I. ; when, as the
noble historian expresses it, his ministers were not suf¬
ficiently solicitous for a renewal of his legal grant. And
yet these imposts were imprudently and unconstitution¬
ally levied and taken, without consent of parliament,
for 15 years together ; which was one of the causes of
those unhappy discontents, justifiable at first in too
many instances, but which degenerated at last into cause¬
less rebellion and murder. For, as in every other, so
in this particular case, the king (previous to the com¬
mencement of hostilities) gave the nation ample satisfac¬
tion for the errors of his former conduct, by passing an
act, whereby he renounced all power in the crown of x0
levying the duty of tonnage and poundage, without the Tenqln
express consent of parliament; and also all power of im-
position upon any merchandises whatever. Upon the
restoration, this duty was granted to King Charles II.
for life, and so it was to his two immediate successors;
but now, by three several statutes, 9 Ann. c. 6. 1 Geo.
I. c. 12. and 3 Geo. I. c. 7. it is made perpetual, and
mortgaged for the debt of the public.
TONQU1N, a kingdom of Asia, in the East Indies,
beyond the Ganges; bounded on the north by the pro¬
vince of Yunnan in China, on the east by the province
of Canton and the bay of Tonquin, on the south by
Cochin China, and on the west by the kingdom of
Laos. It is about 1200 miles in length and 500 in
breadth ; and is one of the finest and most considerable
kingdoms of the East, as well on account of the num¬
ber of inhabitants as the riches it contains and the trade
it carries on. The country is thick set with villages;
and the natives in general are of a middle stature and
clean limbed, with a tawney complexion. Their faces
are oval and flattish, and their noses and lips well pro¬
portioned. Their hair is black, long, lank, and coarse;
and they let it hang down their shoulders. They are
generally dexterous, nimble, active, and ingenious in
mechanic arts. They weave a multitude of fine silks,
and make curious lacker-works, which are transported
to other countries. There is such a number of people,
that many want employment; for they seldom go te
work but when foreign ships arrive. The money and
goods brought hither by the English and Dutch put
them in action ; for they have not money of their own
sufficient to employ themselves ; and therefore one-third
at least must be advanced beforehand by the merchants:
and the ships must stay here till the goods are finished,
which is generally five or six months. They are so ad¬
dicted to gaming, that when every thing else is lost, they
will stake their wives and children. The garments of
the Tonquinese are made either of silk or cotton ; hut
the poor people and soldiers wear only cotton of a dark
tawney colour. Their houses are small and low; and
the walls either of mud, or hurdles daubed over with
clay. They have only a ground floor, with two or
three partitions ; and each room has a square hole to let
in the light. The villages consist of 30 or 40 houses,
surrounded with trees; and in some places there are
banks to keep the water from overflowing their gar¬
dens, where they have oranges, betels, melons, and sa¬
lad-herbs. In the rainy season they cannot pass from
one house to another without wading through the wa¬
ter ; they sometimes have boats. In the capital city
called Cacho there are about 20,000 houses with mud-
walls, and covered with thatch ; a few are built with
brick, and roofed with pan-tiles. In each yard is a
small arched building like an oven, about six feet high,
made of brick, which serves to secure their goods in case
of fire. The principal streets are very wide, and paved
with small stones. The king of Tonquin has three pa¬
laces in it, such as they are ; and near them are stables
for his horses and elephants. The house of the English
factory is seated at the north end of the city, fronting
the river, and is the best in the city. The people in
general are courteous, and civil to strangers; but the
great men are proud, haughty, and ambitious; the sol*
diers insolent, and the poor thievish. They buy all
ton [ 453 ] TOP
T urn t^ie*r w*lVes» ^ie great men have several j but
j1 the poor are stinted for want of money. In hard times
Ti'ine. the men will sell both their wives and children to buy
—r—'rice to maintain themselves. The women offer them¬
selves to strangers as wives while they stay, and agree
with them for a certain price. Even the great men
will offer their daughters to the merchants and officers
who are likely to stay six months in the country. They
are not afraid of being with child ; for if they are girls
they can sell them well when they are young, because
they are fairer than the other inhabitants. These wo¬
men are said to be very faithful ; and are trusted with
money and goods by the Europeans during their ab¬
sence, and will make great advantage with them. The
first new moon in the year that happens after the mid¬
dle of January, is a great festival •, when they rejoice
for 10 or 12 days together, and spend their time in all
manner of sports. Their common drink is tea, but they
make themselves merry with arrack. The language is
spoken very much in the throat; and some of the words
are pronounced through the teeth, and has a great re¬
semblance to the Chinese. They have several mechanic
arts or trades •, such as smiths, carpenters, joiners, tur¬
ners, weavers, tailors, potters, painters, money-changers,
paper-makers, workers in lacker, and bell-founders.—
Their commodities are gold, musk, silks, calicoes, drugs
of many sorts, woods for dyeing, lacquered wares,
earthen wares, salt, aniseeds, and worm-seeds. The lac¬
quered ware is not inferior to that of Japan, which is
accounted the best in the world. The chief trade is
carried on by the Chinese, English, and Dutch. Ton-
quin anciently formed part of the Chinese empire, but
established its independence about 1553. From that
period it was governed by its own princes till the year
1800, when after a long struggle it was finally con¬
quered by the sovereign of Cochin China.
TONSILS. See Anatomy, N° 102.
TONSURE, in Ecclesiastical History, a particular
manner of shaving or clipping the hair of ecclesiastics
or monks. The ancient tonsure of the clergy was
nothing more than polling the head, and cutting the
hair to a moderate degree, for the sake of decency
and gravity: and the same observation is true with-
respect to the tonsure of the ancient monks. But
the Romans have carried the affair of tonsure much
farther; the candidate for it kneeling before the bi¬
shop, who cuts the hair in five different parts of the
head, viz. before, behind, on each side, and on the
crown.
TONTINE, a loan given for life annuities with be¬
nefit of survivorship; so called from the inventor Lau¬
rence Tonti, a Neapolitan. He proposed his scheme
in 1653 to reconcile the people to Cardinal Maza-
zme’s government, by amusing them with the hope of
becoming suddenly rich. He obtained the consent of
the court, hut the parliament would not register the
edict. He made attempts afterwards, but without suc¬
cess.
It was not till LouisXIV. was distressed by the league
ef Augsburg, and by his own immense expences, that he
had recourse to the plans of Tonti, which, though long
laid aside, were not forgotten. By an edict in 1689 he
treated a Tontine royale of 1,400,000 livres annual
rent, divided into 14 classes. The actions were 300
hvres a piece, and the proprietors were to receive 10L
per cent, with benefit of survivorship in every class. Tominc
This scheme was executed but very imperfectly ; for I!
none, of the classes rose to above 25,000 livx-es, instead jfop-Sails.
of 100,000, according to the original institution ; though v
the annuities were very regularly paid. A few years
after, the people seeming in better humour for projects
of this kind, another tontine was erected upon nearly
the same terms, but this was never above half full.
They both subsisted in the year 1726, when the French
king united the 13th class of the first tontine with the
14th of the second ; all the actions of which were
possessed by Charlotte Bonneymay, widow of Louis
Barbier, a surgeon of Paris, who died at the age of 96.
This gentlewoman had ventured 300 livres in each ton¬
tine ; and in the last year of her life she had for her
annuity 73,500 livres, or about 3600!. a-year, for about
3 ok
The nature of the tontine is this ; there is an annuity,
after a certain rate of interest, granted to a number of
people; divided into classes, according to their respective
ages; so that annually the whole fund of each class is
divided among the survivors of that class ; till at last it
falls to one, and upon the extinction of that life, reverts
to the power by which the tontine was erected, and
which becomes thereby security for the due payment of
the annuities.
TOOL, among mechanics, denotes in general any
instrument used for making other complex instruments
and machines, or in other operations of the mechanic
arts.
TOOTH, for a description of, see Anatomy, N0
27.
TOOTHACH. See Medicine, N° 210, and Sur¬
gery Index.
TooTHACH-Tree. See Zanthoxylum,*) Botany
TOOTHWORT. See Plumbago, J Index.
TOP, a sort of platform, surrounding the lower
masthead, from which it projects on all sides like a
scaffold.
The principal Intention of the top is to extend the
topmast shrouds, so as to form a greater angle with the
mast, and thereby give additional support to the latter.
It is sustained by certain timbers fixed across the hounds
or shoulders of the masts, and called the trestle-trees and
cross-trees.
Besides the use above mentioned, the top is otherwise
extremely convenient to contain the materials necessary
for extending the small sails, and for fixing or repairing
the rigging and machinery with more facility and expe¬
dition. In ships of war it is used as a kind of redoubt,
and is accordingly fortified for attack or defence; being
furnished with swivels, musketry, and other fire-arms,
and guarded by a thick fence of corded hammocks. Fi¬
nally, it is employed as a place for looking out, either
in the day or night.
Top-Mast, the second division of a mast, or that part
which stands between the upper and lower pieces. See
the article Mast.
Top-Sails, certain large sails extended across the top¬
masts by the top-sail yard above, and by the yard attach¬
ed to the lower mast beneath; being fastened to the
former by robands, and to the later by means of two-
great blocks fixed on its extremities, through which
the topsail-sheets are inserted, passing from thence to
two other blocks fixed on the inner part of the yard
clcJe
t
TOR r 454 1 TOR
T-oi'-SaiJs cl°se l^e mast j an(^ ^rom ^iese latter tlie sheets
|| lead downwards to the deck, where they may be
Tones, slackened or extended at pleasure. See the article
Sail.
TOPAZ, a gem or precious stone. See Minera¬
logy Index.
TOPE, a species of Squalus. See Ichthyology
Jndex.
TOPHET. See Hinnom and Moloch.
TOPHUS, in Medicine, denotes a chalky or stony
concretion in any part of the body •, as the bladder,
kidney, &c. but especially in the joints. .
TOPIC, a general head or subject o^diseourse.
Topics, in Oratory. See Oratory, N° io—13.
Topics, or Topical Medicines, are the same with
external remedies, or those applied outwardly to some
diseased and painful part: such are plasters, cataplasms,
unguents, &c.
TOPOGRAPHY, a description or draught of some
particular place, or small tract of land, as that of a city
or town, manor, or tenement, held, garden, house, castle,
or the like ; such as surveyors set out in their plots, or
make draughts of, for the information and satisfaction
of the proprietors.
TOPSHAM, a town in Devonshire, in England,
seated on the river Exmouth, hve miles south-east of
Exeter, to which place the river was formerly navi¬
gable ; but in time of war was choaked up designedly,
so that ships are now obliged to load and unload at
Topsham. W. Long. 3* 26. N. Lat. 50. 39’
TORBAY, a hne bay of the English channel, on
the coast of Devonshire, a little to the east of Dart¬
mouth, formed by two capes, called Bury Points, and
Bob's 'Nose.
TORDA, or Rasor-bill. See Alca, Ornitho¬
logy Index.
TORDYLIUM, Hart-wort, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of pentandria, and in the natural
system arranged under the 45th order, Umbellatce. See
Botany Index.
TORIES, a political faction in Britain, opposed to
the W bigs.
The name of Tories w7as given to a sort of banditti
in Ireland, and was thence transferred to the adherents
of Charles I. by his enemies, under the pretence that
he favoured the rebels in Ireland. His partisans, to be
even with the republicans, gave them the name of
Whigs, from a word which signifies tv hey, in derision of
their poor fare. Toe Tories, or cavaliers, as they were
afio called, had then principally in view the political
interest of the king, the crown, and the church of Eng¬
land ; and the round-heads, or Whigs, proposed chiefly
the maintaining of the rights and interests of the peo¬
ple, and of Protestantism. This is the most popular ac¬
count ; and yet it is certain the names Whig and Tory
were but little known till about the middle of the reign
of King Charles II. M. de Cize relates, that it was in
the year 1678 that the whole nation was first observed
to be divided into Whigs and Tories *, and that on oc¬
casion of the famous deposition of Titus Oates, who
accused the Catholics of having conspired against the
king and the state, the appellation of Whig was given
to such as believrd the plot real j and Tory to those
who held it fictitious.
These parties may be considered either with regard
•5
to the state or to religion. The state Tories are eithe* 5^
violent or moderate : the first wfould have the king to ^
be absolute, and therefore plead for passive obedience, Torricel
non-resistance, and the hereditary right of the house oUl8n^P«
Stuart. The moderate Tories would not suffer the king am
to lose any of his prerogative j but then they would not
sacrifice those of the people. The state Whigs are either
strong republicans or moderate ones. The first (says
Rapin) are the remains of the party of the long parlia¬
ment, who attempted to change monarchy to a com¬
monwealth : but these make so slender a figure, that
they only served to strengthen the party of other Whigs.
The l ories would persuade the world, that all the
Whigs are of this kind *, as the Whigs wmild make
us believe that all the Tories are violent. The mode¬
rate state Whigs are much in the same sentiments
with the moderate Tories, and desire that the govern¬
ment may be maintained on the ancient foundation:
all the difference is, that the first bear a little more to
ihe parliament and people, and the latter to that of the
king. In short, the old Whigs were always jealous of
the encroachments of the royal prerogative, and watch¬
ful over the preservation of the liberties and properties
of the people.
TORMENTILLA, Tormentil, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of icosandria, and in the natural
system ranging under the 35th order, Senticosce. See
Botany Index.
TORNADO, a sudden and vehement gust of wind
from all points of the compass, frequent on the coast ef
Guinea.
TORPEDO, the Cramp-fish. See Raja, Ich¬
thyology Index.
TORPOR, a numbness, or defect of feeling and mo¬
tion. Galen says it is a sort ol intermediate disorder
between palsy and health.
TORREEACTION, in Chemistry, is the roasting
or scorching of a body by the fire, in order to discharge
a part either unnecessary or hurtful in another opera¬
tion. Sulphur is thus discharged from an ore before it
can be wrought to advantage.
TORRENT, denotes a temporary stream of water
falling suddenly from mountains, whereon there have
been great rains or an extraordinary thaw ot snow.
TORRICELLI, Evangeliste, an illustrious Ita¬
lian mathematician and philosopher, born at laenza in
1608. He was trained in Latin literature by his u cle
a monk ; and after cultivating mathematical knowledge
for some time without a master, he studied it under
Father Bern diet Castelli, professor of mathematics at
Rome. Having read Galileo’s dialogues, he composed
a treatise on motion, on his principles, which brought
him acquainted with Galileo, who took him home as
an assi>tant: hut Galileo died in three months after.
He became professor of mathematics at I lore nee, and
greatly improved the art of making telescopes and mi-
croscopes : but he is best known for finding out a me¬
thod of ascertaining the weight of the atmosphere by
quicksilver j the barometer being called, from him, the
Torricellian tube. He- published Opera Geomeirica,
qto, 1644 •, and died in 1647.
TORRICELLIAN EXPERIMENT, a famous experi¬
ment made by Torricelli, by which he demonstrated the
pressure oi the atmosphere in opposition to the doctrines
ot suction, &c. finding that pressure able to support only
TOR [ 455 ] T O U
p0Lel_ a certain length of mercury, or any other fluid, in anin-
n Leri-verted glass tube. See Barometer.
n t TORSK, or Tusk. See Gadus, Ichthyology
, Index.
S.lj TORTOISE. See Testudo, Erpetology Index,
ul.-ans. Tortoise shell, the shell, or rather scales, of the
3 4 testaceous animal called a tortoise; used in inlaying, and
11 in various other works, as for snuff-boxes, combs, &c.
Mr Catesby observes, that the hard strong covering
which incloses all sorts oi tortoises, is very improperly
called a shell; bemg of a perfect bony contexture j but
covered on the outside with scales, or rather plates, of a
horny substance ; which are what the workmen call
tortoise-shell.
There are two general kinds of tortoises, viz. the
land and sea tortoise, testudo terrestris and marina. The
sea-tortoise, again, is of several kinds j but it is the caret,
or testudo imbricata of Linnaeus, alone which furnishes
that beautiful shell so much admired in Europe.
The shell of the caretta, or hawksbill tortoise, is
thick; and consists of two parts, the upper, which co¬
vers the back, and the lower the belly : the two are
joined together at the sides by strong ligaments, which
yet allow of a little motion. In the fore-part is an aper¬
ture for the head and fore-legs, and behind for the
hind-legs and tail. It is the under shell alone that is
used : to separate it, they make a little fire beneath it,
and as soon as ever it is warm, the under shell becomes
easily separable with a point of a knife, and is taken off
in laminae or leaves.
The whole spoils of the caret consist in 13 leaves or
scales, eight of them flat, and five a little bent. Of the
flat ones, there are four large ones, sometimes a foot
long, and seven inches broad. The best tortoise-shell
is thick, clear, transparent, of the colour of antimony,
sprinkled with brown and white. When used in mar¬
quetry, &c. the workmen give it what colour they
please by means of coloured leaves, which they put un-
! derneath it.
Working and joining of Tortoise-shell.—Tortoise-
shell and horn become soft in a moderate heat, as that
of boiling water, so as to be pressed, in a mould, into
any form, the shell or horn being previously cut into
plates of a proper size. Plumier informs us, in his^Ir^
de Turner, that two plates are likewise united into one
by heating and pressing them; the edges being thorough¬
ly cleaned, and made to sit close to one another. The
tortoise-shell is conveniently heated for this purpose by
applying a hot iron above and beneath the juncture,
with the interposition of a wet cloth to prevent the shell
from being scorched by the irons : these irons should be
pretty thick, that they may not lose their heat before
the union is effected. Both tortoise-shell and horns may
he stained of a variety of colours, fiy means of the co¬
louring drugs commonly used in dyeing, and by certain
metallic solutions.
10R1URE, a violent pain inflicted on persons to
orce them to confess the ciimes laid to their charge,,
or as a punishment for crimes committed;
torture was never permitted among the Romans ex-
cep.. in the examination of slaves: it would therefore ap¬
pear, tliai it was a general opinion among them, that a
s av® ^lad ^uch a tendency to falsehood, that the truth
fcould only be extorted from him. To the disgrace of
the professors of Christianity, torture was long practised Torture
by those who called themselves Catholics, against those f|
whom they termed heretics; that is, those who diflered Touch-
in opinion from themselves. Finding that they could , N,cctile-
not bring over others to adopt their sentiments by the
force of argument, they judged it proper to compel them
by the force of punishment. This practice was very ge¬
neral among orthodox Christians, but especially among
Roman Catholics. See Inquisition.
By the law of England, torture was at one period em¬
ployed to compel those criminals who stood obstinately
mute when brought to trial, and refused either to plead
guilty or not guilty; but it is now abolished (see Ar¬
raignment, and Rack). A history of the machines
which have been invented to torture men, and an ac¬
count of the instances in which they have been em¬
ployed, would exhibit a dismal picture of the human
character.
TORUS, in Architecture, a large round moulding
used in the bases of columns. See Architecture.
TOUCAN. See Rhamphastos, Ornithology
Index.
TOUCH- NEEDLE, among assayers, refiners, &c. lit¬
tle bars of gold, silver, and copper, combined together,
in all the different proportions and degrees of mixture;
the use of which is to discover the degree of purity of
any piece of gold or silver, by comparing the mark it
leaves on the touchstone with those oi the bars.
The metals usually tried by the touchstone are gold,,
silver, and copper, either pure, or mixed with one an¬
other in different degrees and proportions, by fusion.
In order to find out the purity or quantity of baser me¬
tal in these various admixtures, when they are to be exa¬
mined they are compared with these needles, which
are mixed in a known proportion, and prepared for this
use. The metals of these needles, both pure and mix¬
ed, are all made into laminae or plates, one-twelfth of an
inch broad, and of a fourth part of their breadth in
thickness, and an inch and half-long; these being thus
prepared, you are to engrave on each a mark indicating-
its purity, or the nature and quantity of the admixture
in it. The black rough marbles, the basaltes, or the
softer kinds of black pebbles, are the most proper for
touchstones.
The method of using the needles and stone is thus :
The piece of metal to be tried ought first to be wiped
well with a clean towel or piece of soft leather, that you
may the better see its true colour ; for from this alone
an experienced person, will in some degree, judge be¬
forehand what the principal metal is, and how and with
what debased.
Then choose a convenient, not over large, part of
the surface of the metal, and rub it several times very
hardly and strongly against the touchstone, that in case
a deceitful coat or crust should have been laid upon it,
it may be worn off by that fricton : this, however, is
more readily done by a grindstone or small file. Then
wipe a flat and very clear part of the touchstone, and
rub against it, over and over, the just-mentioned part
of the surface of the piece of metal, till you have, on
the flat surface of the stone, a thin metallic crest, an
inch long, and about an eighth of an inch broad: this
done, look out the needle that seems most like (o the
metal under (rial, wipe the lower part of this needle
very-
T O U
[ 45^ ]
T O U
Touch-
Needle
Toulon.
very clean, and then rub it against the touchstone, as
you did the metal, by the side of the other line, and in
a direction parallel to it.
1 When this is done, if you find no difference between
the colours of the two marks made by your needle and
the metal under trial, you may with great probability
pronounce that metal and your needle to be of the same
alloy, which is immediately known by the mark en¬
graved on your needle. But if you find a difference be¬
tween the colour of the mark given by the metal, and
that by the needle vou have tried, choose out another
needle, either of a darker or lighter colour than the
former, as the difference of the tinge on the touchstone
directs j and by one or more trials of this kind you will
be able to determine which of your needles the metal
answers, and thence what alloy it is of, by the mark of
the needle ; or else you will find that the alloy is ex¬
traordinary, and not to be determined by the compari¬
son of your needles.
Touchstone, a black, smooth, glossy stone, used to
examine the purity of metals. The ancients called it
/apis Lydius, the Lydian stone, from the name of the
country whence it was originally brought.
Any piece of peeble or black flint will answer the
purposes of the best lapis Lydius of Asia. Even a piece
of glass made rough with emery is used with success, to
distinguish true gold from such as is counterfeit; both
by the metallic colour and the test of aquafortis. The
true touchstone is of a black colour, and is not uncom¬
mon in many parts of the world.
TOUCHWOOD. See Boletus, Botany Index.
TOULON, a celebrated city and seaport of France,
in that part of the late province of Provence which is
now denominated the department of the Var. It is a
very ancient place, having been founded, according to
the common opinion, by a Roman general. It is the
chief town of the department, and before the great re¬
volution in 1789 was an episcopal see. The inhabitants
were computed at 29,000 in 1817. It is divided into the
Old Quarter and the New Quarter. The first, which is
very ill built, has nothing remarkable in it but the Tire
aux Arbres, the Tree-Street, which is a kind of course
or mall, and the town-house } the gate of this is sur¬
rounded by a balcony, which is supported by two ter¬
mini, the masterpieces of the famous Pujet. The New
Quarter, which forms as it were a second city, contains,
beside the magnificent works constructed in the reign of
Louis XIV. many fine houses (among which that of the
late seminary merits beyond comparison the preference)
and a grand oblong square, lined with trees, and serving
as a parade.
The Merchants Haven, along which extends a noble
quay, on which stands the town-house, is protected by
two moles, begun by Henry IV. The New Haven
was constructed by Louis XIV. as were the fortifications
of the city. In the front of this haven is an arsenal,
containing all the places necessary for the construction
and fitting out of vessels : the first object that appears is
a rope-walk, entirely arched, extending as far as the
eve can reach, and built after the designs of Vauban :
here cables are made, and above is a place for the pre¬
paration of hemp. Here likewise is the armoury for
muskets, pistols, halberds, &c. In the park of ar¬
tillery are cannons placed in piles, bombs, grenades,
mortars, and balls of various kinds, ranged in wonder-
2
ful order. The long-sail-room, the foundery for can- Toil',*)
non, the dockyards, the basons, &c. are all worthy of TouWe
observation. 1—
Both the Old and New Port have an outlet into the
spacious outer road or harbour, which is surrounded bj
hills, and formed by nature almost circular. Its cir¬
cuit is of very great extent, and the entrance is defend¬
ed on both sides by a fort with strong batteries. In a
word, the basons, docks, and arsenal, at Toulon, war*
ranted the remark of a foreigner that visited them in
the late reign, that “ the king of France was greater
there than at Versailles.” Toulon is the only mart in
the Mediterranean for the re-exportation of the products
of the East Indies.
This place was destroyed toward the end of the tenth
century, and pillaged by the African pirates almost as
soon as rebuilt. The constable of Bourbon, at the head
of the Imperial troops, obtained possession of it in 1524,
as did Charles V. in 15365 but in the next century
Charles Emanuel duke of Savoy could not enter it, and
Prince Eugene in 1707 ineffectually laid siege to it.
This city was surrendered by the inhabitants in Septem¬
ber 1793 to the British admiral Lord Hood, as a con-*
dition and means of enabling them to effect the re-esta¬
blishment of monarchy in France, according to the con¬
stitution of 1789. Lord Hood accordingly, in conjunc¬
tion with the Spanish land and naval forces, took pos-*
sion of the harbour and forts in trust for Louis XVII.
It was garrisoned for some time by the British troops,
and their allies the Spaniards, Neapolitans, and Sardi¬
nians 5 but the French having laid seige to it, the gar¬
rison was obliged to evacuate the place in the month of
December following, after having destroyed the grand
arsenal, two ships of 84 guns, eight of 74, and two fri¬
gates 5 and carried off the Commerce de Marseilles, a
ship of 120 guns, with an 80 and 74 gun ship. This
exploit was most gallantly performed, after it was found
impossible to defend the town, or to carry off the ships.
Lord Hood entrusted the management of the affair to
Sir Sydney Smith, so distinguished for his intrepidity.
Captain Hare commanded the fireship which was towed
into the grand arsenal 5 and so eager was he to execute
his orders, that instead of setting fire to the train in the
usual cautious manrier, he fired a pistol loaded with
powder into the bowl of the train, composed of 36
pounds of powder and other combustibles. The con¬
sequence was, he was blown into the water with such
violence, as to knock a lieutenant of the Victory’s boat
overboard, and narrowly escaped with his life. A Spa¬
nish captain w’as appointed to set fire to the small arse¬
nal, but cowardice prevented him from executing his
orders 5 and this is the reason why the whole French
ships were not destroyed. We have been favoured with
this account by an officer of the British fleet.
Toulon is seated on a bay of the Mediterranean, 17
leagues south-east of Aix, 15 south-east of Marseilles,
anti 217 south-east of Paris. E. Long. 5. 56. N. Lat.
43- 7-
TOULOUSE, a very ancient city of France, in
the department of Upper Garonne, and late pro*
vince of Languedoc, with an archbishop’s see. It
one of the most considerable cities in the south 01
France, although its population bears no propor¬
tion to its extent. In 1817 it was estimated to
contain 48,000 inhabitants. The streets are very hand¬
some,
T O U [ 457 ] T O U
oa|i}.} some, anti the walls of the city, as well as the houses,
To are built with bricks. The town-house, a modern
—v—'
structure, forms a perfect square, 324 feet long and"66
high. The principal front occupies an entire side of the
grand square, lately called the Place Royale. In the
great hall, called the Hall of Illustrious Men, is the sta¬
tue of the Chevalier Isaure, and the busts of all the
great men to whom Toulouse has given birth. Com¬
municating with the ocean on one side by the river Ga¬
ronne, and with the Mediterranean on the other by the
canal of Languedoc, Toulouse might have been a great
commercial city j but the taste of the inhabitants has
been directed to the sciences and belles-lettres. Of
course, there are two colleges, two public libraries, and
three academies. The little commerce of Toulouse con¬
sists in leather, drapery, blankets, mignionets, oil, iron,
mercery, hardware, and books. The bridge over the
Garonne is at least equal to those of Tours and Orleans j
it forms the communication between the suburb of St
Cyprian and the city. A bloody battle was fought at
Toulouse on the 10th April 1814, between the British
army under Lord Wellington, and the French army
under Soult, in which the latter was defeated with great
loss. Toulouse is 37 miles east of Audi, 125 south¬
east of Bourdeaux, and 350 south-by-west of Paris.
E. Long. 1. 32. N. Lat. 43. 36.
TOUR, Henry de la, Viscount Turenne, a cele¬
brated French general, was the second son of Henry de
la Tour duke of Bouillon, and was born at Sedan in
1611. He made his first campaigns in Holland, under
Maui ice and Frederic Henry princes of Orange ; who
were his uncles by the mother’s side; and even then dis¬
tinguished himself by his bravery. In 1634 he march¬
ed with his regiment into Lorraine; and having contri¬
buted to the taking of La Mothe, was, though very
young, made mareschal de camp. In 1636 he took Sa-
1 verne, and the year following the castles of Hirson and
Sol e; on which occasion he performed an action like
I that of Scipio’s, with respect to a very beautiful woman
whom he sent back to her husband. The viscount Tu¬
renne continued to distinguish himself in several sieges
and battles, and in 1644 wTas made marshal of France;
but had the misfortune to be defeated at the battle of
Mariendal in 1645. However, he gained the battle of
Nortlingen three months after; restored the elector of
Treves to his dominions; and the following year made
the famous junction of the French army with that of
Sweden commanded by General Wrangel, which obli¬
ged the duke of Bavaria to demand a peace. After¬
wards that duke breaking the treaty he had concluded
with I ranee, he was defeated by the viscount Turenne
at the battle of Zumarshausen, and in 1648 driven en¬
tirely out of his dominions. During the civil wars in
I ranee, he sided with the princes, and was defeated at
the battle of Rhetel in 1650; but soon after was resto-
ied to the favour of the king, who in 1652 gave him
the command of his army. He acquired great honour
at the battles of Jcrgeau, Gren, and the suburbs of St
Anthony, and by the retreat he made before the army
commanded by the princes at Ville Neuve St George.
1q 1654 he made the Spaniards raise the siege of Arras:
the next year he took Conde, St Guilian, and several
sther places ; gained the famous battle of Dunes ; and
■Hade himself master of Dunkirk, Oudenarde, and al-
Most all Flanders : this obliged the Spaniards to con-
Vol. XX. Part II.
elude the peace of the Pyrenees in 1660. These im- Tour
portant services occasioned his being made marshal-ge- l|
neral of the king’s camps and armies. The war being tounia-
renewed w ith Spain in 1667, Turenne commanded in , ment*
Flanders; and took so many places, that in 1668 the
Spaniards were obliged to sue for peace. He command¬
ed the I rench army in the war against the Dutch in
1672 ; took 40 towns in 22 days ; pursued the elector
of Brandenburg even to Berlin ; gained the battles of
Slintsheim, Ladenburg, Ensheim, Mulhausen, and Tur-
keim; and obliged the Imperial army, which consisted
of 70,000 men, to repass the Rhine. By this campaign
the viscount Turenne acquired immortal honour. He
passed the Rhine to give battle to General Montecu-
culi, whom he followed as far as Saspach ; but mount¬
ing upon an eminence to discover the enemy’s camp, he
was killed by a cannon-ball in 1675. All France re¬
gretted the loss ot this great man, who, by his military
exploits, had raised the admiration of Europe.
10URAINE, a province of France, bounded on
the north by Maine, on the east by Orleanois, on the
south by Berris, and on the west by Anjou and Poitou.
I*t is about 58 miles in length, and 55 in breadth where
it is broadest. Tins country is watered by 17 rivers,
besides many brooks, which not only render it delight¬
ful, but keep up a communication with the neighbour¬
ing provinces. The air is temperate, and the soil is so
fruitful that it is called the garden of France. It now
forms the department of Indre and Loire, of which
Tours is the capital.
10URMALINE, a species of mineral belonging
to the siliceous genus. See Mineralogy Index.
1OLRNA MEN I, a martial sport or exercise which
the ancient cavaliers used to perform, to show their bra¬
very and address. It is derived from the French word
tourner, i. e. “ to turn round,” because to be expert in
these exercises, much agility both of horse and man was
requisite, they riding round a ring in imitation of the
ancient Circi.
T he first tournaments w'ere only courses on horseback,
wherein the cavaliers tilted at each other with canes
in manner of lances; and were distinguished from justs,
which were courses or careers, accompanied with at¬
tacks and combats, with blunted lances and swords.
See Just.
The prince who published the tournament, used to
send a king at arms, with a safe-conduct, and a sword,
to all the princes, knights, &c. signifying that he in¬
tended a tournament and clashing of swords, in the pre¬
sence of ladies and damsels ; which was the usual for¬
mula of invitation.
They first engaged man against man, and then troop
against troop; and, after the combat, the judges allot¬
ted the prize to the best cavalier, and the best striker
of swords ; who was accordingly conducted in pomp to
the lady of the tournament; where, after thanking her
very reverently, he saluted her and likewise her two at¬
tendants.
These tournaments made the principal diversion of
the 13th and 14th centuries. Munster says, it was
Henry the Fowler, duke of Saxony, and afterwards em¬
peror, who died in 936, that first introduced them; but
it appears from the chronicle of Tours, that the true in¬
ventor of this famous sport, at least in Franfce, was one
Geoffrey, lord of Preuilli, about the year 1066.
3 M Instances
T O U [ 458 ] T R A
Instances of them occur among the English in the
reign of King Stephen, about the year 1140 j but they
were not much in use till Richard’s time, towards the
vear 1149. After which period these diversions were
performed with extraordinary magnificence in the Tilt-
yard near St James’s, Smithfield, and other places.
The following is the account of a tournament, from
Maitland. King Richard If. designing to hold a
tournament at London on the Sunday after Michaelmas,
sent divers heralds to make proclamation of it in all the
principal courts of Europe j and accordingly not a few
princes, and great numbers of the prime nobility, re¬
sorted hither from France, Germany, the Netherlands,
&c. This solemnity began on Sunday afternoon, irom
the Tower of London, with a pompous cavalcade ol 60
ladies, each leading an armed knight by a silver chain,
being attended by their ’squires of honour, and, passing
through Cheapside, rode to Smithfield, where the justs
ami tournaments continued several days with magnifi¬
cent variety of entertainments ; on which occasion the
king kept open house at the bishop of London’s palace
for all persons of distinction, and every night concluded
with a ball.
At last, however, they were found to be productive
of bad eftects, and the occasions of several fatal misfor¬
tunes—as in the instance of Henry II. of I ranee, and
of the tilt exhibited at Chalons, which, from the num¬
bers killed on both sides, was called the little war of
Chalons. These and other inconveniencies, resulting
from those dangerous pastimes, gave the popes occasion
to forbid them, and the princes of Europe gradually
concurred in discouraging and suppressing them.
TOURNAY, a town of the Netherlands in Flanders,
and capital of a district called Tournaysis, with a bi¬
shop’s see. It is divided into two parts by the river
Scheldt, is well built, and contained 21,300 inhabitants
in 1800. It carries on a great trade in woollen stuffs
and stockings. The cathedral is a very handsome
structure, and contains a great many chapels, and seve¬
ral magnificent tombs of marble and brass. The town
was taken by the allies in 1709 ; hut was ceded to the
house of Austria by the treaty of Utrecht, though the
Dutch had a right to put in a garrison. It was taken
by the French in June 1745, who demolished the forti¬
fications. In 1781 the emperor Joseph IT. obliged the
Dutch to withdraw' their garrison. It was taken by
the French in 1791, abandoned in 1793, again con¬
quered by them in 1794, and finally united to the king¬
dom of the Netherlands in 1814. It is 14 miles south¬
east of Lisle, and 135 north-by-east from Paris. E.
Long. 3. 25. N. Lat. 50. 35.
TOURNEFORT, Joseph Pitton de, a famous
French botanist, was horn at Aix in Provence in 1656.
He had a passion for plants from his childhood, which
overcame his father’s views in putting him to study phi¬
losophy and divinity ; therefore 011 his death he quitted
theology, and gave himself up entirely to physic, natu¬
ral history, and botany. He W'andered over the moun¬
tains of Dauphiny, Savoy, Catalonia, the Pyrenees, and
the Alps, in search of new species of plants, which he
acquired with much fatigue and danger. His fame in
1683 procured him the employment of botanic professor,
in the king’s garden ; and by the king’s order, lie tra¬
velled into Suain, Portugal, Holland, and England,
•where he n ade prodigious collections of plants. In
1700, Mr Tournefort, in obedience to another order,
simpled over all the isles of the Archipelago, upon the ^
coasts of the Black sea, in Bithynia, Pontus, Cappado- Traditii
cia, Armenia, and Georgia ; making observations on
natural history at large, ancient and modern geography,
religion, manners, and commerce. He spent three
years in this learned voyage) and then resuming his
profession, was made professor of physic in the college-
royal. He died in consequence of an accidental crush
of his breast by a cart-wheel, which brought on a spit-
ting of blood and hydrothorax, that carried him off in
1708. He wrote Elements of Botany, both in French
and Latin ) A relation of his Voyage into the Levant)
with other pieces of less consideration.
TOURNIQUET, in Surgery, an instrument form¬
ed with screws, for compressing any part with rollers,
&x for the stopping of haemc.rhagies. See Surgery
Index.
TOWER, a tall building consisting of several sto¬
ries, usually of a round form, though some are square
or polygonal. Towers are built for fortresses, &c. as
the Tower of London. See London, N° 46.
TOWN, a place inhabited by a considerable num¬
ber of people, being of a middle size between a city and
a village.
TOXICODEN DRON. See Rhus, Botany Index.
TRAAS. See Terras.
TRACHEA. See Anatomy, N° 119.
TRACHINUS, the WEEVER, a genus of fishes be¬
longing to the order of jugulares. See Ichthyology
Index.
TRACT, in Geography, an extent of ground, or a
portion of the earth’s suriace.
Tract, in matters of literature, denotes a small trea¬
tise or written discourse upon any subject.
TRADE, in general, denotes the same with com¬
merce, consisting in buying, selling, and exchanging ot
commodities, bills, money, &c. See Commerce, Coin,
Money, Company, &c.
TnADE-Winds, denote certain regular winds at sea,
blowing either constantly the same way, or alternately
this way and that) thus called from their use in naviga¬
tion, and the Indian commerce. See Meteorology.
TRADESMEN’S tokens, a ,term synonymous a-
mong medalists with provincial coins.
This is a subject curious enough to deserve attention,
though we will not go so far as Mr Pinkerton does,
who says that it is a subject in which the perpetual glory
of the nation is interested. Since the year 1789 pro¬
vincial halfpence have been made and circulated incon¬
siderable quantity. As ancient medals and coins have
been frequently of use to historians, it is to be regretted
that manv of these provincial halfpence are rendered
useless in this respect by unmeaning figures and puerile
devices. Utility ai d elegance ought to be studied: for
this view it has been proposed by a gentleman ot taste
on this subject, that all coins should be distinguished by
one of the following five characteristics. 1. Facsimiles
of magnificent beautiful buildings. 2. Representations
of great and useful undertakings. 3. Emblems ol t e
industry and commerce of the age. 4. The illustiious
men, &c. to whom the nation has given birth. S'lHl*
portant historical events.
TRADITION, something handed down from one
generation to another without being written. Ibus t ^
T R A
fiitioh
li.,.
tries.
t 4S9
Jews preteruled, that besides their written law contain¬
ed in the Old Testament, Moses had delivered an oral
law which had been conveyed down from father to son ;
j and thus the Roman Catholics are said to value particu¬
lar doctrines supposed to have descended from the apo¬
stolic times by tradition.
TRAGACANTH. See Astragalus, Materia
Medica Index.
TRAGEDY, a dramatic poem, representing some
signal action performed by illustrious persons, and which
has frequently a fatal issue or end. See Poetry, Part
II. sect. I.
TRAGI-COMEDY; a dramatic piece, partaking both
of the nature of tragedy and comedy 5 in which a rhix-
ture of merry and serious events is admitted.
TRAGOPOGON, Goat’s-beard j a genus of
plants belonging to the class of syngenesia j and in the
natural system ranging under the 49th order Compositce.
See Botany Index.
TRAJAN, Marcus Ulpius, a celebrated Roman
emperor, who gained many victories over the Parthians
and Germans, pushing the empire to its utmost extent
on the east and north sides. Pie died at Silinunte, a
city of Cilicia, which from him was called Trajanopolis,
in the year 117.
Trajan's Column, a famous historical column erect¬
ed in Rome, in honour of the emperor Trajan. It is of
the Tuscan order, though somewhat irregular : its
height is eight diameters, and its pedestal Corinthian :
it was built in a large square called Forum Romamim.
Its base consists of 12 stones of an enormous size, and is
raised on a socle, or foot, of eight steps : within side is a
staircase illuminated with 44 windows. It is 140 feet
high, which is 35 feet short of the Antonine column,
but the workmanship of the former is much more va¬
lued. It is adorned from top to bottom with basso re¬
lievos, representing the great actions of the emperor
against the Dacians.
TRAIN, a line of gunpowder laid to give fire to a
quantity thereof, in order to do execution by blowing
up earth, works, buildings, &c.
Train of Artillery, includes the great guns and
other pieces of ordnance belonging to an army in the
field.
Train-OU, the oil procured from the blubber of a
whale by boiling.
TRALLIAN, Alexander, a Greek writer on
physic, a native of Tralles in Lydia, who lived about
the middle of the sixth century. His works are divided
into 12 books j in which he treats of distempers as they
occur from head to foot. He was the first who opened
tire jugular vein, and that used cantharides as a blister
or the. gout. Dr Freind, in his History of Physic,
styles him one of the most valuable authors since the
time of Hippocrates. Though he appears on the
whole to have been a rational physician, yet there are
things in his writings that savour of enthusiasm and su¬
perstition.
I TRA-LOS-MONTES, a province of Portugal, cal*
ed in Latin Transmontana, because situated on the east
fide of a chain of hills that separate it from Entre Du-
wo-e-Minho. It is bounded on the north by Galicia j
on the south by the provinces of Beira and Leon $ by
| ie last of which it is bounded also to the east. Its
length from north to south is upwards of 120 miles, and
i
TEA
its breadth about 80. It is full of mountains, and pro¬
duces little corn, but plenty of wine, fruits of several
sorts, and abundance of game.
IRANSACTIONS, a name generally given to a
collection of the papers read before literary or philoso- '
phical societies. The name of Philosophicul Transac¬
tions was first adopted by the Royal Society of Lon*
don.
The Philosophical Transactions to the end of the
year 1700 were abridged in three volumes by Mr John
Lowthorp : those from the year 1700 to 1720 were
abridged in two volumes by Mr Henry Jones : those
from 1719 I733 were abridged in two volumes by
Mr John Eames and Mr John Martyn j Mr Martyn
continued the abridgement of those from 1732 to 1744
in two volumes, and of those from 1743 to 1750 in two
yolumes.
They were for many years published in numbers, and
the printing of them was always, from time to time, the
single act ol the respective secretaries, till the year 17 52,
when the society thought fit that a committee should be
appointed to reconsider the papers read before them*
and to select out of them such as they should judge most
proper for publication in the future Transactions. They
are published annually in two parts at the expence of
the society, and each fellow is entitled to receive one
copy gratis of every volume published after his admis¬
sion into the society.
They were first set on foot in 1665, Olden-
burg, secretary ol the society, and were continued by
him till the year 1677. Upon his death, they Were dis¬
continued till January 1678, when Dr Grew resumed
the publication of them, and continued it for the months
of December 1678, and January and February 1679,
after which they were intermitted till January 1683.
During this last interval they were supplied in some
measure by Dr Hooke’s Philosophical Collections. They
were also interrupted for three years, from December
1687 to January 1691, beside other smaller interrup¬
tions, amounting to near one year and a half more, be¬
fore October 1695, since which time the Transactions
have been regularly carried on.
TRANSCENDENTAL, or Transcendent, some¬
thing elevated, or raised above other things ; which
passes and transcends the nature of other inferior things.
TRANSCRIPT, a copy of any original writing, par¬
ticularly that of an act or instrument inserted in the
body of another.
TRANSFER, in commerce, an act whereby a per¬
son surrenders his right, interest, or property, in any¬
thing moveable or immoveable, to another.
TRANSFORMATION, in general, denotes a
change of form, or the assuming a new form different
from a former one.
TRANS! USION, the act of pouring a liquor out of
one vessel into another.
Transfusion of Blood, an operation by which it
was some time ago imagined that the age of animals
would be renewed, and immortality, or the next thing
to it, conferred on those who had undergone it.
The method of transfusing Dr Lower gives us to the
following effect: take up the carotid artery of the dog,
or other animal, whose blood is to be transfused into
another of the same, or a different kind : separate it
from the nerve of the eighth pair, and lay it bare above
3 M 2 an
TiA till*
monies
T R A [ 400 1 TEA
Trans la- an inch. Make a strong ligature on the upper part of
sion. the artery •, and an inch nearer the heart another liga-
 v 1 ture with a running knot, to be loosened and fastened
as occasion requires. D raw two threads between the
two ligatures, open the artery, put in a quill, and tie
up the artery again upon the quill by the two threads,
and stop the quill by a stick.
Then make bare the jugular vein of the other animal
for about an inch and a half in length, and at each end
make a ligature with a running knot-, and in the space
between the two knots draw under the veins two threads,
as in the other. Open the vein, and put into it two
quills, one into the descending part of the vein, to re¬
ceive the blood from the other dog, and carry it to the
heart} the other quill put into the other part of the ju¬
gular, towards the head, through which the second ani¬
mal’s own blood is to run into dishes. The quills thus
tied fast, stop them up with sticks till there be occa¬
sion to open them.
Things thus disposed, fasten the dogs on their sides
towards one another, in such a manner as that the quills
may go into each other*, then unstop the quill that goes
down into the second dog’s jugular vein, as also that
coming out of the other dog’s artery and by the help
of two or three ether quills put into each other, as there
shall be occasion, insert them into one another. Then
slip the running knots, and immediately the blood runs
through the quills as through an artery, very impetu¬
ously. As the blood runs into the dog, unstop the quill
in the upper part of his jugular, for his own blood to
run out at, though not constantly, but as you perceive
him able to bear it, till the other dog begins to cry and
faint, and at last die. Lastly, Take both quills out of
the jugular, tie the running knot fast, and cut the vein
asunder, and sew up the skin : the dog, thus dismissed,
will run away as if nothing ailed him.
In the Philosophical Transactions we have accounts
of the success of various transfusions practised at Lon¬
don, Paris, in Italy, &c. Sir Edmund King trans¬
fused forty-nine ounces of blood out of a calf into a
sheep; the sheep, after the operation, appearing as
well and as strong as before.
M. Denis transfused the blood of three calves into
three dogs, which all continued brisk, and ate as well
as before. The same person transfused the blood of
four wethers into a horse twenty-six years old, which
thence received much strength, and a more than ordi¬
nary appetite.
Soon after this operation was introduced at Paris,
viz. in 1667 and 1668, M. Denis performed it on five
human subjects, two of whom recovered of disorders
under which they laboured ; one being in perfect health
suffered no inconvenience from it j and two persons
who were ill, and submitted to the operation, died ; in
consequence of which the magistrates issued a sentence,
prohibiting the transfusion on human bodies under pain
of imprisonment.
Mr John Hunter, we are told, made many ingeni¬
ous experiments to determine the effects of transfusing
blood, some of which are sufficient to attract attention.
But whether such experiments can ever be made with
safety on the human body, is a point not easily deter¬
mined. 'I hey might be allowed in desperate cases
proceeding from a corruption of the blood, from poison,
&c. as in hydrophobia.
TRANSIT, from transit, “ it passes over,” signifies Tr-nsit
the passage of any planet over the sun, moon, or stars. j)
TRANSITION, the passage of any thing from one *'ran'm«.
place to another. tot™,
Transition, in Oratory. See Oratory, N° 39. 'r^’
TRANSITIVE, in Grammar, an epithet applied
to such verbs as signify an action which passes from
the subject that does it, to or upon another subject
which receives it. Under the head of verbs transitive
come what we usually call verbs active and passive;
other verbs, whose action does not pass out of them¬
selves, are called neuters.
TRANSLATION, the act of transferring or re¬
moving a thing from one place to another; as we say,
the translation of a bishop’s see, a council, a seat of
justice, &c.
Translation is also used for the version of a book
or writing out of one language into another.
The principles of translation have been clearly and ac¬
curately laid down by Dr Campbell of Aberdeen in his
invaluable Preliminary Dissertations to his excellent
translations of the gospels. The fundamental rules
which he establishes are three : 1. That the translation
should give a complete transcript of the ideas of the
original. 2. That the style and manner of the origi¬
nal should be preserved in the translation. 3. That
the translation should have all the ease of original com¬
position. 'The rules deducible from these general laws
are explained and illustrated with much judgment and
taste, in an Essay on the Principles of Translation, by
Mr Tytler, judge-advocate of Scotland.
TRANSMARINE, something that comes from or
belongs to the parts beyond sea.
TRANSMIGRATION, the removal or translation
of a whole people into another country, by the power
ol a conqueror.
Transmigration is particularly used for the pas¬
sage of the soul out of one body into another. See
Metempsychosis.
TRANSMUTATION, the act of changing one
substance into another.
Nature, says Sir Isaac Newton, is delighted with
transmutation : water, which is a fluid, volatile, taste¬
less salt, is, by heat, transmuted into vapour, which is
a kind of air j and by cold into ice, which is a cold,
transparent, brittle stone, easily dissolvable; and this
stone is convertible again into water by heat, as vapour
is by cold.—Earth, by heat, becomes fire, and, by cold,
is tin ned into earth again : dense bodies, by fermenta¬
tion, are rarefied into various kinds of air; and that air,
by fermentation also, and sometimes without it, reverts
into gross bodies. All bodies, beasts, fishes, insects,
plants, &c. with all their various parts, grow and in¬
crease out of water and aqueous and saline tinctures;
and, by putrefaction, all of them revert into water, or
an aqueous liquor again.
Transmutation, in alchemy, denotes the act of
changing imperfect metals into gold or silver. This is
also called the grand operation; and, they say, it is to
be effected with the philosopher’s stone.
The trick of transmuting cinnabar into silver is thus:
the cinnabar, being bruised grossly, is stratified in a cru¬
cible with granulated silver, and the crucible placed in
a great fire ; and, after due time for calcination, taken
off; then the matter, being poured out, is found to be
cinnabar
TEA [ 461 ] T K E
fra nuta-ciHna})a? turne^ 'nto reili silver, tliough the silver grains
11 appear in the same number and form as when they were
! put into the crucible ; but the mischief is, coming to
T' handle the grains of silver, you find them nothing but
_ j light friable bladders which will crumble to pieces be¬
tween the fingers.
The transmutability of water into earth seems to have
been believed by Mr Boyle ; and Bishop Watson thinks
that it has not yet been disproved. See his Chemical
Essays.
Transmutation of Acids, or of Metals, is the change
of one acid or of one metal into another.
TRANSOM, among builders, denotes the piece that
is framed across a double-light window.
TRANSOMS, in a ship, certain beams or timbers
extended across the sternpost of a ship, to fortify her
afterpart, and give it the figure most suitable to the
service for which she is calculated.
TRx\lSiSPARLNCA, in Physics, a quality in cer¬
tain bodies, whereby they give passage to the rays of
light : in contradistinction to opacity, or that quality
of bodies which renders them impervious to the rays of
light.
It has been generally supposed by philosophers, that
transparent bodies have their pores disposed in straight
lines, by which means the rays of light have an oppor¬
tunity of penetrating them in all directions ; but some
experiments in electricity have made it apparent, that
by the action of this fluid tha most opaque bodies, such
as sulphur, pitch, and sealing-wax, may be rendered
transparent as glass, while yet we cannot suppose the di¬
rection of their pores to be any way altered from what it
originally was (see Electricity). There is a curious
instance of an increase of transparency in rubbing a
piece of white paper over one that has been written up¬
on or printed : while the white paper is at rest, the wri¬
ting or print will perhaps scarce appear through it ^ but
when in motion, will be very easily legible, and conti¬
nue so till the motion is discontinued.
TRiiNSPOSITION, in Grammar', a disturbing or
dislocating the wmrds of a discourse, or a changing their
natural order of construction, to please the ear by render¬
ing the contexture more smooth, easy, and harmonious.
TRANSUBSTANTIATION, in Theology, the
conversion or change of the substance of the bread and
wine in the eucharist, into the body and blood of Jesus
Christ; which the Romish church suppose to be wrought
by the consecration of the priest. See Sutter of the
Lord, N° 5.
TRANS VERS ALTS, in Anatomy, a name given to
feveral muscles. See Anatomy, Part II.
IRANSVERSE, something that goes across another
from corner to corner: thus bends and bars in heraldry
are transverse pieces or bearings ; the diagonals of a
parallelogram or a square are transverse lines.
1 RANSYL VANIA, a province of Europe, annexed
to Hungary, and bounded on the north by Upper Hun¬
gary and Galicia, on the east by Moldavia and Wa¬
lachia, on the south by Walachia, and on the west by
Upper and Lower Hungary. It is surrounded on all
parts by high mountains, and covers an area of 21,000
square English miles. The inhabitants have.abundance
of corn and wine 5 and there are rich mines of gold,
*dver, lead, copper, quicksilver, and alum. It lias un¬
dergone various revolutions y but it now belongs to the Transyt-
house of Austria. The inhabitants are of several sorts vania
of religions 5 as Papists, Lutherans, Calvinists, Socini- H
ans, Photinians, Arians, Greeks, and Mahometans. It , Tieas01l‘,
is about 162 miles in length, and 150 in breadth. The
administration of affairs is conducted by twelve persons 5
namely, three Roman Catholics, three Lutherans, three
Calvinists, and three Socinians. The militia is com¬
manded by the governor, whose commission is the more
important, as Transylvania is the bulwark of Christen¬
dom. It is divided into several small districts, called
palatinates and counties ; and its inhabitants, who con¬
sist of Saxons, Silesians, and Hungarians, amounted to
1,655,400 in 1805. Hermanstadt is the capital town.
IRAPEZIUM, in Geometry, a plane figure con¬
tained under four unequal right lines.
TRAPEZIUS, a muscle. See Anatomy, Part II.
TRAPP, a compound rock. See Geology.
TRAVELLERS joy. See Clematis, Botany
Index.
TRAVERSE, or Transverse, in general, denotes
something that goes athwart another ; that is, crosses
and cuts it obliquely.
Traverse, in Navigation, implies a compound
course, or an assemblage of various courses, lying at
different angles with the meridian. See Navigation.
Traverse Board, a thin circular piece of board,
marked with all the points of the compass, and having
eight holes bored in each, and eight small pegs hang¬
ing from the centre of the board. It is used to de¬
termine the different courses run by a ship during the
period of the watch, and to ascertain the distance of
each course.
TRAVESTY, a name given to a humorous trans¬
lation of any author. The word is derived from the
Fi ench iravester, “ to disguise.”
TREACLE, or Melasses. See Sugar.
Treacle Beer. See Spruce.
Treacle Mustard. See Clypeola, Botany Index.
TREASON, a general appellation, made use of by
the law, to denote not only offences against the king
and government, but also that accumulation of guilt
which arises whenever a superior reposes a confidence
in a subject or inferior, between whom and himself there
subsists a natural, a civil, or even a spiritual relation y
and the inferior so abuses that confidence, so forgets
the obligations of duty, subjection, and allegiance, as to
destroy the life of any such superior or lord. Hence
treason is of two kinds, high and petty.
High Treason, or TreasonPai'amount (yi\nc\i is equi¬
valent to the crimen lessee majestatis of the Romans, as
Glanvil denominates it also in our English law), is an
offence committed against the security of the king or
kingdom, whether by imagination, word, or deed. In
order to prevent the inconveniences which arose in Eng¬
land from a multitude of constructive treasons, the sta¬
tute 25 Edw. III. c. 2. was made y which defines what
offences only for the future should be held to be trea¬
son ; and this statute comprehends all kinds of high-
treason under seven distinct branches.
“ 1. When a man doth compass or imagine the death
of our lord the king, of our lady his queen, or of their
eldest son and heir.” Under this description it is,held
that a queen-regnant (such as Queen Elizabeth and
Queen
\
t a e
[ 462 ]
T R E
Treason. Queen Anne) is within the words of the act, being in-
—-v~——' vested with royal power, and intitled to the allegiance
of her subjects : but the husband of such a queen is not
comprised within these words ; and therefore no treason
can be committed against him.
Let us next see what is a compassing or imagining the
death of the king, &e. These are synonymous terms :
the \yovi\. compass signifying the purpose or design of the
mind or will 5 and not, as in common speech, the car¬
rying such design to effect. And therefore an acciden¬
tal stroke, which may mortally wound the sovereign,
per iiifo?'tu?iiam, without any traitorous intent, is no trea¬
son : as was the case of Sir Walter Tyirel, who, by the
command of King William Rufus, shooting at a hart,
the arrow glanced against a tree, and killed the king
upon the spot. But as this compassing or imagination is
an act of the mind, it cannot possibly fall under any
judicial cognizance, unless it be demonstrated by some
open or overt act. The statute expressly requires, that
the accused “ be thereof upon sufficient proof attainted
of some open act by men of his own condition.” Thus,
to provide weapons or ammunition for the purpose of
killing the king, is held to be a palpable overt act of
treason in imagining his death. To conspire to imprison
the king by force, and move towards it by assembling
company, is an overt act of compassing the king’s death j
for all force used to the peison of the king, in its conse¬
quence may tend to his death, and is a strong presump¬
tion of something worse intended than the present force,
by such as have so far thrown off their bounden duty to
their sovereign : it being an old observation, that there
is generally but a short interval between the prisons and
the graves of princes. It seems clearly to be agreed,
that by the common law and the statute of Edw. 111.
words spoken amount only to a high misdemeanor, and
no treason. For they may be spoken in heat, without
any intention J or be mistaken, perverted, ormisremem-
bered by the hearers •, their meaning depends always.on
their connection with other words and things ; they may
signify differently even according to the tone of voice
with which they are delivered $ and sometimes silence
itself is more expressive than any discourse. As there¬
fore there can be nothing more equivocal and ambiguous
than words, it would indeed be unreasonable to make
them amount to high treason. And accordingly, in
4 Car. I. on a reference to all the judges, concerning
some very atrocious words spoken by one Pyne, they
certified to the king, “ that though the words were as
wicked as might be, yet they were no treason •, for un¬
less it be by some particular statute, no woials will be
treason.” If the words be set down in writing, it argues
more deliberate intention j and it has been held, that
writing is an overt act of treason j for scribere est agtre.
But even in this case the bare words are not the trea¬
son, but the deliberate act of writing them.
2. The second species of treason is, “ if a man do vio¬
late the king’s companion, or the king’s eldest daughter
unmarried, or the wife of the king’s eldest son and heir.”
By the king’s companion is meant his wife ; and by vio¬
lation is understood carnal knowledge, as well without
force as with it: and this is high treason in both parties
if both be consenting ; as some of the w’ives of Hen¬
ry VIII. by fatal experience evinced.
3. The third species of treason is, “ if a man do levy
war against our lord the king in his realm.” And this
may be done by taking arms, not only to dethrone the
king, but under pretence to reform religion, or the lavs,1
or to remove evil counsellors, or other grievances whe¬
ther real or pretended. For the law does not, neither
can it permit any private man, or set of men, to inter¬
fere forcibly in matters of such high importance j espe¬
cially as it has established a sufficient power for these
purposes in the high court of parliament : neither does
the constitution justify any private or particular resist¬
ance for private or particular grievances j though, in
cases of national oppression, the nation has very justifi¬
ably risen as one man, to vindicate the original contract
subsisting between the king and his people.
4. “ If a man be adherent to the king’s enemies in
his realm, giving to them aid and comfort in the realm
or elsewhere,” he is also declared guilty of high-treason.
This must likewise be proved by some overt act; as by
giving them intelligence, by sending them provisions,
by selling them arms, by treacherously surrendering a
fortress, or the like.
5. “ If a man counterfeit the king’s great or privy
seal,” this is also high-treason. But if a man takes wax
bearing the impression of the great seal off from one pa¬
tent, and fixes it to another, this is held to be only an
abuse of the seal, and not a counterfeiting of it: as was
the case of a certain chaplain, who in such a manner
framed a dispensation for non-residence. But the knav¬
ish artifice of a lawyer much exceeded this of the divine.
One of the clerks in chancery glued together two pieces
of parchment; on the uppermost of which he wrote a
patent, to which he regularly obtained the great seal,
the label going through both the skins. He then dis¬
solved the cement, and taking off the written patent,
on the blank skin, wrote a fresh patent of a different
import from the former, and published it as true. This
was held no counterfeiting of the great seal, but only a
great misprison j and Sir Edward Coke mentions it
with some indignation that the party was living at that
day.
6. The sixth species of treason under this statute is,
“ if a man counterfeit the king’s money 5 and if a mart
bring false money into the realm counterfeit to the mo¬
ney of England, knowing the money to be false, to mer¬
chandise and make payment withal.” As to the first
branch, counterfeiting the king’s money} this is trea¬
son, whether the false money be uttered in payment or
not. Also if the king’s own minters alter the standard
or alloy established by law, it is treason. But gold and
silver money only are held to be within this statute.
With regard likewise to the second branch, importing
foreign counterfeit money in order to utter it here ; it js
held that uttering it, without importing it, is not with¬
in the statute.
7. The last species of treason ascertained by this sta¬
tute is, “ if a man slay the chancellor, treasurer, or the
king’s justices of the one bench or the other, justices m
eyre, or justices of assize, and all other justices assigned
to hear and determine, being in their places doing their
offices.” These high magistrates, as they represent the
king’s majesty during the execution of their offices, are
therefore for the time equally regarded by the law. But
this statute extends only to the actual killing ot them;
and not to wounding, or a bare attempt to kill them.
It extends also only to the officers therein specified ; an
therefore the barons of the exchequer, as such, are not
withm
Treason,
T' R E [ 463 ] T R E
T^son. within the protection of this act; but the ’lord keeper or
—'—'commissioners of the great seal now seem to be within
it, by virtue of the statutes 5 Eliz.. c. 18. and 1 W. and
M- c. 21.
The new treasons, created since the statute 1 M. c. r.
and not comprehended under the description of statute
25 Edw. III. may be comprised under three heads. The
first species relates to Papists 5 the second to falsifying
the coin or other royal signatures, as falsely forging the
sign manual, privy signet, or privy seal, which shall be
deemed high treason (1 M. stat. ii. c. 6.). The third
new species of high treason is such as was created for
the security of the Protestant succession in the house of
Hanover. For this purpose, after the act of settlement
was made, it was enacted by statute 13 and 14 W. III.
c. 3. that the pretended prince of Wales, assuming the
title of King James III. should be attainted of higli trea¬
son ; and it was made high-treason for any of the king’s
subjects to hold correspondence with him or any person
employed by him, or to remit money for his use. And
by 17 Geo. II. c. 39. it is enacted, that if any of the
sons of the pretender shall land or attempt to land in
this kingdom, or be found in the kingdom or any of its
dominions, he shall be adjudged attainted of high-trea-
son •, and corresponding with them or remitting money
to their use is made high-treason. By 1 Ann. stat. 2.
c. 17. the offence of hindering the next in succession
from succeeding to the crown is high-treason : and by
6 Ann. c. 7. if any person shall maliciously, advisedly,
and directly, by writing or printing, maintain, that any
other person hath any right to the crown of this realm,
otherwise than according to the act of settlement, or
that the kings of this realm with the authority of par¬
liament are not able to make laws to bind the crown
and its descent j such person shall be guilty of high-
treason.
The punishment of high treason in general is very so¬
lemn and terrible. 1. That the offender be drawn to
the gallows, and not be carried or walk j though usual¬
ly (by connivance, at length ripened by humanity into
law) a sledge or hurdle is allowed, to preserve the of¬
fender from the extreme torment of being dragged on
the ground or pavement. 2. That he be hanged by the
neck, and then cut down alive. 3. That his entrails
be taken out, and burned while he is yet aliye. 4. That
his head be cut off. 5. That his body be divided into
four parts. 6. That his head and quarters be at the
kind’s disposal.
The king may, and often doth, discharge all the pu-
nishmentexcept beheading, especially where any of noble
blood are attainted. For beheading being part of the
judgment, that may be executed, though all the rest be
omitted by the king’s command. But where beheading
is no part of the judgment, as in murder or other felo¬
nies, it hath been said that the king cannot change the
judgment, although at the request of the party, from one
species of death to another.
In the case of coining, which is a treason of a diffe¬
rent complexion from the rest, the punishment is milder
for male offenders ; being only to be drawn and hanged
by the neck till dead. But in treasons of every kind
the punishment of women is the same, and different from
that of men. For as the natural modesty of the sex for¬
bids the exposing and publicly mangling their bodies,
their sentence (which is to the full as terrible to sense as
the other) is to he drawn to the gallows, and there to be
burned alive.
For the consequences of this judgment, see Attain¬
der, Forfeiture, and Corruption oj Blood.
Petty or Petit Treason, according to the statute 25
Edward III. c. 2. may happen three ways: by a ser¬
vant killing his master, a wife her husband, or an eccle¬
siastical person (either secular or regular) his superior,
to whom he owes faith and obedience. A servant who
kills his master whom he has left, upon a grudge con¬
ceived against him during his service, is guilty of petty
treason : for the traitorous intention was hatched while
the relation subsisted between them, and this is only an
execution of that intention. So if a wife be divorced
a memo, et thoro, still the vinculum matrimonii subsists 5
and if she kills such divorced husband, she is a traitress.
And a clergyman is understood to owe canonical obedi¬
ence to the bishop who ordained him, to him in whose
diocese he is beneficed, and also to the metropolitan of
such suffragan or diocesan bishop \ and therefore to kill
any ol these is petit treason. As to the rest, whatever
has been said with respect to wilful Murder, is also
applicable to the crime of petit treason, which is no
other than murder in its most odious degree; except
that the trial shall be as in cases of high treason, before
the improvements therein made by the statutes of Wil¬
liam III. But a person indicted of petit treason may
be acquitted thereof, and found guilty of manslaughter
or murder: and in such case it should seem that two
witnesses are not necessary, as in cases of petit treason
they are. Which crime is also distinguished from mur¬
der in its punishment.
The punishment of petit treason in a man, is to be
drawn and hanged, and in a woman to be drawn and
burned : the idea of which latter punishment seems to
have been handed down to us from the laws of the an¬
cient Druids, which condemned a woman to be burned
fo r murdering her husband } and it is now the usual
punishment for all sorts of treasons committed by those
of the female sex. Persons guilty of petit treason were
first debarred the benefit of clergy by statute 12 Henry
VII. c. 7. which has since been extended to their aiders,
abettors, and counsellors, by statutes 23 Henry VIII. c.
I, 4, and 5 P. and M. c. 4.
TREASURE, in general, denotes a store or stock of
money in reserve.
Treasure Trove, in Law, derived from the French
word trover, “ to find,” called in Latin thesaurus inven¬
tus, is where any money or coin, gold, silver, plate, or
bullion, is found bidden in the earth or other private
place, the owner thereof being unknown ; in which case
the treasure belongs to the king : but if he that had hid
it be known, or afterwards found out, the owner and not
the king is intitled to it.
TREASURER, an officer to whom the treasure of
a prince or corporation is committed to be kept and duly
disposed of, in payment of officers and other expences.
See Treasury.
Of these there is great variety. His majesty of Great
Britain, in quality of elector of Hanover, is arch-trea¬
surer of the Roman empire. In England, the principal
officers under this denomination are, the lord high-trea¬
surer, the treasurer of the household, treasurer of the
navy, of the king’s chamber, &c.
The lord high-treasurer of Great Britain, or first com¬
missioner
Treason
11
Treasurer.
I
l
THE [ 464 ] THE
Treasurer miss!oner the treasury, when in commission, has un-
II der his charge and government all the king’s revenue
Trebuchet, js kept in the exchequer. He holds his place
v ' during the king’s pleasure ; being instituted by the de¬
livery of a white staff to him. He has the check of
all the officers employed in collecting the customs and
royal revenues : and in his gift and disposition are all
the offices of the customs in the several ports of the
kingdom ; escheators in every county are nominated
by him ; he also makes leases of the lands belonging to
the crown.
The office of lord-treasurer is now in commission.
The number of lords-commissioners is five ; one of whom
is the first lord, whose annual salary was formerly
383I. but is now 4000I. j and who, unless he be a
peer, is also chancellor of the exchequer, and prime
minister in the government of this country the other
lords commissioners have an annual salary of 1600I.
each.
Treasurer of the Household, is an officer who, in
the absence of the lord-steward, has power, with the
• comptroller and other officers of the green-cloth and
the steward of the Marshalsea, to hear and determine
treasons, felonies, and other crimes committed within
the king’s palace. See Household.
There is also a treasurer belonging to the establish¬
ment of her majesty’s household, &c.
Treasurer of the Navy, is an officer who receives
money out of the exchequer, by warrant from the lord
high-treasurer, or the lords commissioners executing that
place *, and pays all charges of the navy, by warrant
from the principal officers of the navy.
Treasurer of the County, he that keeps the county
stock. There are two of them in each county, chosen
by the major part of the justices of the peace, &c. at
their general quarter session ; under previous security
given for the money entrusted with them, and the faith¬
ful execution of the trusts reposed in them.
TREASURY, the place wherein the revenues of a
prince are received, preserved and disbursed. In Eng¬
land the treasury is a part of the exchequer ; by some
■called the lower exchequer. The officers of his ma¬
jesty’s treasury, or the lower exchequer, are the lords
commissioners, one of whom is chancellor, two joint se¬
cretaries, private secretary to the first lord, two cham¬
berlains, an auditor, four tellers, a clerk of the pells,
ushers of the receipt, a tally-cutter, &c. See each of¬
ficer under his proper article, Chancellor, Teller,
Tally, &c.
Lords of the Treasury. In lieu of one single di¬
rector and administrator of his majesty’s revenues under
the title of lord high treasurer, it is at present thought
proper to put that office in commission, i. e. to ap¬
point several persons to discharge it with equal an-'
thority, under the title of lords commissvmers of the
treasury.
TREATISE, a set discourse in writing on any sub¬
ject.
TREATY, a covenant between two or more nations •,
or the several articles or conditions stipulated and
agreed upon by two sovereign powers.
TREBLE, in Music, the highest or most acute of
the lour parts in symphony,' or that which is heard the
clearest and shrillest in a concert.
UREBUCHEI, Trebucket, Tribuch fTerbiche-
lumf a tumbrel or cucking stool. Also a great engine Trebncb
to cast stones to hatter walls. ^ Tret.
TREE, a large vegetable, rising with one woody i~y—
stem to a considerable height.
Trees may be divided into two classes, timber and
fruit-trees; the first including all those trees which are
used in machinery, ship-building, &c. or, in general,
for purposes of utility j and the second comprehending
those trees valued only, or chiefly, for their fruit. It i$
not necessary to form a third class to include trees used
for fuel, as timber is used for this purpose where it is
abundant; and where it is not abundant the branches
of the timber trees, or such of them as are dwarfish, un¬
healthy, or too small for mechanical purposes, are used
as fuel.
The anatomy and physiology of trees have already
been given under the generic name Plant and Sap.
Certain trees, it is well known, are natives of parti¬
cular districts ; but many of them have been transplant¬
ed from their native soil, and now flourish luxuriantly
in distant countries, so that it becomes a matter of
very considerable difficulty to ascertain their original
soil. The following rules are given for this purpose by
the Honourable Daines Barrington.
1. They must grow in large masses, and cover consi¬
derable tracts of ground, the woods not ending abrupt¬
ly, by a change to other trees, except the situation and
strata become totally different. 2. They must grow
kindly in copses, and shoot from the stool, so as to con¬
tinue for ever, if not very carefully grubbed up. 3. The
seed must ripen kindly j nature never plants but where
a succession in the greatest profusion will continue.
Lastly, trees that give names to many places are pro¬
bably indigenous.
The growth of trees is a curious and interesting sub¬
ject ; yet few experiments have been made to deter¬
mine what the additions are which a tree receives an¬
nually in different periods of its age. The only obser¬
vations which we have seen on this subject worth re¬
peating were made by the ingenious Mr Barker, to
whom the Philosophical Transactions are much indebt¬
ed for papers containing an accurate register of the
weather, which he has kept for many years. He has
drawn up a table to point out the growth of three kinds
of trees, oaks, ashes, and elms ; which may be seen
in the Philosophical Transactions for i^SB. We shall
give his conclusions.
“ I find (says he) the growth of oak and ash to b«
nearly the same. I have some of both sorts planted at
the same time, and in the same hedges, of which the
oaks are the largest 5 but there is no certain rule as to
that. The common growth of an oak or an ash is
about an inch in girth in a year} some thriving ones
will grow an inch and a half} the unthriving ones not
so much. Great trees grow more timber in a year than
small ones ; for if the annual growth be an inch, a coat
of one-sixth of an inch is laid on all round, and the
timber added to the body every year is its length mul¬
tiplied into the thickness of the coat and into the girth,
and therefore the thicker the tree is, the more timber is
added.”
We wall present our readers with a table, showing
the growth of 17 kinds of trees for two years. Th«
trees grew at Cavenham in Suffolk.
I. Oak
4
Y R E
C 465 ]
Y R E
S'°
1 Oak
2 Larch
3 Scotch fir
4 Spruce fir
c Spanish chesnut
6 Elm
7 Pinaster
8 Larch
9 Weymouth pine
10 Acacia
11 Beech
12 Plane, occidental
13 Lombardy poplar
14 Black poplar
15 Willow
16 Silver fir
17 Lime
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Trees sometimes attain a very great size: this must
depend in a great measure on the richness of soil, but
no less on the degree of heat. Indeed heat is so essen¬
tial to the growth of trees, that as we go from the
place within the polar circles where vegetation begins,
and advance to the equator, we find the trees increase
in size. Greenland, Iceland, and other places in the
same latitude, yield no trees at all; and the shrubs which
they produce are dwarfish ; whereas, in warm climates,
they often grow to an immense size. Mr Marsham saw
spruce and silver firs in the dock-yard in Venice above
40 yards long, and one of 39 yards was 18 inches dia¬
meter at the small end. He was informed that they
eame from Switzerland.
I he largest tree in Europe, mentioned by travellers,
is the chesnut tree on Mount Etna, already described
Under the article Etna, N* 18. It is a certain fact
that trees acquire a very great size in volcanic coun¬
tries. Beside the multitude of fine groves in the neigh¬
bourhood of Albano in Italy, there are many detached
oaks 20 feet in circumference, and many eims of the
same size, especially in the romantic way to Eastello,
called the Galleria. In travelling by the side of the
lake of Bolsena, the road leads through an immense
number ot oaks, spread upon beautiful hills. W here
the lava has been sufficiently softened, they are clean
and straight, and of a considerable size ; but where the
lava has not been converted into a soil proper for strong
vegetation, they are round-headed, and of less size ;
however, taken all together, they make a magnificent
appearance ; and the spot itself ought to be ranked
among the fine parts of Italy. The same may be ob-
served of the small fake of Vico, encompassed with gen¬
tle risings, that are all clothed with forest-trees.
Some yews have been found in Britain 60 feet
round. Palms in Jamaica attain the height of 200 feet;
and some of the pines in Norfolk island are 280 feet
high.
Of all the different kinds known in Europe, oak is
est for building; and even when it lies exposed to air
an water, there is none equal to it. Fir timber is the
next in degree of goodness for building, especially in
' ol. XX. Part II. " j
England, where they build upon leases. It differs from
oak in this, that it requii •es not much seasoning, and
therefore no great stock is required before-hand. Fir is
used for flooring, wainscoting, and the ornamental parts
of building w'ithin doors. Elm is the next in use, espe¬
cially in England and France: it is very tough and
pliable, and therefore easily worked : it does not readily
split; and it bears driving of bolts and nails better
than any other wood ; for which reason it is chiefly used
by wheel-wrights and coach-makers, for shafts, naves,
&c. Beech is also used for many purposes: it is verv
tough and white when young, and of great strength";
but liable to warp very much w hen exposed to the wea¬
ther, and to be worm eaten when used within doors ;
its greatest use is for planks, bedsteads, chairs, and
other household goods. Ash is likewise a verv useful
wood, but very scarce in most parts of Europe; it serves
in buildings, or for any other use, when screened from
the weather; handspikes and oars are chiefly made of it.
Wild chesnut timber is by many esteemed to be as good
as oak, and seems to have been much used in old build¬
ings; but whether these trees are more scarce at present
than formerly, or have been found not to answer so well
as was imagined, it is certain that this timber is now but
little used. Walnut-tree is excellent for the joiner’s
use, it being of a more curious brown colour than beech,
and not so subject to the worms. The poplar, abele,
and aspen trees, which are very little different from each
other, are much used instead of fir; they look well, and
are tougher and harder.
The goodness of timber not only depends on the soil
and situation in which it stands, but likewise on the sea¬
son wherein it is felled. In this people disagree very
much ; some are for having it felled as soon as its fruit
is ripe, others in the spring, and many in the autumn.
But as the sap and moisture of timber is certainly the
cause that it perishes much sooner than it otherwise
would do, it seems evident, that timber should be felled
when there is the least sap in it, viz. from the time that
the leaves begin to fall till the trees begin to bud. This
work usually commences about the end of April in
England, because the bark then rises most freely ; for
where a quantity of timber is to be felled, the statute
requires it to be done then, for the advantage of tan¬
ning. The ancients ehiefly regarded the age of the
moon in felling their timber ; their rule was to fell it ie
the wane, or four days after the new moon, or sometimes
in the last quarter. Pliny advises it to be in the very in¬
stant ot the change : which happening to be in the last
day of the winter solstice, the timber, says he, will be
incorruptible.
Timber should likewise be cut when of a proper age;
for when it is either too young or too old, it will not
be so durable as when cut at a proper age. It is said
that oak should not be cut under 60 years old, nor
above 200. Timber, however, should be cut in its
prime, when almost fully grown, and before it begins
to decay ; and this will be sooner or later according to
the dryness and moistness of the soil where the timber
grows, as also according to the bigness of the trees;
for there are no fixed rules in felling of timber, expe¬
rience and judgment must direct here as in most other
cases.
Great attention is necessary in the Reasoning of tim-
Tree.
3N
her.
T R E [ 466 ] T R E
l»or. Some advise the planks of timber to be laid for a
few days in some pool or running stream, in order to
extract the sap, and afterwards to dry them in the sun
or air. By tins means, it is said, they will be prevented
from either chopping, casting, or cleaving*, but against
shrinking there is no remedy. Some again are for bury¬
ing them in the earth, others in a heat; and some for
scorching and seasoning them in fire, especially piles,
posts, &c. which are to stand in water or earth. The
Venetians first found out the method of seasoning by
fire *, which is done after this manner: They put the
piece to be seasoned into a strong and violent flame j in
this they continually turn it round by means of an en¬
gine, and take it out when it is everywhere covered
with a black coaly crust ; the internal part of the wood
is thereby so hardened, that neither earth nor water can
damage it tor a long time afterwards.
Dr Plott says, it is found by long experience, that
the trunk or body of the trees, when barked in the
spring, and left standing naked all the summer exposed
to the sun and wind, are so dried and hardened, that
the sappy part in a manner becomes as firm and durable
as the heart itself. This is confirmed by M. Buflfon,
who, in 1738, presented to the Royal Academy of Sci¬
ences at Paris a memoir entitled, “ An easy method of
increasing the solidity, strength, and duration of tim¬
ber j” for which purpose he observes, “ nothing more
is necessary than to strip the tree entirely of its bark
during the season of the rising of the sap, and to leave
it to dry completely before it be cut down.”
By many experiments, particularly described in that
essay, it appears, that the tree should not be felled till
the third year after it has been stripped of the bark j
that it is then perfectly dry, and the sap become almost
as strong as the rest of the timber, and stronger than
the heart of any other oak tree which has not been so
stripped *, and the whole of the timber stronger, heavier,
and harder *, from which he thinks it fair to conclude,
that it is also more durable. “ It would no longer (he
adds) be necessary, if this method were practised, to
cut oft' the sap *, the whole of the tree might be used as
timber ; one of 40 years growth would serve all the
purposes for which one of 60 years is now required ;
and this practice would have the double advantage of
increasing the quantity, as well as the strength and so¬
lidity, of the timber.”
The navy board, in answer to the inquiries of the
commissioners of the land revenue, in May 1789, in¬
formed them, that they had then standing some trees
stripped of their bark two years before, in order to try
the experiment of building one half of a sloop of war
with that timber, and the other half with timber felled
and stripped in the common way. This very judicious
mode of making the experiment, if it be properly exe¬
cuted, will undoubtedly go far to ascertain the effects
of this practice. We are sorry that we are not able
to inform our readers what was the result of the expe¬
riment.
After the planks of timber have been well seasoned
and fixed in their places, care is to be taken to defend
or preserve them *, to which the smearing them with
linseed oil, tar, or the like oleaginous matter, contri¬
butes much. The ancients, particularly Hesiod and
Virgil, advise the smoke-drying of all instruments made
of wood, by hanging them up- in the chimneys where
3
wood fires are used. The Dutch preserve their gates, TrM
portcullices, drawbridges, sluices, &c. by coating them '—
over with a mixture of pitch and tar, whereon they
strew small pieces of cockle and other shells, beaten al¬
most to powder, and mixed with sea-sand, which in¬
crusts and arms them wonderfully against all assaults of
wind and weather. When timber is felled before the sap
is perfectly at rest, it is very subject to worms ; but to
prevent and cure this, Mr Evelyn recommends the fol¬
lowing remedy as the most approved : Put common sul¬
phur into a cucurbit, with as much aquafortis as will
cover it three fingers deep j distil it to dryness, which is
performed by two or three rectifications. Lay the sul¬
phur that remains at bottom, being of a blackish or
sand-red colour, on a marble, or put it in a glass, and it
will dissolve into an oil ; with this oil anoint the timber
which is infected with worms. This, he says, will not
only prevent worms, but preserve all kinds of woods,
and many other things, as ropes, nets, and masts, from
putrefaction, either in water, air, or snow.
An experiment to determine the comparative durabi¬
lity of different kinds of timber, when exposed to the
weather, was made by a nobleman in Norfolk j of which
an account is given by Sir Thomas Beevor. This no-Atmabif
bleman, in the year 1774, ordered three posts, forming
two sides of a quadrangle, to be fixed in the earth ona*“"’”lu
rising ground in his park. Into these posts were mor-^'J*
tised planks, an inch and a half thick, cut out of trees
from 30 to 45 years growth. These, after standing 10
years, were examined, and found in the following stats
and condition :
The cedar was perfectly sound *, larch, the heart
sound, but the sap quite decayed j spruce fir, sound;
silver fir, in decay ; Scotch fir, much decayed ; pin¬
aster, quite rotten; chesnut, perfectly sound; abele,
sound; beech, sound; walnut, in decay; sycamore,
much decayed ; birch, quite rotten. Sir Thomas Bee¬
vor justly remarks, that the trees ought to have been of
the same age ; and Mr Arthur Young adds, they ought
to have been cut out of the same plantation.
The immense quantity of timber consumed of late
years in ship-building and other purposes has diminish¬
ed in a very great degree the quantity produced in tins
country. On this account, many gentlemen who wish
well to their country, alarmed with the tear of a scar¬
city, have strongly recommended it to government to
pay some attention to the cultivation and preservation
of timber.
We find, on the best authority, that of Mr Irving in¬
spector general of imports and exports, that the ship¬
ping of England in 1760 amounted to 6107 in num¬
ber, the tonnage being 433,922 ; and the shipping M
Scotland amounted to 976 in number, the tonnage be¬
ing 52,818. In 1788 the whole shipping of Britain
and Ireland and their colonies amounted to 13,800, be-
ing 1,359,752 tons burden, and employing 107,925
men. The tonnage of the royal navy in the same year
was 413,667. We are informed also, on what we con-
sider as the best authority (the report of the commission-
ers of the land revenue), that the quantity of oak timber,
of English growth, delivered into the dockyards from
1760 to 1788 was no less than 768,676 loads, and that
the quantity used in the merchants yards in the same
time was 516,630 loads; in all 1,285,306 loads. L1®
foreign oak used in the same period was only I37>7°°
THE [ 467 ] THE
loads. So that, after deducting the quantity remaining
iinthe dock-yards in 1760 and 4788, and the foreign
oak, there will remain about 1,0/4,284 loads of English
oak, consumed in 28 years, which is at an average
37,653 l°ad3 Per annum, besides from 8300 to 10,000
loads expended annually by the East India Company
within the same period (a).
The price of wood has risen in proportion to the de¬
mand and to its diminution. At the conquest, woods
were valued, not by the quantity of timber which they
contained, hut the number of swine which the acorns
could support. In 1608, oak in the forests was sold
at 10s. per load, and fir-wood for 2s. per load. In
1663 or 1665, in navy contracts from 2I. to 2I. 1 5s. 6d.
per load was given. In 1756 it rose to 4I. 5s. per
load, and 3s. in addition, because no tops are received.
Plank four inch sold in 1769 for 7I. a load, three inch
61.; which prices were the same in 1792.
So great an expenditure of valuable timber within so
short a period, gives refcson to fear that the forests of
this country will soon be entirely dismantled, unless
something is done to rai>e fresh supplies. The build¬
ing of a 70 gun ship, it is said, would take 40 acres of
timber. This calculation is indeed so excessive, that it
is scarcely credible. This, however, is no exaggeration.
According to the prevailing opinion of experienced sur¬
veyors, it will require a good soil and good manage¬
ment to produce 40 trees on an acre, which, in a hun¬
dred years, mav, at an average, be computed at two
loads each. Reckoning, therefore, two loads at 81. 1 6s.
one acre will be worth 3 50I. and consequently 40 acres
will only be worth 14,200!. Now a 70 gun ship is ge¬
nerally supposed to cost 70,000!. ; and as ships do not
last a great many years, the navy continually requires
new ships, so that the forests must be stripped in a cen¬
tury or two, unless young trees are planted to supply
their place.
Many plans have been proposed for recruiting the
forests. Premiums have been held forth to individuals ;
and it has been proposed that the crown-lands should
be set apart for the special purpose of raising timber.
With respect to individuals, as they must generally be
disposed to sow or plant their lands with those vege¬
table s which will best reward their labours, it is not to
be expected that they will set apart their fields for
planting trees unless they have a greater return from
them than other crops. But bad must that land be
which will not yield much more than 350!. produce in
100 years. But though it be evident that good land
will produce crops much more lucrative to the proprietor
than timber, yet still there are lands or pieces of land
which might be applied with very great advantage to
the production of wood. Uneven ground, or the sides
of fields where corn cannot be cultivated, might very
properly be set apart for this purpose j barren lands,
or such as cannot be cultivated without great labour
and expence, might also be planted. Pledge-rows and
clumps of trees, and little woods scattered up and down, Tree,
would shelter and defend the fields from destructive * ■— v .11
winds, would beautify the face of the country, render
the climate warmer, improve barren lands, and furnish
wood for the arts and manufactures.
But to cultivate forest timber has also been thought
of such national importance, that it has been deemed
worthy of the attention of government. It has been
proposed to appropriate such part of the crown lands as
are fit for the purpose solely of producing timber for
the navy. This appears a very proper scheme in spe¬
culation } but it has been objected, that for government
to attempt the farming of forests would be really to
establish groups of officers to pocket salaries for doing
what, it is well known, will never be done at all. But
to this objection we reply, that such an agreement might
be made with the inspectors of forests, as to make it
their own interest to cultivate trees with as much care
as possible. Their salary might be fixed very low, and
raised in proportion to the number of trees which they
could furnish of such a size in a certain number of years.
After all, we must acknowledge that we must depend
greatly on Russia, Sweden, Norway, and America, for
supplying us with timber $ and while these countries take
our manufactures in exchange, we have no reason to com¬
plain. Still, however, we ought surely not to neglect
the cultivation of what is of so much importance to our
existence as a nation, for it may often be impossible in
time of war to obtain timber from foreign countries.
In the beginning of this article we mentioned the
general division of trees into timber or forest-trees and
fruit trees. We have already said all that our limit#
will permit respecting the former : we will now, there¬
fore, say something of the latter. Our observations shall
be confined to the methods of preserving fruit trees in
blossom from the effects of frost, and from other disease#
to which they are liable.
The Chevalier de Dienenberg of Prague, we are told, European
has discovered a method of effectually preserving trees in Magamne,
blossom from the fatal effects of those frosts which some- Miirc^
times in the spring destroy the most promising hopes of a * ^
plentiful crop of fruit. His method is extremely simple.
Pie surrounds the trunk of the tree in blossom with a
wisp of straw or hemp. The end of this he sinks, by
means of a stone tied to it, in a vessel of spring water,
at a little distance from the tree. One vessel will conve¬
niently serve two trees : or the cord may be lengthened
so as to surround several, before its end is plunged into
the water. It is necessary that the vessel be placed in au
open situation, and by no means shaded by the branches
of the neighbouring trees, that the frost may produce all
its effect on the water, by means of the cord communi¬
cating with it.—This precaution is particularly necessary
for those trees the flowers of which appear nearly at the
same time as the leaves ; which trees are peculiarly ex¬
posed to the ravages of the frost. The proofs of its effi¬
cacy, which he had an opportunity of observing in the
spring
s
(a) A writer in the Bath Transactions says, that the aggregate of oaks felled in England and Wales for 30
years past has amounted to 320,000 loads a-year *, and affirms that he has documents in his possession founded
on indisputable facts. The difference between this account, and that which we have given in the text from the
report ot the commissioners, we leave to be reconciled by those who have proper opportunities. We give the
facts merely on the authority of others.
' 3N2
T R E [ 468 1 T R E
'free. spring of 1787, were remarkably striking. Seven apri-
» 1 cot espaliers in his garden began to blossom in the month
of March. Fearing tiiat they would suffer from the late
frosts, he surrounded them with cords as above directed.
In effect, pretty sharp frosts took place six or eight
nights: the apricot-trees in the neighbouring gardens
were all frozen, and none of them produced any fruit,
whilst each of the chevalier’s produced fruit in abun¬
dance, which came to the greatest perfection.
The following is the method proposed by Mr Wil¬
liam Forsyth for curing injuries and defects in trees ; for
which a reward was given to him by his majesty, on
condition that he should make it public. It is equally
applicable to forest as to fruit trees (b).
Take one bushel of fresh cow-dung •, half a bushel of
lime rubbish of old buildings (that from the ceilings of
rooms is preferable) ; half a bushel of wood ashes *, and a
sixteenth part of a bushel of pit or river sand. The three
last articles are to be sifted fine before they are mixed j
then work them well together with a spade, and after¬
wards with a w'ooden heater, until the stuff is very
smooth, like fine plaster used for the ceilings of rooms.
The composition being thus made, care must be taken
to prepare the tree properly for its application, by cut¬
ting away all the dead, decayed, and injured parts, till
you come to the fresh sound wood, leaving the surface of
the wood very smooth, and rounding off the edges of
the bark with a draw-knife, or other instrument, per¬
fectly smooth, which must be particularly attended to.
Then lay on the plaster about one-eighth of an inch
thick all over the part where the wood or bark has been
so cut away, finishing off the edges as thin as possible.
Then take a quantity of dry powder of wood ashes,
mixed with a sixth part of the same quantity of the ashes
of burnt bones j put it into a tin box, with holes in the
top, and shake the powder on the surface of the plaster,
till the whole is covered over with it, letting it remain
for half an hour to absorb the moisture : then apply more
powder, rubbing it on gently with the hand, and re¬
peating the application of the powder, till the whole
plaster becomes a dry smooth surface.
All trees cut down near the ground should have the
surface made quite smooth, rounding it off in a small de¬
gree, as before mentioned j and the dry powder directed
to be used afterwards should have an equal quantity of
powder of alabaster mixed with it, in order the better to
resist the dripping of trees and heavy rains. If any of
the composition be left for a future occasion, it should
be kept in a tub or other vessel, and urine of any kind
poured on it, so as to cover the surface j otherwise the
atmosphere will greatly hurt the efficacy of the applica¬
tion. Where lime rubbish of old buildings cannot be
easily got, take powdered chalk, or common lime, after
having been slaked a month at least. As the growth of
the tree will gradually affect the plaster, by raising up
its edges next the bark, care should be taken, where that
happens, to rub it over with the finger when occasion
may require (which is best done when moistened Ijy
rain), that the plaster may be kept whole, to prevent
the air and wet from penetrating into the wound.
By this process, some old worn-out pear trees, that l-
bore only a few small, hard fruit, of a kernelly texture, oSa
were made to produce pears of the best quality and finest (ions on th
flavour the second summer after the operation $ and in #!*«««
four or five years they bore such plenteous crops, as a
young healthy tree would not have produced in four
times that period.
By this process, too, some large ancient elms, in a
most decayed state, having all their upper parts broken,
and a small portion only of the bark remaining, shot out
stems from their tops, above thirty feet in height, in six
or seven year’s from the first application of the compo¬
sition.
Thus may valuable trees be renovated j and forest
trees, which are useful or ornamental from their parti¬
cular situation, be preserved in a flourishing state. But
what is far more interesting, a perfect cure has been
made, and sound timber produced, in oak trees, which
had received very considerable damage from blows, brui¬
ses, cutting of deep letters, the rubbing off the bark by
the ends of rollers, or wheels of carts, or from the
breaking of branches by storms.
TREFOIL. See Trifolium, Botany Index.
TREMELLA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of cryptogamia. See Botany Index.
TREMOR, an involuntary shaking, chiefly of the
hands and head, sometimes of the feet, and sometimes
of the tongue and heart.—Tremors arising from a too
free use of spirituous liquors require the same treatmei/t
as palsies.
TRENCHES, in fortification, are ditches cut by the
besiegers, that they may approach the more securely to
the place attacked, whence they are also called lines of
approach.
TRENT, Bishopric of, a province of Germany, in
the circle of Austria, near the frontiers of Italy is
bounded on the north by Tirol j on the east by the Fel-
trino and Bellunese j on the south, by Vincentino, the
Veronese, Bresciano, and the lake de Garda ; and on
the west, by the Bresciano, and the lake de Garda. The
soil is said to be very fruitful, and to abound in wine
and oil. It is subject to Austria.
Trent, a city of Germany, and capital of the bi¬
shopric of that name, is a very ancient place, and stands
in a fertile and pleasant plain, in the midst of the high
mountains of the Alps. The river Adige washes its
walls, and creeping some time among the hills, runs
swiftly into Italy . Tretit has three considerable churches,
the principal of which is the cathedral : this is a very
regular piece of architecture. The church of St Maria
Maj or is all of red and white marble $ and is remark¬
able for being the place where the famous conncil of
Trent
(b) A paste for covering the wounds of trees, and the place where grafts are inserted, was discovered longag0-
It is recommended in a Treatise on Fruit Trees, published by Thomas Hitt in 1755 ; a third edition of which,
with additions, was published in 1768. It consists of a mixture of clay and cow’s dung diluted with water. This
paste he directs to he laid on the wound with a brush; it adheres firmly, he says, without cracking, till the wound
heals. Me are informed by a gentleman, to whose opinion and experience we pay great respect, that this pasts
answers every purpose which Mr Forsyth’s can serve.
T R E [ 469 ] T R I
Trent was lield, whose decisions are now the standing
rule of the Romish church. E. Long. 11. 5. N. Lat.
46.
Trent, one of the largest rivers in England, which
rises in the moorland of Staffordshire, and runs south¬
west by Newcastle-under-Line ; and afterwards di¬
viding the county into two parts, runs to Burton, then to
Nottingham and Newark ; and so continuing its course
due nortli to Gainsborough on the confines of Lincoln¬
shire, it joins several rivers, and falls into the Humber.
Trent, Council of, in Ecclesiastical History, denotes
the council assembled by Paul III. in 1545, and conti¬
nued by 25 sessions till the year 1563, under Julius III.
and Pius IV. in order to correct, illustrate, and fix with
perspicuity, the doctrine of the church, to restore the
vigour of its discipline, and to reform the lives of its mi¬
nisters. The decrees of this council, together with the
creed of Pope Pius IV. contain a summary of the doc¬
trines of the Roman Catholics. These decrees were
subscribed by 255 clergy, consisting of four legates, 2
other cardinals, 3 patriarchs, 25 archbishops, 168 bi¬
shops, besides inferior clergy. Of these 150 came from
Italy, of course the council was entirely under the influ¬
ence of the pope. For a more particular account of the
council of Trent, see Mosheim’s Church History, the
Modern Universal History, vol. xxiii. and Father Paul’s
History of the Council of Trent.
TRENTON. See New Jersey.
TREPANNING. See Surgery TWcr.
TRES TABERN^E, in Ancient Geography, a place in
Latium, lying on the Via Appia, on the left or south
side of the river Astura, to the north of the Paludes
Pomptinse. Its ruins are now seen near Cisterna, a vil¬
lage in the Campagna di Roma, 21 miles from Rome,
whence the Christians went out to meet St Paul.
TRESPASS, in Law, signifies any transgression of
the law, under treason, felony, or misprision of either :
but it is commonly used for any wrong or damage that
js done by one private person to another, or to the king
iu his forest.
TRESSLE TREES, in Ship-Building, two strong bars
of timber fixed horizontally on the opposite sides of the
lower mast head, to support the frame of the top and1
the weight of the top-mast.
1RESSURE, in Heraldry, a diminutive of an orle,
Usually held to be half the breadth thereof.
TRET, in Commerce, an allowance made for the
waste or the dirt that may be mixed with any commo¬
dity ; which is commonly four pounds in every 104.
pounds weight.
TREVERI, or Treviri, in Ancient Geography, an
ancient and a powerful people, both in horse and foot,
according to Cgesar *, extending far and wide between
the Meuse and the Rhine. Their chief town was called
Jr evens. Now Triers or Treves.
1REVES, or Triers (in Latin Trevere, Trevors,
Treviris, or Augusta Trevirorum), the capital of the
German archbishopric of the same name, stands 60 miles
west of Mentz, 52 south of Cologne, and 82 north of
1 frasburg. This city vies with most in Europe for anti-
4Ulty> having been a large and noted town before Au¬
gustus settled a colony in it. It was free and imperial
till the year 1560, when it was surprised and subjected
) Us archbishop James HI. It stands on the Moselle,
uver which it has a fair stone bridge. The cathedral is
a large building j and near it stands the elector’s palace. Treves,
Here are three collegiate and five parish churches, an Trial,
university founded in 1472, with some remains of the 'r-“‘
ancient Roman theatre. Roman coins and medals are
often found in the ruins of the old city. The private
houses here are mean j and the city is neither well for¬
tified nor inhabited. Four-fifths of this archbishopric
were seized by France in 1794 and united to her
territories ; and the remaining parts were secularised
and distributed among certain princes in 1802. In 1814
the part which France held was given to Prussia. E.
Long. 6. 41. N. Lat. 49. 45.
TRIAL, in Law, the examination of a cause accord¬
ing to the law’s of the land before a proper judge j or
it is the manner and order observed in the hearing and
determining of causes.
Trials are either civil or criminal.
I. Civil Trials. The species of trials in civil cases
are seven: By record; by inspection or examination $ by
certificate; by witnesses; by wager of battel; by wager
of law; and by jury. The first six are only had in cer¬
tain special or eccentrical cases, where the trial by jury
would not be so proper or effectual: (See them explain¬
ed under their respective titles). The nature of the
last, that principal criterion of truth in the law of Eng¬
land, shall be explained in this article.
As trial by jury is esteemed one of the most import¬
ant privileges which members of society can enjoy, and
the bulwark of the British constitution, every man of
reflection must be stimulated by the desire of inquiring
into its origin and history, as well as to be acquainted
with the forms and advantages by which it is accom¬
panied. We will therefore begin with tracing it to its
origin. Its institution has been ascribed to our Saxon
ancestors by Sir William Blackstone.
“ Some authors (says that illustrious lawyer) have en- Rlackst:
deavoured to trace the original ol juries up as high as the
Britons themselves, the first inhabitants of our island ;To1'
but certain it is that they were in use among the earliest^’
Saxon colonies, their institution being ascribed by Bishop
Nicholson to Woden himself, their great legislator and
captain. Hence it is, that we may find traces of juries
in the laws of all those nations which adopted the feodal
system, as in Germany, France, and Italy j who had all
of them a tribunal composed of twelve good men and
true, boni homines, usually the vassals or tenants of the
lord, being the equals or peers of the parties litigant
and, as the lord’s vassals judged each other in the lord’s
courts, so the king’s vassals, or the lords themselves,
judged each other in the king’s court. In England we
find actual mention of them so early as the laws oi King
Ethelred, and that not as a new invention. Stiernhook
ascribes the invention of the jury, which in the Teuto¬
nic language is denominated nembda, to Regner king of
Sweden and Denmark, who was contemporary with our
King Egbert. Just as we are apt to impute the inven¬
tion of this, and some other pieces of juridical polity,
to the superior genius of Alfred the Great y to whom,,
on account of his having done much, it is usual to attri¬
bute every thing: and as the tradition of ancient Greece
placed to the account of their own Hercules whatever
achievement was performed superior to the ordinary
prowess of mankind. W hereas the truth seems to he,,
that this tribunal was universally established among al]b
the northern nations, and so interwoven in their very.
constitution^
T R I [ 4?o ] T R I
Trial. constitution, that the earliest accounts of the one give
—v—us also some traces of the other.”
This opinion has been controverted with much learn¬
ing and ingenuity by Dr Pettingal in his Inquiry into
the Use and Practice of Juries among the Greeks and
Romans, who deduces the origin of juries from these
ancient nations.
He begins with determining the meaning of the word
^ix.x<rctt in the Greek, anA judtces in the Roman, writers.
“ The common acceptation of these words (says he),
and the idea generally annexed to them, is that of pre¬
sidents of covrts, or, as we call judges ; as such
they are understood by commentators, and rendered by
critics. Dr Middleton, in his life of Cicero, expressly
calls the ]\iA\ces, judges of the bench; and Archbishop
Potter, and in short all modern writers upon the Greek
or Roman orators, or authors in general, express cixxsut
and jndices by such terms as convey the idea of presi¬
dents in covrts of justice. The propriety of thi" is doubt¬
ed of, and hath given occasion for this inquiry ; in which
is shown, from the best Greek and Roman authorities,
that neither the of the Greeks, or the jWzre.s' of
the Romans, ever signified presidents in courts of judi¬
cature, or judges of the bench ; but, on the contrary,
thev were distinguished from each other, and the differ-
rence of their duty and function was carefully and
clearly pointed out by the orators in their pleadings,
who were the best authorities in those cases, where the
question related to forms of law, and methods of pro¬
ceeding in judicial affairs and criminal process.
The presidents of the courts in criminal trials at A-
thens were the nine archons, or chief mauistrates, of
which whoever presided was called qyiguv SntctcYigus, or
president of the court. These nine presided in d life rent
causes peculiar to each jurisdiction. The archon, pro¬
perly so called, had belonging to his department all pu¬
pillary and heritable cast s ; the fixo-tXivs or re.v sacro-
rum, the chief priest, all cases where religion was con¬
cerned *, the polemarchus, or general, the affairs of the
army and all military matters ; and the six thesmothe-
tee, the other ordinary suits.
Wherever then the 2ix.xrxi, or judicial men, are
addressed by the Greek orators in their speeches, they
are not to be understood to be the presiding magistrates,
but another class of men, who were to inquire into the
state of the cause before them, by witnesses and other
methods of coming at truth *, and after inquiry made
and witnesses heard, to report their opinion and verdict
to the president, who was to declare it.
The several steps and circumstances attending this
judicial proceeding are so similar to the forms observed
by our jury, that the learned reader, for such I must
suppose him, cannot doubt but that the nature, intent,
and proceedings of the duixrrigiov among the Gr< eks weie
the same with the English jury ; namely, for the pro¬
tection of the lower people from the power and oppres¬
sion of the great, by administering equal law and jus¬
tice to all ranks and therefore when the Greek orators
directed their speeches to theatre? ^atx^xi, as we see in
D emosthenes, /E^chines, and Lysias, we are to under¬
stand it in the same sense as when our lawyers at the
bar say, Gentlemen of the jury.
So likewise among the Romans, the judices, in their
pleadings at the bar, never signified judges of the bench,
or presidents of the court, but a body or order of men,
whose office in the courts of judicatui’e was distinct from
that of the praetor or judex questionis, which answered
to our judge of the bench, and was the same with the
archon, or vyipwv <h>txrn£‘V, of the Greeks: whereas the
duty of the judices consisted in being impannelled, as
we call it, challenged, and swore to try uprightly the
case before them •, and when they had agreed upon their
opinion or verdict, to deliver it to the president who
was to pronounce it. This kind of judicial process was
first introduced into the Athenian polity by Solon, and
thence copied into the Roman republic, as probable
means of procuring just judgment, and protecting the
lower people from the oppression or arbitrary decisions
of their superiors.
When the Romans were settled in Britain as a pro¬
vince, they carried with them their jura and instituta,
their laws and customs, which was a practice essential
to all colonies j hence the Britons, and other countries
of Germany and Gaul, learned from them the Roman
laws and customs ; and upon the irruption of the north¬
ern nations into the southern kingdoms of Europe, the
laws and institutions of the Romans remained, when
the power that introduced them was withdrawn : and
Montesquieu tells us, that under the first race of kings
in France, about the fifth century, the Romans that re¬
mained, and the Burgundians their new masters, lived
together under the same Roman laws and police, and
particularly the same forms of judicature. How rea¬
sonable then is it to conclude, that in the Roman courts
of judicature continued among the Burgundians, the
form of a jury remained in the same state it was used at
Rome. It is certain, Montesquieu, speaking of those
times, mentions thepaires or homines de f<j, homagers
or peers, which in the same chapter he calls jnges,
judges or jurymen: so that we hence see how at that
times the homines de fif, or “ men of the fief,” were
called peers, and those peers were jvges or jurymen.
These were the same as are called in the laws of the
Confessor pers de la tenure, the “ peers of the tenure,
or homagers,” out of whom the jury of peers were
chosen, to try a matter in dispute between the lord and
his tenant, or any other point of controversy in the ma¬
nor. So likewise in all other parts of Europe, where the
Roman colonies had been, the Goths succeeding them,
continued to make use of the same laws and institutions,
which they found to be established there by the first
conquerors. This is a much more natural way of ac¬
counting for the origin of a jury in Europe, than hav¬
ing recourse to the fabulous stoiy of Woden and his
savage Scythian companions, as the first introducers of
so humane and beneficent an institution.”
Trials by jury in civil causes are of two kinds; ex*
traordinan/ and ordinaiy.
1. The first species of extraordinary trial by jury 1*
that of the grand assize, which was instituted by King
Henry 11. in parliament, by way of alternative offered
to the choice of the tenant or defendant in a writ of
right, instead of the barbarous and unchristian custom
of duelling. For this purpose a writ de magna assist*
eligenda is directed to the sheriff, to return four knights,
who are to elect and choose 1 2 others to be joined with
them ; and these all together form the grand assize, or
great jury, which is to try the matter of right, and
must now consist of 16 jurors. Another species of ex¬
traordinary juries is the jury to try an attaint j which
is a process commenced against a former jury for oimg*
ing a false verdict. See the article Attaint.
6 6. Wth
tal.
A, ‘ tt
ft iient.
*SW
*nicl-
T R 1 [ 47
2. With regard to the ordinary trial by jury in civil
j cases, the most clear and perspicuous way of treating it
will he by following the order and course of the pro¬
ceedings themselves.
When therefore an issue is joined by these words,
“ And this the said A prays may be inquired of by the
country;” or, “ And of this he puts himself upon the
country, and the said B does the like the court
awards a writ of venire facias upon the roll or record,
commanding the sheriff “ that he cause to come here,
on such a day, twelve free and lawful men, liberes et le¬
gates homines, of the body of his country, by whom the
truth of the matter may be better known, and who are
neither of kin to the aforesaid A nor the aforesaid B,
to recognise the truth of the issue between the said
parties.” And such writ is accordingly issued to the
sheriff. It is made returnable on the last return of the
same term wherein issue is joined, viz. hilary or trinity
terms; which, from the making up of the issues therein,
are usually called issuable terms. And he returns the
names of the jurors in a panel (a little pane or oblong
piece of parchment) annexed to the writ. This jury is
not summoned, and therefore not appearing at the day
must unavoidably make default. For which reason a
cempulsive process is now awarded against the jurors,
called in the common pleas a writ of habeas corpora ju-
ratorum, and in the King’s Bench distringas, command¬
ing the sheriff to have their bodies, or to distrain them
by their lands and goods, that they may appear upon
the day appointed. The entry therefore on the roll of
record is, “ That the jury is respited, through defect of
the jurors, till the first day of the next term, then to ap¬
pear at Westminster; unless before that time, viz. on
Wednesday the fourth of March, the justices of our lord
the king appointed to take assizes in that county shall
nave come to Oxford, that is, to the place assigned for
holding the assizes. Therefore the sheriff is command¬
ed to have their bodies at Westminster on the said first
day of next term, or before the said justice of assize, if
before that time they come to Oxford, viz. on the fourth
of March aforesaid.” And as the judges are sure to
come and open the circuit commissions on the day men¬
tioned in the writ, the sheriff returns and summons this
jury to appear at the assizes : and there the trial is had
before the justices of assize and nisiprius: among whom
(as hath been said*) are usually two of the judges of
the courts at Westminster, the whole kingdom being
divided into six circuits for this purpose. And thus we
may observe, that the trial of common issues, at nisi
prius,' was in its original only a collateral incident to
the original business of the justices of assize ; though
now, by the various revolutions of practice, it is become
their principal civil employment; hardly any thing re¬
maining in use of the real assizes but the name.
If the sheriff be not an indifferent person, as if he be
a party in the suit, or be related by either blood or af¬
finity to either of the parties, he is not then trusted to
return the jury; but the venire shall be directed to the
eoroneis, who in this, as in many other instances, are
t ie substitutes of the sheriff to execute process when he
I* leemed an improper person. If any exception lies
c t ie coroners, the venire shall be directed to two clerks
^ tie court, or two persons of the county named by
c court, and sworn. And these two, who are called
w#, or electors, shall indifferently name the jury, and
i ] T R I
their return is final; no challenge being allowed to their Trial,
array.
Bet us now pause a while, and observe (with Sir
Matthew Hale*), in these first preparatory stages of*tiist
the trial, how admirably this constitution is adapted and^'
flamed for the investigation of truth beyond any other
method of trial in the world. lor, first, the person re¬
turning the jurors is a man of some fortune and conse¬
quence; that so he may be not only the less tempted
to commit wilful errors, but likewise be responsible for
the faults of either himself or his officers; and he is al¬
so bound by the obligation of an oath faithfully to exe¬
cute his duty. Next, as to the time of their return :
the panel is returned to the court upon the original ve¬
nire, and the jurors are to be summoned and brought in
many weeks afterwards to the trial, whereby the parties
may have notice of the jurors, and of their sufficiency
or insufficiency, characters, connections, and relations,
that so they may he challenged upon just cause ; while,
at the same time, by means of the compulsory process
(of distringas, or habeas corpora') the cause is not like
to be retarded through defect of jurors. Thirdly, As to
the place of their appearance: which in causes of weight
and consequence is at the bar of the court; hut in ordi-
naiy cases at the assizes, held in the county where the
cause of action arises, and the witnesses and jurors live:
a provision most excellently calculated for the saving of
expence to the parties. For though the preparation of
the causes in point of pleading is transacted at Westmin¬
ster, whereby the order and uniformity of proceeding is
preserved throughout the kingdom, and multiplicity of
forms is prevented ; yet this is no great charge or
trouble, one attorney being able to transact the business
of 40 clients. But the troublesome and most expensive
attendance is that of jurors and witnesses at the trial ;
which therefore is brought home to them, in the coun¬
ty where most of them inhabit. Fourthly, The per¬
sons before whom they are to appear, and before whom
the trial is to be held, are the judges of the superior
court, if it be a trial at bar; or the judges of assize, de¬
legated from the courts at Westminster by the king, if
the trial be held in the country : persons, whose learn¬
ing and dignity secure their jurisdiction from contempt,
and the novelty and very parade of whose appearance
have no small influence upon the multitude. The very
point of their being strangers in the county is of infinite
service, in preventing those factions and parties which
would intrude in every cause of moment, were it tried
only before persons resident on the spot, as justices of the
peace, and the like. And the better to remove all sus¬
picion of partiality, it was wisely provided by the sta¬
tutes 4 Edw. III. c. 2. 8 Ric. II. c. 2. and 33 Hen.
VIII. c. 24. that no judge of assize should hold pleas in
any county wherein he was born or inhabits. And as
this institution prevents party and faction from inter¬
mingling in the trial of right, so it keeps both the rule
and the administration of the laws uniform. These
justices, though thus varied and shifted at every assizes,
are all sworn to the same laws, have had the same edu¬
cation, have pursued the same studies, converse and
consult together, communicate their decisions and reso¬
lutions, and preside in those courts which are mutually
connected, and their judgments blended together, as they
are interchangeably courts of appeal or advice to each
other. And hence their administration of justice, and
conduet
T R I I 472 ] T R I
conduct of trials, are consonant and uniform *, whereby
that confusion and contrariety are avoided, which would
naturally arise from a variety of uncommunicating
judges, or from any provincial establishment. But let
us now return to the assizes.
When the general day of trial is fixed, the plaintiff
or his attorney must bring down the record to the as¬
sizes, and enter it with the proper officer, in order to
its be.ing called on in course.
These steps being taken, and the cause called on in
court, the record is then handed to the judge, to peruse
and observe the pleadings, and what issues the parties
are to maintain and prove, while the jury is called and
sworn. To this end the sheriff returns his compulsive
process, the writ of habeas corpora or distringas, w'ith the
panel of jurors annexed, to the judge’s officer in court.
The jurors contained in the panel are either special
or common jurors. Special juries were originally intro¬
duced in trials at bar, when the causes were of too great
nicety for the discussion of ordinary freeholders; or
where the slieriff was suspected of partiality, though not
upon such apparent cause as to warrant an exception to
him. He is in such cases, upon motion in court, and
a rule granted thereupon, to attend the prothonotary or
other proper officer with his freeholder’s book ; and the
officer is to take indifferently 48 of the principal free¬
holders in the presence of the attorneys on both sides :
who are each of them to strike off 12, and the remain¬
ing 24 are returned upon the panel. By the statute
3 Geo. II. c. 25. either party is entitled upon motion
to have a special jury struck upon the trial of any issue,
as well at the assizes as at bar, he paying the extraor-
tlinary expence, unless the judge will certify (in pur¬
suance of the statute 24 Geo. H. c. 18.) that the cause
required such special jury.
A common jury is one returned by the sheriff ac¬
cording to the directions of the statute 3 Geo. II. c 25.
which appoints that the sheriff or officer shall not return
a separate panel for every separate cause, as formerly ;
but one and the same panel for every cause to be tried
at the same assizes, containing not less than 48, nor
more than 72, jurors : and that their names being writ¬
ten on tickets, shall be put into a box of glass ; and
when each cause is called, 1 2 of these persons, whose
names shall be first drawn out of the box, shall be sworn
upon the jury, unless absent, challenged, or excused ;
or unless a previous view of the messuages, lands, or
place in question, shall have been thought necessary by
the court; in which case, six or more of the jurors re¬
turned, to be agreed on by the parties, or named by a
judge or other proper officer of the court, shall be ap¬
pointed by special writ of habeas corpora or distringas,
to have the matters in question shown to them by two
persons named in the writ; and then such of the jury
as have had the view, or so many of them as appear,
shall be sworn on the inquest previous to any other ju¬
rors. These acts are well calculated to restrain any
suspicion of partiality in the sheriff, or any tampering
with the jurors when returned.
As the jurors appear when called, they shall be
sworn unless challenged by either paity. See the article
Challenge.
If by means of challenges or other cause, a sufficient
number of unexceptionable jurors doth not appear at
the trial, either party may pray a ta/es.
5
A tales is a supply of such men as are summoned upon Triaj
the first panel, in order to make up the deficiency. For u—y*«
this purpose a writ of decent tales, octo tales, and the
like, was wont to be issued to the sheriff at common law,
and must be still so done at a trial at bar, if the jurors
make default. But at the assizes, or nisiprius, by vir¬
tue of the statute 55 Hen. VIII. c. 6. and other subse¬
quent statutes, the judge is empowered at the prayer of
either party to award a tales de circumstantibus of per¬
sons present in court, to be joined to the other jurors to
try the cause ; who are liable, however, to the same
challenges as the principal jurors. This is usually done
till the legal number of 1 2 be completed ; in which pa-
triarchal and apostolical number Sir Edward Coke hath
discovered abundance of mystery.
When a sufficient number of persons impannelled, or
talesmen appear, they are then separately sworn, well
and truly to try the issue between the parties, and a true
verdict to give according to the evidence; and hence
they are denominated “ the jury,” jurata, and “ ju¬
rors,” sc. juratores.
The jury are now ready to hear the merits ; and to
fix their attention the closer to the facts which they are
impannelled and sworn to try, the pleadings are opened
to them by counsel on that side which holds the affirma¬
tive of the question in issue. For the issue is said to lie,
and proof is always first required upon that side which
affirms the matter in question : in which our law agrees
with the civil, ei incumbit prohatio qui dicit, non qm
negat; cum per rerutn vaturam factum-uegantis probcti*
nulla sit. The opening counsel briefly informs them
what lias been transacted in the court above ; the par¬
ties, the nature of the action, the declaration, the plea,
replication, and other proceedings ; and lastly, upon
what point the issue is joined, which is there sent down
to he determined. Instead of which, formerly the
whole record and process of the pleadings were read to
them in English by the court, and the matter of issue
clearly explained to their capacities. The nature of the
case, and the evidence intended to be produced, are
next laid before them by counsel also on the same side;
and when their evidence is gone through, the advocate,
on the other side opens the adverse case, and supports it
by evidence ; and then the party which began is heard
by way of reply. See Pleadings.
Evidence in the trial by jury is of two kinds; either
that which is given in proof, or that which the jury
may receive by their own private knowledge. Ihe
former, or proofs, (to which in common speech the name
of evidence is usually confined) are either written or pa¬
rol ; that is, by word of mouth. Written proofs, or
evidence, are, 1. Records ; and, 2. Ancient deeds of 30
years standing, which prove themselves: but, 3’1 0
dern deeds; and, 4. Other writings, must be atteste
and verified by parol evidence of witnesses. Wit 1 r£
gard to parol evidence or witnesses ; it must first be re-
membered that there is a process to bring them in by
writ of subpoena ad testificandum; which comman s
them, laying aside all pretences and excuses, to appear
at the trial on pain of icol. to be forfeited to the king,
to which the statute 5 Eliz. c. 9. has added a pena )
of 10I. to the party aggrieved, and damages e‘fuJ'a e“
to the loss sustained by want of bis evidence.
witness, unless bis reasonable expences be tendered 1
is bound to appear at all ; nor, if he appear, is he oU^
Tit
T R I [ 47
to give evidence till such charges are actually paid him 5
O . # g a.    J I ?
•J except he resides within the bills of mortality, and is
summoned to give evidence within the same. This
compulsory process, to bring in unwilling witnesses, and
the additional terrors of an attachment in ca^e of dis¬
obedience, are of excellent use in the thorough investi¬
gation of truth: and, upon the same principle, in the
Athenian courts, the witnesses who were summoned to
attend the trial had their choice of three things t either
to swear to the truth of the fact in question, To deny or
abjure it, or else to pay a line of 1000 drachmas.
All witnesses, of whatever religion or country, that
have the use of their reason, are to be received and ex¬
amined, except such as are infamous, or such as are in¬
terested in the event of the cause. All others are com¬
petent witnesses j though the jury from other circum¬
stances will judge of their credibility. Infamous per¬
sons are such as may be challenged as juvors, propte?' de¬
lictum: and therefore never shall be admitted to give
evidence to inform that jury, with whom they were too
scandalous to associate. Interested witnesses may be ex¬
amined upon a voir dire, if suspected to be secret! v con-
serned in the event $ or their interest may be proved in
court. Which last is the only method of supporting an
objection to the former class ; for no man is to be exa¬
mined to prove his own infamy. And no counsel, at¬
torney, or other person, intrusted with the secrets of the
cause by the party himself, shall be compelled, or per¬
haps allowed, to give evidence of such conversation or
matters of privacy as came to his knowledge by virtue
of such trust and confidence : but he may be examined
as to mere matters of fact, as the execution of a deed or
the like, which might have come to his knowledge
without being intrusted in the cause.
One witness (if credible) is sufficient evidence to a
jury of any single fact; though undoubtedly the con¬
currence of two or more corroborates the proof. Yet
our law considers that there are many transactions to
which only one person is privy 5 and therefore does not
always demand the testimony of trvo. Positive proof is
always required, where, from the nature of the case, it
appears it might possibly have been had. But, next to
positive proof, circumstantial evidence, or the doctrine
of presumptions, must lake place : for when the fact it¬
self cannot be demonstratively evinced, that which comes
nearest to the proof of the fact is the proof of such cir¬
cumstances which either necessarily or usually attend
such facts $ and these are called presumptions, which
are only to be relied upon till the contrary be actually
proved.
The oath administered to the witness is not only that
what he deposes shall be true, but that he shall also de¬
pose the whole truth : so that he is not to conceal any
part of what he knows, whether interrogated particu¬
larly to that point or not. And all this evidence is to
be given in open court, in the presence of the parties,
dieir attorneys, the counsel, and all bystanders: and
before the judge and jury : each party having liberty
to except to its competency, which exceptions are pub¬
licly stated, and by the judge are openly and publicly
allowed or disallowed, in the face of the country : which
Tiust curb any secret bias or partiality that might arise
o his own breast.
When the evidence is gone through on both sides,
Vol. XX. Part II. f
3 ] T R I
the judge, in the presence of the parties, the counsel,
and all others, sums up the whole to the jury j omit¬
ting all superfluous circumstances, observing wherein the
main question and principal issue lies, stating what evi¬
dence has been given to support it, with such remarks
as he thinks necessary for their direction, and giving
them his opinion in matters of law arising upon that
evidence.
1 he jury, after the proofs are summed up, unless the
case be very clear, withdraw from the bar to consider of
their verdict ; and in order to avoid intemperance, and
causeless delay, are to be kept without meat, drink, fire,
or candle, unless by permission of the judge, till they
are unanimously agreed. A method of accelerating una¬
nimity not wholly unknown in other constitutions of Eu¬
rope, and in matters of greater concern. Eor by the
golden bull of the empire, if, after the congress is open¬
ed, the electors delay the election of a king of the Ro¬
mans for 30 days, they shall be fed only with bread and
water till the same is accomplished. But if our juries
eat or diink at all, or have any eatables about them,
without consent of the court, and before verdict, it is
finable ; and if they do so at his charge for whom they
afterwards find, it will set aside the verdict. Also, if
they speak with either of the parties or their agents’af-
ter they are gone from the bar, or if they receive any
fresh evidence in private, or if, to prevent disputes, they
cast lots for whom they shall find, any of these circum¬
stances will entirely vitiate the verdict. And it has been
held, that if the jurors do not agree in their verdict be¬
fore the judges are about to leave the town, though
they are not to be threatened or imprisoned, the judges
are not bound to wait for them, but may carry them
round the circuit from town to town in a cart. This
necessity of a total unanimity seems to be peculiar to our
own constitution ; or at least, in the nembda or jury of
the ancient Ooths, there was required (even in criminal
cases) only the consent of the major part; and in case of
an equality, the defendant was held to be acquitted.
When they are all unanimously agreed, the jury re¬
turn back to the bar $ and before they deliver their ver¬
dict, the plaintiff is bound to appear in court, by himself,
attorney, or counsel, in order to answer the amercement
to which by the old law he is liable, in case he fails in
his suit, as a punishment for his false claim. To be
amerced, or a mercie, is to be at the king’s mercy with
regard to the fine to be imposed ; in misericordia doniini
regis profalso clamore suo. rI he amercement is disused,
but the form still continues 3 and if the plaintiff does not
appear, no verdict can be given ; but the plaintiff is
said to be nonsuit, non sequitur clamorem suum. There¬
fore it is usual for a plaintiff, when he or his counsel
perceives that he has not given evidence sufficient to
maintain his issue, to be voluntarily nonsuited, or with¬
draw himself: whereupon the crier is ordered to call the
plaintiff 3 and if neither he, nor any body for him, ap¬
pears, he is nonsuited, the jurors are discharged, the ac¬
tion is at^ an end, and the defendant shall recover his
costs. The reason of this practice is, that a nonsuit is
more eligible for the plaintiff than a verdict against
him : for after a nonsuit, which is only a default, he
may commence the same suit again for the same cause
of action 3 but after a verdict had, and judgment conse¬
quent thereupon, he is for ever barred from attacking
3 O tiie
Trial
T R I L 474 ] T R I
Trial. defendant upon the same ground of complaint. But
u—v—J in case the plaintiff appears, the jury by their foreman
deliver in their verdict.
A verdict, vere dictum, is either privy or public. A
privy verdict is when the judge hath lelt or adjourned
the court: and the jury, being agreed, in order to be
delivered from their confinement, obtain leave to give
their verdict privily to the judge out of court : which
privy verdict is of no force, unless afterwards affirmed
by a public verdict given openly in court ; wherein the
jury may, if they please, vary from their privy verdict.
So that the privy verdict is indeed a mere nullity 5 and
yet it is a dangerous practice, allowing time tor the
parties to tamper with the jury, and therefore very sel¬
dom indulged. But the only effectual and legal verdict
is the public verdict: in which they openly declare to
have found the issue for the plaintiff, or for the defen¬
dant ; and if for the plaintiff, they assess the damages
also sustained by the plaintiff, in consequence of the in¬
jury upon which the action is brought.
When the jury have delivered in their verdict, and it
is recorded in court, they are then discharged ; and so
ends the trial by jury : a trial which ever has been, and
it is hoped ever will he, looked upon as the glory of the
English law. It is certainly the most, transcendant pri¬
vilege which any subject can enjoy or wish for, that he
cannot be affected either in his property, his liberty, or
his person, but by the unanimous consent of 12 of his
neighbours and equals. A constitution that we may
venture to affirm has, under providence, secured the
just liberties of this nation for a long succession of ages.
* Montes And therefore a celebrated French writer *, who con-
quieu. Spir. eludes, that because Borne, Sparta, and Carthage, have
L. xi.’ 6. lost their liberties, therefore those of England in time
must perish, should have recollected that Borne, Sparta,
and Carthage, at the time when their liberties were
lost, were strangers to the trial by jury.
Great as this eulogium may seem, it is no more than
this admirable constitution, when traced to its princi¬
ples, will be found in sober reason to deserve.
The impartial administration of justice, which secures
both our persons and our properties, is the great end of
civil society. But if that be entirely entrusted to the
magistracy, a select body of men, and those generally
selected by the prince or such as enjoy the highest offices
in the state, their decisions, in spite of their own natu¬
ral integrity, will have frequently an involuntary bias
towards those of their own rank and dignity : it is not
to be expected from human nature, that the few should
be always attentive to the interests and good of the ma¬
ny. On the other hand, if the power of judicature were
placed at random in the bands of the multitude, their
decisions would be wild and capricious, and a new rule
of action would be every day established in our courts.
It is wisely therefore ordered, that the principles and
axioms of law, which are general propositions flowing
from abstracted reason, and not accommodated to times
or to men, should be deposited in the breasts of the
judges, to be occasionally applied to such facts as come
properly ascertained before them. For here partiality
can have little scope ; the law is well known, and is the
same for all ranks and degrees : it follows as a regular
conclusion from the premises of fact pre -established. But
in settling and adjusting a question of fact, when intrust¬
ed to any single magistrate, partiality and injustice have
2
an ample field to range in, either by boldly asserting >prja|
that to he proved which is not so, or more artfully by
suppressing some circumstances, stretching and warping
others, aud distinguishing away the remainder. Here
therefore a competent number of sensible and upright
jurymen, chosen by lot from among those of the middle
rank, will be found the best investigators of truth, and
the surest guardians of public justice. For the most
powerful individual in the state will be cautious of com¬
mitting any flagrant invasion of another’s right, when he
knows that the fact of his oppression must be examined
and decided by 12 indifferent men not appointed till
the hour of trial; and that when once the fact is ascer¬
tained, the law must of course redress it. This there¬
fore preserves in the hands of the people that share which
they ought to have in the administration of public jus¬
tice, and prevents the encroachments of the more power¬
ful and wealthy citizens.
Criminal Trials. The regular and ordinary method
of proceeding in the courts of criminal jurisdiction may
be distributed under I 2 general heads, following each
other in a progressive order : viz. 1. Arrest; 2. Com¬
mitment and bail; 3. Prosecution ; 4. Process; 5. Ar¬
raignment, and its incidents; 6.Plea,and issue ; 7.Trial,
and conviction ; 8. Clergy ; 9. Judgment, and its con¬
sequences; 10. Beversal of judgment; 11. Beprieve,or
pardon ; 1 2. Execution. See Arrest, Commitment,
Presentment, Indictment,Information,Appeal,
Process upon an Indictment, Arraignment, and
Plea ; in which articles all the forms which precede
the trial are described, and are here enumerated in the
proper order.
The several methods of trial and conviction of of¬
fenders, established by the laws of England, were for¬
merly more numerous than at present, through the su¬
perstition of our Saxon ancestors ; who, like other north¬
ern nations, were extremely addicted to divination; a
character which Tacitus observes of the ancient Ger¬
mans. They therefore invented a considerable number
of methods of purgation or trial, to preserve innocence
from the danger of false witnesses, and in consequence
of a notion that God would always interpose miraculous¬
ly to vindicate the guiltless; as, 1. By Ordeal; 2. By
Corsned ; 3. By Battel. See these articles.
4. A fourth method is that by the peers of Great Bri¬
tain, in the Court of Parliament ; or the Court of
the Lord High Steward, when a peer is capitally in¬
dicted; for in case of an appeal, a peer shall be tried by
jury. This differs little from the trial yier/Kzfmw, or
by jury; except that the peers need not all agree in
their verdict; and except also, that no special verdict
can be given in the trial of a peer; because the lords ol
parliament, or the lord high steward (if the trial be had
in his court), are judges sufficiently competent of the
law that may arise from the fact; but the greater num¬
ber, consisting of 12 at the least, will conclude, ami
bin d th e minority. .
The trial by jury, or the country, per patriam, is alfi0
that trial by the peers of every Briton, which, as the
great bulwark of his liberties, is secured to him by the
great charter: nullus liber homo capitatur,velimprisons
tur, aut exulet, ant alicjito alio modo destruatur, Jiisipe>
legale Judicium parium suorum, vel per legem terra-
When therefore a prisoner on his ARRAIGNMENT has
pleaded not guilty, and for his trial hath put himse
T R I [ 475 1 T R I
^ upon the country, which country the jury are, the slie-
rift of the county must return a panel of jurors, liberos
et legates homines, de viceneto; that is, freeholders with¬
out just exception, and of the visne or neighbourhood j
which is interpreted to be of the county where the fact
is committed. If the proceedings are before the court
of king’s bench, there is time allowed between the ar¬
raignment and the trial, for a jury to be impanelled by
writ of venire facias to the sheriff, as in civil causes ;
and the trial in case of a misdemeanor is had at nisiprius^
unless it be of such consequence as to merit a trial at bar;
which is always invariably had when the prisoner is tried
for any capital offence. But, before commissioners of
oyer and terminer and gaol-delivery, the sheriff, by vir¬
tue of a general precept directed to him beforehand, re¬
turns to the court a panel of 48 jurors, to try all felons
that may be called upon their trial at that session ; and
therefore it is there usual to try all felons immediately
or soon after their arraignment. But it is not customary,
nor agreeable to the general course of proceedings, un¬
less by consent of parties, to try persons indicted of
smaller misdemeanors at the same court in which they
have pleaded not guilty, or traversed the indictment.
But they usually give security to the court to appear at
the next assizes or session, and then and there to try the
traverse, giving notice to the prosecutor of the same.
In cases ol high-treason, whereby corruption of blood
may ensue (except treason in counterfeiting the king’s
toin or seals), or misprision of such treason, it is enacted
by statute 7 W. III. c. 3. first, that no person shall be
tried for any such treason, except an attempt to assassi¬
nate the king, unless the indictment be found within
three years after the offence committed : next, that the
1 prisoner shall have a copy of the indictment (which in¬
cludes the caption), but not the names of the witnesses,
five days at least before the trial, that is, upop the true
! construction of the act, before his arraignment; for then
is his time to take any exceptions thereto, by way of plea
or demurrer; thirdly, that he shall also have a copy of
the panel of jurors two days before his trial: and, lastly,
that he shall have the same compulsive process to bring
in his witnesses for him, as was usual to compel their
appearance against him. And by statute 7 Ann. c. 24.
(which did not take place till after the decease of the
late pretender) all persons indicted for high-treason, or
misprisions thereof, shall have not only a copy of the
indictment, but a list of all the witnesses to be produced,
and of the jurors impanelled, with their professions and
places of abode, delivered to him ten days before the
trial, and in the presence of two witnesses, the better to
prepare him to make his challenges and defence. And
no person indicted for felony is, or (as the law stands)
ever can be, entitled to such copies before the time of
his trial.
^ hen the trial is called on, the jurors are to be sworn
ns they appear, to the number of 12, unless they are
challenged by the party.
Challenges may here be made, either on the part of
the king, or on that of the prisoner ; and either to the
whole array, or to the separate polls, for the very same
reasons that they may be made in civil causes. Butin
criminal causes, or at least in capital ones, there is, in
javorem vitee, allowed to the prisoner an arbitrary and
capricious species of challenge, to a certain number of
jurors, without showing any cause at all; which is called
a peremptory challenge ; a provision full of that tender- Trial,
ness and humanity to prisoners for which our English'—-y—
laws are justly famous. I his is grounded on two rea¬
sons. x. As every one must be sensible what sudden
impressions and unaccountable prejudices we are apt to
conceive upon the bare looks and gestures of another ;
and how necessary it is that a prisoner) when put to de*
fend his life) should have a good opinion of his jury, the
want of which might totally disconcert him ; the law
wills not that he should be tried by any one man against
whom he has conceived a prejudice, even without being
able to assign a reason for such his dislike. 2. Because*
upon challenges for cause shown, if the reason assigned
prove insufficient to set aside the juror, perhaps the bare
questioning his indifference may sometimes provoke a
resentment; to prevent all ill consequences from which,
the prisoner is still at liberty, if he pleases, peremptorily
to set him aside.
The peremptory challenges of the prisoner must,
however, have some reasonable boundary ; otherwise he
might never be tried. This reasonable boundary is set¬
tled by the common law to be tbe number of 35 ; that is,
one under the number of three full juries.
If by reason of challenges or the default of the jurors,
a sufficient number cannot be had of the original pa¬
nel, a tales may be awarded as in civil causes, till the
number of 12 is sworn, well and truly to try, and
true deliverance make, between our sovereign lord
the king and the prisoner whom they have in charge ;
and a true verdict to give, according to their evi¬
dence.”
When the jury is sworn, if it be a cause of any con¬
sequence, the Indictment is usually opened, and the
evidence marshalled, examined, and enforced by the
counsel for the crown or prosecution. But it is a settled
rule at common law, that no counsel shall be allowed a
prisoner upon his trial upon the general issue, in any ca¬
pital crime, unless some point of law shall arise proper to
be debated. A rule which (however it may be palli¬
ated under cover of that noble declaration of the law,
when rightly understood, that the judge shall be coun¬
sel for the prisoner ; that is, shall see that the proceed¬
ings against him are legal and strictly regular) seems to
be not at all of a piece with the rest of the humane
treatment of prisoners by the English law. For upon
what face of reason can that assistance be denied to save
the life of a man, which yet is allowed him in prosecu¬
tions for every petty trespass ? Nor indeed is it, strictly
speaking, a part of our ancient law ; for the Mirrour,
having observed the necessity of counsel in civil suits,
“ "’ho know how to forward and defend the cause by
the rules of law, and customs of the realm,” immedi¬
ately afterwards subjoins, “ and more necessary arethev
for defence upon indictments and appeals of felony, than
upon other venial causes.” And, to say the truth, the
judges themselves are so sensible of this defect in our
modern practice, that they seldom scruple to allow a
prisoner counsel to stand by him at tbe bar, and to in¬
struct him what questions to ask, or even to ask questions
for him, with regard to matters of fact; for as to mat¬
ters of law arising on the trial, they are entitled to
the assistance of counsel. But still this is a matter of
too much importance to be left to the good pleasure
of any judge, and is worthy the interposition of the le¬
gislature ; which has shown its inclination to indulge
3 0 2 prisoners
T R I [ 476 ] T R I
IFiial prisoners 'with this reasonable assistance, by enacting,
|| in statute 7 W. III. c. 3. that persons indicted for such
Tributary, high-treason as works a corruption of the blood or mis-
v " J prisonment thereof (except treason in counterfeiting the
king’s coins or seals), may make their full defence by
counsel, not exceeding two, to be named by the prisoner,
and assigned by the court or judge ; and this indulgence,
by statute 20 Geo. II. c. 30. is extended to parliamen¬
tary impeachments for high-treason, which were excep¬
ted in the former act.
When the evidence on both sides is closed, the jury
cannot be discharged (unless in cases of evident necessi¬
ty) till they have given in their verdict. If they find
the prisoner not guilty, he is then for ever quit and dis¬
charged of the accusation, except he be appealed of fe¬
lony within the time limited by law. And upon such
his acquittal, or discharge for want of prosecution, he
shall be immediately set at large without payment of any
fee to the gaoler. But if the jury find him guilty, be
is then said to be convicted of the crime whereof he
stands indicted. See the article Conviction ; and sub¬
sequent thereto, the article Judgment, Attainder,
Forfeiture, Execution, also Bemfit of Clergy,
Heprieve, Fardon.
Triad, in Scotland. See Scots Law.
TRIANDR1A, (from Tg«s, “ three,” and “ a
man or husband),” the name of the third class in Lin-
naeus’s sexual system, consisting of plants with her¬
maphrodite flowers, which have three stamina or male
organs.
TRIANGLE, in Geometry, a figure of three sides
and three angles.
TRIBE, in antiquity, a certain quantity or number
of persons, when a division was made of a city or people
into quarters or districts.
TRIBRACHYS, in Ancient Poetry, a foot consist¬
ing of three syllables, and these all short ; as, melius.
TRIBUNAL, in general, denotes the seat of a judge,
called in our courts bench.
TRIBUNE, among the ancient Romans, a magi¬
strate chosen out of the commons, to protect them
against the oppressions of the great, and to defend the
liberty of the people against the attempts of the senate
and consuls.
The tribunes of the people were first established in
the year of Rome 259. The first design of their crea¬
tion was to shelter the people from the cruelty of usurers,
and to engage them to quit the Aventine mount, whi¬
ther they had retired in displeasure.
Their number at first was but two •, but the next year,
under the consulate of A. Posthumius Aruncius and
Cassius Viscellinus, there were three more added ; and
this number of five was afterwards increased by L. Tre-
bonius to ten.
Military Tribune, an officer in the Roman army,
commander in chief over a body of forces, particularly
the division of a legion ; much the same with our co¬
lonel, or the French maitre de camp.
TRIBUTARY, one who pays tribute to another
in order to live in peace with or share m his protec- Tributary
tlon* . . .ft
TRIBUTE, a tax or impost which one prince or “l8°"el'a'
state is obliged to pay to another as a token of de.^”"’v"',,J
pendence, or in virtue of a treaty, and as a purchase of
peace.
TRICEPS, in Anatomy. See there, Tables of the
Muscles.
TRICHECUS, Walrus •, a genus of aquatic ani¬
mals belonging to the class of mammalia, and order of
bruta. See Mammalia Index.
TRICHOMANES, a genus of plants belonging to
the class of cryptogamia, and order oifilices. See Bo¬
tany Index.
TRICOCCE/E, (rgs<j, “ three,” and “ a
grain”), the name of the 38th order in Linnaeus’s Frag¬
ments of a Natural Method, consisting of plants with
a single three-cornered capsule, having three cells, or
internal divisions, each containing a single seed. Sec
Botany.
TRfCOSANTHES, a genus of plants belonging
to the class of monoecia, and in the natural system ran¬
ging under the 34th order, Cucurbitacce. See Botany
Index.
TRIDENT, an attribute of Neptune, being a kind
of sceptre which the painters and poets put into the
hands of that god, in form of a spear or fork with three
teeth ; whence the word.
TRIENNIAL, an epithet applied chiefly to offices
or employments which last tor three years.
TRIENS, in antiquity, a copper money of the va¬
lue of one third of an as, which on one side bore a Ja¬
nus’s head, and on the other a water rat.
TRIENTALIS, Chickweed Winter-green, a
genus of plants belonging to the class of heptandria, and
in the natural system ranging under the 20th order,
Botacece. See Botany Index
TRIERS, or Treves. See Treves.
TRIFOLIUM, Trefoil, or Clover, a genus of
plants belonging to the class of diadelphia, and in the
natural system ranging under the 3 2d order,
nacece. See Botany Index.
TR1GA, in antiquity, denotes a kind of car or cha¬
riot drawn by three horses y whence the name.
TRIGLA, a genus of fishes belonging to the order
of thoracici. See Ichthyology Index.
TRIGLOCHIN, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of hexnndria, and in the natural system ranging
under the fifth order, Tripetaloidece. See BOTANY
Index.
TRIGLYPHS, in Architecture, a sort of ornament
repeated at equal intervals, in the Doric freeze.
Dialing Trigon. See Dialing.
TRIG ON A LIS. See Pi la.
TRIGONELLA, Fenugreek, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of diadelphia. and in the natural
system arranged under the 32 order, Papilionacex. See
Botany Index.
trigonometry.
[ 477 1
T R I G O N O M E T R Y.
Nt3( e and ^ pRIGONOMETRY is ti»e application of arithme-
C< sac- 1 tjc to geometry. It consists of two principal parts,
Li0,jf Tn-vi Plane Trigonometry and Spherical Trigo-
Miiaetri-
eal ifabtes. NO M ET R Y f .
u-.r—^ Plane trigonometry treats ot the application of num¬
bers to determine the relations of the sides and angles of
a plane triangle to one another.
Spherical trigonometry treats of the application of
numbers in like manner to spherical triangles; the na¬
ture of these will be explained in the course of this ar¬
ticle.
Both branches of the subject depend essentially upon
certain numerical tables, the nature and construction of
which we shall now proceed to explain.
SECTION I.
NATURE AND CONSTRUCTION OF TRIGO¬
NOMETRICAL TABLES.
It has been demonstrated in Geometry (Theor. 31.
Sect. IV). that any angles at the centre of a circle have
to one another the same proportion as the arches in¬
tercepted between the lines which contain the angles.
Hence it is easy to infer, that an angle at the centre of
a circle has the same ratio to four right angles, that the
arch intercepted between the lines which contain the
angle has to the whole circumference. It also follows
that we may employ arches of a circle as measures of
angles, and thus the comparison of angles is reduced to
the comparison of arches of a circle. From this prin¬
ciple we infer the consistency of the first of the follow¬
ing series of definitions.
Definitions.
I. If two straight lines intersect one another in the
centre of a circle, the arch ef the circumference inter-
m cepted between them is called the Aleasure ot the angle
hXX VH.which they contain. Thus, (Plate DXXXVII. fig. 1.)
B' the arch AB is the measure of the angle contained by
the lines CA and CH.
II. If the circumference of a circle be divided into
360 equal parts, each of these is called a Degree ; and
it a degree be divided into 60 equal parts, each of these
is called a Minute ; and if a minute be divided into 60
equal parts, each of these is called a Second, and so on j
and as many degrees, minutes, seconds, &c. as are in any
arch, so many degrees, minutes, seconds, &c. are said
to he in the angle measured by that arch.
Cor. i. Any arch is to the whole circumference of
which it is a part, as the number of degrees and parts
of a degree in it is to the number 360. And any
angle is to four right angles as the number of degrees,
&c. in the arch which is the measure of the angle to
360.
Cor. 2. Hence also it appears that the arches which
measure the same angle, whatever be the radii with
which they are described, contain the same number of Nature and
degrees and parts of a degree.
The degrees, minutes, seconds, &c. contained in an gononietri'
arch or angle aie commonly written thus, 230 29' 32"cal Tables.
20,,/, which expression means 23 degrees 29 minutes' - '-v 4
32 seconds, and 20 thirds.
III. T wo angles which make together two right
angles, also two arches which make together a semi¬
circle, are called the Supplements of one another.
IV. A straight line BG drawn through B, one of
the extremities of the arch AB, perpendicular to the di¬
ameter passing through the other extremity A, is called
the Sine of the arch AC, or of the angle ACB, having
the arch AB for its measure.
Cor. i. The sine of a quadrant or of a right angle
is equal to the radius.
Cor. 2. The sine of an arch is half the chord of
twice the arch.
V. The segment AG of the diameter intercepted
between its extremity and the sine BG is called the
Versed Sine of the arch AB, or of the angle ACB.
VI. A straight line AH touching the circle at A
one extremity of the arch AB, and meeting the diame¬
ter CB which passes through B the other extremity, is
called the Tangent of the arch AB, or of the angle
ACB.
Cor. The tangent of half a right angle is equal to
the radius.
VII. The straight line CH between the centre and
the extremity of the tangent AH is called the Secant
of the arch A B or of the angle ACB.
Cor. to Def. 4, 6, 7. The sine, tangent, and se¬
cant of any angle ACB, are also the sine, tangent,
and secant of its supplement BCE. For by the de¬
finition, BG is the sine of the angle BCE; and if
BC be produced to meet the circle in I, then AH is
the tangent and CH the secant of the angle ACI or
BCE.
Cor. to Def. 4, 5, 6, 7. The sine, versed sine, tan¬
gent, and secant of an arch which is the measure of the
auule ACB is to the sine, versed sine, and secant of
any other arch which is the measure of the same anglty
as the radius of the first arch is to the radius of the se¬
cond.
Let BG, fig. 2. be the sine, AG the versed sine,
AH the tangent, and CH the secant of the arch AB to
the radius CA ; and b g,a g, ah, ch the same things to
the radius C a. From similar triangles BG : bg :: BC :
£C; and because CG : C^ (:: CB : C£) :: CA : Co;
therefore, by division AG : ag :: CA : Co. Also
AH .ah:: CH : C A :: CA : C o.
Hence it appears that if tables be constructed exhi¬
biting in numbers the sinfcs, tangents, and versed sines of
certain angles to a given radius, they will exhibit the
ratios of the sines, tangents, and versed sines of the same
angles to any radius whatever. In such tables, which
are called trigonometrical tables, the radius is either
supposed 1, or some number in the series 10,100, iooo,
47 8
Nature and
Construc¬
tion of Tri¬
gonometri¬
cal Tables.
T R I G O N O
&c. The construction anti use of these tables we shall
presently explain.
^ III. The difference between any angle and a right
angle, or between any arch and a quadrant, is called the
Complement of that angle, or of that arch. Thus, if
the angle ACD, fio;. I. be a right angle, and conse¬
quently the arch AD, which is its measure, a quadrant,
the angle BCD is the complement of the angle BCA,
and the arch BD is the complement of the arch AB.
Also the complement of the obtuse angle BCE is BCD,
its excess above a right angle ; and the complement of
the arch BDE is the arch BD.
IX. The sine, tangent, or secant of the complement
of any angle is called the cosine, cotangent, or cosecant
of that angle. Thus, supposing the angle ACD to be
a right angle, then BFrrCG, the sine of the angle
BCD, is the cosine of the angle BCA ; DK, the tan¬
gent of the angle BCD, is the cotangent of the angle
BCA, and CK, the secant of the angle BCD, is the co¬
secant of the angle BCA.
The following properties of the lines which have
been defined flow immediately from their position.
1. The sum of the squares of the sine and cosine of
any angle is equal to the square of the radius. For, in
the right-angled triangle BGC, BCz =:BG*-f-GCa,
(Geometry, Sect. IV. theor. 13.). Now BG is the
sine, and CG=BF is the cosine of the angle BCA.
2. The radius is a mean proportional between the
tangent of any angle and its cotangent, or tan. ACB X
cot. ACB—rad.z. For sinee DK, CA are parallel,
the angles DKC, HCA are equal j now CDK, CAH
are right angles, therefore the triangles CDK, HCA
are similar, and therefore AH : AC :: CD or AC : DK,
and AC2—AHx DK.
3. The radius is a mean proportional between the co¬
sine and secant of any angle. Or cos. ACB X sec. ACB
=rad.2. For the triangles CGB, CAH are similar j
therefore CG : CB or CA :: CA : CH.
4. The tangent of an arch is a fourth proportional
to its cosine, its sign and the radius, or tan. ACB =
sin. ACB . ^ .
 t>.y> Xrad. For, from similar triangles CG : GB
cos. ACB °
:: CA : AH.
Trigonometrical tables usually exhibit the sines, tan¬
gents, and secants of all angles which can be expressed
by an exact number of degrees and minutes from 1 mi¬
nute to 90 degrees, or a right angle. These may be
computed in various ways, the most elementary is to
caculate them by the help of principles deducible imme¬
diately from the elements of geometry.
It has been demonstrated in Geometry, (Sect. V.
prob. 22.) that the chord of one-sixth of the circumfer¬
ence, or an arch of 6o°, is equal to the radius •, therefore,
if BD be an arch of 30°, its sine BF will be half the
radius (cor. 2. def. 4.). Eet us suppose the radius to
be expressed by unity, or 1, then sin. 30°rr-l; now
since a being put for any arch, cos.2 o-fsin.2 o=rad.2
(where by cos.2 a is meant the square of the number ex¬
pressing the cosine of the arch a, &c.) and as sin.2 30°
=1, therefore cos.2 3o°z=i—4—4, &c. Cos. 30°=
•§V3=r.866025403 8.
It has been demonstrated in the arithmetic of sines
(Algebra, § 356.) that 2 cos.*a—1 -J-cos.2ff; hence we
have the following formula for finding the cosine of an
arch, having given the cosine of its double } cos. azz
M E T R
cos. 2 a
Y.
By this formula from the cosine of 30° :
tion of Tr j !
we mav find that of I 30, and again from cos. 1 c0 we11
..J~ o  j Konomctn
may find cos. 70 30', and proceeding in this way we cal Table
may find the cosines of 30 45', i° 52' 30", and so on,
till after 11 bisections the cosine of 52" 44'" 31V 45v is
found we may then find the sine of this arch by the
formula sin. a—^/ (1—cos.2a). Now, as from the na¬
ture of a circle the ratio of an arch to its sine approaches
continually to that of equality, when the arch is conti¬
nually diminished, it follows that the sines of very small
arches will be very nearly to one another as the arches
themselves: Therefore, as 52" 44"/ 3^ 45v to i' so is
the sine of the former arch to the sine of the latter.
By performing all the calculations which we have
here indicated, it will be found that the sine of 1' is
.0002908882.
It has been shewn in the arithmetic of sines (Al.GE-
jBRA, § 355-) that a and & being put for any two
arches, sin. ((/-J-Z>):=:2 cos. £ sin. a—sin. (a—Z>), hence
putting l' for b, and 1', 2', 3', &c. successively for a,
wc have,
sin. 2r— 2 cos.
•sin. 3'zr: 2 cos.
4'= 2 cos.
sin.
&c.
1' X sin.
I'Xsin.
I'Xsin. 3'—sin. 2',
-sin. 1
In this way the sines for every minute of the quadrant
may be computed, and as the multiplier cos. i' remains
always the same, the calculation is easy. If instead of
i7, the common difference of the series of arches were
any other angle, the very same formula would apply.
The sines, and consequently the cosines of any num-1
ber of arches being supposed found, their tangents may
be found by considering that tan. or—l"1—• and their
secants from the formula sec. a— .
cos. a
We have here very briefly indicated the manner of
constructing the trigonometrical canon, asit is sometimes
called. There are, however, various properties of sines,
tangents, &c. which greatly facilitate the actual calcu¬
lation of the numbers: these the reader will find detail¬
ed in Algebra, Sect. XXV. which treats expressly of
the Arithmetic of Sines.
The most expeditious mode of computing the sine or
cosine of a single angle is by means of infinite series:
The investigation of these is given in FLUXIONS, § 70.;
and it is ther e shewn that if a denote any arch, then,
the radius being expressed by 1,
2 • 3
rA
4 * 5
■ &C.
2* 3 • 4
&.c.
To apply these we must have the arch expressed in parts
of the radius, which requires that we know the pro¬
portion of the diameter of the circle to its circumference,
We have investigated this proportion in GEOMETRY*
Prop. 6. Sect, vi.; also in Fluxions, § 137.5 and sub¬
sequently in the article entitled Squaring the Circle.
From these series others may be found which shall
express the tangent and secant. Thus because tan-
TRICON
ii; and sin. a * r ..... . . r , .
0 ruc- a= , we Ret, alter dividing the series tor the sine
«Tri- cos-"
m letri- ijy that for the consine,
t lilies. J
tan. erra-j 1-
2as
iy a7
&c.
3 I5 3I5
And in like manner, dividing unity by the series for
cos. a, because sec. a=
, we get
sec. o= i -J-
a* c a4 61 a6
 L £ | 
2 24 * 720
&c.
We shall conclude what we proposed to say on the
construction of the tables, by referring such of our
readers as wish for more extensive information on this
subject to Dr Hutton’s Introduction to his excellent
Mathematical Tables j also, to the treatises which treat
expressly of trigonometry, among which are those of
Emerson, Simpson, Bonnycastle, Cagnoli, Maudvit,
Lacroix, Legendre. In particular we refer to an ex¬
cellent treatise on the subject by Air li. Woodhouse of
Caius college, Cambridge.
B escription of the Table of Logarithmic Sines, Sc..
That trigonometrical tables may be extensively use¬
ful, they ought to contain not only the sine, tangent,
and secant to every minute of the quadrant, but also the
logarithms ot these numbers j and these are given in
Dr Hutton’s Mathematical Tables, a work which we
have already mentioned 5 as, however, the sines, &c.
or the natural sines, &c. as they are called, are much
less frequently wanted than their logarithms, we have
only given a table of the latter. See Logarithms.
This table contains the logarithms of the sines and
tangents, or the logarithmic shies and tangents, to every
minute of the quadrant, the degrees at top and minutes
descending down the left-hand side, as far as 45°, and
from thence returning with the degrees at the bottom
and the minutes ascending by the right-hand side to
90°, in such a manner that any arch on the one side is
in the same line with its complement on the other, the
respective sines, cosines, tangents, and cotangents, being
in the same line with the minutes, and on the columns
figured with their respective names at top when the de¬
grees are at top, but at the bottom when the degrees
are at the bottom. The differences of the sines and
cosines are placed in columns to the right-hand, marked
D; and the differences of the tangents and cotangents
are placed in a column between them, each difference
belonging equally to thq columns on both sides of it.
Also each differential number is set opposite the space
between the numbers ■whose difference it is. All this
will be evident by inspecting the table itself.
1 here are no logarithmic secants in the table, but
these are easily had from the cosines j for since sec.
rad.2
fl:= cos—’ * iere’ore> l°g- sec* °=2log. rad.— log. cos.
now log. rad.— 10, therefore the log. secant of any
meh is had by subtracting its log. cosine from 20.
The log. sine, log. tangent, or log. secant of any
angle is expressed by the same numbers as the log. sine,
log. tangent, or log. secant of its supplement; there¬
fore, when an angle exceeds 90°, subtract it from 18.00
O M E T R Y. 479
and take the log. sine, See. of the remainder for that Nature and
of the angle. Construe-
lo find the log. sine of any angle expressed bv de-1*00
grees and minutes. If the angle be less than 450, look
tor the number of degrees at the top, and opposite to ^ ^
the minutes on the left hand will be found the sine re¬
quired ; thus the log. sine of 8° io' is 9.15245. But
if the angle be 450 or more than 450, look for the de¬
grees at the bottom and the minutes on the right hand,
and opposite will be found the log. sine required.
Thus the log. sine of 58° 12'is 9.92936. The very
same directions apply for the cosine, tangent, and co¬
tangent ; and from what has been said, the manner of
finding the angle to degrees and minutes, having given
its sine, &c. must be obvious.
If the angle consists of degrees, minutes, and seconds,
find the sine or tangents to the degrees and minutes, and
add to this a proportional part of the difference given
in the column of differences for the seconds, observing
that the whole difference corresponds to i' or 60'7.
Thus to find the log. sine of 30° 23' 28"; first the sine
of 30° 23' is 9.70396. The difference is 21. As 60":
0// 28x21 , ,
:: 21 : ——— or 10 nearly, the part of the differ¬
ence to be added, therefore the sine of 30° 2T 28" is
9.70406.
On the contrary, let it be required to find the angle
corresponding to the tangent 10.14152.
'Hie next less tangent in the table is 10.14x40, which
corresponds to 540 10.'; the difference between the pro¬
posed tangent and next less is 1 2; and the difference
between the next less and next greater, as given in the
table, is 26 j therefore, 26 : 12 :: 6o'' : ~ ^°.: 28"
26 _ '
nearly, hence the angle corresponding to the proposed
log. tangent is 340 10' 28,/.
SECTION II.
PLANE TRIGONOMETRY.
The following propositions express as many of the
properties of plane triangles as are essentially necessa¬
ry in plane trigonometry. ’
Theor. I.
In a right-angled plane triangle, as the hypofhe-
nuse is to either of the sides, so is the radius
to the sine of the angle opposite to that side ;
and as either of the sides to the other side, so
is the radius to the tangent of the angle oppo¬
site to that side.
Let ABC be a right-angled plane triangle (fig. 3.), Fig. 3.
of which AC is the bypothenuse. On A as a centre
with any radius, describe the arch DE 5 draw EG at
right angles to AB, and draw DF touching the circle
at D, and meeting AC in F. Then EG is the sine of
the angle A to the radius AD or AE, and DF is its
tangent.
The triangles AGE, ADF are manifestly similar
to the triangle ABC. Therefore AC : CB :: AE :
EG j that is, AC : CB rad. : sin. A.
TRIGONOMETRY.
480
Plane Tri- Again, AB : BC :: AD : DF j that is AB : BC ::
gonometry rad. : tan. A.
v Cor. In a right-angled triangle, as the hypothenuse
to either of the sides, so is the secant of the acute angle
adjacent to that side to the radius. For AF is the secant
of the angle A to the radius AD j and AC : AB :: AF
: AD, that is, AC : AB :: sec. A : rad.
Note. This proposition is most easily remembered
■when stated thus. If in a right-angled triangle the hy¬
pothenuse be made the radius^ the sides become the sines
of the opposite angles ; and if one of the sides be made
the radius, the other side becomes the tangent of the op¬
posite angle, and the hypothenuse its secant.
Theor. II.
The sides of a plane triangle are to one another as
the sines of the opposite angles.
Tier. 4. From B any angle of the triangle ABC (fig. 4.) draw
BD perpendicular to AC. Then, by last theorem,
AB : BD :: rad. : sin. A,
also BD : BC :: sin. C : rad.
therefore ex eequo inversely (Geometry, Sect. III.
Theor. 7.), AB : BC :: sin. C : sin. A.
Theor. IV. PlaneTt
If a perpendicular be drawn from any angle of a
triangle to the opposite side or base ; the sum of
the segments of the base is to the sum of the
other two sides of the difference of these sides
to the difference of the segments of the base.
Let ABC be a triangle (fig. 6.), and BD a perpen-Fig. 6,
dicular drawn to the base from the opposite angle:
AD-}-DC : AB+ BC :: AB—BC : AD—DB.
On, B as a centre with the radius BC, describe a
circle meeting AC in E, and AB in G, and the same
line produced in F. Then AC : AF :: AG: AE j
now AI ~ AB BC, and AG ^ AB—BC, and be¬
cause ED = DC, AE (or AD—DE) = AD—DC,
therefore AC : AB-}-BC :: AB—BC : AD—DC.
Problem.
Having given the sum of any two quantities and also
their difference, to find each of the quantities.
Solution. To half the sum add half the difference
of the quantities, and it will give the greater j and frora-
half the sum subtract half the difference, and it will give
the less.
Fig- 5-
Theor. III.
The sum of any two sides of a triangle is to their
difference as the tangent of half the sum of the
angle opposite to these sides to the tangent of
half their difference.
Lpt ABC, fig. 5. be a triangle ; AB -}- BG : AB
—BC:: tan.f (^BCA + ^BAC) : tan. 4 (^BCA
—^BAC).
In AB produced take BE=BC, and on B as a cen¬
tre with BC or BE as a radius, describe the semicircle
ECF meeting AC in D; join BD, CF, and CE, and
from F draw FG parallel to AC, meeting CE in G.
Because the angles CFE, CBE, stand on the same
arch CE, and the former is at the circumference of the
circle, and the latter at the centre ; therefore, the
angle CFE is half the angle CBE (Geometry,
Beet. II. Theor. XIV.) ; but the angle CBE is the sum
of the angles BAC, BCA (Geometry, Sect. I. Theor.
XXIII.) j therefore the angle CFE is half the sum of
the angles BCA, BAC.
Because the angle BDC is the sum of the angles
BAC, ABD, therefore the angle ABD is the difi’erence
between the angles BDC, BAD ; but since BD~BC,
the angle BDC is equal to BCD or BCA, therefore
ABD is the difference of the angles BCA, BAC j but
ABD, or FBD, being an angle at the centre of the
circle, is double the angle FCD at the circumference,
which last is equal to the alternate angle CFG ; there¬
fore the angle CFG is half the difference of the angles
BCA, BAC.
Because CE is manifestly the tangent of the angle
CFE to the radius CF, and CG the tangent of the angle
CFG to the same radius ; therefore CE : CG :: tan.
CFE : tan. CFG, that is, CE : CG :: tan. f (BCA-f-
BAC) : tan. (BCA—BAC) $ but because FGis pa¬
rallel to AC, CE : CG :: AE : AF, that is, CE : CG
:: AB + BC : AB—BC, therefore AB-{-BC : AB
—BC : tan. f (BCA+BAC) tan. £ (BCA—BAC).
A E D B C.
For let the greater of the two quantities be expressed
by the line AB, and the less by BC •, bisect AC in D,
and take DE equal to DB, then AE—BC, and AB
—BC — AB—AE = EB, and 4 (AB—BC) = DB j
also 4 (AB-|-BC)=AD , now AB =z AD-f-DB and
BCrrAD—DB, therefore the truth of the solution is
evident.
In a plane triangle there are five distinct parts,
which are so connected with one another, that any
three of them being given, the remaining two may be
found •, these are, the three sides and any two of the
three angles j as to the remaining angle, that depends
entirely upon the other two, and may be found from
them independent of the sides.
If one of the angles be a right angle, then the num¬
ber of parts is reduced to four, and of these, any two
being given, the remaining two may be found.
Solution of the Cases of Right-angled Plane Triangles.
In right-angled triangles there are four cases which
may. he resolved by the first theorem.
Case i. The hypothenuse AC (fig. 7.) and an angle^ ^
A being given, to find the sides AB, BC about the
right angle.
Solution.
Rad.
Rad.
sin. A
cos. A
AC : BC,
AC : AB.
Rxample. In the triangle ABC, let the hypothenuse
AC he 144, and the angle A 390 22'. Required the
sides AB and BC.
To find AB.
Xiogarithms.
Rad. - - 10.00000
Rad.
To find BC.
Log.
- I c.00000
Sin. A 390 22' 9.80228
AC 144 - 2.15836
BC=9i.3 1.96064 AB=iii.3 2.04660
Here
Cos. A 390 22' 9.88824
AC 144 2.15836
Pli?! Tri-
^01 fietry.
TRIGONOMETRY.
Here tlie logaritlims of the second and third terms
are added, and the logarithm of the first term subtract¬
ed or rejected from the sum.
481
Case 2. x\. side AB, and an acute angle A (and
consequently the other angle C) being given, to find
the hypothenuse AC, and remaining side BC.
Solution. { Had.A • lit'. A :! AB : Ba
Example. In the triangle ABC are given AB 208,
and the angle A 350 16', to find AC and BC.
Solution. First subtract the sum of the angle A and Plane Tri-
B from l8o°, and the remainder is the angle C 5 then gonometry.
AC and BC are to be found from these proportions. v f
To find AC.
Cos. A 350 16' 9.91194
Rad. -
AB 208
10.00000
2.31806
12.31806-
To find BC.
Rad. - 10.00000
Tan. A 350 16' 9.84952
AB 208 - 2.31806
BC—147.1 2.16758
AC=254.7 2.40612
Case 3. The hypothenuse AC and a side AB being
given, to find the angle A (and consequently C) and
the side BC.
s°“ {rw.;^a;;ac ;bc.a’
Example. Let the hypothenuse AC be 272, and the
side AB 232. Required the angle A and the side
BC.
To find A.
AC 272
AB 232
Rad. -
M3457
2-36549
10.00000
12.36549
To find BC.
Rad. - - 10.00000
Sin. A 31° 28' 9.71767
AC 272 - - 2.43457
BC 142 - - 2.15224
Cos. A=3i° 28' 9.93092
Case 4, The sides AB and BC about the right
angle being given, to find the angle A (and thence C)
and the hypothenuse AC.
Solution. T „ : : rad-: tan- A>
\ Cos. A : rad. : AB : AC.
Example. Let the side AB be 186, the side BC 152.
Required the angle A, and the hypothenuse AC.
To find A.
AB 186 - 2.26951
BC 152
Rad. .
2.18184
10.00000
12.18184
To find AC.
Cos. A 390 15' 9.88896
Rad.
AB 186
ACzr 240.2
10.00000
2.26951
12.26951
2.38055
3.
Tan.A:=39® 15' 9-91233
Solution of the Cases of Oblique-angled Triangles.
In oblique-angled triangles there are also four cases,
^ ich, with their solutions, are as follows.
Case i. Two angles A and B, and a side AB, being
given, to find the other sides AC, BC.
^?0L. XX. Part II. +
Sin. C : Sin. B :: AB : AC,
Sin. C : Sin. A :: AB : BC.
The truth of this solution is obvious from Theor. II.
Example. In the triangle ABC are given the side
AB=266, the angle A 38° 40', the angle B 720 16';
to find the sides AC and BC.
First, A-fBrr 1 io° 56', and 1800—1 io° 56'=69°
4'=C.
Sin. C 69° 4' 9-97035
Sin. B 720 16' 9.97886
AB 266 - 2.42488
12.40374
AC=r27i.3
Case.
Sin. C 69° 4' 9-97035
Sin. A 38° 40' 9.79573
AB 266 - 2.42488
12.22061
2-43339 BC= 177.9 2.25026
. 2- Two sides AC, CB (fig. 9.) and the angle jq™
A opposite to one of them, being given ; to find the
other angles B, C, and also the other side AB.
Solution. The angle B is found by this propor¬
tion.
CB : AC :: sin. A : sin. B.
hen CB is less than CA, the angle B admits of
two values, one of which is the supplement of the other;
because, corresponding to the same value of the side
AC, and the angle A, the side BC may evidently have
two distinct positions, viz. CB, C b. The angle CBA
and its supplement C & A being found, the angle
ACB, also the angle AC b may be found, by sub¬
tracting the sum ot the two known angles from 180°,
and then AB and A b may be found by these propor¬
tions.
Sin. A : Sin. ACB :: CB : AB,
Sin. A : Sin. AC b :: CB or C b : A. b.
This is called the ambiguous case, on account of the
angle B and the side AB having sometimes two va¬
lues.
This solution, like the last, is deduced from Theo¬
rem II.
Example. Suppose AC 225, BC 180, and the angle
A 420 20/; to find the remaining parts.
CB 180
AC 225
Sin. A 420 20'
2.25527
2.35218
9.82830
12.18048
Sin. ABC—570 2o/
Or sin. A b Cm22.40 9-92S'11
In the triangle ACB we have now the side AC and
the angles CAB, CBA, therefore the remaining angle
ACB and side AB may be found by Case 1.; and the
same is true of the triangle AC b.
3 B Case
482
M
AD 70.5
Kail.
T R I G O N O
Plane TYi- Case 3. Two sides CA, CB and the included angle
gonoHietry. C being given, to find the remaining angles B, A, and AC 105
1 v— ' side AB.
Solution. Find AC + CB, the sum of the sides,
and AC—CB their difi’erence ; also find the sum of
the angles A and B (that sum is the supplement of C),
and half that sum ; then half the difference of the
angles will he got from this proportion. (See Theor.
III.).
AC-f CB : AC—CB :: tan. i (B+A) : tan. i (B—A).
Having now the sum and difference of the angles B and
A, the angles will be found by the rule given in the
problem following Theor. IV.
The remaining side may be found by either of these
proportions.
Sin.B : sin. C :: AC : AB; or sin.A : sin. C :: BC:AB.
E T R Y.
To find A.
2.02119
1.84819
10.00000
1.84819
Cos. A 470 49' 9.82700
BC 95
To find B
BD 54.5
Rad.
Spherica
1.97772 Trigonom,,
 — . try.
I.73640
10.00000
Cos. B 55°
11.73640
9.75868
For the application of plane trigonometry, see Men¬
suration, Sect. I.
SECTION III.
SPHERICAL TRIGONOMETRY.
Theor. I.
Fig'- to..
Example. Let AC be 128, CB 90, and the angle
C 48° 2'. Required the remaining parts of the tri¬
angle.
AC + CB 218
AC—CB 38
tan. | (B+A) 65° 54'
tan. I (B—A) 2i° 17'
2.33846
1.57978
10.34938
11.92916
9.59070
Hence by the given rule in the above-mentioned pro¬
blem, 11 = 87° 1 G A=::430 37,• -A-8 we now kn(w all
the angles and two sides, the remaining side may be
found by Case 1.
Case 4. The three sides AB, BC and AC (fig. 10.)
being given, to find the three angles A, B, C.
Solution. Let fall a perpendicular CD upon the
greatest of the three sides from the opposite angle.
Then find the difference between AD and DB by this
proportion.
AB : AC+CB :: AC—CB : AD—DB.
The segments AD, DB may now be found severally
by the rule given for finding each of the quantities
whose sum and difference is given, and then the angles
A and B may be found by the following propor¬
tions.
CA : AD :: rad. : cos. A,
CB : BD :: rad. : cos. B.
The angles A, B being found, C of course is known.
The first part of this solution follows from Theor. IV.
the latter part from Theor. I.
Example. Let AB he 125, AC 105, and BC 95.
Required the angles.
In this case AC+BCrr200, AC—BC=:lo, there¬
fore we have
AVk Vktt 20CX10 ,
12c : 200 :: 10 : AD—1)11= *-=16.
125
Now AD + DBm 25, therefore AD=70.5 DB=
54-5-
If a sphere be cut by a plane through the centre,,
the section is a circle.
The truth of this proposition is evident from the de¬
finition of a sphere. See Geometry, Sect. IX. Def. 3.
Definitions.
I. Any circle which is a section of a sphere by a
plane passing through its centre, is called & great circle
of the sphere.
Cor. All great circles of a sphere are equal, and the
centre of the sphere is their common centre, and any
two of them bisect one another.
II. The pole of a great circle of the sphere is a point
In the superficies of the sphere from which all straight
lines drawn to the circumference of the circle are
equal.
III. A spherical angle is that which on the superficies
of a sphere is contained by two arches of great circles,
and is the same with the inclination of the planes of
these great circles.
IV. . A sphei'ical triangle is a figure upon the superfi¬
cies of a sphere comprehended by three arches of three
great circles, each of which is less than a semicircle.
Theor. II.
The arch of a great circle between the pole and
the circumference of another circle is a qua¬
drant.
Let ABC be a great circle (fig. 11.), and D itsfij. ir.
pole; let the great circle ADC pass through D, and
let AEC he the common section of the planes of the
two circles, which will pass through E the centre of
the circle, join DA, DC. Because the chord DA is
equal to the chord DC, (Def. 2.) the arch DA is equal
to the arch DC; now ADC is a semicircle, therefor*
the arches AD and DC are quadrants.
Cor. 1. If DE he drawn, the angle AED is aright
angle, and DE being therefore at right angles to every
line it meets with in the plane of the circle ABC, is *t
right angles to that plane. Therefore the straight line
drawn from the pole of any great circle to the centre
of the sphere is at right angles to the plane of that circle.
Cor. 2. The circle has two poles D, D', one oa
each
TRIGONOMETRY.
ioal each side of its plane, which are the extremities of
iorae-a diameter of the sphere perpendicular to the plane
• ABC,
Theor. III.
A spherical angle is measured by the arch of a
great circle intercepted between the great circles
containing the angle, and having the angular
point for its pole.
Let AB, AC be two arches of great circles con¬
taining the spherical angle BAC } let BC he an arch
of a great circle intercepted between them, and having
A for its pole, and let BI), CD, AD be drawn to D
the centre of the sphere. The arches AB, AC are qua¬
drants, (Theor. II.), and therefore the angles ADB,
ADC right angles-, therefore (Geometry, Sect. VIL
Def. 4.) the angle BDC (which is measured by the
arch BC) is the inclination of the planes of the circles
BDA, CD A, and is equal to the spherical angle BAC
(Def. 3.).
Cor. If AB, AC two arches of great circles meet in
A, then A shall be the pole of a great circle passing
through B and C.
Theor. IV.
Two great circles whose planes are perpendicular
pass through each others poles.
Let ACBD, AEBF be two great circles, the
planes of which are at right angles to one another j
from G the centre of a sphere, draw GC in the plane
ABCD perpendicular to AB, then GC is also perpen¬
dicular to the plane AEBF, (Geometry, Sect. VII.
Theor. 1 2.); therefore C is the pole of the circle AEBF,
and if CG he produced to D, D is the other pole of the
circle AEBF.
In the same manner, by drawing GE in the plane
AEBF perpendicular to AB, and producing it to F,
it is shewn that E and I are the poles of the circle
ABCD.
Cor. i. If two great circles pass through each others
poles, their planes are perpendicular to one another.
Cor. 2. 11 of two great circles the first passes through
the poles of the second, the second also passes through
the poles of the first.
Theor. V.
If the angular points of any spherical triangle be
made the poles of three great circles, another
triangle will be formed by their intersections,
such, that the sides of the one triangle will be
respectively the supplements of the measures
of the angles opposite to them in the other.
Let the angular points of the triangle ABC he the
poles of three great circles; which by their intersec¬
tions form the three binary surfaces DQ, FR, and EO ;
A being the pole of EF, B the pole of DF, and C the
pole of ED. rl hen the triangle DEF, which is com¬
mon to three lunary surfaces, will be in every respect
£upp!emental to the triangle ABC.
48.
lor let each side of ABC be produced to meet the Spherical
sides that contain the angle opposite to it, in the tri- Trigonoula-
angle DEI ; then, because BC passes through the poles tl0-
of ED, DF, ED, DI' must also pass through the poles v
of BC. (Theor. II. Cor. 2.). Therefore the points
D, Q are the poles ol BC. In like manner R, F are
the poles of AR, and E, O the poles of AC. Elence
.EL, FK are quadrants, (Theor. II.) ; and therefore EF
is the supplement of KL, but since A is the pole of EF,
KL is the measure of the angle at A ; thus EF is the
supplement of the measure of the angle at A. In like
manner FD is the supplement of the measure of the
angle at B, and DE the supplement of the measure of
the amde at C.
rurther, it will appear in the same manner that BC
is the supplement of HM, the measure of the angle at
D ; that AB is the supplement of NK the measure of
the angle at F ; and that AC is the supplement of GL,
the measure of the angle at E.
Theor. VI.
If from any point E, which is not the pole of the
great circle ABC, there be drawn arches of
great circles EA, EK, EB; &c. the greatest of
these is EGA, which passes through G the pole
of ABC, and EC the remainder of the semicircle
is the least, and of the other, EK, EB, &c. EK
which is nearer to EA is greater than EB, which
is more remote.
Let AC be the common section of the planes of the F%. 15.
great circles AEC, ABC ; draw EH perpendicular to
AC, which will be perpendicular to the plane of the
circle ABC (Geometry, Sect. VII. Theer. XIE), and
join AFj, KE, BE, KFI, BIE I hen of all the straight
lines drawn from H to the circumference, HA is the
greatest, HG the least, and HK greater than ITB :
Therefore in the right-angled triangles EHA, EHK,
EHB, EF1C, which have the side EH common, EA
is the greatest hypothenuse, EC the least, and EK.
greater than FIB, consequently the arch EGA is the
greatest, EC the least, and EK greater than EB.
Theor. VFI.
Any two sides of a spherical triangle are together
greater than the third, and all the three sides
are together less than a circle.
Let ABC be a spherical triangle, let D be the cen-,5.
tre of the sphere, join F)A, DB, DC. The solid angle
at D is contained by three plane angles ADB, BF)C,
ADC, any two of which are greater than the third,
(Geometry, Sect. VII. Theor. XV.) ; and therefore
any two of the arches AB, BC, AC which measure
these angles must be greater than the third arch.
To prove the second part of the proposition, pro¬
duce the sides AB, AC until they meet again in E ;
then ECA and EBA are semicircles ; now CB is less
than CE-j-EB, therefore CB-f-CA-j-BA is less than
CF. -f- FJ3 -f CA -f- BA, but these four arches make up
two semicircles ; therefore CB-fCA-j-BA is less than
a circle. , .
3P2 Thkor.,
484
TRIGONOMETRY.
Spherical
Trigonome¬
try.
Theor. VIII.
If two sides of a spherical triangle be equal, the
angles opposite to them are equal, and con¬
versely.
rig. 17. In the triangle ABC, if the sides AB, AC he equal,
the angles ABC, ACB are also equal. If AB, AC be
quadrants, ABC, ACB are right angles. If not, let
the tangent to the side AB at B meet EA the line of
common section of the planes AB, AC in F, and let
the tangents to the base BC at its extremities meet each
other in Gj also, let FC, FG, EC, and EB be joined.
Then the triangles FEB, FEC have FE common,
EBzrEC, and the angle AEB=AEC, therefore FB
rrFC, and the angle FCE=FBF a right angle: hence
FC is a tangent, and the triangles FGB, GCF are mu¬
tually equilateral, therefore the angle FBG—FCG, and
consequently the spherical angle ABCzrACB.
Again, if the angles ABC, ACB be equal, the side
ABzzrAC. For, if in fig. 14. the angle ABC be equal
to ACB, the side DF of the supplemental triangle
DEF will be equal to the side DE (Theor. V.); there¬
fore the angle I)EF=zDFE, and consequently in the
triangle ABC, the side AC=AB by Theorem V.
CoR. In any triangle the greater angle is subtended
by the greater side 5 and conversely. For if the angle
Fig. iS. ACB he greater than ABC (fig. 18.) let BCD—ABC,
then BD=DC, and AB=rAD-f-DC, which is greater
than AC (Theor. VIE). The converse is demonstra¬
ted in the same manner as the like property of plane
triangles, (Geometry, Sect. I. Theor. XIII.).
Theor. IX.
All the angles of a spherical triangle are toge¬
ther greater than two, and less than six right
angles.
In the triangle ABC (fig. 14.) the three angles
are altogether less than six right angles, because when
added to the three exterior angles they only make six ;
and they are greater than two right angles, because their
measures GH, KL, MN, added to DE, EF, FD, are
equal to three semicircles^ and DE, EF, FD being less
than two semicircles (Theor. VII.) GH, KL, MN must
be greater than one.
Theor. X.
Any two angles of a spherical triangle are to¬
gether greater, equal, or less than two right
angles, according as the sum of the opposite side
is greater, equal, or less than a semicircle ; and
conversely.
Let the sides AB, AC (fig. 19.) of the spherical
triangle ABC be produced to meet in D ; then it is
evident, that according as the sum of AB, BC is great¬
er, equal, or less than the semicircle ABD, the side
BC will be greater, equal, or less than BD ; the angle
D or A will be greater, equal, or less than BCD, and
the sum of the angle BAC, BCA greater, equal, or
less than the sum of BCA, BCD, which is two right
angles.
Cor. According as half the sum of any two sides of
a spherical triangle is greater, equal, or less than a qua- Spherical
drant, half the sum of the opposite angles will be great-Trigonome.
er, equal, or less than a right angle. tiy. ^
Theor. XI.
In a right-angled triangle, according as either of
the sides about the right angles is greater, equal,
or less than a quadrant, its opposite angle is
greater, equal, or less than a right angle; and
conversely.
Let ABC (fig. 20.) be a triangle right-angled at B,pjg ac
and let the sides AB, BC be produced to meet in D;
then, because they pass through each others poles, E the
middle point of BAD will be the pole of BCD j let a
great circle pass through the points CE. The arch EC
is a quadrant, and the angle ECB a right angle. Now
it is plain, that according as AB is greater, equal, or
less than the quadrant EB, the opposite angle ACB
will be greater, equal, or less than the right angle
ECB, and conversely.
Cor. 1. If the two sides be both greater, or both less
than quadrants, the hypothenuse will be less than a
quadrant; but if the one he greater and the other less,
the hypothenuse will be greater than a quadrant, and
conversely.
For in the triangles ABC, ADC, right-angled at B,
D, in which the sides AB, BC are less, and consequent¬
ly AD, DC greater than quadrants, the hypothenuse
AC is less than a quadrant, because it is nearer to CB
than the quadrant CE. But in the triangle a BC, of
which the side a B is greatex*, and BC less than a qua-
di-ant, the hypothenuse a C is greater than a quadrant,
because it is further from CB than CE is.
Cor. 2. In every spherical tiiangle, of which the
two sides are not both quadrants, if the perpendicular
fi-om the vertex fall within, the angles at the base wifi
be both acute, or both obtuse ; but if it fall without,
the one will be obtuse, and the other acute, and con¬
versely.
Theor. XII.
In any right-angled spherical triangle, as radius
is to the sine of the hypothenuse, so is the
sine of one of the oblique angles to the sine of
its opposite side.
Let ABC (fig. 21.) be a spherical triangle, havingn.
a right angle at B j and let AD, BD, CD be drawn
to the centi-e of the sphere. From C, in the plane
DCA, let CE be drawn perpendicolar to DA, and
from E, in the plane DBA, draw EF perpendicular
to the same line, and let CF be joined. Then because
DA is perpendicular to the two lines CE, EF, xt 1*
perpendicular to the plane CEF, and consequently the
plane CEF is perpendicular to the plane DBA j but
the plane DCB is also perpendicular to DBA ; there¬
fore their line of common section CF is perpendicular
to the same : Hence CFD, CFE are right angles*
Now in the right-angled triangle CFE, rad. : CE - •
sin. E : CF} but the angle CEF, being the inclination
of the planes DCA, DBA, is the same with the sphe¬
rical angle CAB, CE is the sine of AC, and CF t e
sine of BC; therefore rad.: sin. AC ;: sin. A : sin. " •
7 Coa.
Sj.'Heal
jri nome-
TRIGONOMETRY.
Cor. I. As radius to the cosine of either of the sides,
so is the cosine of the other to the cosine of the hypo-
thenuse. ^
For let the great circle of which A is the pole, meet
the three sides in D, E, F; then F is the pole of AD •,
and applying this proposition to the complemental tri¬
angle FCE, rad. : sin. FC :: sin. F : sin. CE } that is,
rad. : cos. BC :: cos. AB : cos. AC.
Cor. 2. As radius to the cosine of one of the sides,
so is the sine of its adjacent angle to the cosine of the
other angle.
Theor. XIII.
In any right-angled triangle, as radius to the sine
of one of the sides, so is the tangent of the
adjacent angle to the tangent of the other
side.
Then (Theor. ia. Cor. 2.) rad. : cos. A :: tan. AC :
tan. AB.
Thex-efore, (rad. : tan. AC ::) cot. AC : rad. :: cos. A :
tan. AB.
And (Theor. 12. Cor. 2.) rad. : cos. BC :: sin. C :
cos. A.
Case 3, Let the complement of the side AB be the
middle part.
Then (Theor. 13.) rad. : sin. AB tan. A : tan. BC.
Therefore (rad. : tan. A ::) cot. A : rad. :: sin. AB ;
tan. BC.
And (Theor. 12.) i'ad. : sin. AC :: sin. C : sin. AB.
We are indebted for the foi’egoing rule to Napier,
the celebrated inventor of logarithms. It comprehends
all the propositions which are necessary for the resolu¬
tion of right-angled triangles, and being easily remem¬
bered, is perhaps one of the happiest instances of arti¬
ficial memory that is known.
485
Spherical
Trigonome¬
try.
From B let BE be drawn perpendicular to DA, and
from E, EF also perpendicular to DA, in the plane
DCA, to meet DC in F, and let BF be joined. It may
be shown as in the preceding proposition, that FB is
perpendicular to the plane DBA : hence FB is the tan¬
gent of BC, and FBE is a right-angled triangle •, there¬
fore rad. : EB :: tan. E : FB ; that is rad. : sin. AB ::
tan. A : tan. BC.
Cor. x. As radius to the cosine of the hypothennse,
so is the tangent of one of the angles to the cotangent
of the other. For, in the complemental triangle FCE,
(fig. 22.) rad. : sin. CE :: tan. C : tan. F£, that is,
rad. : cos. AC :: tan. C : cot. A, or, rad. : cos. AC ::
tan. A : cot. C.
Cor. 2. As radius is to the cosine of one of the
angles, so is the tangent of the hypotheause to the tan¬
gent of the side adjacent to that angle.
For rad. : sin. FE :: tan. F : tan. CE j that is, rad. :
cos. A :: cot. AB : cot. AC, or rad. : cos. A :: tan.
AC : tan. AB.
Napier's Rule for Circular Parts.
Let the hypothennse, the two angles, and the comple¬
ments of the two sides of any right-angled spherical tri¬
angle be called the five circular parts of the triangle.
Any one of these being considered as the middle part,
let the two which are next to it be called the adjacent
parts, and the remaining two the opposite parts. Then
the two preceding theorems, with their corollaries, may
be all expressed in one proposition adapted to practice,
as follows.
in any right-angled spherical triangle, the rectangle
under radius, and the cosine of the middle part, is equal
to the rectangle under the cotangents of the adjacent
parts, or to the rectangle under the sines of the opposite
parts.
Case i. Let the hypothenuse AC be the middle part.-
Then, rad. : cos. AC :: tan. C : cot. A (Theor. 13.
Cor. 1.).
Therefore (rad.-: tan. C ::) cot. C : rad. :: cos. AC :
cot. A.
And rad. : cos. AB :: cos. BC : cos. AC (Theor. 12.
Cor. 1.).
Case 2. Let the angle A be the middle-part.
Theor. XIV.
In any spherical triangle, the sines of the sides are
proportional to the sines of the opposite angle.
This proposition has been demonstrated in the case pig. ae.
of right-angled triangles. Let ABC be any oblique-
angled triangle, divided into two right-angled triangles,
ABD, CBD, by the perpendicular BD, falling from
the vertex upon the base AC. In the former, the
complement of BD being the middle part, rad. X sin*
BD = sin. AB x sin. A, (Napier’s Rule). In the
latter, the complement of BD being the middle part,
rad. X sin. BD — sin. BC X sin. C. Hence sin. AB
X sin. A = sin. BC X sin. C, and sin. AB : sin. BC c:
sin. C : sin. A.
Cor. 1. The cosines of the two sides are to one
another directly as the cosines of the segments of the
base. This is proved by making AB, BC the middle
part.
Cor. 2. The tangents of the two sides ai’e to one
another inversely as the cosines of the vertical angles.
This will follow from making the angles ABD, CBD
the middle parts.
Lemma i. The sum of the tangents of two arches is
to their difference, as the rectangle under the sine and
cosine of half their sum to the rectangle tinder the sine
and cosine of half their difference.
For, putting a and b for any two arelxes, by the arith¬
metic of sines (Algebra, § 353*),
Sin. a cos. £-f-cos, a sin. £nsin. (a-f-^)*
Let each side of this equation be divided by cos. a
cos. b, and we get
sin. a sin. b sin (a-J-A)
cos. a ^ cos. 6 sin. a cos. 6
that is, tan. c-J-tan.
sin. (a-(-i)
sin. a cos. A*
In like manner, from the formula sin. {a—b) —
sin. a cos. b—cos. a sin. b, we get
, sin. (a—b)
tan. a—tan. b—   ^ f :
sin. a cos. b
therefore tan. a-j-tan. b : tan. a—tan. b : sin. (a-}_£)
: sin. (a—6), and remarking that sin. {a-\-b) — 2 sin.
486
TRIGONOMETRY.
try.
Spherical 4 (a-\-b') cos. (a + b'), and sin. (o — b) — 2 sin.
Trigonoine-i —Z,) cos. i («—^), (ALGEBRA, § 358.) it follows
that tan. a -f- tan. b : tan. a — tan. b :: sin. (a-J-i)
cos. 4 (fZ + ^) : s*r1, i (o—cos. 4 (o—b').
2. Lemma. The sum oj thesines qj two arches is to
their difference, as the rectangle under the sine of half
the sum and cosine of half the difference of these arches
is to the rectangle under the sine of half the difference
and cosine of half the sum.
For it has been shown in the arithmetic of sines
(Algebra, § 355), that
Sin. + s‘n* {p—y) — 2 sin. cos. y,
Sin. (pfq) — sin. Q;—q) z= 2 cos. jo sin. q.
Let p— h b, and q= ^ a — ^ b, so that p + S't
zna and p—q^b, then these formulas become
Sin. a-j-sin. b~2 sin. ■§ cos. f (a—b)
Sin. a—sin. bzz2 cos. 4 (a+^) s*11, (a—
Therefore, sin. a-j-si0, b : sin. a—sin. b :: sin. 4 (a+^)
cos. -§• (o—b') : cos. 4 sin. 4 (a—b').
Lemma 3. The sum of the sines of two arches is to
their difference, as the tangent of half the sum of these
arches is to the tangent of half their difference.
For, dividing the latter antecedent and consequent of
the proportion in the foregoing lemma by cos. 4(« + ^)
X cos. 4 («—b), we have sin. a-j-sin' b : sin. a—sin. b ::
sin. 4 (« + ^) sin. 4 (°“
Fig. *6.
-&) . . , sin.
 —  .. . ; 7 -rr, that is, because  —
cos. 4(o + ®) cos. 4 («—b) cos.
cos. (p—q') cos. {p-\-q')~ 2 cos.cos. q,
cos. (p—q') — cos. {p-\-q)— 2 sin. p sin. q.
Let p— 4 an(i y— I {b—a), then p—qzza
2lxu\ p-^-q—b, and the two formulas become
cos. o-f-cos. h= 2 cos. 4 (^ + 0) cos. 4 (b—a),
cos. a—-cos. b~ 2 sin. 4 f)-\-a') sin. 4 j
Hence, cos. a-j-cos. b : cos. a—cos. b :: cos. 4 (^-{-a)
cos. 4 (f—a) : sin. 4 (^+«) sin. 4 {b—a) j
and dividing the latter antecedent and consequent by
sin. 4 (^+c) cos. 4 (b—a),
cos. 4 (^-}-a)
cos. o-f-cos. b : cos. a—cos. b ::
sin. 4 (^4-o)
sin. 4 {b—a') cos.
  . that is, because ——rr cot.
cos. 4 {b—sin.
and
tan. we have cos. a -}- cos. b : cos. a —
cos. b :: cot. 4 + : tan. 4 (f—a).
In the demonstration of the remaining theorems, we
shall put A, B for the angles A and B at the base of
the spherical triangle ACB (fig. 26.) a and b for the
sides opposite to these angles, p and q for the segments
-of the base BD, AD made by the perpendicular arch
‘CD, P and Q for the vertical angles BCD, ACD j we
4
shall also put s for 4 («+£)> & for 4 («—b), s’ for Spheriea]
4 (p-\-q), d' for 4 (p—<7)> s for 4 (A-f-B), D forlrigonome-
4 (A—B), S' for 4 (P + Q), and D' for 4 (P—Q). try.
Theor. XV.
In any spherical triangle, the tangent of half the
sum of the segments of the base is to the tan¬
gent of half the sum of the two sides, as the
tangent of half their difference to the tangent
of half the difference of the segments of the
base.
For by Theor. XIV. Cor. 1. cos. a : cos. b:: cos.p
: cos. q ; therefore, cos. « + cos. b : cos. a — cos. b
:: cos. p cos. q : cos. p — cos. q, hence (Lemma 4.)
cot. ^ : tan. d' :: cot. s' : tan. d', or cot. s : cot. s':: tan. d
: tan d'} but cot. s : cot. s' :: tan. d : tan. s, therefore,
tan s! : tan. s :: tan. d : tan. d'. This proposition ex¬
pressed in words at length is the theorem to be demon¬
strated.
Theor. XVI.
tan. sin. a-j-sin. b : sin. a — sin. b :: tan. 4 (c + ^0 :
tan. 4 {p—b~).
Lemma 4. The sum of the cosines of two arches is
to their difference, as the cotangent of half the sum of
these arches is to the tangent of half their difference.
By Arithmetic of sines (Algebra, § 355-)>
The cotangent of half the sum of the vertical
angles and the tangent of half their difference,
or the cotangent of half their difference and the
tangent of half their sum, according as the per¬
pendiculars fall within or without, are recipro¬
cally proportional to the tangents of half the
sum and half the difference of the angles at the
base.
For, taking the case in which the perpendicular CD Fig. 17,
(fig. 27.) falls within, let EFG be the supplemental
triangle, let the arches GE, GF meet again in L, and
produce CA, CB to meet EF in H and K. Because
G and L are the poles of AB, the perpendicular CD,
if produced, will pass through G and L 5 let it meet EF
in I •, then, because C is the pole of EF, the arch GCI
is perpendicular to El', and since E is the pole of EC,
JCErra quadrant—FH, and EH:=KF, and IF—IE=
IK—III. In the triangle LEF, by the preceding pro¬
position, tan. 4 (FI-j-lE) : tan. 4 (FL-j-LE) :: tan.
4 (FL—LE) : tan. 4 (FI—IE) or tan. 4 (XI—IH),
Now FI-j-lE, or FE, being the supplement of C,
(Theor. 5.), tan. 4 FE—cot. and FL, LE being
the supplements of FG and GE, FL and LE are tb«
measures of the angles A, B ; moreover, IK, IH are
the measures of the angles BCD, ACD, therefore,
cot. 4 C, or cot. 4 (F+Q) : tan. 4 (A-j-B) : tan. f
(A—B) : tan. 4 (F—Q). In the very same way it
may be proved, when the perpendicular falls without
the triangle, that cot. 4 (F—Q) : tan. 4 (A+B) ::
tan. 4 (A—B) ; tan. 4 (F + Q).
Theor. XVII.
In any spherical triangle, the sine of half the sura
of the sides is to the sine of half their difference,
as the cotangent of half the vertical angle to the
tangent of half the difference of the angles at
the base.
For since tan. a ; tan. b :: cos. Q
cos. P, therefore,
tan.
-
TRICON
tan. ff-f-tan. b : tan. a—tan. b :: cos. Q+cos. P : cos.
Q—cos, j hence, by Lemma 2. and 4.
sin. s. cos. s : sin. d cos. d :: cot. S' : tan. D' . . . (1).
Again, because (by Theor. XIV.) sin. a : sin. b : :
sin. A : sin. B, therefore, sin. a-j-sin. b : sin. a—sin. b
:: sin. A-}-sin. B : sin. A—sin. B j hence, (by Lemma
2. and 3.)
sin. s cos. d : sin. d cos. s :: tan. S : tan. D . .. (2).
O M E T R Y.
(A + B) : sin. (A—B) : : tan. §
—AC).
Theor. XX.
487
AB : tan. (BC Spherical
Trigouome-
In any spherical triangle, the cosine of half the
sum of the angles at the base is to the cosine of
half their differences as the tangent of half the
base to the tangent of half the sum of the two
sides.
Taking now the product of the corresponding terms of
the proportions (1) and (2), and rejecting the factor
cos. s cos. d, which is common to the first antecedent
and consequent of the resulting proportion, wre have,
sin.® s : sin.2 d :: cot. S' tan. S : tan. D' tan. D.
For in the triangle ELF, cos. £ (LF-f-LE) : cos. Lis- 27-
\ (LF—LE) cot.iL: tan. i-(E + F) (Th. XVIII.)
that is, because of the relation of the triangle FLE to
ABC, as expressed in last theorem, cos. f (A-f B) : cos.
t (A—B) :: tan. £ AB : tan. £ (BC +AC).
But since by Theor. XVI. tan. S : tan. D' :: cot. S' :
tan. 1), therefore cot. S' tan. S : tan. D' tan. D :: cot.* S'
: tan.al) ; therefore, sin.1 s : sin.1 d:: cot.1 S' : tan.1 D,
and sin. s : sin. d:: cot. S': tan. D, this proportion when
expressed in words is the proportion to be demonstrated.
Theor. XVIII.
In any spherical triangle, the cosine of half the
sum of the two sides is to the cosine of half
their difference, as the cotagent of half the
vertical angle to the tangent of half the sum of
the angles at the base.
For it has been proved in last theorem that
sin. s cos. s : sin. d cos. d :: cot. S' : tan. D'
sin. s cos. d : sin. d cos. s :: tan. S : tan. D y
therefore, dividing the terms of the first of these two
proportions by the corresponding terms of the second,
we get
cos. ■? cos. d cot. S' tan. D'
cos.d cos. s tan. S ’ tan. D"
Hence, multiplying the first and second terms by cos. s
X cos. d, and the third and fourth by tan. S tan. L), we
have
cos.1 s : cos.1 d :: cot. S' tan. D : tan. S tan. D'.
But since by Theor. XVI. tan. 13 : tan. D' :: cot. S' :
tan. S, therefore, cot. S'tan. D : tan. S tan. D' :: cot.1 S'
• tan>* s therefore, cos.1 s : cos.1 d :: cot.1 S' : tan.1 S,
and cos. s : cos. d :: cot. S' : tan. S.
Theor. XIX.
In any spherical triangle, the sine of half the sum
of the angles at the base is to the sine of half
their difference, as the tangent of half the base
to the tangent of half the difference of the two
sides.
For the same construction being made as in Theor.
X\I. in the triangle ELF (fig. 27.) sin. £ (FL + LE)
: sin. £ (FL—LE) :: cot. £ L : tan. £ (E—F) (Theor.
ad FIG being the supplemental triangle of
AoC, LF and LE are the measures of A and B, L is
the supplement of AB, and LFE, LEF are th e mea-
suies of the sides AC, BC (Theor. V.) 5 therefore sin.
Scholium.
Let one of the six parts of any spherical triangle be
neglected j let the one opposite to it, or its supplement,
if an angle, be called the middle part, the two next to
it the adjacent parts, and the remaining two the opposite
parts. Then the four preceding propositions, which are
called Napier-'s Analogies, because first invented by him,
may be included in one, as follows.
In any spherical triangle, the sine or cosine of half
the sum of the adjacent parts, is to the sine or cosine of
half their difference, as the tangent of half the middle
part to the tangent of half the difference or half the
sum of the opposite parts, that is,
Sin. £ (A-fa) : sin. £ (A—a) :: tan. £ M : tan.
£ (O—0).
Cos. £ (A-f a) : cos. £ (A—o) tan. £ M : tan.
£ (G-f 0).
When A, a an d M are given, by the first proportion,
t (O—0) is found, and by the second £ (O-f 0) ; thence
O and 0 may be had immediately by the problem fol¬
lowing Theor. IV. Plan* Trigonometry.
The Cases of Right-angled Spherical Triangles.
In a right-angled triangle, let c denote the side op- p;gi
posite the right angle, a, b the sides containing it, and
A, B the opposite angles, A being opposite to a, and
B to b. Then, combining these quantities two by two,
there will be found to be six distinct combinations, or
cases.
Case i. When c, A, the hypothenuse and one of the
angles are given ; to find a, b, B.
a is found by Theor. XII. •, b by Theor. XIII. Cor.
2. and B by Theor. XIII. Cor. 1.
Case 2. Given a, B, a side and its adjacent angle.
Sought, A, b, c.
A is found by Theor. XII. Cor. 2.5 b by Theor.
XIII. 3. c by Theor. XIII. Cor. 2.
Case 3. Given a, A, a side and its opposite angle ;
to find b B, c.
b is found by Theor. XIII. ; B by Theor. XII.
Cor. 2. 3 c by Theor. XII.
Case 4. Given c, a, the hypothenuse, and one of the
sides 3 to find A, b, B.
A is found by Theor. XII.; b by Theor. XII. Cor.
1.3 B by Theor. XIII. Cor. 2.
Case:
488
Spherical
Trigonome¬
try.
TRIGONOMETRY.
Case 5. Given a, b, the two sides. Sought A, B, c.
A is found by Theor. XIII. 5 B by the same 5 c by
Theor. XII. Cor. 1.
Case 6. Given A, B, the two angles. Sought
a, b, c.
a and b are found by Timor. XII. Cor. 2. 5 e by
Theor. XIII. Cor. 1.
Find * (A—B) by Theor. XVII. and i (A + B) by
Theor. XVIII. and thence A and B by the ruleTdgWomt
Sect. II. for finding each of two quantities whose sum try.
and difference are given. All the angles being known,
also two sidesj c is found by Theor. XIV.
Case 4. Given At c, B, two angles and a side be¬
tween them. Sought fl, C, b.
The case may be all resolved also by Napier's Rule,
observing to make each of the things given the middle
part; then two of the required parts will be found, and
the remaining part is found by making it the middle
part.
By Theor. II. and Cor. t. each of the unknown parts
is, in every case except the third, limited to one
value.
The cases of Oblique-angled Spherical Triangles.
In any spherical triangle let the sides be denoted by
a, b, c, and the opposite angles by A, B, C respec¬
tively. /
Let p, q denote the segments into which a side is di¬
vided by a perpendicular from the opposite angle, and
P, Q the parts into which it divides the angle. Com¬
bining the six quantities c, b, c, A, B, C, three by
three, there are found six distinct combinations or
r cases.
Find * {a—Z>) by Theor. XIX. and y (a*f by
Theor. XX. and thence a, b. All the sides and two
angles being now known, C is found by Theor. XIV.
Case 5. Given a, c, the three sides. Sought A,
B, C.
Draw a perpendicular from any one of the angles,
dividing the opposite side into the segments p, q. Find
-J- {p—q') by Theor. XV. and then, from 4 + and
4 (p—q), find j?, q. The triangle being now resolved
into two right-angled triangles, the angles may be found
by Case 4. of right-angled triangles.
Case 6. Given A, B, C, the three angles. Sought
a, b, c.
Draw a perpendicular, dividing any one of the angles
into the parts P, Q. Find 4 (P—Q) by Theor. XVI.
and then P, Q. The triangle being now resolved into
two right-angled triangles, the sides may be found by
Case 6. of x-ight-angled triangles.
Case i. Given a. A, b, two sides and an angle op¬
posite to one of them. Sought c, B, C.
B is found by Theor. XIV. 5 c by either Theor. XIX.
or Theor. XX. j C by Theor. XVII. or Theor. XVIII.
Case 2. Given A, a, B, two angles and a side op¬
posite to one of them. Sought b, c, C.
b is found hy Theor. XIV. j c and C as in Case 1.
Case 3. Given a, C, b, two sides and the included
angle. Sought A, B, c.
By Theor. X. XI. and Cor. each of the unknown
parts is limited to one value in all the cases, except in
some of the subcases of the first and second.
As every oblique-angled triangle may be resolved in¬
to two right-angles, all these cases may be resolved by
means of Napier's Rule, and the 15th proposition only.
And the cases may be reduced to three, by using the
supplemental triangle.
T R I
Trihilatee TRIHILATiE, from tres, “ three,” and hilum,
|| “ an external mark on the seed $” the name of the 23d
, Tringa- class in Linnaeus’s Fragments of a Natural Method ;
v_ consisting of plants with three seeds, which are marked
with an external cicatrix or scar, where they are fasten¬
ed within the fruit. See Botany.
TRIM, implies in general the state or disposition by
■which a ship is best calculated for the several purposes
of navigation.
Thus the trim of the hold denotes the most conveni¬
ent and proper ari'angement of the various materials con¬
tained therein relatively to the ship’s motion or stability
at sea. The trim of the masts and sails is also their most
apposite situation with regard to the construction of the
ship and the effort of the wind upon her sails. See Sea¬
manship.
T RING A, Sandpiper j a genus of birds belong-
2
T
of
R I
grallae.
See Ornithology
ing to the order
Index.
TRINIDAD, an island in the gulf of Mexico, se¬
parated from New Andalusia, in Terra Firma, by a'
strait about three miles over. The soil is fruitful, pro¬
ducing sugar, cotton, Indian corn, fine tobacco, and
fruits. It was taken by Sir Walter Raleigh in I595>
and by the French in 1676, who plundered the island
and then left it. It is about 62 miles in length, and
45 in breadth ; and was discovered by Christopher Co¬
lumbus in 1498. It is now in the possession of Britain.
What was called a bituminous lake in this isltind, ap¬
pears, from the experiments of Mr Hatchet, to be a
porous stone from which the mineral pitch exudes.
TRINITARIANS, those who believe in the Trini¬
ty ; those who do not believe therein being called
trinitarians.
TRINITY,
TRIGONOMETRY.
put/: /jn\i//.
«
I RIGONOMliTin
Fi,,. J6.
/‘UTEDXni///.
F///. 19.
T R I t 489 ] T R I
f ity TKIN1TY, in Theology, the ineffable mystery of
three persons in one God j Father, Son, and Holy Spi-
rit. See Theology.
Trinity-Housc. See London, N° 49.
Trinity-Sunday, a festival observed on the Sunday
next after Whitsunday, in honour of the holy Trinity.
The observation of this festival was first enjoined in the
council of Arles, anno 1 260.
TRINOB ANTES, in Ancient Geography, a people
of Britain, supposed to have occupied Middlesex and
Essex.
TRIO, in Music, a part of a concert wherein three
persons sing ; or, more properly, a musical composition
consisting of three parts.
TRIPHTHONG, in Grammar, an assemblage or
concourse of three vowels in one syllable ; as quce,
TRIPLE, in Music, is one of the species of measure
or time. See Music.
TRIPOD, in antiquity, a famed sacred seat or stool,
supported by three feet, whereon the priest and sibyls
were placed to render oracles. It was on the tripod
that the gods were said to inspire the Pythias with that
divine fury and enthusiasm wherewith they were seized
at the delivery of their predictions.
TRIPOLI, a country of Africa, in Barbaryj bound¬
ed on the north by the Mediterranean sea j on the
south, by the country of the Beriberies ; on the west,
by the kingdom of Tunis and Biledulgerid ; and on the
east, by Egypt. It is about 925 miles along the sea
coast; but the breadth is various. Some parts of it
are pretty fruitful ; but that towards Egypt is a sandy
desert. It had the title of a kingdom ; but is govern¬
ed by a dey. Early in the last century Tripoli shook
off its dependence on the grand Turk. In other re¬
spects the government is not essentially changed. It
is still a military despotism of the most ferocious de¬
scription. Its piracies are now confined to Naples,
Sardinia, and other states which have no efficient
navy. See Barbary States, Supplement.
Tripoli, a considerable town of Africa, and capital
of a state of the same name in Barbary, with a castle
and a fort. It is pretty large, and the inhabitants are
noted pirates. It was taken by Charles V. who settled
the knights of Malta there ; but they were driven away
by the Turks in 1551. It was formerly very flourish¬
ing ; and has now some trade in stuffs, saffron, corn,
oil, wool, dates, ostrich feathers, and skins; but they
make more of the Christian slaves which they take at
sea; for they either set high ransoms upon them, or
make them pei form all sorts of work. It is seated on
the coast of the Mediterranean, in a sandy soil, and sur¬
rounded by a wall, strengthened by other fortifications.
E. Long. 13. 12. N. Lat. 32. 34.
Tripoli, called Tripolis of Syria, to distinguish it
from Tripoli in BarAary,received its name from its being
anciently formed of three cities at a small distance from
each other, one of which belonged to the Aradians, or
ancient kingdom of Arad, the second to the Sidonians,
and the third to the Tyrians, perhaps as a common
mart to those maritime powers. The present town of
Tripoli is built at the distance of a mile and a half from
the other, upon the declivity of a hill facing the sea, in
340 20' north latitude, and in 350 50' east longitude
from Greenwich. It is surrounded with walls, fortified
with seven high strong towers, and a castle, all of Go-
Vol. XX. Part II. f
thic architecture ; hut the streets are narrow, and the Tripoli
houses low. The city contains about 8000 houses, and
near 60,000 inhabitants, consisting of Turks, Chris- Triumph,
tians, and Jews. The basha, or pasha, who resides in
the castle, where there is a garrison of 200 janizaries*
governs the adjacent territory, in which there is plenty
of fruit, and a great number of mulberry trees, which
enable the inhabitants to carry on a silk manufacture*
from which they draw considerable profit.
All the environs of Tripoli are laid out in orchards,
where the nopal grows spontaneously, and the white
mulberry is cultivated for the silk-worm 5 the pomegra¬
nate, orange, and lemon trees for their fruit, which is
here very fine. The country, though delightful to the
eye, is unhealthy ; from July to September, epidemic
fevers, like those of Scandefoon and Cyprus, prevail,
and are principally caused by the artificial inundations
made for the purpose of watering the mulberry trees, to
enable them to throw out their second leaves, and from
a want of free circulation of air, the city being open
only to the westward.
Tripoli, a species of argillaceous earth, much used
in the polishing of metals. See Mineralogy Index.
TRIPTOLEMUS, Laws of. See Mysteries*
N° 74.
TRIQUETROUS, among botanists, denotes a fruit
or leaf that has three flat sides or faces.
TRIREMIS, in antiquity, a galley with three ranks
of oars on a side.
TRISMEGISTUS, all epithet or surname given to
one of the two Hermeses. See ThotH.
TRISMUS, the Locked Jaw. See Medicine,
N° 280.
TRISYLLABLE, in Grammar, a word consisting
of three syllables.
TR1TICUM, Wheat ; a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class of triandfia ; and in the natural system
ranging under the 4th order, Gramina. See Botany
and Agriculture Index.
TRITON, a sea demigod, held by the ancients to be
an officer or trumpeter of Neptune, attending on him,
and carrying his orders from sea to sea.
TRITURATION, the act of reducing a solid body
into a subtile powder ; called also pulverisation and le-
vigation.
TRIUMPH, in Roman antiquity, a public and so¬
lemn honour conferred by the Romans on a victorious
general, by allowing him a magnificent entry into the
city.
The greater triumph, called also curulis, or simply
the triumph, was decreed by the senate to a general*
upon the conquering of a province or gaining a signal
victory. The day appointed for the ceremony being
arrived, scaffolds were erected in the forum and circus*
and all the other parts of the city where they could best
behold the pomp . the senate went to meet the con¬
queror without the gate called Capena or Triumphalist
and marched back in order to the Capitol; the ways
being cleared and cleansed by a number of officers and
tipstaffs, who drove away such as thronged the passage
or straggled up and down. The general was clad in a
rich purple robe, interwoven with figures of gold, set¬
ting forth his great exploits; his buskins were beset
with pearl ; and he wore a crown, which at first was
only laurel, but afterwards gold ; in one hand he bore
3 Q »
T R O [ 490 ] T R O
Triumph a branch of laurel, ami in the other a truncheon. He
H was carried in a magnificent chariot, adorned with ivory
1 roja. amj plates of gold, drawn usually by two white horses;
1 ~ v though sometimes by other animals, as. that of Pompey,
when he triumphed over Africa, by elephants ; that of
Mark. Antony by lions ; that of Heliogabalus by ty-
gers ; that of Aurelian by deer, &c. His children
were at his feet, and sometimes on the chariot-horses.
The procession was led by the musicians, who played
triumphal pieces in praise of the general : these were
followed by voung men, who led the victims to the sa¬
crifice, with their horns gilded, and their heads adorn¬
ed with ribbands and garlands ; next came the carts
and waggons, loaded with all the spoils taken from the
enemy, with their horses, chariots, &c. ; these were
followed by the kings, princes, and generals, who had
been taken captives, loaded with chains; after these ap¬
peared the triumphal chariot, before which, as it passed,
they all along strewed flowers, and the people with loud
acclamations called out lo triumphe! The chariot was
followed by the senate, clad in white robes ; and the
senate by such citizens as had been set at liberty or ran¬
somed ; and the procession was closed by the priests and
their officers and utensils, with a white ox led along for
the chief victim. In this order they proceeded through
the triumphal gate, along the V ia Sacra, to the Capitol,
where the victims were slain. In the mean time all
the temples were open, and all the altars loaded with
offerings and incense ; games and combats were cele¬
brated in the public places, and rejoicings appeared
everywhere.
TRIUMVIR, one of three persons who govern ab¬
solutely, and with equal authority, in a state. It is
chiefly applied to the Roman government: Caesar, Pom¬
pey, and Crassus, were the first triumvirs who divided
the government among them. There were also other
officers so called ; as the triumviri or tresviri capitales,
who were the keepers of the public gaol : they had the
office of punishing malefactors ; for which purpose they
kept eight lictors under them.
TROAS, a country of Phryeia in Asia Minor, of
which Troy was the capital. When Troas is taken for
the whole kingdom of Priam, it mav be said to contain
Mysia and Phrygia Minor: but if only applied to that
part of the country where Troy was situated, its extent
is confined within very narrow limits. Troas was an¬
ciently called Dardania. See Troja.
TROCHiEUS, in prosody, a foot consisting of a
long and short syllable.
TROCHANTER, in Anatomy. See there, N° 58.
TROCHE, in Pharmacy, a sort of medicine made
of glutinous substances into little cakes, and afterwards
exsiccated. See Materia Medica Index.
TROCHILUS, Hummingbird, a genus of birds
belonging to the order of picse. See Ornithology
Ttidcx,
TROGLODYTES, in the Ancient Geography, a
people of Ethiopia, said to have lived in caves under
ground. Pomponius Melo gives a strange account of
the Troglodytes : he says they did not so properly
speak as shriek ; and that they lived on serpents.
TROGUS Pompeius, a Latin universal historian to
the time of Augustus Caesar, of whom we have only an
abridgement by Justin, flourished about 41 B. C.
TROJA, the capital city of Tioas, or, according to
others, a country of which Ilium was the capital. It
was built on a small eminence near Mount Ida, and the Tr0js
promontory of Sigaeum, at the distance of about four ||
miles from the sea-shore. Dardanus the first king of,
the country built it, and called it Dardania, and from^"-^
Tros one of his successors it was called Troja, and from
Hus I lion. This city has been celebrated by Homer
and Virgil.
A description of the plain of Troy has been pub¬
lished in French in the 3d volume of the Philosophi¬
cal Transactions of The Royal Society of Edinburgh,
by M. Chevalier. The city of Troy, according to him,
stood on the present site of the modern village of Bou-
narbachi, which is situated four leagues from the sea,
on the side of an eminence, at the termination of a
spacious plain, the soil of which is rich and of a black¬
ish colour. Close to the village is to be seen a marsh
covered with tall reeds ; and the situation is impreg¬
nable on all sides except at Erin (Homer’s the
hill of wild fig-trees, which extended between the
Scgean gate and the sources of the Scamander. In the
plain there are several conical mounds or barrows, some
of them 100 feet in diameter at the base; and which
the author maintains to be the identical tombs i^iised
over the ashes of the heroes of the Trojan war.
Since Chevalier’s dissertation appeared, this plain
has been investigated by Mr Morritt, Mr Gell, Dr
Clarke, Mr Hobhouse, and several other travellers.
Dr Clarke traversed the ground in different directions
seventeen times. He rejects the hypothesis of Cheva¬
lier, and reasoning from the authority of Strabo, and
from the scite of New Ilium, which he ascertained by
inscriptions found among ruins, he fixes the situation
of Troy four or five miles to the northward of Bourna-
bachi, near a sluggish rivulet, called Califat Osmack,
which he considers to be the Simois. The name of the
Scamander is still preserved in the Mender, the most
considerable stream in the district, rising in Mount
Ida, as described by Homer; and the Thymbrius is
still preserved in the Jhymbrek. Dr Clarke also finds
objects corresponding to the Calicolone, the tomb of
Hus, and the Throsmos or mound of the plain. But
very strong objections have been stated to Dr Clarke’s
opinions by Mr Hobhouse and others ; and, upon the
whole, the more the subject is investigated, the more
insuperable difficulties seem to present themselves to
any attempt to identify the places and objects alluded to
by the poet. See Clarke’s Travels, vol. 3d, 8vo. and
Edinburgh Review, vol. 6th, p. 257.
TROLL1US, Globe-flower, or Lucken GoicanT
a genus of plants belonging to the class of polyandria;
and in the natural system ranging under the 26th order,
Multisiliquee. See Botany Index.
TROMP, Martin Happertz Van, a celebrated
Dutch admiral, was born at the Bailie, in Holland.
He raised himself by his merit, after having distinguish¬
ed himself on many occasions, especially at the famou*
engagement near Gibi’altar in 1607. He passed for one
of the greatest seamen that had till that time ap-peare
in the world ; and was declared admiral of Holland,
even by the advice of the prince of Orange. in
that character defeated a large Spanish fleet in lojo,
and gained 32 other victories at sea; but was kill*
when under deck, in an engagement with the
in 1653. states-general caused medals to
struck to his honour, and lamented him as one 0 t
greatest heroes.of their republic. Van Tromp, in,^®
r T R O [ 491 ] T R U
T H? mi^st of the greatest glory, constantly discovered a re¬
markable modesty ; for he never assumed a higher cha-
_ er' .racter than that of a burgher, and that of being the fa¬
ther of the sailors.
TRONAGE, an ancient customary duty or toll, for
weighing of wool. According to lleta, trona is a
beam to weigh with, mentioned in the stat. Westm. 2.
cap. 25. And tronage was used for the weighing wool
in a staple or public mart, by a common trona or beam }
which for the tronage of wool in London, was fixed at
Leaden-Hall. The mayor and commonalty of London
are ordained keepers of the beams and weights for
weighing merchants commodities, with power to assign
clerks and porters, &c. of the great beam and balance 5
which weighing of goods and wares is called tronage j
and no stranger shall buy any goods in London be¬
fore they are weighed at the king’s beam, on pain of
forfeiture.
TRONE-WEIGHT, the most ancient of the different
weights used in Scotland ; and, though now forbidden
by several statutes, is still used by many for home com¬
modities, and that in a very irregular manner ; for the
pound varies in different places, and for different pur¬
poses, from 20 to 24 Dutch ounces. The common al¬
lowance is 2if ounces for wool, 2of for butter and
cheese, 20 for tallow, lint, hemp, and hay. It is di¬
vided into 16 of its own ounces, and 16 pounds make a
stone.
TROOP, a small body of horse or dragoons, about 50
or 60, sometimes more, sometimes less, commanded by
a captain, lieutenant, cornet, quarter-master, and three
corporals, who are the lowest officers of a troop.
TROPE. See Oratory, N° 52—66.
TROPHONlUS’s CAVE, or Oracle, in Ancient Geo-
graphif, a cave near Lebadia in Boeotia, between Heli¬
con and Chaeronea (Strabo) : so called from Trophonius,
an enthusiastic diviner j who, descending into this cave,
pretended to give answers and pronounce oracles $ and
was hence called Jupiter Trophonius. Such as went
down to this cave never after smiled 5 hence the pro¬
verbial saying of a man who has lost his mirth. That he
is come out of Trophonius’s cave. Though Pausanias
affirms that persons came out of the cave affected indeed
with a stupor, but that they soon after recovered them¬
selves. Dr Clarke found the cave choaked up with
stones. See Oracle.
TROPHY [Tropceuni), among the ancients, a mo¬
nument of victory.
TROPIC-Bird. See Phaeton, Ornithology
Index.
TROPICS. See Geography.
TROUBADOURS, poets that flourished in Pro¬
vence during the I 2th century.
They wrote poems on love and gallantry } on the il¬
lustrious characters and remarkable events of the times ;
satires which were chiefly directed against the clergy
and monks ; and a few didactic pieces. The trouba¬
dours were great favourites in different courts, diffused
a taste for their language and for poetry over Europe,
which was about that time sunk in ignorance and rude¬
ness j they disappeared in the 14th century. A history
of the troubadours in 3 vols. l2mo, was begun by M. de
Sainte Palaie, and finished by the abbe Millot. See
Music.
TROUGH, Galvanic. See Galvanism. For
later discoveries in galvanic electricity, see Zinc.
TROVER, in Law, an action that a man hath Trover
against one that, having found any of his goods, relu- j|
seth to deliver them upon demand. Trumpet.
TROUT. See Salmo, Ichthyology Index. ' v
TROY. See Troja.
TnoY-lVeight, one of the most ancient of the differ¬
ent kinds used in Britain. The ounce of this weight
was brought from Grand Cairo in Egypt, about the
time of the crusades into Europe, and first adopted in
Troyes, a city of Champagne ; whence the name.
The pound English Troy contains I 2 ounces, or 5760
grains. It was formerly used for every purpose ; and is
still retained for weighing gold, silver, and jewels j for
compounding medicines j for experiments in natural
philosophy j and for comparing different weights with
each other.
Scots Tnoy-Weight was established by James VI. in
the year 1618, who enacted that only one weight
should be used in Scotland, viz., the French Troy stone
of 16 pounds, and 16 ounces in the pound. The pound
contains 7600 grains, and is equal to 17 oz. 6 dr. avoir¬
dupois. The cwt. or 112 lb. avoirdupois, contains only
103 lb. 2^- oz. of this weight, though generally reckon¬
ed equal to 104 lb. This weight is nearly, if 4not ex¬
actly, the same as that of Paris and Amsterdam ; and is
generally known by the name oiDutch weight. Though
prohibited by the articles of union, it is still used in
weighing iron, hemp, flax, most Dutch and Baltic
goods, meal, butcher-meat, unwrought pewter and lead,
and some other articles.
TRUE-love. See Paris, Botany.
TRUFFLES. See Lycoferdon,,Botany Index.
TRUMPET, a musical instrument, the most noble
of all portable ones of the wind kind; used chiefly in
war, among the cavalry, to direct them in the service.
Each troop of cavalry has one. The cords of the trum¬
pets are of crimson, mixed with the colours of the fa¬
cings of the regiments.
As to the invention of the trumpet, some Greek histo¬
rians ascribe it to the Tyrrhenians ; but others, with
greater probability, to the Egyptians ; from whom it
might have been transmitted to the Israelites. The
trumpet was not in use among the Greeks at the time
of the Trojan war; though it was in common use in the
time of Homer. According to Potter {Arch. Grcec.
vol. ii. cap. 9.), before the invention of trumpets, the
first signals of battles in primitive wars were lighted
torches ; to these succeeded shells of fishes, which were
sounded like trumpets. And when the trumpet became
common in military vise, it may well be imagined to
have served at first only as a rough and noisy signal of
battle, like that at present in Abyssinia and New Zea¬
land, and perhaps with only one sound. But even
when more notes were produced from it, so noisy an in¬
strument must have been an unfit accompanymenl for
the voice and poetry ; so that it is probable the trum¬
pet was the first solo instrument in use among the an¬
cients.
Trumpet, Articulate, comprehends both the speak¬
ing and the hearing trumpet, is by much the most valu¬
able instrument, and has, in one of its forms, been used
by people among whom we should hardly have expected
to find such improvements.
That the speaking trumpet, of which the object is to
increase the force of aitieulate sounds, should have been
known to the ancient Greeks, can excite no wonder;
3 Q 2 and
T R U [ 492 ] T R U
and therefore we easily admit the accounts which we
read of the horn or trumpet, with which Alexander
addressed his army, as well as of the whispering ca¬
verns of the Syracusan tyrant. But that the natives of
Peru were acquainted with this instrument, will proba¬
bly surprise many of our readers. The fact, however,
seems incontrovertible.
In the History of the Order of Jesuits, published at
Naples in 1601 by Beritaria, it is said, that in the year
1595 a small convent of that order in Peru, situated in
a remote corner, was in danger of immediate destruc¬
tion by famine. One evening the superior Father Sa-
maniac implored the help of the cacique 5 next morn¬
ing, on opening the gate of the monastery, he found it
surrounded by a number of women each of whom car¬
ried a small basket of provisions. He returned thanks
to heaven for having miraculously interposed, by in¬
spiring the good people with pity for the distress of his
friars. But when he expressed to them his wonder how
they came all to be moved as if by mutual agreement
with these benevolent sentiments, they told him it was
no such thing $ that they looked upon him and his
countrymen as a pack of infernal magicians, who by
their sorceries had enslaved the country, and had be¬
witched their good cacique, who hitherto had treated
them with kindness and attention, as became a true
worshipper of the sun ; but that the preceding evening
at sunset he had ordered the inhabitants of such and
such villages, about six miles off, to come that morning
with provisions to this nest of wizzards.
The superior asked them in what manner the gover¬
nor had warned so many of them in so short a time, at
such a distance from his own residence ? They told him
that it was by the trumpet ; and that every person
heard at their own door the distinct terms of the order.
The father had heard nothing ; but they told him that
none heard the trumpet but the inhabitants of the vil¬
lages to which it was dii’ected. This is a piece of very
curious information j but, after allowing a good deal to
the exaggeration of the reverend Jesuits, it cannot, we
think, be doubted but that the Peruvians actually pos¬
sessed this stentorophonic art. For we may observe
that the effect described in this narration resembles what
we now know to be the effect of speaking trumpets,
while it is unlike what the inventor of such a tale would
naturally and ignorantly say. Till speaking trumpets
were really known, we should expect the sound to be
equally diffused on all sides, which is not the case j for
it is much stronger in the line of the trumpet than in
any direction very oblique to it.
About the middle of the 17th century, Athanasius
Kircher turned his attention to the philosophy of sound,
and in different works threw out many useful and scien¬
tific hints on the construction of speaking trumpets (see
Acoustics and Kircher) 5 but his mathematical il¬
lustrations were so vague, and his own character of in¬
attention and credulity so notorious, that for some time
these works did not attract the notice to which they
were well entitled.
About the year 1670, Sir Samuel Morland, a gen¬
tleman of great ingenuity, science, and order, took up
the subject, and proposed as a question to the Royal So¬
ciety of London, What is the best form for a speaking
trumpet? which he called a stentorophonic horn. H«
accompanied his demand with an account of his own no¬
tions on the subject (which he acknowledged to be very
vague and conjectural), and an exhibition of some instru¬
ments constructed according to his views. They were in
general very large conical tubes, suddenly spreading at
the very mouth to a greater width. Their effect wa«
really wonderful. They were tried in St James’s park ;
and his majesty K. Charles 11. speaking in his ordinary
colloquial pitch of voice through a trumpet only 5^ feet
long, was clearly and most distinctly heard at thedistanoa
of a thousand yards. Another person, selected we suppose
for the loudness and distinctness of his voice, was perfectly
understood at the distance of four miles and a half. The
fame of this soon spread $ Sir Samuel Morland’s principles
were refined, considering the novelty of the thing, and dif-
ferconsiderably from Father Kircher’s. The aerial undu¬
lations, (for he speaks very accurately concerningthe na¬
ture of sound) endeavour to diffuse themselves in sphere*,
but are stopped by the tube, and therefore reundulate to¬
wards the axis like waves from a bank, and meeting in
the axis, they form a strong undulation a little farther
advanced along the tube, which again spreads, is again
reflected, and so on, till it arrives at the mouth of th«
tube greatly magnified, and then it is diffused through
the open air in the same manner, as if all proceeded from
a very sonorous point in the centre of the wide end of
the trumpet. The author distinguishes with great judge¬
ment between the prodigious reinforcement of sound in
a speaking trumpet and that in the musical trumpet,
bugle-horn, conch-shell, &c.; and shows that the diffe¬
rence consists only in the violence of the first sonoroui
agitation, which can be produced by us only on a very
small extent of surface. The mouth-piece diameter,
therefore, of the musical trumpet must be very small,
and the force of blast very considerable. Thus one
strong but simple undulation will be excited, which must
be subjected to the modifications of harmony, and will
be augmented by using a conical tube (a). But a speak¬
ing trumpet must make no change on the nature of the
first undulations j and each point of the mouth-piece
must be equally considered as the centre of sonorous un¬
dulations, all of which must be reinforced in the same
degree, otherwise all distinctness of articulation will be
lost. The mouth-piece must therefore take in the w'hole
of the mouth of the speaker.
When Sir Samuel Morland’s trumpet came to be ge¬
nerally known on the continent, it was soon discovered
that the speaker could be heard at a great distance only
in the line of the trumpet j and this circumstance was by
a Mr Cassegrain {Journ. des Spawns, 1672, p. 131.) at¬
tributed to a defect in the principle of its construction,
which he said was not according to the laws of sonorous
undulations. He proposed a conoid formed by the revo¬
lution of a hyperbola round its assymptote as the best
form. A Mr Hase of Wirtemberg, on the other hand,
proposed a parabolic conoid, having the mouth of tbs
(a) Accordingly the sound of the bugle horn, of the musical trumpet, or the French horn, is prodigiously
loud, when we consider the small passage through which the moderate blast is sent by the trumpeter.
T R U
^ speaker placed ia the focus. In this construction he
i plainly Went on the principle of a reflection similar to
that of the rays of light*, but this is by no means the
case. The effect of the parabola will be to give one re¬
flection, and in this all the circular undulations will be
converted into plane waves, which are at right angles to
the axis of the trumpet. But nothing hinders their sub¬
sequent diffusion *, for it does not appear that the sound
will be enforced, because the agitation of the particles
on each wave is not augmented.
The subject is exceedingly difficult. We do not fully
•omprehend on what circumstance the affection or agi¬
tation of our organ, or simply of the membrana tym-
pani, depends. A more violent agitation of the same
air, that is, a wider oscillation of its particles, cannot
fail to increase the impulse on this membrane. The
point therefore is to find what concourse of feeble undu¬
lations will produce or be equivalent to a great one.
The reasonings of all these restorers of the speaking
trumpet are almost equally specious, and each point out
some phenomenon which should characterise the prin¬
ciple of construction, and thus enable us to say which is
most agreeable to the procedure of nature. Yet there
is hardly any difference in the performance of trumpets
•f equal dimensions made after these different methods.
The propagation of light and of elastic undulations
seem to require very different methods of management.
Yet the ordinary phenomena of echoes are perfectly ex¬
plicable by the acknowledged laws either of optics or
acoustics $ still however there are some phenomena of
sound which are very unlike the genuine results of elastic
andulalions. If sounds are propagated spherically, then
what comes into a room by a small hole should diffuse
itself from that hole as round a centre, and it should be
heard equally well at twelve feet distance from the hole
in every dixection. Yet it is very sensibly louder when
the hearer is in the straight line drawn from the sonor¬
ous body through the hole. A person can judge of the
direction of the sounding body with tolerable exactness.
Cannon discharged from the different sides of a ship are
very easily distinguished, which should not be the case
by the Newtonian theory *, for in this the two pulses on
the ear should have no sensible difference.
The most important fact for our purpose is this : An
echo from a small plane surface in the midst of an open
field is not heard, unless we stand in such a situation that
the angle of reflected sound may be equal to that of in¬
cidence. But by the usual theory of undulations, this
•mail surface should become the centre of a new undula¬
tion, which should spread in all directions. If we make
an analogous experiment on watery undulations, by pla¬
cing a small flat surface so as to project a little above the
water, and then drop in a small pebble at a distance,
so as to raise one circular wave, we shall observe,
that when this wave arrives at the projecting plane, it is
disturbed by it, and this disturbance spreads from it on
all sides. It is indeed sensibly stronger in that line which
is drawn from it at equal angles with the line drawn to
the place where the pebble was dropped. But in the
case of sound, it is a fact, that if we go to a very small
distance on either side of the line of reflection, we shall
hear nothing.
Here then is a fact, that whatever may be the nature
®f the elastic undulations, sounds are reflected from a
small plane in the same manner as light. We may avail
T R U
ourselves of this fact as a mean for enforcing sound, Trampct.
though we cannot explain it in a satisfactory manner.   y
We should expect from it an effect similar to the hear¬
ing of the original sound along with another original
sound coming from the place from which this reflected
sound diverges. If therefore the reflected sound or echo
arrives at the ear in the same instant with the original
sound, the effect will be doubled j or at least it will be
the same with two simultaneous original sounds. Now
we know that this is in some sense equivalent to a
stronger sound. For it is a fact, that a number of voi¬
ces uttering the same or equal sounds are heard at a
much greater distance than a single voice. We cannot
perhaps explain how this happens by mechanical laws,
nor assign the exact proportion in which to voices ex¬
ceed the effect of one voice ; nor the proportion of tho
distances at which they seem equally loud. We may
therefore, for the present, suppose that two equal voice*
at the same distance are twice as loud, three voices three
times as loud, &c. Therefore, if by means of a speaking
trumpet, we can make to equal echoes arrive at the ear
at the same moment, we may suppose its effect to be to
increase the audibility to times*, and we may express
this shortly, by calling the sound 10 times louder or
more intense.
But we cannot do this precisely. We cannot by any
contrivance make the sound of a momentary snap, and
those of its echoes, arrive at the ear in the same moment,,
because they come from different distances. But if th«
original noise be a continued sound, a man’s voice, for
example, uttering a continued uniform tone, the first e-
cho may reach the ear at the same moment with the se¬
cond vibration of the larynx j the second echo along
with the third vibration, and so on. It is evident, that
this will produce the same effect. The only difference
will be, that the articulations of the voice will be made
indistinct, if the echoes come from very different di¬
stances. Thus if a man pronounce the syllable law,
and the 10 successive echoes are made from places
which are 10 feet farther off, the 10th part of a second
(nearly) will intervene between hearing the first and
the last. This will give it the sound of the syllable
thaw, or perhaps raw, because r is the repetition of 4.
Something like this occurs when, standing at one end of
a long line of soldiers, we hear the muskets of the whole
line discharged in one instant. It seems to us the sound
of a running fire.
The aim therefore in the construction of a speaking
trumpet may be, to cause as many echoes as possible to
reach a distant ear without any perceptible interval of
time. This will give distinctness, and something e-
quivalent to loudness. Pure loudness arises from the
violence of the single aerial undulation. To increase
this may be the aim in the construction of a trumpet}
but we are not sufficiently acquainted with the mecha¬
nism of these undulations to bring this about with cer¬
tainty and precision j whereas we can procure this accu¬
mulation of echoes without much trouble, since we know
that echoes are, in fact, reflected like light. We can
form a trumpet so that many of these lines of reflected
sound shall pass through the place of the hearer. We
are indebted to Mr Lambert of Berlin for this simple
and popular view of the subject; and shall here give an
abstract of his most ingenious Dissertation on Acoustic
Instruments published in the Berlin Memoirs for 1763.
Sound-
r 493 ]
T R U
[ 494 ]
T R U
Trumpet.
Plate
DXXXIX.
i.
Sound naturally spreads in all directions j but we
know that echoes or reflected sounds proceed almost
strictly in certain limited directions. If therefore we
contrive a trumpet in such a way that the lines of echo
shall be confined within a certain space, it is reasonable
to suppose that the sound wdll become more audible in
proportion as this diffusion is prevented. Therefore, if
we can oblige a sound which, in the open air, would
have diffused itself over a hemisphere, to keep within a
cone of 120 degrees, we should expect it to be twice as
audible within this cone. This will be accomplished,
by making the reflections such that the lines of reflected
sound shall be confined within this cone. N. B. We
here suppose that nothing is lost in the reflection. Let
us examine the effect of a cylindrical trumpet.
Let the trumpet be a cylinder ABED, (fig. I.), and
let C be a sounding point in the axis. It is evident
that all the sound in the cone BCE will go forward
without any reflection. Let CM be any other line of
sound, which we may for brevity’s sake, call a sono¬
rous or phonic line. Being reflected in the points
M, N, O, P, it is evident that it will at last escape
from the trumpet in a direction PQ, equally diverging
from the axis with the line CM. The same must be
true of every other sonorous line. Therefore the echoes
will all diverge from the mouth of the trumpet in the
same manner as they would have proceeded from C
without any trumpet. Even supposing, therefore, that
the echoes are as strong as the original sound, no advan¬
tage is gained by such a trumpet, but that of bringing
the sound forward from C to c. This is quite trifling
when the hearer is at a distance. Yet we see that
sounds may be heat’d at a very great distance, at the end
of long, narrow, cylindrical, or prismatical galleries. It
is known that a voice may be distinctly heard at the
distance of several hundred feet in the Roman aque¬
ducts, whose sides are perfectly straight and smooth,
being plastered with stucco. The smooth surface of
the still water greatly contributes to this effect. Cy¬
lindrical or prismatical trumpets must therefore be re¬
jected.
Let the trumpet be a cone BCA (fig. 2.), of which
CN is the axis, DK a line perpendicular to the axis, and
DFHI the path of a reflected sound in the plane of the
axis. The last angle of reflection IHA is equal to the
last angle of incidence FHC. The angle BFH, or its
equal CFD, is equal to the angles FHD and FCH ;
that is, the angle of incidence CFD exceeds the next
angle of incidence FHC by the angle FCD ; that is,
by the angle of the cone. In like manner, IDH ex¬
ceeds CFD by the same angle FCD. Thus every suc¬
ceeding angle, either of incidence or reflection, exceeds
the next by the angle of the cone. Call the angle of
the cone a, and let b be the first angle of incidence
PDC. The second, or DFC, is b—a. The third, or
FHC, is b—2 a, &c.: and the 72th angle of incidence
or reflection is b—n a, after n reflections. Since the
angle diminishes by equal quantities at each subsequent
reflection, it is plain, that whatever be the first angle of
incidence, it may be exhausted by this diminution j
namely, when n times a exceeds or is equal to b. There¬
fore to know how many reflections of a sound, whose
first incidence has the inclination b, can be made in an
infinitely extended cone, whose angle is a, divide b by
<li the quotient will give the number n of reflections,
and the remainder, if any, will be the last angle of in¬
cidence or reflection less than a. It is very plain, that*
when an angle of reflection IHA is equal to or less
than the angle BCA of the cone, the reflected line
HI will no more meet with the other side CB of the
cone.
We may here observe, that the greatest angle of in¬
cidence is a right angle, or 90°. This sound would
be reflected back in the same line, and would be in¬
cident on the opposite side in an angle npo0 — 0,
&c.
Thus we see that » conical trumpet is well suited for
confining the sound : for by prolonging'it sufficiently,
we can keep the lines of reflected sound wholly within
the cone. And when it is not carried to such a length
as to do this, when it allows the sounding line GH, for
example, to escape without farther reflection, the diver¬
gency from the axis is less than the last angle of reflec¬
tion BGH by half the angle BCA of the cone. Let
us see what is the connection between the length and
the angle of ultimate reflection.
We have sin. b—a : sin. Z>=:CD : CF, and CFr:
sin. b #  
CDx~I—~ ——, and sin. b—2a
ub — a
CH, and CH“CF X'
sin. b — a— CF:
sin. b
sin. b — a
sin. b— 2a
Therefore
will give us
sin. b
= CDx
0—2 a
sin. b
:CDX
sin.
-a
X
&c.
n a
Tni*pet
b — 20'
if we suppose X to be the length which
n reflections, we shall have XrzCD X
Hence we see that the length increases as
sin.
the angle b — n a diminishes; but is not infinite, unless
7? o is equal to b. In this case, the immediately pre¬
ceding angle of reflection must be o, because these
angles have the common difference a. Therefore the
last reflected sound was moving parallel to the opposite
side of the cone, and cannot again meet it. But though
we cannot assign the length which will give the «th
reflection, we can give the length which will give the
one immediately preceding, whose angle with the side
of the cone is a. Let Y be this length. We have Y
— CDx ———• This length will allow every line of
siu. a
sound to be reflected as often, saving once, as if the
tube were infinitely long. For suppose a sonorous line
to be traced backwards, as if a sound entered the tube
in the direction 7 h, and were reflected in the point*
h,f, (l, d, D, the angles will be continually augmented
by the constant angle a. But this augmentation can
never go farther than 90°-j-2^' 1 or ^ reaches that
value at D, for instance, the reflected line DK will be
perpendicular to the axis CN ; and the angle ARK
will be equal to the angle DKB, and the sound will
come out a^ain. This remark is of importance on ano¬
ther account.
Now suppose the cone to be cut off at D by a plane
perpendicular to the axis, KD will be the diameter of
its mouth-piece ; and if we suppose a mouth completely
occupying this circle, and every point of the circle to
be sonorous, the reflected sounds will proceed from it m
the same manner as light would from a flame whirn
4 completely
T R U
|<;t< completely occupies its area, and is reflected by the in-
,—j side of the cone. The angle FDA will have the
greatest possible sine when it is a right angle, and it
never can be greater than ADK, which is =90a.
And since between 90° + ! «, and 90—\ a, there must
fall some multiple of a ; call this multiple A Then, in
order that every sound may be reflected as often as pos¬
sible, saving once, we must make the length of it X—
COX
o, a
Now since the angle of the cone is never made very
great, never exceeding 10 or 12 degrees, b can never
differ from 90 above a degree or two, and its sine can¬
not differ much from unity. Therefore X will be very
, , CD, ,. , . ,
nearly equal to g—which is also very nearly equal to
CD , ’ .
—K—f— ? because a is small, and the sines of small
2 b, -5- a
arches are nearly equal and proportional to the arches
themselves. There is even a small compensation of er¬
rors in this formula. For as the sine of 90° is some¬
what too large, which would give X too great, 2 S, f rt
is also larger than the sine of a. Thus let a be 12°:
then the nearest multiple of <1 is 84 or 96°, both of
which are as far removed as possible from 90°, and the
error is as great as possible, and is nearly -r-g^tb of the
whole.
This approximation gives us a very simple construc¬
tion. Let CM be the required length of the trumpet,,
and draw ML perpendicular to the axis in O. It is
| evident that S, MCO : rad. =;MO : CM, and CM; or
v MO LM , v CD , , „
— K" . = —r. .—, but A=r —-——, and therefore
b, ^<7 2 b, 4 a 2 b, 4«
LM is equal to CD.
If therefore the cone be of such a length, that its
diameter at the mouth is equal to the length of the
part cut off, every line of sound will have at least as
many reflections, save one, as if the cone were infinite¬
ly long j and the last reflected line will either be paral¬
lel to the opposite side of the cone, or lie nearer the axis
than this parallel; consequently such a cone will con¬
fine all the reflected sounds within a cone whose angle
is 2o, and will augment the sound in the proportion of
the spherical base of this cone to a complete hemispheri¬
cal surface. Describe the circle DKT round C, and
making DT an arch of 90, draw the chord DT. Then
since the circles described with the radii DK, DT, are
equal to the spherical surfaces generated by the revolu¬
tion of the arches DK and DKT round the axis CD,
the sound will he condeased in the proportion of DK*
to DT*.
This appears to be the best general rule for con¬
structing the instrument j for, to procure another reflec¬
tion, the tube must be prodigiously lengthened, and we
cannot suppose that one reflection more will add great¬
ly to its power.
It appears, too, that the length depends chiefly on
the angle of the cone; for the mouth-piece may be
considered as nearly a fixed quantity. It must he of a
site to admit the mouth when speaking with force and
without comtraint. About an inch and a half may be
ted on for its diameter. When therefore we propose
to confine the sound to a cone of twice the angle of the
tumpet, the whole is determined by that angle* For
E 495 ]
T R U
since in this case LM is equal to CD, we have DK
p IXa
CD=LM (or CD) : CM and CM=XiX.
DK
But 2 S,ia : i=DK : CD,
and 2 S.fa : i=CD : CM y
therefore 4 S,*4« : i=DK: CM,
DK DK
very nearly. Amt
Trumpet.
And CM =
'4S,*4a’ ~ S,* a
since DK is an inch and a half, we get the length in
inches, counted from the apex of the cone —or
S,* a
3
2 From this we must cut off the part CD, which.
is —
DK , DK
5—-—, or very nearly 
b, 4 « J J a'
measured in
Cl > UA o >
o, a 2 b, a
inches, and we must make the mouth of the same width
3
2S, a
On the other hand, if the length of the trumpet is fix¬
ed on, we can determine the angle of the cone. For let
the length (reckoned from C) be L; we have 2S.*a=—,
L
or S,*fl and S, a .
2 L 2 L
Thus let 6 feet or 72 inches be chosen for the length
of the cone, we have S
OI4434
J44 ^ 48’
=rsin. 8° 17' for the angle of the cone ; and the width at
the mouth is—= 10,4 inches* This being taken
from 72, leaves 61,6 inches for the length of the trum¬
pet.
And since this trumpet confines the reflected sounds to
DT*
a cone of 160 34', we have its magnifying powers
4DT* S,* 450 _
96 nearly.
DK2’
It therefore con-
— 4DK*~ S,*4°8'4
denses the sound about 96 times j and if the distribution
were uniform, it would be heard 96, or nearly 10
times farther off. For the loudness of sounds is sup¬
posed to be inversely as the square of the distance from
the centre of undulation.
But before we can pronounce with precision on the '
performance of a speaking trumpet, we must examine
into the manner in which the reflected sounds are distri¬
buted over the space in which they are all confined.
Let BKDA (fig. 3O he the section of a conical Fig. 3..
trumpet by a plane through the axis j let C be the ver¬
tex of the cone, and CW its axis ; let TKV be the sec¬
tion of a sphere, having its centre in the vertex of the
coney and let P he a sonorous point «n the surface of
the sphere, and Pa/e / the path of a line of sound ly¬
ing in the plane of the section.
In the great circle of the sphere take KQ=:KP DR
—DQ, and KS~KR. Draw QB i , also draw Qdn.
parallel to DAy and drawPB, P/ PA.
1. Then it is evident that all the lines drawn from
P, within the cone APB,, proceed without reflection
and are diffused as, if no trumpet had been used.
2. Alii
T R U
[ 496 ]
T R U
Trumpet
2. All the sonorous lines which fall from P on KB
are reflected from it as if they had come from Q.
3. All the sonorous lines between BP and d P have
suffered but one reflection ; for will no more meet
DAA' so as to be reflected again.
4. All the lines which have been reflected from KB,
and afterwards from DA, proceed as if they had come
from R. For the lines reflected from KB proceed as
if they had come from Q; and lines coming from Q
and reflected by DA, proceed as if they had come from
R. Therefore draw RA 0, and also draw Rg-wz paral¬
lel to KB, and draw Qc A^, Q Ag-, Pc, and P b.
Then,
5. All the lines between b P and c P have been twice
reflected.
Again, draw SB p, B r R, r « Q, S ^ A, Ry.r, Qsy.
6. All the lines between u P and * P have suffered
three reflections.
Draw the tangents TA t, VB v, crossing the axis in
W.
7. The whole sounds will be propagated within the
cone v W t. For to every sonorous point in the line
KD there corresponds a point similar to Q, regulating
the first reflection from KB ; and a point similar to R,
regulating the second reflection from DA; and a point
S regulating the third reflection from KB, &c. And
similar points will be found regulating the first reflec¬
tion from DA, the second from KB, and the third
from DA, &c. *, and lines drawn from all these through
A and B must lie within the tangents TA and VB.
8. Thus the centres of reflection of all the sonorous
lines which lie in planes passing through the axis, will
be found in the surface of this sphere ; and it may be
considered as a sonorous sphere, whose sounds first con¬
centrate in W, and are then diffused in the cone W £.
It may be demonstrated nearly in the same manner,
that the sonorous lines which proceed from P, but not
in the plane passing through the axis, also proceed, after
various reflections, as if they had come from points in
the surface of the same sphere. The only difference in
the demonstration is, that the centres Q, R, S of the
successive reflections are not in one plane, but in a spiral
line winding round the surface of the sphere according
to fixed laws. The foregoing conclusions are therefore
■general for all the sounds which come in all directions
from every point in the area of the mouth piece.
Thus it appears, that a conical trumpet is well fitted
for increasing the force of sounds by diminishing their
final divergence. For had the speaker’s mouth been in
the open air, the sounds which are now confined with¬
in the cone v W i would have been diffused over a he¬
misphere : and we see that prolonging the trumpet must
■confine the sounds still more, because this will make the
angle BWA still smaller ; a longer tube must also oc¬
casion more reflections, and consequently send more so¬
norous undulations to the ear at a distance placed with¬
in the cone t; W f.
We have now obtained a very connected view of the
whole effect of a conical trumpet. It is the same as if
cussion to show the density of these fictitious sounding
points; and we shall content ourselves with giving av^Y~*“
very palpable view of the distribution of the sonorous
rays, or the density (so to speak) of the echoes, in the
different situations in which a hearer may be placed.
We may observe, in the mean time, that this substi¬
tution of a sounding sphere for the sounding mouth¬
piece has an exact parallel in Optics, by which it will
be greatly illustrated. Suppose the cone BKDA (fig. 3.) Fig. j.
to be a tube polished in the inside, fixed in a wall B *,
perforated in BA, and that the mouth-piece DK is oc¬
cupied completely by a flat flame. The effect of this
on a spectator will be the same, if he is properly placed
in the axis, as if he were looking at a flame as big as
the whole sphere. This is very evident.
It is easy to see that the line /e S is equal to the line
l ef aV’, therefore the reflected sounds also come to the
ear in the same moments as if they had come from their
respective points on the surface of the substituted sphere,
Unless, therefore, this sphere be enormously large, the
distinctness of articulation will not be sensibly affected,
because the interval between the arrival of the different
echoes of the same snap will be insensible.
Our limits oblige us to content ourselves with exhi¬
biting this evident similarity of the progress of echo
from the surface of this phonic sphere, to the progress
of light from the same luminous sphere shining through
a hole of which the diameter is AB. The direct in¬
vestigation of the intensity of the sound in difl’erent di¬
rections and distances would take up much room, and
give no clearer conception of the thing. The intensity
of the sound in any point is precisely similar to the in¬
tensity of the illumination of the same point; and this
is proportional to the portion of the luminous surface
seen from this point through the hole directly, and to
the square of the distance inversely. The intelligent
reader will acquire a distinct conception of this matter
from fig. 4. which represents the distribution of the so¬
norous lines, and by consequence the degree of loudnes*
which may be expected in the different situations of th*
hearer.
As we have already observed, the effect of the con#
of the trumpet is perfectly analogous to the reflection of
light from a polished concave, conical mirror. Such an
instrument would be equally fitted for illuminating a
distant object. We imagine that these would be much
more powerful than tire spherical or even parabolic mir¬
rors commonly used for this purpose. These last, having
the candle in the focus, also send forward a cylinder of
light of equal width with the mirror. But it is well
known, that oblique reflections are prodigiously more
vivid than those made at greater angles. Where the
inclination of the reflected light to the plane ot the
mirror does not exceed eight or ten degrees, it reflects
about three-fourths of the light which falls on it.
when the inclination is 80, it does not reflect one-fourth
part.
We may also observe, that the density of the ^
ed sounds by the conical trumpet ABC (fig. 4’) ,s Pre"
the whole segment TKDV were sounding, every part cisely similar to that of the illumination produced by »
of it with an intensity proportional to the density of the luminous sphere TDV, shining through a hole A •
points Q, R, S, &c. corresponding to the different points There will be a space circumscribed by the cone f01^6
P of the mouth-piece. It is easy to see that this cannot by the lines TB t and VA t>, which is uniformly 1 u
be uniform, but must be much rarer towards the margin —:l— fr"' w t,1f‘ seeflien
of the segment. It would require a good deal of dis-
3
minated by the whole sphere (or rather by the segmen
TDV), and on each side there is a space illuminated ^
ARTICULATE TRUMPE T.
Fuj. 2.
/'A///;'//////I
T R U r 497
a part of it only, and the illumina&on gradually de-
' creases towards the borders. A spectator placed much
out of the axis, and looking through the hole AB, may
not see the whole sphere. In like manner, he will not
hear the whole sounding sphere : He may be so far from
the axis as neither to see nor hear any part of it.
Assisting our imagination by this comparison, we per-
«eive that beyond the point w' there is no place where
all the reflected sounds are heard. Therefore, in order
to preserve the magnifying power of the trumpet at anv
distance, it is necessary to make the mouth as wide as
the sonorous sphere. Nay, even this would be an im¬
perfect instrument, because its power would be confined
to a very narrow space j and if it be not accurately
pointed to the person listening, its power will be greatly
diminished. And we may observe, by the way, that
we derive from this circumstance a strong confirmation
of the justness of Mr Lambert’s principles ; for the
effects of speaking trumpets are really observed to be li¬
mited in the way here described.—Parabolic trumpets
have been made, and they fortify the sound not only in
the cylindrical space in the direction of the axis, but
also on each side of it, which should not have been the
case had their effect depended only on the undulations
formed by the parabola in planes perpendicular to the
axis. But to proceed.
Let BCA (fig. 5.) be the cone, ED the mouth¬
piece, TEDV the equivalent sonorous sphere, and
TBAV the circumscribed cylinder. Then CA or CB
is the length of cone that is necessary for maintaining
the magnifying power at all distances. We have two
conditions to be fulfilled. The diameter ED of the
mouth-piece must be of a certain fixed magnitude, and
the diameter AB of the outer end must be equal to that
of the equivalent sonorous sphere. These conditions
determine all the dimensions of the trumpet and its
magnifying power. And, first, with respect to the di¬
mensions of the trumpet.
The similarity of the triangles ECG and BCF gives
CG : ED=CF : AB •, but CG=BF, =4 AB, and
CIrrCG-f GF, ~GF-j-4ABj therefore 4-A-B ; ED
=GF + 4 AB : AB, and AB : ED =2 GF +AB
AB ; therefore 2 GF X ED + AB X EDrzrAB*, and
2GF x EDrzAB1,—AB x ED,—AB x AB—ED,
AB x AB—ED
and GF—-
ED
And, on the other hand,
because AB*—EB X AD — 2 GF X ED, we have
AB1—AB x ED + f ED*=z 2 GF x ED+ i ED2,
or AB -4 ED1^ 2 GF x ED + 4 ED1, and AB—
vAgFx ED+iED’+’ED.
Let x represent the length of the trumpet, y the dia¬
meter at the great end, and m the diameter of the mouth-
mi V X V—ni .   
piece. Then#— , andy—
Thus the length and the great diameter may be had re¬
ciprocally. The useful case in practice is to find the
diameter for a proposed length, which is gotten by the
last equation.
Now if we take all the dimensions in inches, and fix
m at an inch and a half, we have 2 x w—3 x, and f m*
:=0>S^2Si an(l -2»3=:o,75j so that our equation be¬
comes y=N/3*_j_0, 56254-0,75. The following-table
Vol.XX. Part IL S *
] T R U
gives the dimensions of a sufficient variety of trumpets. Trumpet.
The first column is the length of the trumpet in feet; ’ 
the second column is the diameter of the mouth in
inches ; the third column is the number of times that it
magnifies the sound j and the fourth column is the num¬
ber of times that it increases the distance at which a man
may be distinctly heard by its means ; the fifth contains
the angle of the cone.
GF
feet.
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
15
18
21
24
AB.
Indies.
6.8
9-3
11.2
12.8
14.2
15.5
16.6
I7-7
18.8
19.8
20.7
21.5
24.
26.2
28.3
30.2
Magnifying
42.6
77.8
112.4
146.6
180.4
214.2
247.7
281.3
3T4'6
347-7
380.9
414.6
513-6
612.3
711.2
810.1
Extending.
6.5
8.8
10.6
12.1
I3-4
14.6
I5-7
16.8
iy.y
18.6
!9-5
20.4
22.7
24.7
26.6
28.5
ACB.
24-53
18.23
15.18
i3-24
12.04
11.0 c
10.18
9.40
9.08
8.42
8.18
7.58
7-°9
6-33
6.05
5-42
ED in all is 1.5
The two last columns are constructed on the follow¬
ing considerations: We conceive the hearer placed with¬
in the cylindrical space whose diameter is BA. In this
situation he receives an echo coming apparently from
the whole surface TGV j and we account the effect of
the trumpet as equivalent to the united voices of as many
mouths as would cover this surface. Therefore the quo¬
tient obtained by dividing the surface of the hemisphere
by that of the mouth-piece will express the magnifying
power of the trumpet. If the chords S' E, g T, he
drawn, we know that the spherical surfaces T g V,
E g D, are respectively equal to the circles described
with the radii T g, E g, and are therefore as T g2 and
E Therefore the audibility of the trumpet, when
compared with a single voice, may be expressed by
T g*
V. Now the ratio of T^1 to Eg1 is easily obtained.
g
For if Ey be drawn parallel to the axis, it is plain that
„ y. BA—ED , , T,
B    , and that Ey is to/B as radius to
the tangent of BCF j which angle we may call a.
Therefore tan. a=-——, and thua we obtain the angle
2 x “
a. But if the radius CE be accounted 1, Tg is —\/2,
O- TT /
and Eg is =2 sin. -. Therefore — — and
2 Eg .a
2 sin.-
2
the magnifying power of the trumpet is =z-
n
4 sin.
T R U
[ 498 ]
T R U
Trumpet.
Tig. 4.
The numbers, therefore, in the third co-
2 sin.'
lumn of the table are each
• 8°
2 sin. —
2
But the more usual way of conceiving the power of
the trumpet is, by considering how much farther it will
enable us to hear a voice equally well. Now we sup¬
pose that the audibility of sounds varies in the inverse
duplicate ratio of the distance. Therefore if the distance
r/, at which a man may be distinctly heard, be increased
to in the proportion of EG to Tg, the sound will
be less audible, in the proportion of T «■* to EG*.
Therefore the trumpet will be as well heard at the di¬
stance 25 as the simple voice is heard at the distance d.
Therefore ^ will express the extending power of the
trumpet, which is therefore
\/ 2
In this man¬
il
2 sin. —
2
ner were the numbers computed for the fourth column
of the table.
When the angle BCA is small, which is always the
case in speaking trumpets, we may, without any sensible
FT) m
error, consider EG as —  , rz —. And TG~TC
, AB AB2 /
X V2, = ~,/2=-r2=-77.
Thi
is gives a very
easy computation of the extending and magnifying
powers of the trumpet.
V
The extending power is —2 —.
The magnifying power is
= 2-1
We may also easily deduce from the premises, that if
the mouth piece be an inch and a half in diameter,
and the length x be measured in inches, the extending
power is very nearly = yA,| and the magnifying-
power = -3- x.
An inconvenience still attends the trumpet of this
construction. Its complete audibility is confined to the
cylindrical space in the direction of the axis, and it is
more faintly heard on each side of it. This obliges us
to direct the trumpet very exactly to the spot where w-e
wish it to be heard. This is confirmed by all the ac¬
counts we have of the performance of great speaking
trumpets. It is evident, that by lengthening the trum¬
pet, and therefore enlarging its mouth, rve make the
lines TB t and V A v expand (fig. 4.) ; and therefore it
will not be so difficult to direct the trumpet.
But even this is confined within the limits of a few
degrees. Even if the trumpet were continued without
end, the sounds cannot be reinforced in a wider space
than the cone of the trumpet. But it is always advan¬
tageous to increase its length j for this makes the ex¬
treme tangents embrace a greater portion of the sonorous
sphere, and thus increases the sound in the space where
it is all reflected. And the limiting tangents TB, VA,
expand still more, and thus the space of full effect is in¬
creased. But either of these augmentations is very small
in comparison of the augmentation of size. If the trum¬
pet of fig. 5. were made an hundred times longer, its Trumpft
power would not be increased one half. *—
We need not therefore aim at much more than to
produce a cylindrical space of full effect ; and this will
always be done by the preceding rules, or table of con¬
structions. We may give the trumpet a third or a
fourth part more length, in order to spread a little the
space of its full effect, and thereby make it more easily
directed to the intended object. But in doing this we
must be careful to increase the diameter of the mouth as
much as wre increase the length ; otherwise we produce
the very opposite effect, and make the trumpet greatly
inferior to a shorter one, at all distances beyond a cer¬
tain point. For by increasing the length while the part
CG remains the same, we cause the tangents TB and
VA to meet on some distant point, beyond which the
sound diffuses prodigiously. The construction of a
speaking trumpet is therefore a problem of some nicety;
and as the trials are always made at some considerable
distance, it may frequently happen that a trumpet which
is not heard at a mile’s distance, may be made very
audible two miles off'by cutting off a piece at its wide
end.
After this minute consideration of the conical trum¬
pet, we might proceed to consider those of other forms.
In particular, the hyperbolic, proposed by Cassegrain,
and the parabolic, proposed by Haase, seem to merit
consideration. But if we examine them merely as re¬
flectors of echoes, we shall find them inferior to the
conical.
With respect to the hyperbolic trumpet, its inaptitude
is evident at first sight. For it must dissipate the echoes
more than a conical trumpet. Indeed Mr Cassegrain
proceeds on quite different principles, depending on the
mechanism of the aerial undulations: his aim was to in¬
crease the agitation in each pulse, so that it may make
a more forcible impulse on the ear. But we are too im¬
perfectly acquainted with this subject to decide a priori',
and experience shows that the hyperbola is not a good
form.
With respect to the parabolic trumpet, it is certain
that if the mouth-piece were but a point, it would pro¬
duce the most favourable reflection of all the sounds;
for they would all proceed parallel to the axis. But
every point of an open mouth must be considered as a
centre of sound, and none of it must be kept out of
the trumpet. If this be all admitted, it will be found
that a conical trumpet, made by the preceding rules,
will dissipate the reflected sounds much less than the
parabolic.
Thus far have we proceeded on the fair consequences
of the well known fact, that echoes are reflected in the
same manner as light, without engaging in the intricate
investigation of aerial undulations. Whoever considers
the Newtonian theory of the propagation of sound with
intelligence and attention, will see that it is demonstrated
solely in the case of a single row of particles ; and that
all the general corollaries respecting the lateral diflusion
of the elastic undulations are little more than sagacious
guesses, every way worthy of the illustrious author, and
beautifully confirmed by what we can most distinctly
and accurately observe in the circular waves on the sur¬
face of still water. But they are by no means fit for
becoming the foundation of any doctrine which lays the
smallest claim to the title of accurate science. We really
know
T R U [ 499 ] T R U
tnct know exceedingly little of the theory of aerial uudnla-
t L tions ; and the conformity of the phenomena of sound
to these guesses of Sir Isaac Newton has always been a
matter of wonder to every eminent and candid mathe¬
matician : and no other should pretend to judge of the
matter. This wonder has always been acknowledged
by Daniel Bernoulli) and he is the only person who has
made any addition to the science of sounds that is worth
mentioning. For such we must always esteem his doc-
trine of the secondary undulations of musical cords, and
the secondary pulses of air in pipes. Nothing therefore
is more unwarrantable, or more plainly shows the pre¬
cipitant presumption of modern sciolists, than the fami¬
liar use of the general theory of aerial undulations in
their attempts to explain the abstruse phenomena of
nature (such as the communication of sensation from the
organ to the sensorium by the vibrations of a nervous
fluid, the reciprocal communication of the volitions from
the sensorium to the muscle, nay, the whole phenome¬
na of mind), by vibrations and vibratiunculoe.
Such attempts equally betray ignorance, presumption,
and meanness of soul. Ignorance of the extent to which
the Newtonian theory may be logically carried, is the
necessary consequence of ignorance of the theory itself.
It is presumption to apply it to the phenomena of the
intellectual world j and surely he has an abject soul who
hugs and cherishes the humble thought, that his mind is
an undulating fluid, and that its all-grasping compre-
, hension, and all its delightful emotions, are nothing
more than an etherial tune.—“ Pol me occidistis amen-
tes.” This whim is older than Plartley : It may be
found in Robinet’s Systeme cle la Nature. This by the
bye made its first appearance as a discourse delivered by
Brother Orateur in the lodge of the grand Orient at
Lyons; from which source have proceeded all the cos-
mopolitical societies in Europe, and that illumination
| by which reason is to triumph over revelation, and li¬
berty and equality over civil government. We crave
pardon of our readers for this ebullition of spleen ; and
we hope for it from all those who can read Newton,
and who esteem his modesty.
Those who have endeavoured to improve the speaking
trumpet on mechanical principles, have generally aimed
at increasing the violence of the elastic undulations, that
that they may make a more forcible impulse on the ear.
This is the object in view in the parabolic trumpet. All
I the undulations are converted into others which are in
planes perpendicular to the axis of the instrument; so
that the same little mass of air is agitated again and
again in the same direction. From this it is obvious to
conclude, that the total agitation will be more viole'nt.
But, in the first place, these violent agitations must dif¬
fuse themselves laterally as soon as they get out of the
trumpet, and thus be weakened, in a proportion that is
perhaps impossible for the most expert analyst to deter¬
mine. But, moreover, we are not sufficiently acquainted
With the mechanism of the very first agitations, to be
able to perceive what conformation of the trumpet will
cause the reflected undulations to increase the first undu¬
lations, or to check them. For it must happen, during
the production of a continued sound in a trumpet, that
a parcel of air, which is in a state of progressive agita¬
tion, as it makes a pulse of one sound, may be in a state
of retrograde agitation, as it is part of a pulse of air pro¬
ducing another sound. We cannot (at least no mathe¬
matician has yet done it) discriminate, and then com- Trumpet,
bine these agitations, with the intelligence and precision 1— v—
that are necessary for enabling us to say what is the ul¬
timate accumulated effect. Mr Lambert therefore did
wisely in abstaining from this intricate investigation ;
and we are highly obliged to him for deducing such a
body of demonstrable doctrine from the acknowledged,
but ill understood, fact of the reflection of echoes.
We know that two sounds actually cross each other
without any mutual distuibance; for we can hear either
of them distinctly, provided the other is not so loud as
to stun our ears, in the same manner as the glare of the
sun dazzles our eyes. We may therefore depend on all
the consequences which are legitimately deduced from
this fact, in the same manner as we depend on the sci¬
ence of catoptrics, which is all deduced from a fact per¬
fectly similar and as little understood.
But the preceding propositions by no means explain
or comprehend all the reinforcement of sound which is
really obtained by means of a speaking trumpet. In
the first place, although we cannot tell in what degree
the aerial undulations are increased, we cannot doubt
that the reflections which are made in directions which
do not greatly deviate from the axis, do really increase
the agitation of the particles of air. We see a thing
perfectly similar to this in the waves on water. Take a
long slip of lead, about two inches broad, and having
bent it into the form of a parabola, set it into a large
flat trough, in which the water is about an inch deep.
Let a quick succession of small drops of water fall pre¬
cisely on the focus of the parabola. We shall see the
circular waves proceeding from the focus all converted
into waves perpendicular to the axis, and we shall fre¬
quently see these straight waves considerably augmented
in their height and force. We say generally, for we
have sometimes observed that these reflected waves were
not sensibly stronger than the circular or original waves.
We do not exactly know to what this difference must
be ascribed : we are disposed to attribute it to the fre¬
quency of the drops. This may be such, that the in¬
terval of time between each drop is precisely equal, or
at least commensurable, to the time in which the waves
run over their own breadth. This is a pretty experi¬
ment; and the ingenious mechanician may make others
of the same kind which will greatly illustrate several
difficult points in the science of sounds. We may con¬
clude in general that the reflection of sounds, in a
trumpet of the usual shapes, is accompanied by a real
increase of the aerial agitations ; and in some particular
cases we find the sounds prodigiously increased. Thus,
when we blow through a musical trumpet, and allow
the air to take that uniform undulation which can be
best maintained in it, namely, that which produces its
musical tone, where the whole tube contains but one or
two undulations, the agitation of a particle must then
be very great, and it must describe, a very considerable
line in its oscillations. When we suit our blast in
such a manner as to continue this note, that is, this
undulation, we are certain that the subsequent agita¬
tions conspire with the preceding agitation, and aug¬
ment it. And accordingly wTe find that the sound is
increased to a prodigious degree. A cor de chasse, or a
bugle horn, when properly winded, will almost deafen
the ear ; and yet the exertion is a mere nothing in
comparison with what we make when bellowing with all
3 B 2 our
T R U [ 500
TninTj»et. eur force, hut with not the tenth part of the noise. We
v~ ' also know, that it we speak through a speaking trumpet
in the key which corresponds with its dimensions, it is
much more audible than when we speak in a different
pitch. These observations show, that the loudness of a
speaking trumpet arises from something more than the
sole reflection of echoes considered by Mr Lambert—
the very echoes are rendered louder.
In the next place, the sounds are increased by the
vibrations of the trumpet itself. The elastic matter of
the trumpet is thrown into tremors by the undulations
which proceed from the month-piece. These tremors
produce pulses in the contiguous air, both in the inside
of the trumpet and on that which surrounds it. These
undulations within the trumpet produce original sounds,
which are added to the reflected sounds: for the tremor
continues for some little time, perhaps the time of three
or four or more pulses. This must increase the loud¬
ness of the subsequent pulses. We cannot say to what
degree, because we do not know the force of the tre¬
mor which the part of the trumpet acquires : but we
know that these sounds will not be magnified by the
trumpet to the same degree as if they had come from
the mouth piece ; for they are reflected as if they had
come from the surface of a sphere which passes through
the agitated point of the trumpet. In short, they are
magnified only by that part of the trumpet which lies
without them. The whole sounds of this kind, there¬
fore, proceed as if they came from a number of concen¬
tric spherical surfaces, or from a solid sphere, whose dia¬
meter is twice the length of the trumpet cone.
All these agitations arising from the tremors of the
trumpet tend greatly to hurt the distinctness of articu¬
lation because, coming from different points of a large
sphere, they arrive at the ear in a sensible succession j
and thus change a momentary articulation to a length¬
ened sound, and give the appearance of a number of
voices uttering the same words in succession. It is in this
way, that, when we clap our hands together near along
rail, we get an echo from each post, which produces a
chirping sound of some continuance. For these reasons
it is found advantageous to check all tremors of the
trumpet by wrapping it up in woollen lists. This is also
necessary in the musical trumpet.
With respect to the undulations produced by the tre¬
mors of the trumpet in the air contiguous to its outside,
they also hurt the articulation. At any rate, this is so
much of the sonorous momentum uselessly employed $
because they are diffused like common sounds, and re¬
ceive no augmentation from the trumpet.
]
T R U
Hearing
trumpet.
T. he subject is greatly simplified by tbe circumstances Trumpet,
of the case-, for the sounds to which we listen generally '“■“r—J
come in nearly one direction, and all that we have to
do is to produce a constipation of them. And we may
conclude, that the audibility will be proportional to this
constipation.
'I herefore let ACB, fig. 6. be the cone, and CD its Fig. 5
axis. The sound may be conceived as coming in the
direction RA, parallel to the axis, and to be reflected
in the points A, b, c, d, e, till the angle of incidence in¬
creases to 90° after which the subsequent reflections
send the sound out again. We must therefore cut off a
part of the cone ; and, because the lines increase their
angle of incidence at each reflection, it will he proper
to make the angle of the cone an aliquot part of 90°,
that the least incidence may amount precisely to that
quantity. W hat part of the cone should he cut off may
be determined by the former principles. Call the ar^le
ACD, o. AVe have C * = ^-CA ‘ SlU' V, when the
sin. (2 « -f- 1) a
sound gets the last useful reflection. Then we have the
diameter of the mouth AB=r2 CA • sin. a, and that of
the other end e f—C e • 2 sin. a. Therefore the sounds
will be constipated in the ratio of CA1 to C <?*, and the
trumpet will bring the speaker nearer in the ratio of CA
to C c.
W7hen the lines of reflected sound are thus brought
together, they may be received into a small pipe per¬
fectly cylindrical, which may be inserted into the ex¬
ternal ear. This will not change their angles of incli¬
nation to tbe axis nor their density. It may be conve¬
nient to make the internal diameter of this pipe of an
inch. Therefore C e • sin. a is — ^ of an inch. This
circumstance, in conjunction with the magnifying power
proposed, determines the other dimensions of the hear-
. , -r- 1 CA • sin. a ,
ing trumpet. korCezr-r—: r= ——:  —;—.and
It is evident, that this instrument may be used (and
accordingly vTas so) for aiding tbe hearing 5 for the so¬
norous lines are reflected in either direction. We know
that all tapering cavities greatly increaseexternal noises;
and we observe the brutes prick up their ears when they
want to hear uncertain or faint sounds. They turn them
in such directions as are best suited for the reflection of
the sound from the quarter whence the animal imagines
that it comes.
Let us apply Mr Lambert’s principle to this very in¬
teresting case, and examine whether it be possible to
assist dull hearing in like manner as the optician has
assisted imperfect sight.
6 sin.a sin.(2«-|-
sin. (2« + 1 o)
LA — —  •
6 sin. a
Thus the relation of the angle of the cone and the
length of the instrument is ascertained, and the sound
is brought nearer in the ratio of CA to C e, or of sin.
(2;z-J-l)at0 s*n- a' And seeing that we found it pro¬
per to make (2 « -j-i) a —go0, we obtain this very sim¬
ple analogy, 1 : sin. azzCA : C e. And the sine of 4
the angle of the cone is to radius as 1 to the approxi¬
mating power of the instrument.
Thus let it be required that the sound may be as au¬
dible as if the voice were 12 times nearer. This gives
~12. This gives sin. 0 =—, and fl zri}0 47
C e 12
the angle of the cone =9.34. Then CA
and
144
’Tipr
— > =24-
is 24 inches. From this take C e —
6 sin.’ fl
Therefore the length of the cone
CA
— 2, and the
12
length of the trumpet is 22 inches. The diameter at
the mouth is 2Ce, =4 inches. With this instrument
one voice should be as loud as 144.
If it were required to approximate the sound onlj
four times, making it 16 times stronger than the natura
voi®*
4
T R U [ 5
,£t> voice at the same distance, the angle ACB must be
■—J290) Ac must be 2 inches, AB must be i^d inches,
and <\f must be -^d of an inch.
It is easy to see, tliat when the size of the ear-end
is the same in all, the diameters at the outer end are
proportional to the approximating powers, and the
lengths of the cones are proportional to the magnifying
powers.
We shall find the parabolic conoid the preferable shape
for an acoustic trumpet ; because as the sounds come
into the instrument in a direction parallel to the axis,
they are reflected so as to pass through the focus. The
parabolic conoid must therefore be cut oft’ through the
focus, that the sounds may not go out again by the
subsequent reflections ; and they must be received into
a cylindrical pipe of one-third of an inch in diameter.
Therefore the parameter of this parabola is one-sixth of
an inch, and the focus is one-twelfth of an inch from
the vertex. This determines the whole instrument; for
they are all portions of one parabolic conoid. Suppose
that the instrument is required to approximate the sound
12 times, as in the example of the conical instrument.
The ordinate at the mouth must be 12 time* the 6th of
an inch, or 2 inches j and the mouth diameter is four
inches, as in the conical instrument. Then, for the
h length, observe, that DC in fig. 7. is £th of an inch,
and MP is 2 inches, and AC is TrTth of an inch, and
DC* : MP*=AC : AP. This will give AP m 2
inches, and CP—n^ths; whereas in the conical
tube it was 22. In like manner an instrument which
approximates the sounds four times, is only i-}d inches
long, and ifd inches diameter at the big end. Such
small instruments may be very exactly made in the pa¬
rabolic form, and are certainly preferable to the conical.
But since even these are of a very moderate size when
I intended to approximate the sound only a few times,
and as they can be accurately made by any tinman,
they may be of more general use. One of 12 inches
long, and 3 inches wide at the big end, should approxi¬
mate the sound at least 9 times.
J general rule for making them.—Let m express the
approximating power intended for the instrument. The
length of the instrument in inches is m * m—and the
6
diameter at the mouth is —. The diameter at the small
I . 3 .
end is always one-third of an inch.
In trumpets for assisting the hearing, all reverbation
of the trumpet must be avoided. It must be made thick,
of the least elastic materials, and covered with cloth
externally. For all reverbation lasts for a short time,
and produces new sounds which mix with those that are,
coming in.
We must also observe, that no acoustic trumpet can
separate those sounds to which we listen from others that
are made in the same direction. All are received by
it, and magnified in the same proportion. This is fre¬
quently a very great inconvenience.
There is also another imperfection, which we imagine,
cannot be removed, namely, an odd confusion, which
cannot be called indistinctness, but a feeling as if we
were in the midst of an echoing room. The cause seems
to be this : Hearing gives us some perception of the di¬
rection of the sounding object, not indeed very precise.,,
ii ] T R U
but sufficiently so for most purposes. In all instruments Trumpet*
which we have described for constipating sounds, the
last reflections are nr:de in directions very much inclined
to the axis, and inclined in many different degrees.
Therefore they have the appearance of coming from dif¬
ferent quarters ; and instead of the perception of a single
speaker, we have that of a sounding surface of great ex¬
tent. We da not know any method of preventing this,
and at the same time increasing the sound.
There is an observation which it is of importance to
make on this theory of acoustic instruments. Their
performance does not seem to correspond to the compu¬
tations founded on the theory. When they are tried,,
we cannot think that they magnify so much : Indeed it
is not easy to find a measure by which we can estimate
the degrees of audibility. When a man speaks to us at
the distance of a yard, and then at the distance of two
yards, we can hardly think that there is any difference,
in the loudness ; though theory says, that it is four times -
less in the last of the two experiments; and we cannot
but adhere to the theory in this very simple case, and
must attribute the difference to the impossibility of mea¬
suring the loudness of sounds with precision. And be¬
cause we are familiarly acquainted with the sound, we
can no more think it four times less at twice the di¬
stance, than we can think the visible appearance of a-
man four times less when he is at quadruple distance.
Yet we can completely convince ourselves of this, by?
observing that he covers the appearance of four men at
that distance. We cannot easily make the same expe¬
riment with voices.
But, besides this, we have compared two hearino-
trumpets, one of which should have made a sound as-
audible at the distance of 40 feet as the other did at 10.
feet distance ; but we thought them equal at the di¬
stance of 40 and 18. 1 he result was the same in many
trials made by different persons, and in different circum¬
stances. This leads us to suspect some mistake in Mr
Lambert’s principle of calculation ; and we think him
mistaken in the manner of estimating the intensity of the
reflected sounds. He conceives the proportion of inten¬
sity of the simple voice and of the trumpet to be the
same with that of the surface of the mouth-piece to the
surface of the sonorous hemisphere, which he has so in¬
geniously substituted for the trumpet. But this seems to
suppose, that the whole surface, generated by the revo¬
lution of the quadrantal arch TEG round the axis CG
(fig. 4.), is equally sonorous. We are assured that it is
not: For even if we should suppose that each of the
points Q, R, and S (fig. 3.), are equally sonorous with
the point P, these points of reflection do not stand so
dense on the surface of the sphere as on the surface of.
the mouth-piece. Suppose them arranged at equal di-f
stances all over the mouth-piece, they will be at equal
distances also on the sphere, only in the direction of the
arches of great circles which pass through the centre of
the mouth-piece. But in the direction perpendicular to
this, in the circumference of small circles, having the
centre of the mouth-piece for their pole, they must be
rarer in the proportion of the sine of their distance from,
this pole. This is certainly the case with respect to all
such sounds as have been reflected in the planes which-'
pass through the axis of the trumpet; and we do not
see (for we have not examined this point) that any com¬
pensation is made by the reflection which is not iru
planes.
TRY
[ 5^2 ]
T U M
Trumpet planes passing through the axis. We therefore imagine,
|| that the trumpet does not increase the sound in the pro-
Tryphiodo- • . „ g It.*
" 1 us. portion of g E* to g- T* (fig. 5.), but in that oi
GE
to
g
T*
<JT
Mr Eambert seems aware of some error in his calcu¬
lation, and proposes another, which leads nearly to this
conclusion, out founded on a principle which we do not
think in the least applicable to the case of sounds.
'Trumpet, Marine, is a musical instrument consist¬
ing of three tables, which form its triangular body. It
has a very long neck with one single string, very thick,
mounted on a bridge, which is firm on one side, but
tremulous on the other. It is struck by a bow with one
hand, and with the other the string is pressed or stopped
on the neck by the thumb.
It is the trembling of the bridge, when struck, that
makes it imitate the sound of a trumpet, which it does
to that perfection, that it is scarcely possible to distin¬
guish the one from the other. And this is what has gi¬
ven it the denomination of trumpet-marine, though, in
propriety, it be a kind of monochord. Of the six divi¬
sions marked on the neck of the instrument, the first
makes a fifth with the open chord, the second an oc¬
tave, and so on for the rest, corresponding with the in¬
tervals of the military trumpet.
Trumpf.t-Flower. See Bignonia, Botany Index.
TRUMPETER. See Psophia, Ornithology
Index.
them have come down to us, except an epic poefn, on
which Mr Addison has made some entertaining remarks J rus
in the Spectator, N° 63.
The first edition of this extraordinary work was pub¬
lished by Aldus at Venice, with Quintus Calaber’s Pa-i
ralipomena, and Coluthus’s poem on the rape of Helen.
It has been since reprinted at several places, particularly
at Erancfort in 1580 by Frischlinus 5 who not only cor¬
rected many corrupt passages, but added two Latin ver¬
sions, one in verse and the other in prose. That in
verse was reprinted in 1742, with the Greek, at Oxford,
in 8vo, with an English translation in verse, and Notes,
by Mr Merrick.
TUAM, a town of Ireland, in the province of Con¬
naught, and county of Galway, with an archbishop’s
see. It was once a famous city, though now it is redu¬
ced to a village ; but it still retains the title of a city,
as being an avchiepiscopal see. W. Long. 8. 46. N.
Lat-53* 33-
TUB, in commerce, denotes an indetermined quantity
or measure: thus, a tub of tea contains about 60 pounds;
and a tub of camphor from 56 to 86 pounds.
TUBE, in generaf, a pipe, conduit, or canal ; a cy¬
linder, hollow wilhin-side, either of lead, iron, glass,
wood, or other matter, for the air or some other matter
to have a free conveyance through it.
Auricular Tube, or instrument to facilitate hearing.
•See Articulate Trumpet.
TUBERCLES, among physicians, denote little tu¬
mors which suppurate and discharge pus ; and are of¬
ten found in the lungs, especially of consumptive per-
TRUNCATED, in general, is an appellation given
to such things as have, or seem to have, their points
cut oft': thus, we say, a truncated cone, pyramid, leaf,
&c.
TRUNCHEON, a short staff or baton used by
kings, generals, and great officers, as a mark of their
command.
TRUNDLE, a sort of carriage with low wheels,
whereon heavy and cumbersome burdens are drawn.
TRUNK, among botanists, that part of the herb
which arises immediately from the root, and is termi¬
nated by fructification ; the leaves, buds, and auxiliary
parts.of the herb not entering in its description.
TRUNNIONS, or Trunions, of a piece of ord¬
nance, are those knobs or bunches of metal which bear
her up on the cheeks of the carriage.
TRUSS, a bundle, or certain quantity of hay, straw,
&c. A truss of hay contains 56 pounds, or half an
hundred weight: 36 trusses make a load.
Truss, is also used for a sort of bandage or ligature
made of steel, or the like matter, wherewith to keep up
the parts in those who have hernias or ruptures.
Truss, in a ship, a machine employed to pull a yard
' home to its respective mast, and retain it firmly in that
position.
TRUSTEE, one who has an estate, or money, put or
trusted in his hands for the use of another.
TRUTH, a term used in opposition to falsehood, and
applied to propositions which answer or accord to the
nature and reality of the thing whereof something is af¬
firmed or denied.
TRYPHIODORUS, an ancient Greek poet, who
lived some time between the reigns of Severus and Ana-
stasius. His writings were very numex-ous ; yet none of
2
sons.
TUCUMAN, a province of Pai'aguay, in South A-
merica, bounded on the north by the provinces of Los-
Chicas and Choco ; on the east by Choco and Rio-de-
la-Plata, on the south by the country of Chicuitos and
Pampes, and on the west by Chili. The air is hot, and
the soil sandy; however, some places are fruitful enough.
It now forms part of the republic of Buenos Ayres.
See Buenos Ayres, Supplement.
TUFA, a stone consisting of volcanic ashes concret¬
ed together with various other species of stone. It is of
various colours, blackish gray, bluish gray, and yel¬
low ; every colour having a different mixture and soli¬
dity : but all of them have the bad quality of moulder¬
ing down on long exposure to the weather ; notwith¬
standing which, they have been used in buildings both
ancient and modern. The yelloxv kind resists the air
less than any other.
TULIPA, Tulip ; a genus of plants belonging to
the class of hexandria; and in the natural system ranging
under the loth ox&er, Coronarice. See Botany/
and for the culture of the tulip, see GARDENING.
Tulip-Tree. See Liriodendron, Botany Index.
TULL, Jethro, an Oxfordshire gentleman who
farmed his own land, and introduced a new method 0
culture, to raise repeated crops of wheat from the same
land without the necessity of manure : the principles 0
which he published about 30 years since, in a I realise
on Horse-hoeing Husbandry.
TUMBRELL, TumbreLlum, or Turbichetum, 1*
an engine of punishment, formerly employed for the cor¬
rection of scolds and unquiet women.
TUMEFACTION, the act of swelling or rising in¬
to a tumor.
tumok
TUN [ 503 ] T U R
TUMOR, in Medicine and Surgery, a preternatural
rising or eminence in any part of the body,
ru !• Tumors, in Farriery. See Farriery Index.
—' 1 TUN, a largs vessel or cask, of an oblong form, big¬
gest in the middle, and diminishing towards its two
ends, girt about with hoops, and used for stowing seve¬
ral kinds of merchandise for convenience of carriage;
as brandy, oil, sugar, skins, hats, &c.
Tun is also the name of a measure. A tun of wine
is four hogsheads j of timber, a square of 40 solid feet j
and of coals 20 cwt.
Tun is also a certain weight whereby the burden of
ships, &c. is estimated.
TUNBRIDGE, a town of Kent in England, situ¬
ated on a branch of the river Medway, over which there
is a bridge. It is a large well built place, noted for
the mineral waters four or five miles south of the town.
E. Long. o. 20. N. Lat. 51. 14.
TUNE. See Music and Tone.
TUNGSTEN, one of the metals. See Chemistry
and Mineralogy Index.
TUNICA, a kind of waistcoat or under garment,
in use among the Romans. They wore it within
doors by itself, and abroad under the gown. The
common people could not afford the toga, and so ivent
in their tunics 5 whence Horace calls them poyu/us tu-
nicatvs.
Tunica, in Anatomy, is applied to the membranes
which invest the vessels, and divers others of the less
solid parts of the body 5 thus the intestines aie formed
of five tunics or coats.
TUNIS, a large and celebrated town of Barbary,
in Africa, and capital of a kingdom of the same name.
It is seated on the point of the gulf of Goletta, about
eight miles from the place where the city of Carthage
| stood. ]t is in the form of a long square, and is about
I four miles in circumference, with ten large streets, five
gates, and 35 mosques. The houses are all built with
stone, though but one story high \ but the walls are
very lofty, and flanked with several strong towers. It
has neither ditches nor bastions, but a good citadel,
thefti k'^lt on an eminence on the west side of the city. Its
Tffm-r population is estimated by Mr M‘Gill at 100,000, and
• Stan Mr Blaquiere at 130,000. The divan, or council of
’int) state, assembles in an old palace ; and the dey is the
w.Mj! chief of the republic, who resides there. The harbour
!clv' i °f I unis has a very narrow entrance, through a small
j canal. In the citv they have no water but what is kept
m cisterns, except one well kept for the bashaw’s use.
| R is a place of great trade, and is 10 miles from the
s sea. E. Long. 16. 10. N. Lat. 36. 42.
Tunis, a country of Africa, bounded on the north
and east by the Mediterranean sea and the kingdom of
Iripoli, on the south by several tribes of the Arabs, and
on the west by the kingdom of Algiers and the country
ofEsab j being 300 miles in length from east to west,
and 230 in breadth from north to south. This country
was formerly a monarchy ; but a difference arising be¬
tween a king and his son, one of whom was for the
protection ol the Christians, and the other for that of the
lurks, in 1574 the inhabitants shook off the yoke of
1 Jotb. I'rom this time it became a republic under the
notection of the Turks, but within the last forty years,
t has been almost entirely independent. The air in
jcneral is healthy j but the soil in the eastern parts is
indifferent for want of water. Towards the middle the Tunis
mountains and valleys abound in fruits; but the western II
part is the most fertile, because it is watered with ri- 'I~ulljai1
vers. The environs of Tunis are very dry, upon which
account corn is generally dear. The inroads of the A-
rabs oblige the inhabitants to sow their barley and rye
in the suburbs, and to inclose their gardens with walls.
However, there are plenty of citrons, lemons, oranges,
dates, grapes, and other fruits. There are also olive
trees, roses, and odoriferous plants. In the woods and
mountains there are lions, wild beeves, ostriches, mon¬
keys, cameleons, roebucks, hares, pheasants, partridges,
and other sorts of birds and beasts. The most remark¬
able rivers are the Guadilcarbar, Magrida, Magerada,
and Caps. The form of government is by a council,
whose president is the dey. The members of the divan
or council are chosen by the dey, and he in his turn is
elected by the divan ; which is composed of soldiers,
who have more than once taken off' the dey’s head.
The bashaw who was formerly a Turk, remitted tribute
to Constantinople ; but since Hamooda Bey ascended
the throne in 1787, Tunis has cast off all subjection to
the Forte. The common revenues are only 400,000
crowns a-year, because the people are very poor; nor
can they send above 40,000 men into the field ; nor
more than 12 men of war of the line to sea, even upon
the most extraordinary occasions. There are generally
about 1 2,000 Christian slaves in this country ; and the
inhabitants carry on a great trade in linen and woollen
cloth. In the city of Tunis alone there are about 3000
clothiers and weavers. They also have a trade in horses,
olives, oil, soap, ostriches eggs and feathers. The Ma¬
hometans of this city have nine colleges for students,
and 86 petty schools. The principal religion is Maho¬
metanism ; but the inhabitants consist of Moors, Turks,
Arabs, Jews, and Christian slaves. However the Turks,
though fewest in number, domineer over the Moors,
and treat them little better than slaves. See Barbary
States, Supplement.
TUNKERS, a religious sect of Baptists in Pennsyl¬
vania, so called from the ivord tanker, to put a morsel
in Si nce. They are also called tumblers, because in per¬
forming baptism they plunge the person into the water
with the head first. As the Germans sound the letters r
and b like d and p, the words tankers and tumblers,
have been sometimes written dunkers and dumplers.
Their church government and discipline are the same
with those of the English Baptists, except that every
brother is allowed to speak in the congregation, and the
best speaker is usually ordained to be their minister.
They are a harmless, well-meaning people.
TUNNAGE. See Tonnage.
TUNNY. See Scomber, Ichthyology Index. ,
TUNNY-Fishing. See Fishery.
TURBAN, the head-d ress of most of the eastern na¬
tions. It consists of two parts, a cap and sash of fine
linen or taffety, artfully wound in divers plaits about the
cap. The cap has no brim, is pretty flat, though round¬
ish at top, and quilted with cotton; but does not cover
the ears. There is a good deal of art in giving the tur¬
ban a fine air; and the making of them is a particular
trade. The sash of the Turk’s turban is white linen ;
that of the Persians red woollen. These are the distinguish¬
ing marks of their different religions. Sophi king of
Persia, being of the sect of Ali, was the first who assumed
the.
T 15 H r 504 ] T u n
-Tuvbtvn ^,e re^ colour, to distingulsli himself from the Turks,
|S who are of the sect of Omar, and whom the Persians
Turgot, esteem heretics.
"v TURBINATED, is a term applied by naturalists to
shells which are spiral, or wreathed conically from a
larger basis to a kind of apex.
TURBITH or Turpeth Mineral. See Mer¬
cury, N° 1720 and 1728 Chemistry.
TURBO, the Wreath, a genus of shell-fish. See
Conchology Index.
TURBOT. See Pleuronectes, Ichthyology
Index.
TURCyE or TuRci, (Mela) ; supposed to he the
Tusci of Ptolemy *, whom he places between Caucasus
and the Montes Ceraunii. The name is said to denote,
“ to desolate, or lay waste.” Herodotus places them
among the wild or barbarous nations of the north.
There is a very rapid river called Turk, runningintothe
Caspian sea, from which some suppose the Tnrks to take
their name. They made no figure in the world till to¬
wards the 7th century $ about the beginning of which
they sallied forth from the Portoe Caspise, laid waste
Persia, and joined the Romans against Chosroes king
of Persia. In 1402 they subdued the Persians, in
whose pay they served, and from whom they derived
the Mahometan religion; and afterwards pouring forth,
overran Syria, Cappadocia, and the other countries of
the Hither Asia, under distinct heads or princes, whom
Ottoman subduing, united the whole power in him¬
self, which to this day continues in his family, and who
fixed his seat of empire at Prusa in Bithynia. His suc¬
cessors subdued all Greece, and at length took Constan¬
tinople in 1453 ; which put a period to the Roman em¬
pire in the East, under Constantine the last emperor. It
is a standing tradition or prophecy among the Turks,
that their empire will at length be overturned by the
Franks or Christians; which seems now to be drawing
on apace towards accomplishment.
TURCOISE. See Turq,uoise.
TURCOMANIxi, a province of Asiatic Turkey,
answering to the ancient kingdom of Armenia.
TURDUS, the Thrush ; a genus of birds belong¬
ing to the order of Passeres. See Ornithology
Index.
TURENNE, Viscount. See Tour.
TURF, peat, a blackish earth used in several parts
of the world as fuel. Turf, as distinguished from peat,
consists of mould interwoven with the roots of vege¬
tables.
TURGESCENCE, among physicians, denotes a
swelling or growing bloated.
TURGOT, Anne Robert James, a celebrated
French financier, was born at Paris in 1727, of a very
ancient Norman family. His father was a long time
provost of the corporation of merchants ; during which
he was the object of general admiration, on account of
his prudent administration. M. Turgot was the young¬
est of three brothers, and was destined for the church.
He had scarcely attained the age at which reflection
commences, when he resolved to sacrifice all tempo¬
ral advantages to liberty and conscience, and to pur¬
sue his ecclesiastical studies without declaring his re¬
pugnance to their proposed object. At the age of 23
years he took his degree, and was elected prior of the
Sorbonne. 3 ,
The time when it was necessary for him to declare
that he would not be an ecclesiastic was now arrived, -j '
He announced this resolution to his father by letter, ■ , ‘
showing the motives which induced him to decline the
clerical order. His father consented, and he was ap¬
pointed master of requests. M. Turgot prepared himself
for this office by particular application to those parts of
science which are most connected with its functions and
duties, viz. natural philosophy, agriculture, manufac¬
tures, commerce, &c. About this period he wrote
some articles for the Encyclopedic, of which the princi¬
pal are Etymology, Existence, Expansibility, Fair, and
Foundation. He had prepared several others, but the
persecution against the Encyclopedic induced him to de¬
cline farther contributions.
In 1761 M. Turgot was appointed intendant of Li¬
moges, when he gave activity to the society of agricul¬
ture ; opened a mode of public instruction for female
professors of midwifery ; procured for the people the at¬
tendance of able physicians during the raging of epide¬
mic diseases ; established houses of industry, supported
by charity (the only species of alms-giving which does
not encourage idleness) ; introduced the cultivation of
potatoes into his province, See. &c. While M. Turgot
proceeded with unremitting activity and zeal, in pro¬
moting the good of the people over whom he was placed,
he meditated projects of a more extensive nature, such
as an equal distribution of the taxes, the construction
of the roads, the regulation of the militia, the preven¬
tion of a scarcity of provision, and the protection of
commerce.
At the death of Louis XV. the public voice called
M. Turgot to the first offices of government, as a man
who united the experience resulting from habits of bu¬
siness to all the improvement which study can procure.
After being at the head of the marine department only
a short time, he was, Aug. 24. 1774, appointed comp¬
troller general of the finances. During his discharge
of this important office, the operations he carried on are
astonishing. He suppressed 23 kinds of duties on ne¬
cessary occupations, useful contracts, or merited com¬
pensations. He abolished the corvee, or the labour re¬
quired from the public for the highways, saving the na¬
tion thirty millions of livres annually.—-He set aside
another kind of corvee, which respected the carriage of
military stores and baggage.—He abated the rigour in
the administration of indirect impositions, to the great
profit of the contributors, the king, and the financiers;
beside many other essential improvements in political
economy.
At length, however, by the artifices of the courtiers,
he was deprived of his offices; and in retirement be de¬
voted himself to the sciences and the belles lettres, which
he had cultivated in his youth. Natural philosophy ami
chemistry were his favourite pursuits ; sometimes he in¬
dulged in poetry. He composed, it is said, only one
Latin verse, intended for a picture of Dr Franklin.
Eripuit ccdo fulmen, mox sceptra tyranms.
He died in 1781.
TURIN, an ancient and populous city of Italy, and
capital of Piedmont, where the sovereign resides, vvitli
an archbishop’s see, a strong citadel, and an university*
It is seated on a vast plain, at the confluence of the ri¬
vers Doria and Po. But the air is unhealthy in the au¬
tumn
TUB
L' 505 ]
TUB
Turlil,
Turkey.
1
ation
tumn and winter on account of the thick fogs. One half
of this place is lately built 5 and the streets are straight
and clean, being washed by an aqueduct. It contains
many elegant buildings. When the plague reigned at
Marseilles in 1720, a great number of artificers with¬
drew to Turin ; insomuch that there are now above
87,000 inhabitants, and 48 churches and convents.
Turin is very well fortified, and extremely strong ; as
the French found by experience in 1706, who then be¬
sieged it a long while to no purpose. The citadel, which
is flanked with five bastions, is without doubt a master¬
piece of architecture. There are fine walks on the ram¬
parts, and fine gardens on the side of the river Po $ and
the hnuse commonly called La Charite is remarkable, as
there is room for 3000 poor people. The college of the
academy is very large and well built, and has a great
number of ancient inscriptions. In the royal library are
19,000 manuscripts, besides 30,000 printed books. In
December 1798, it was taken possession of by the
French, who in June following were driven out of it by
the Austrians. But with the rest of Italy it is now un¬
der the dominion of the French. It is charmingly seat¬
ed at the foot of a mountain, 62 miles north-east of Ge¬
noa, 72 south-west of Milan, and 280 north-west of
Rome. E. Long. 7. 45. N. Lat. 44. 50.
TURKEY, an extensive empire, situated partly in
s extcsl Europe, and partly in Asia. It is bounded on the north
by the empire of Russia, Hungary, and the Black seaj
on the west by the gulf of Venice and the Mediterra¬
nean ; on the south by the Mediterranean and Arabia j
and on the east by Persia. In its present state, we may
compute it as extending from the river Unna, in east
longitude about 170, to the mountains which separate it
from Persia, in about 50° of east longitude from Green¬
wich, or about 330 from west to east’, while from the most
southerly point, a little above Bassora, in north latitude
310, to the confines of European Russia, in north latitude
47°, it occupies a range of 160 of latitude. In British miles
itsextentisestimated at 1750 in length,by a medial breadth
ol about 1000, and its area at 652,960 square miles.
Turkey is naturally divided into European and Asia¬
tic, separated from each other by the Black sea, the Ar¬
chipelago, and the straits by which these are connected.
European Turkey is subdivided into n provinces, viz.
Moldavia, Bessarabia, Walachia, Bosnia, Ser-
Via (partially), Bulgaria, Romelia (including Ma¬
cedonia and Thrace), Dalmatia, Albania (including
Epirus), Croatia (partially), and the Morea, or an¬
cient Greece; while Asiatic Turkey is subdivided into
seven provinces, viz. Natolia (Asia Minor), Diar-
®ec (Mesopotamia), Syria (including/wc/<p«), Geor¬
gia (26en’a),TuRCOMANlA (Armenia), Irac-Arabia,
and Kurdistan (Assyria). See each of these articles
in the general alphabet,
The islands belonging to Turkey are extremely nu¬
merous ; comprising those of the Archipelago, or the
Grecian islands, and several in the Levant. The most
important are Lemnos, Lesbos or Mytclenc, Scio,
Samos, Cos, Rhodes, Cyprus, Candia, Paros, De¬
los, Naxia, Sanctorini, Patmos, Negropont, An-
DRO*, Colteri or Salami's*, Egina, Zante *, Ce-
phalonia, Leucadia, Corfu, and Cerigo or Cy-
YaC( therea, which see under their proper heads,
tcmc t*le . European and Asiatic Turkey abound in moun¬
tainous tracts, interspersed with numerous plains and
Voi. XX. Part II, t
valleys, and here and there a desert of considerable ex- Tutkev,
tent. The plains are watered by numerous large ri- ——y—
vers, and, in the Asiatic part, consist chiefly of pasture
grounds.
Among the mountains of European Turkey may be Mouiitains.
noticed the Carpathian chain, which divides it from the
Austrian territories } the celebrated mountains of Hee-
mus ; the Acroceraunian mountains j and the classical
hills of Pindus, Ossa, Pelion, and Athos. The most im¬
portant mountains of Asiatic Turkey are, Mount Cauca¬
sus, dividing it from Russia; Mount Taurus, now called
Thuron; Olympus; Ida; the mountains of Elivend, and
perhaps Mount Ararat, the resting-place of the Ark,
dividing it from Persia ; and Mount Lebanon, celebra¬
ted in scripture for its cedars.
The principal river of European Turkey is the Da-Rivers,
nube, with its tributary streams, the Save, the Morava,
the Bosna, and the Pruth ; but we may also notice the
Marissa or Hebrus, and the Vardan or Axius. In Asia¬
tic Turkey are seen the Kisil-Irmak or Halys, the Sac-
caria, the Sarabat or Hermus, the Minder or Meander,
the Araxes, the Orontes, the Jordan, and the Euphrates.
The lakes of European Turkey are of little import-LakesL
ance, and in the Asiatic part there are only three that
merit notice. These are the Dead sea and the sea of
Galilee in Palestine, and the Van in Armenia. g
The climate in the greater part of the Turkish em-Climate
pire is delightful, and the seasons mild and genial. The and sea“
heats of the summer, except in the deserts of Syria, andsous*
on the shores of the Black sea, are tempered bv tbe
keen winds that blow fiom the higher regions, and the
winter is in general extremely mild. The unhealthi¬
ness of the large towns on the coast of Asiatic Turkey,
is owing much more to the indolent and dirty habits of
the people, than to any insalubrity of the climate. 9
Turkey affords a most ample field to the naturalist, Natural
whether his taste lead him to explore tbe animal, the history,
vegetable, or the mineral kingdom. In the first of these
he will find the lion, a variety of the tiger, the hyena,
the juckkll, the ibex, the goat and cat of Angora, and
many other quadrupeds common in Europe. Among
the birds, one of the most numerous and most useful is
the stork ; partridges of a large size, quails, woodcocks,
cranes, and several birds of prey, are also very common.
The Black sea and the Archipelago abound with excel¬
lent fish, and contain great variety of curious mollusca,
and other marine animals'. Among the insects, that de¬
structive animal the locust is a frequent visitant ; and
Sonnini particularises the tarantula, and a monstrous
species of spider, which he calls galeode araneoide, ov
the scorpion spider. Of the domestic animals, the Turks
abound in excellent horses, asses of a large size, and
that most useful beast of burden, the camel.
To enumerate the vegetable productions of Turkey,
would far exceed our scanty limits. The forests of Eu¬
ropean Turkey, though far less extensive than in ancient
times, furnish abundance of the finest timber, especially
oak, cedar, larch, walnut, chesnut, and beech, while
the olive, the date, the almond, the peech, the mulberry,
the cherry, the lemon, and the orange, are the natural
productions of Asiatic Turkey. Many of the mo: t va¬
luable drugs employed in medicine, are also the produce
of this empire, especially opium,rhubarb, myrrh,a.-^aioe-
tida and other fetid gums, scammony, senna, galls, and
coloquintida.
3 S Bed
TUB
[ 506 ]
TUB
Turkey.
10
Outline of
Both golfl and silver mines are found' in Turkey, but
from the indolence of the natives they are scarcely ever
worked. Many of the islands abound in mineral trea¬
sures, especially Cyprus, where are found mines of gold,
copper, vitriol, and iron 5 and where rock crystal, jas¬
per, and several precious stones, are occasionally pro¬
cured. The chief mineral production of Turkey, how¬
ever, is its marble, of which it furnishes several of the
most rare and beautiful varieties. That from the Gre¬
cian island Paros, is proverbially excellent.
The people whom we now call Turks, and who form
the Turkish the great mass of population of the Turkish empire, are
history. generally believed to be the descendants of the ancient
Scythians. These are supposed to have migrated from
the Altai mountains in Tartary, about the middle of
the sixth century, and to have gradually diffused them¬
selves towards the west, till they reached the lake Mteo-
tis, the modern sea of Azof, near which they settled in
Armenia Minor or Turcomania. At this time the Ro¬
man empire in the east was sufficiently strong to prevent
the invadersfrom extending beyond the river Qxus,on the
banks of which they established themselves, and soon be-
T l came a formidable foe to the emperors of Constantinople.
Foundation There is little certain or interesting in the history of
of the Ot- these barbarians till the reign of the caliph Othman, or
toman em- Osman, who in the end of the 13th centurv established
A D 110c what from him has been called the Ottoman empire. He
’first took the title of sultan, and fixed the seat of his go¬
vernment at Prusa, the capital of Bithynia. His succes¬
sor Orkan was a restless, ambitious, and cruel prince,
who greatly extended the limits of the empire, took pos¬
session of Gallipoli, and penetrated into Thrace. Amu-
rath the grandson of Osman, in 1362, established the fa-
ment of the iykhis military bands cal led Jani'Zaries, which still form
i -G*231108' eng‘nes antl chief moderators of Turkish de¬
spotism. These were first composed of young Christian
slaves that had been taken in war, and educated in the
Mohammedan religion. They were inured to obe¬
dience by severe discipline, and trained to warlike ex-
ergise} and as every sentiment which enthusiasm can
inspire, and every mark of honour which the favour of
the prince could confer, were employed to animate them
with martial ardour, and excite in them a sense of their
own importance, these janizaries, (or new soldiers) soon
became the chief strength and pride of the Ottoman
arms. On the assassination of Amurath in 1389, he
was succeeded by his son Bajazet, surnamed llderim,
or the Thunderbolt, whose reign forms one of the most
splendid epochs in the Turkish history.
Early in this reign, viz. in 1396, the Hungarians
were defeated at Nicopoli in Bulgaria, and in 1402,
An. 1389. Ava3 fought the famous battle between Bajazet and Ti¬
mur or Tamerlane, the chief of the Moguls, between
Cesarea and Aneyra, which ended in the captivity of
Bajazet, and the temporary humiliation of the Turks.
See Moguls, N° 19. and 20.
On the. death of Bajazet, his son Mousa became sul¬
tan, and in 1412 defeated the emperor Sigismund with
great slaughter. Mousa was succeeded by his brother
Mohammed I. by whom he had been assassinated. The
reign of Amurath II. successor of Mohammed, contri¬
buted greatly to increase the splendour of the Turkish
empire. In this reign Constantinople was attacked, but
for the present escaped pillage. Amurath was success-
iully opposed ia his hostilities against the Christian
12
Establish-
. r3
Reign of
Rajazet.
princes, by the Albanian chief George Castriota, whom Tudcyt
the Turks call Scanderbeg *. '—-^r-—
Amurath was succeeded by Mohammed II. and soon * $ee
after his accession, viz. in 1453, the city of Constant!-
nople was taken by the Turks, and has ever since ic- Taking 0f
mained the capital of their empire. The events ofConstanti.
which we have thus drawn the faint outline, are relatedH°ple,
at some length in the article Constantinofolitan Au‘ MSI*
History, N° 111—168. . . 15
Three years after the taking of Constantinople, Mo- Mt-hcr
. ... tv . . r* . • t .. f'PKVPC nf
hammed laid siege to Belgrade, from which, after an
obstinate resistance, he was at length repulsed with con-^j,
siderable loss. Abandoning his attempt on Hungary,
the sultan made preparations for an expedition into-
Greece, where the princes Thomas and Demetrius,,
brothers of the emperor, still continued to maintain
their authority. Alarmed at the progress of the Turk-,
ish arms, these princes resolved on retiring into Italy,,
on which the peninsula was seized by the Albanians.
This tribe sent a deputation to Mohammed, offering to
give up to him the Grecian cities and fortresses, pro¬
vided they should be allowed to keep the open country;
but this offer was rejected by the sultan, who under the:
appearance of assisting the Greeks, entered the country
with a formidable army, defeated,the Albanians, took
several cities, and carried off great numbers of the in¬
habitants. 16
Mohammed was, succeeded by his second son Baja-Bajazet 11
zet II. in 1481, preferred by the janizaries to his An. 14S1.
elder brother Zizan, who fled for protection to Pope
Alexander VI. by whom he is said to have been poison¬
ed, at the instigation of Bajazet, and for the reward of
300,000 ducats. Selim, his youngest son and successor, An' M12-
was a successful prince. He conquered Egypt, Aleppo;
Antioch, Tripoli, Damascus, and Gaza, and defeated
the Persians. Solyman, surnamed the Magnificent,
one of the most accomplished, enterprising, and warlike,
of the Turkish princes, ascended the Ottoman throne
in consequence of the death of Selim. r7
Having quelled some insurrections in Asia, he com- ‘
menced hostilities against the European princes, and en-
tering Hungary, made himself master ol Belgrade, then
reckoned the chief harrier of that kingdom against the
Turkish power. He next turned his victorious arms
against the island of Rhodes, then the seat ol the knights
of St John of Jerusalem. After incredible efforts, of
courage and military conduct, thy. knights obtained an
honourable capitulation, and relived to the small island
of Malta, where they fixed their residence. Sec Mal¬
ta. Pie afterwards annexed Hungary to the Ottoman
empire. His dominions extended from Algiers to the
river Euphrates, and from the farther end ot the Black
sea to the extremity ol Greece and Epirus. During the
siege of Sigeth, a city of Hungary, before which the
Turks lost above 30,000 men, Solyman expired in the
74th year of his age, and 41st ot his reign. kl
His son and successor, Selim II. besieged and took
Cyprus ; but in the famous sea fight at Lepanto, in
1.571, the Turkish fleet was utterly destroyed by Do11
John of Austria. He afterwards invested and took lu-
nis by storm, putting the garrison to the sword.
On his death, Amurath III. ascended the Ottoman)
throne, and extended his dominions on both sidepy An*i0
the addition of Raab in Hungary and Tigris in afr'
siav His son,, Mohammed III. has no claim to notice.
except
,111*
1 irkey.
T U It [507
except on account of his barbarity. He began his reign
by strangling 19 of his brothers, and ordering 12 of his
20 father’s wives, whom he suspected to be pregnant, to be
U itmued drowned. This monster of cruelty had, however, a suc-
1 cessful reign of nine years duration. During the govern-
4 net I. ment of his son, Achmet I. the affairs of Turkey under-
A 1603. went a material change for the worse *. On his death,
e e jIc/j-the janizaries and the divan elected his brother Musta-
T U It
Lmrali
V,}
Ain 622.
pha, whom in two months they declared incapable of
reigning, and threw him into prison ; after this they
proclaimed his young nephew, Osman, the son of Ach¬
met, emperor. This prince formed a design of curbing
the power of the janizaries, for which he was deposed
and murdered ; and Mustapha was again called from
his prison to the imperial throne, but was soon after
strangled.
Under Amurath, or Morad IV. surnamed Gasi, the
Intrepid, every tiling again assumed a new appearance.
He was successful in his wars, and took Bagdat from
the Persians. A debauch of wine put an end to his life,
49
S7.
HI,
, 26
'lustaj
and dishonoured his memory. His son Ibrahim, who
succeeded him, had every vice ; he was a weak prince,
and wholly destitute of courage. He was strangled by
four mutes.
anied After a long interval of inactivity, the Turks again
became formidable to Europe, under Mohammed IV.
who succeeded him. His grand visier Kupuli, who at
once directed the councils and conducted the armies of
the Porte, took Candia from the Venetians. A fter car¬
rying on many wars against the Germans, the Poles,
the Russians, and other European powers, he was com¬
pelled to resign the turban to Solyman II. in 1687, a
prince happy in his domestic government, but unsuccess¬
ful in his wars. His brother, Achmet II. was likewise
ch- unfortunate in his wars. In his reign the Turks were
driven out of Hungary and Transyl vaniaf. The acces-
ia sion of his nephew, Mustapha II. to the Ottoman
throne, gave a new turn to the affairs of the Porte.
55. Possessed of more vigour than his predecessor, he resolv¬
ed to command Ins troops 111 person. He accordingly
took the field, passed the Danube, stormed Lippa, seiz¬
ed Itul, and falling suddenly on a body of Imperialists,
Under ^ eterani,he killed that officer, dispersed bis forces,
and closed with success the campaign. He was after¬
wards defeated by Prince Eugene in an uncommonly
bloody battle at Zenta, a small village on the western
bank-ot the Phuyse, in the kingdom of Hongary. A-
bout 20,000 i urks were left dead on the field, and
10,000 were drowned in the river, endeavoming to a-
void the fury ot the sword. ■ The magnificent pavilion
of ths sultan, and all the stores, fell into the hands of
Prince Eugene, and soon after this misfortune the
haughty Mustapha was dethroned.
His brother and successor, Achmet III. gave an a-
svlum to Charles XII. king of Sweden, at Bender, a
Turkish town in Moldavia, after his defeat at the battle
of Pultava. (See Russia, N° 118. and Sweden, N0
I40.). Being unsuccessful in his war against Kouli
Ehan and the Persians (see Persia), he was deposed,
and succeeded by Mohammed V.
From the deposition of Achmet III. till the accession
ofMustapba III. in 1754» nothing of importance oc¬
curs in the history of the Turkish empire. During the
reign of this latter sultan was begun and terminated that
estructive war with Russia, of which the principal events
have been enumerated in the article Russia, N° 143 Tnrkev.
and 144. ' 1 y —' 1
In this reign an extraordinary alarm was excited in 27
Turkey by the sudden appearance ef a new prophet in
Upper Asia. This man, whose name wasSAiek Mansour, ne^pro”
pretended that he was predoomed by the eternal im-phetinAsia.
mutable decrees of heaven to fill up the measure of di¬
vine revelation to mankind ; and that, as he was to he
the last, so he ivas the greatest of the prophets. The
scene of his ministry was in the wide and desolate re¬
gions on the borders of the Caspian sea 5 and though
the first rumour of his proceedings represented him as at
the head of a multitude of armed enthusiasts, ready to
overturn the established government, and the religion of
Mohammed, it was soon discovered that all the military
fury of his zeal was directed against the Christians. aS
About the same time a formidable rebellion broke A rebellion
out in Egypt, which, though it has never properly form-in Egypt,
ed a part of the Turkish empire, may be considered as
tributary to the Turks, and as constituting the granary
ol that empire. This rebellion which has been suffi¬
ciently noticed under the article Egypt, N° 123, was
suppressed chiefly by the wise conduct and intrepid bra¬
very ot Hossan Bey, the captain pacha, who at the age
of 70, fought with all the ardour of youth, and all the
skill of the most consummate general. That veteran,
however, was recalled before he was able to carry all
Ins patriotic designs into execution, that he might aid
the divan with his counsel, in the critical situation into
which the empire was brought by the arrogant claims
of the court of Russia. I he result of the deliberations
was a precipitate declaration of war against that court,
contrary to the better judgment of the old pacha.
The war commenced in autumn 1787, and the hordes
of 1 artars which were first brought into the field, head¬
ed by the new prophet, were everywhere defeated bv
the superior discipline ot the Russian troops commanded
by Prince Potemkin. Some enterprises which were un¬
dertaken by the Turks against the island of Taman and
the Krimea were attended with as little success as the
attempts ot the Tartars; while the emperor Joseph de¬
clared to the Porte, that he wTould assist his ally the em¬
press of Russia with an army of 80,000 men. Four
Austrian armies were accordingly assembled ; one at
Carlstadt in Croatia, under the command of General de
^ ins; another at Peterwaradin in Hungary, command¬
ed by General Langlois ; a third on the borders of Li¬
thuania, under General Febris ; and the fourth in the
Buccowine, under the orders of the prince of Saxe-Co-
bourg. Two other generals, 10 lieutenant-generals,
and 30 major generals, were all ordered to prepare for
active service in the frontier armies.
The war between the Turks and Austrians was car¬
ried on with various success. At first the advantage
was evidently on the side of the Ottomans, and the im¬
perial Joseph acquired no warlike renown. Elis declar¬
ed purpose was to get possession of Belgrade; from
which, however, he was repulsed with disgrace. The
prince of Saxe-Cobourg in his department of the war
displayed indeed prodigies of valour ; hut being opposed
to a superior force, he was long obliged to act only on
the defensive. At length being joined by a body of
Russian forces underGeneral Soltikofi, preparations were
made for commencing in form the siege of Choczim,
which was surrendered to the allied armies on Michael-
4 >8 2 mas
T U ft
[ 5oB ]
t u n
Turkey.
mas day 1788, after a defence winch would have done
honour to the ablest general in Europe. Still, however,
success seemed to lean to the Turks. The grand visier
made a sudden incursion into the Bannat, and spread
consternation and dismay to the very gates of Vienna.
The Austrian affairs seemed approaching to a very a-
larming crisis ; not only the splendid views of conquest
which were beheld in the imagined partition of a totter¬
ing empire had totally disappeared, but had left in their
place the sad and gloomy reverse of a discontented and
impoverished people, an exhausted treasury, and an army
thinned by pestilence and desertion. The first campaign
of an invasive war had already produced an impression
on the territory of the invader.
In this situation of affairs Marshal Laudohn was with
some difficulty drawn from his retirement to take the
command of the army in Croatia j and under his auspi¬
ces fortune began to smile on the Austrian arms. He
quickly reduced Dubicza and Nevi, though they were
both defended by the most obstinate bravery. He then
sat down before Turkish Gradisca j but the autumnal
rains coming on with such violence, that the Save over¬
flowed its banks, he was compelled to raise the siege.
During this period the war in the Bannat raged with
the utmost violence $ torrents of blood were shed on
both sides j much desperate valour displayed on the one
side, and many brave actions performed on the other;
while a very great part of that line but unfortunate coun¬
try suffered all the desolation and ruin that firej and
sword, under the dominion of vengeance and animosity,
could inflict. The inhabitants were objects of commi¬
seration ; but the injustice with which the emperor had
commenced the war, made his personal losses be consi¬
dered as nothing more than the due reward of his conduct.
In the midst of these military operations Achmet IV.
was deposed, and succeeded by Selim III. the late sul¬
tan. The new emperor did not want either courage
or prudence, and he continued the war with Russia
and Austria, with great spirit and resolution. Those
events of this war in which the Russians were more im¬
mediately concerned, have been already noticed under
the article Russia, N° 156, 158, 160 and 161 j so
that we have merely to relate the remaining operations
of the Austrians.
Marshal Laudohn renewed his attempts upon Gradis¬
ca as soon as the season would permit, and after a brave
defence it fell into his hands. This, with some other
successes, roused the emperor from his inactivity, and
made him seriously determine on the attack which he
had long meditated on Belgrade. The enterprise was
intrusted to Laudohn, who, with that good fortune
which seemed constantly to attend him, made himself
master of the place in less than a month. The rest of
the campaign was little else than a series of the most
important successes. While one detachment of Gene¬
ral Laudohn’s forces took possession of Czernitz in Wa¬
lachia, another made itself master of Cladova in Servia.
Bucharest, the capital of the former of these provinces,
fell without opposition into the hands of Prince Co-
bourg j while Akerman on the Black sea was reduced
by the Russians j and Bender surrendered to Prince Po¬
temkin, not without suspicion of sinister practices, on
Peace with of November.
Austria, ooon alter this, the emperor Joseph died, and his suc-
An. 1790. cessor Leopold shewed a desire for peace. After the re¬
Turkey.
Accession
of Selim
111.
An, 17
3°
JV] arshal
ILaudohn
takes Gra¬
disca and
UeLrade.
duction of Orsova, therefore, which happened on the
16th of April 1790, the war was carried on with lan-'
guor on the part of Austria } and in the month of June
a conference was agreed on at Reichenbach, at which
the ministers of Prussia, Austria, Britain, and the Unit¬
ed Provinces, assisted, and at which also an envoy
from Poland was occasionally present. After a nego-
ciation, which continued till the 17th of August, it was
agreed that a peace should be concluded between the
king of Hungary and the Ottoman Porte j that the basis
of this treaty should be a general surrender of all the
conquests made by the former, retaining only Choczim
as a security till the Porte should accede to the terms of
the agreement, when it also was to be restored.
In the following year the Porte was compelled to con-and witi
elude a peace with the empress of Russia, and from that ^uss12*
period till the deposition of Selim in 1807, no event of
consequence has occurred. The Porte has alternately
been at war with Britain and with France, but in nei¬
ther contest has she acquired either honour or territory.
As the very confined limits to which we are now redu¬
ced forbid us to dwell on these minor transactions, we
shall hasten to conclude this historical outline with au
account of the revolution which placed Mustapha IV.
on the Ottoman empire.
In the spring 1807, ^ie sP*r*t °f insurrection had
shown itself among the janizaries belonging to the gar¬
risons of the Dardanelles, and in the camp of the grand
vizier. In the afternoon of the 25th of May, the gar- ^
risons of the castles of the Dardanelles were in a state £)ep0S;ijrt
of tumult, on account of the European uniform, the new of Selim
tactics, &c. Dali Aga, the commandant of Madschia-and accet‘
burna, on the Asiatic shore, was murdered. Indsches‘on,0 jy“
Bey, commandant of the entrance of the Black sea,
only escaped the same fate by flight. The reis effendi
happening to come to inspect that post just at the same
time, the military immediately rose upon him as one of
the introducers of the nizam geded. He endeavoured
to save himself in a bark, by passing over to Buyuk-
dere, but 100 pistol shots laid him and his attendants
dead. It seems that the rage of the janizaries had
been embittered against him by the recollection of a
promise he made to raise their pay, on condition they
would adopt the new discipline, and which promise he
never performed.
Another circumstance increased the spirit of opposi¬
tion j the sultan had given notice that the janizaries
were no longer to attend him as usual to the mosque,
but that this duty was to devolve upon the troops dis¬
ciplined after the European manner. Thousands of
janizaries were now marching to Constantinople, and
arrived in the suburb of Pera on the evening of the
28th. They swore to each other to conduct the re¬
volution with the best order. Any person who should
in the least injure any Frank was to suffer death.
One individual janizary only met with his fate, foi'
taking bread from a Greek (a baker), without paying
for it. Behind the janizaries barracks, in the well-
known place called Eimeldan, the janizaries planted
their colours, and took with them their camp kettles j an
infallible signal of insurrection. For a time, the sultan
thought of defending himself; and troops, powder, and
cannon, were brought to the seraglio. Soon after the
mufti, the seimen basche, the kaimakan, and the two
kazeakars of Romelia and Natolia, joined the Jani‘
zanes*
T U It
C 509 1
T U It
fit
opuli m
Ulijr,
-.over
sent.
zaries. A council was held in form, and it was pro¬
posed as a preliminary, to request the grand seignior
to abolish the new discipline by a fettiva from the mufti.
The grand seignior, however, thought he should be able
to put a stop to the insurrection before the step could
be taken, in consequence of his sending the heads of
Mahmud, Tersana Emin, Hagi Ibrahim, and the kiaga
Mehmesch Effendi, to the Eimeldan. This measure
completely failed ; the janizaries were more enraged
than ever *, they did not require the heads of the uni¬
versally esteemed Mahmud Effendi, but that of the Reis
Effendi, then in the camp of the grand vizier.
The janizaries continued to search every place for
those ministers, who had promoted the adoption ot the
European discipline, and publicly avowed themselves as
its patrons, namely, Fransisto, Ibrahim, Jussuf Aga,
Hadschi Ibrahim, and AchmetBey, captains of the grand
seignior’s guard, Hassan Aga, Achmet Effendi, and
others, 12 in number, who were all taken, dragged to the
Eimeldan, and there cut to pieces. At this juncture the
grand seignior sent a hatti scheriff, a letter written in
his own hand, in which he for ever abolished the nizam
geded, and pronounced an execration on it. But the
hatti scheriff was uot now accepted ; the deposition of
the grand seignior was resolved on. The whole force
of the janizaries now proceeded to the seraglio. The
mufti and the ullemas alone entered the haram, while
the rest of the ministers, the agas, the janizaries, and the
people, surrounded the palace.
Mustapha IV. born on the 7th of September I799>
the eldest son of the sultan Achmet iV. set aside in
1789, was raised to the Turkish throne, And accord¬
ing to ancient custom, Selim, the former sultan, threw
himself at the feet of Mustapha, kissed the border of his
garment, and immediately repaired to that department
of the seraglio occupied by the princes of the Ottoman
blood who no longer reign.
In 1811 the Turks were involved in hostilities again
with Russia. After losing several battles, the main body
of the Turkish army surrendered prisoners of war to the
Russians on the 6th December 1811. The Russians
now found scarcely any obstacle to their progress, and
continued to advance through the country, along the
western shores of the Black Sea ; when the invasion of
Russia by the French in 1812, saved the Porte from
disasters that otherwise seemed inevitable. Peace was
obtained with the sacrifice of Bessarabia, and a part of
Moldavia, early in 1812.
The population of the whole Turkish empire is esti¬
mated at 21,000,000. Of these 14,000,000 have been
allotted to Asiatic Turkey, and the remaining 7,000,000
to Turkey in Europe. A considerable part of this po¬
pulation consists of Jews and mercantile Christians, from
different parts of Europe, who are distinguished by the
name of Franks.
The government of Turkey is despotic, but the
power of the sultan is by no means so absolute as we
are generally led to suppose. Besides, being strictly
subject to the laws of the Koran, and thus to the na¬
tional religion, such obstructions to his absolute will are
raised by the power of the mufti, or chief priest and judge,
by the frequent insurrections of the janizaries, and the
ambition of the pachas, or governors of provinces, that
*nauy Christian sovereigns are much more despotic.
The principal title of the sultans is, as we have seen, Turkcj.
grand seignior, and the court of Constantinople is usu- '“"v
ally styled the Porte, or Ottoman Porte, either from the
large gate at the entrance of the seraglio, or, what is
more probable, from the palace of the vizier, where all
the affairs of state are transacted. The principal mini¬
sters of the Porte are the grand vizier or prime minister,
the mufti, the reis effendi or chief secretary of state,
the kislar-aga or chief of the black eunuchs, and the aga
of the janizaries.
The revenue of the whole Tuikish empire is not ac* Revenues,
curately known, but has been estimated at 3,000,000!.
sterling. It is partly derived from the capitation tax
on unbelievers and from the customs, bat principally
from the tax on land. 37
The military strength of Turkey is but inconsider-Military
able for so large an empire. The whole of the land strength,
forces are supposed never to exceed 150,000 men, and
these are ill disciplined, and now dispirited by successive
disastrous wars. The navy is estimated at 30 sail of the
line ; but the ships are ill built, badly manned, and
wretchedly navigated. „s
The established religion of Turkey is Mahometanism, Rei;gjon
the tenets of which have been already explained under and laws,
the articles Mahometanism and Alcoran. The laws
of the empire are entirely founded on the Koran j but
in particular cases the judges are guided by certain com¬
mentaries on that work, which have acquired the force
of laws. The chief of these are the commentaries of
Ahou-Hanife.
The mufti, or Mohammedan pontiff, resides at Con¬
stantinople, but his power has seldom interfered with the
civil government. Next to him in rank are the mou-
lahs, who, though esteemed dignitaries of the church,
are in fact rather doctors of the law, while the Koran
is also a code of civil observance. From the moulahs
are selected the inferior muftis or judges throughout the
empire, and the eadelesquiers, or chief justices. The
next class of divines includes the imaums, or parish
priests, who perform the service of the mosques, while
the cadis are judges annually appointed to administer
justice in the towns and villages, and being regarded
as churchmen, like the moulahs, have directed their
chief attention to the judicial part of the Koran. From
this brief view it will be observed, that the ecclesiastical
orders of muftis and imaums somewhat resemble the
Christian bishops and parochial clergy j while the other
distinctions arise from the singularity of both religion
and laws being united in the Koran, so that a lawyer or
judge must be at the same time a skilful divine. The
Turks have also their monks, styled dervishes, of four
various orders and institutions, dedicated by solemn
vows to religious offices, public prayer, and preaching.
The Greeks, along with their faith, retain their priests,
bishops, archbishops, and patriarchs j but their church
is in the last state of degradation, and its dignities
openly sold by the Turks ; this abomination, however,
it must be confessed, partly arises from the miserable
ambition and avarice of the Greek ecclesiastics, who
think they can atone by idle ceremonies for the neglect
of all the invaluable morality of the gospel. ^
The Turkish language is of far inferior reputation Language
to the Persian or Arabic, being a mixture of several dia-and htera-
lects, and possessing neither the force, elegance, nor pu-ture*
rity
TUB
40
' ®f com-
[ 5
Turkey, rity of these two celebrated oriental tongues. Litera-
 v  tore, however, is not wholly neglected, and it has been
repeatedly attempted to establish a printing-press at
Constantinople 5 but the design failed from the interest
of the copyists, who inferred that this art would deprive
thejm of their bread. A late traveller informs us that
there are in this capital several buttuk-chans, or public
libraries, among which are those of St Sophia, and the
Solimanie Jamasy 5 but none are so elegant as that
founded by the grand vizier Raghid, which is wholly
built of marble in the midst of a square court, and is
filled with books chiefly theological. A librarian con¬
stantly attends, and there are convenient seats with car¬
pets and cushions. In the neighbourhood is a school
founded by the same vizier, in which about icoo boys
are taught to read and write. The market for books is
extensive, containing many shops well supplied with
oriental manuscripts. The Turks have their ancient
poe^ts, historians, and divines ; but of little reputation
when compared with those of Persia and Arabia. The
state of education among the Turks may be conceived
to be very low, and ignorance is indeed a chief part of
the national character. The only profession which re¬
quires a shadow of learning is that of the law, which is
intimately connected with their theology. The cele¬
brated doctors have disciples, who are trained up to that
department ; but there seems nothing that can deserve
the name of college or university.
The Turks cannot be regarded as a commercial peo¬
ple, though they admit of an extensive commercial in¬
tercourse with the states of Europe, through the medium
of Frank and Greek merchants. The chief ports are
Smyrna and Constantinople, the former of which is the
great centre of the Levant trade, while the latter is
concerned chiefly in the trade with Russia, by the Black
sea. At both these ports, and indeed throughout the
Turkish empire, the trade is nominally carried on by
factors from the different European states •, but it is ma¬
naged more immediately by Jew or Armenian brokers,
who take numerous advantages of the ignorance of the
factors, and seldom fail to enrich themselves at the ex¬
pence of their employers. The commodities exported
from Turkey, chiefly to Britain, Germany, Italy, Hol¬
land, and France, consist for the most part of bees wax,
boxwood, silk, cotton yarn, walnut planks, sponges,
opium, and other drugs enumerated in N° 9. madder
root, and other dye stalls, and various dried fruits, such
as figs, raisins, and currants. The imports are chiefly
tin and tin plates, sugar, shalloons, cotton yarn and cot¬
ton goods, muslins, clocks and watches, cutlery and
glass ware, indigo, gunpowder, pistols and military stores,
logwood, rum, coffee, and various spices, especially pep¬
per, ginger, and cinnamon. The exports are principally
from Smyrna, where the trade is carried on almost'en-
tirely by way of exchange, while at Constantinople the
imports are generally paid for by cash or bills. The
exchange is commonly against the Turks.
The Turkish money usually employed in commerce
is the piastre, which, according to the exchange or
agio, is rated at from 13 to 17 in the English pound
sterling, so that the average value of the piastre is about
is. 6d. Each piastre is divided into 40 paras, and each
para into three aspers. The principal weight employed
is the kintal, equal to about one cwt. English, divided
An to 44 oke, and each oke into 400 drahen.
4
IO ]
T U R
From their jealousy with respect to strangers, it is ex- Turkov,
tremely difficult to form a true estimate of the national
character of the Turks. An intelligent writer, wliorl 41
seems well qualified to direct our judgment in this re-of™1"
spect, has thus delineated the Turkish character. “ The Turks.
Turks are in general a sagacious, thinking people ; in
the pursuit of their own interest, or fortune, their atten¬
tion is fixed on one object, and they persevere with
great steadiness until they attain their purpose. They
are in common life seemingly obliging and humane, not
without appearances of gratitude : perhaps all or either
of these, when extended towards Christians, are practis¬
ed with a view of some advantage. Interest is their
supreme good ; where that becomes an object of com¬
petition, all attachment of friendship, all ties of consan¬
guinity, are dissolved } they become desperate, no bar¬
rier can stop their pursuit, or abate their rancour to¬
wards their competitors. In their demeanour they are
rather hypochondriac, grave, sedate, and passive; but
when agitated by passion, furious, raging, ungovern¬
able •, big with dissimulation ; jealous, suspicious, and
vindictive beyond conception j perpetuating1 revenge
from generation to generation. In matters of religion,
tenacious, supercilious, and morose * Potter't
The manners and customs of the Turks are (listin-Obsena-
guished by the peculiarity of their religion from those*,ons
of other European nations. On the birth of a child
European nations.         ...„ ^ ^
father himself gives the name, puttingat the same time^'^
a grain ol salt into its mouth. The circumcision is mtofihe
performed till the age of 12 or 14. Marriage is only Turks, v
a civil contract, which either party may break, and is'-M-
managed by female mediation, the youth seldom seeing
his bride till after the ceremony. The dead are perfum- anci CUs-
ed with incense, and buried in a cloth, open at top and toms,
bottom, that the deceased may be able to sit up and an¬
swer the questions of the angels of death. The burial-
grounds are near the highways, and stones are often
s placed at the heads of the graves, with carved turbans
denoting tbe sex. As they never intrench upon a for¬
mer grave, the cemeteries are very extensive. In diet the
Turks are extremely moderate, and their meals are dis¬
patched with great haste. Rice is the favourite food,
and is dressed in three ways. In boiling, the meat is
cut into small pieces, and in roasting still smaller, a bit
of meat and an onion being placed alternately on a very
long spit. The fish of the Archipelago are excellent,
and the beef tolerable, except that of the bufialo, which
is very hard. The hares, patridges, and other game,
are of superior flavour. The meal is usually spread on a
low wooden table, and the master of the house pro¬
nounces a short prayer. The frugal repast is followed
by fruits and cold water, which are succeeded by hot
coffee and pipes with tobacco. The houses of the lurks
are seldom expensive ; the chief furniture is the car¬
pet which covers the floor, and a low sofa on one side
of the room. In regard to dress, Tournefort observes
that the use of the turban is unhealthy. The shirt is
of callico, and the loose robe is fastened by a girdle, m
which is stuck a dagger, while the tobacco box, pocket-
book, &c. are worn in the bosom. The robe is gene¬
rally of European broad cloth, trimmed with various
furs. The shoes or slippers are slight, and unfit
much exercise. The dress of the women differs little
from that of the men, the chief distinction being the
head-dress ; that of the fair sex consisting of a bonnet
like
T U R [5
i£y like an inverted basket, formed of pasteboard covered
with cloth of gold, with a veil extending to the eye-
itw. brows, while a fine handkerchief conceals the under part
—10f tbe face. The personal cleanliness of both sexes is
highly laudable ; but the European eye is not pleased
with the female custom of staining the nails with a red
tincture. The amusements of the Turks partake of
their indolent apathy, if we except hunting, and those
of a military description. To recline on an elegant car¬
pet, or in a hot season by the side of a stream, and smoke
the delicate tobacco of Syria, may be regarded as their
chief amusement. Chess and draughts are favourite
games •, but those of chance are considered as incompa¬
tible with strict morals. The coffee-houses and baths
furnish other sources of amusement*, and the bairam, or
festival which follows their long lent, is a season of uni-
tM- Versal dissipation *.
G ' It appears to be a mistaken notion, that the practice
^ of eating opium, to procure intoxication, is general a-
mong the Turks. We are assured by a late traveller,
that this practice is confined to a few individuals, who
are regarded by the majority of their countrymen with
as much contempt as drunkards are in the more polished
societies of Europe.
‘ Turkey. See Meleagris, Ornithology l/?de.r,
TURMERIC. See Curcuma, Botany Index.
TURNEP, a species of Brassica. See Botany In¬
dex; and for the culture, see Agriculture Index.
TuRNEP-Bread. See Bread.
Turnep-Fly. See Chrysomela, Entomology
I Index.
TURNING, the art of forming hard bodies, as wood,
ivory, iron, into a round or oval shape, by means of a
1 machine called a lut/ie.
This art was well known to the ancients, and seems
j to have been carried by them to a very great degree of
perfection; at least, if we believe the testimony of Pliny
a'nd several other authors, who tell us, that those preci-
j ous vases enriched with figures in half relief, which still
adorn our cabinets, were turned on the lathe.
The art of turning is of considerable importance, as
it contributes essentially to the perfection of many other
arts. The architect uses it for many ornaments, both
within and without highly finished houses. The ma¬
thematician, the astronomer, and the natural philoso¬
pher, have recourse to it, not only to embellish their
I instruments, hut also to give them the necessary dimen¬
sion and precision. In shoYt, it is an art absolutely ne-
! cessary to the goldsmith, the watchmaker, the joiner,
the smith.
! Turning is performed by the lathe, of which there
ire various kinds, and several instruments, as gouges,
diisels, drills, formers, screw tales, used for cutting what
1 s to be turned into its proper form as tbe lathe turns
bte ound. Tbe following is a simple kind of lathe (fig. 1.).
] ^ n which a is the footstool, h the cord, c the frame of
* he lathe, d d thep uppets, e e the points,y the spanging-
ree.
The lathe should he fixed in a place very well light-
I j it should be immoveable, and neither too high
or too low. The puppets should neither he so low
* to oblige the workman to stoop in order to see his
ork properly, nor so high that the little chips, which
s is continually driving off, should come into his eyes.
The piece to be turned should be rounded (if it be
i ] T U R
wood) before it be put on tbe lathe, either with a small Tuini
hatchet made for the purpose, or with a plane, or with v
a file, fixing it in a vice, and shaving it down till it is
everywhere almost of an equal thickness, and leaving it
a little bigger than it is intended to be when finished off.
Before putting it on the lathe, it is also necessai y to find
the centres of its two end surfaces, and that they should
he exactly opposite to each other, that when the points
of the puppets are applied to them, and the piece is
turned round, no side may belly out more than another.
To find these two centres, lay the piece of wood to be
turned upon q plank; open a pair of compasses to almost
half the thickness of the piece ; fix one of the legs in
the plank, and let the point of the other touch one of
the ends of the piece, brought into the same plane with
the plank on which the compasses is fixed and very near
the fixed leg. Describe four arcbes on that end at equal
distances from each other at the circumference of the
end, but intersecting one another within ; the point of
intersection is the centre of the end. In the same man¬
ner must the centre in the other end be found. After
finding tbe two centres, make a small hole at each of
them, into which insert the points of the puppets, and
fix the piece so firmly as not to be shaken out, and yet
loose enough to turn round without difficulty.
The piece being thus fixed, it is necessary in tbe next
place to adjust the cord, by making it pass twice round
the piece, and in such a manner that the two ends of
the cord, both that which is fixed to the spang and to
the foot board, come off on the side on which the turner
stands, that the piece may move against the edge of the
cutting-tool and be turned. If tbe lathe be moved by
a wheel, the manner of adjusting the cord needs no di¬
rections.
If the workman does not choose to be at tbe trouble
to find tbe two centres of tbe piece in the manner de¬
scribed above, let him lay, as nearly as he can, tbe cen¬
tre of one end upon the point of the left band puppet,
and then let him push forward the right hand puppet,
striking it with a mallet till its point is as near as he can
in the centre of the other end of the piece ; and then
fixing the right hand puppet by a gentle blow of tbe
mallet on tbe key, let him turn round tbe piece to see
by the eye if tbe centres have been properly found. If
any part of it bellies out, let him strike that part gently
with the mallet till it goes projrtrly ; then let him strike
one of the puppets pretty smartly to drive the points in¬
to the piece, and afterwards fix the puppet by striking
the key. If the workman cannot judge by the eye
whether the piece he turning properly round its centres
or not, he should apply gently the point of an instru¬
ment called a triangular graver, leaning it on the rest,
and it will mark by a line the place where the piece is
out of its centre ; and by striking upon this line with a
mallet, the piece can easily be placed properly. The
rest, of which we have just spoken, ought to he placed
upon the two arms of the lathe, and fixed with screws
as near the piece as the workman pleases.
The piece being fixed between the two points of tire
puppets (or, as they are called in Scotland, the heads),
the cord adjusted, and theresf fixed as near the work as
possible without touching it; the workman is now to
take a. gouge (fig. 2. in which a is the mouth and b the Fig. s.
handle) of a proper size in his left hand, and hold it by
the handle a little inclined, keeping the back of the
hagd
T U R [ 512 ] TUB
Turning. Iiand lowermost. With his right hand, the back of
y—' which is to be turned upwards, he is to grasp it as near
the end as possible on this side of the rest; then leaning
the gouge on the rest, he is to present the edge of it a
little higher than the horizontal diameter of the piece,
so as to form a kind of tangent to its circumference ;
then putting the right foot on the foot-board, and turn¬
ing round the wheel, and holding the gouge firmly on
the rest, the piece will be cut neatly. In the same man¬
ner are the chisels, formers, and other instruments to be
used, taking care that the wood be cut equally, and that
the instrument be not pushed improperly, sometimes
stronger than at others j and taking care also that the
instrument used do not follow the work, but that it be
kept firmly in the hand without yielding.
The young turner ought to endeavour to acquire the
management of the gouge and the chisel, which are
the instruments by far the most frequently used, and the
most necessary in this art: by them, almost entirely,
are the soft woods turned; but as for hard woods and
other things, as box, ebony, horn, ivory, and the me¬
tals, tltey are hardly ever turned except by shaving off,
Tn that case.gravers are to be used with square, round,
Tif- t, 4, or triangular mouths (fig. 3, 4, 5.). They should be
and 5. 1^4 horizontally while applied to the wood, and not
.obliquely as directed for the gouge and the chisel.
After the work is completely turned, it is next to be
polished ; and this cannot be done with the instruments
-hitherto mentioned. Soft woods, as pear tree, hazel,
maple, ought to be polished with shark-skin or Dutch
Tushes. There are different species of sharks ; some ot
which have a grayish, others a reddish skin. Shark-skin
-is always the better to be a good deal used : at first it is
too rough for polishing. The Dutch-rush (equisetum
hyemale), which grows in moist places among moun¬
tains, and is a native of Scotland. The oldest plants
are the best. Before using them they should be mois¬
tened a little, otherwise they break in pieces almost im¬
mediately, and render it exceedingly difficult to polish
with them. They are particularly proper for smoothing
the hard woods, as box, lignum vitae, ebony, &c. Af¬
ter having cleaned up the piece well, it should be rub¬
bed gently either with wax or olive-oil, then wiped
clean and rubbed with its own raspings or with a cloth
a little worn. Ivory, horn, silver, and brass, are polish¬
ed with pumice-stone finely pounded and put upon lea¬
ther or a linen cloth a little moistened: with this the
piece is rubbed as it turns round in the lathe *, and to
prevent any dirt from adhering to any part of it, every
now and then it is rubbed gently with a small brush dipt
in water. To polish very finely, the workmen make
use of tripoli,a particular kind of earth, and afterwards
of putty or calx of tin. Iron and steel are polished with
very fine powder of emery ; this is mixed with oil, and
put between two pieces of very tender wood, and then
the iron is rubbed with it. Tin and silver are polished
with a burnisher and that kind of red stone called in
France sanguine dune. They may be polished also with
putty, putting it dry into shamoy-skin, or with the palm
of the hand.
To succeed in turning iron, it is necessary to have a
kithe exceedingly strong in all its parts, and exceeding¬
ly well fixed. The puppets should be short, and the
rest well fixed very near the work: the back of the rest
2
should be two or three lines lower than the iron to be
turned.
The lathe and other instruments being prepared, it is
necessary to determine the length and thickness of the
iron to be turned according to the design which is to be
executed, and to make a model of it in wood a little
thicker than it ought to be : Then one exactly like this
is to be forged of the best iron that can be procured ;
that is to say, it must not be new, but well prepared
and well beaten with hammers } it must have no flaws,
nor cracks, nor pimples. New iron, which has not
been well beaten, often contains round drops of cast
iron, called by the workmen grains, which blunt the
edges of the gouges, chisels, and other instruments used
for cutting, break them, or make them slide. The
iron being forged according to the model, it should be
annealed, that is, heated red hot and allowed to cool
slowly on the coals till the fire go out of itself. Some
people, to soften the iron, cover it over with clay and
allow it to cool. The iron cylinder being thus made, it
is next to be put upon the lathe, finding the centres as
formerly directed, and boring a small hole in them that
the iron may not escape from the points.
The points should be oiled from time to time to pre*
vent their being excessively healed and spoiled while the
iron is turning. A crotchet is then to be applied to the
iron to be turned, a little above its centre, pretty gently,
and by this means the inequalities of the cylinder will
be taken off". Other instruments are then to be applied
to mould the iron according to the model j and whenever
any of them grow hot, they are to be plunged into a
bason of water lying beside the workman. If the iron,
after being properly turned, is to be bored like a gun-
barrel, one of the puppets is to be removed and another
substituted in its place, having a square hole through it,
into which the collar of the iron is to be fixed firmly,
so as not to shake *, then borers are to be applied, like
those which locksmiths use to bore keys •, and beginning
with a small one, and afterwards taking larger ones, the
hole is to be made as wide and deep as necessary ; great
care must be taken to hold the borers firm on the rest,
otherwise there is danger of not boring the hole straight.
The borer must be withdrawn from time to time to oil
it and to clean thb hole. Since it is difficult to make a
hole quite round with borers alone, it is necessary to
have also an instrument a good deal smaller than the
hole, one of the sides of which is sharp, very well tem¬
pered, and a little hollow in the middle. This instru¬
ment being fixed in a pretty long handle, is to be ap¬
plied with steadiness to the inner surface ot the hole, and
it will entirely remove every inequality that may have
been there before its application.
To cut a screw upon the cylinder, some persons u»e
an instrument consisting principally of a female screw j
but this is rather an improper instrument; for it one
presses too violently, or inclines it ever so little to the
right or left, he runs the greatest risk of spoiling the
screw. To avoid this danger, some use it only to trace
out the lines of the screw, and afterwards finish it wit
a file. But the following is a much better way. la ®
a tap for making a female screw, the threads ot whic
have been cut very accurately, and exactly of the size
of the screw which you want; and having put it in t ®
opening which you have traced in the collar ot t ^
TURNING. PLATE J)XL.
VARIATION of the Compafs.
Fit/. 1.
T U R f ,
axis on which the screw is to be cut, solder it with tin,
sal-ammoniac, and rosin, as exactly corresponding to
the axis as possible. Take then a puppet with a hole
cut into a corresponding female screw, into which the
male screw is to be put. The axis on which the screw
is to be cut must be placed exactly horizontally between
the two puppets. The rest is then to be brought as
near as possible to the place where the screw is to be
cut, and a small hollow should be cut in that part of it
which is exactly opposite to the place where the screw
is to be cut, to hold your instrument firmly and prevent
it from shaking. The instrument with which the screw
is to be cut should be very sharp, and its point should
make an angle of 6o° with the screw to be cut j and if
you wish the screw to be cut very deep, it should make
an angle a little larger. The lathe being now put in
motion, the tap fixed at the end of the axis will move
gradually through the female screw in the puppet j and
your instrument in the mean time will trace a similar
male screw on the axis fixed in the lathe. Many per¬
sons, after having in this manner drawn the outlines of
the screw, finish it with a screw-tale of three teeth cor¬
responding exactly to the size of the screw, or with a
triangular file; but this last method is rather improper.
For turning ovals, a lathe of somewhat a different
construction is used. The axis or spindle, having on it
the pulley over which the band-cord passes for turning
the lathe, is fixed between the two puppets so as to turn
round easily : one end of it passes through one of the
puppets, and to it is firmly fixed a circular plate of
brass, so that it turns round along with the spindle.
Upon this plate two brazen segments of circles are fast¬
ened, the circumferences of which correspond to the
circumference ot the plate : their chords are parallel,
and equally distant from the centre of the plate, so that
they leave a distance between them. They have a
groove in each of them : in these grooves another plate
is placed which exactly fills up the space between the
two grooves, but is shorter than the diameter of the
large circular plate on which it is laid. This plate is
made to slide in the grooves. To its centre is fixed a
short spindle, on which the piece of wood to be turned is
fixed. When the lathe is set a going, the circular plate
moves round, and carries the piece along with it; the
plate of brass on which the piece is fixed being fixed
loosely in the grooves already described, slides down a
little every time that the grooves become perpendicular
to the floor (and there are particular contrivances to
prevent it from sliding down too far) ; and by these two
motions combined, the circular one of the large plate,
and the straight one of the small, the circumference of
the piece of wood to be turned necessarily describes an
°val ; and gouges or other tools being applied in the
usual manner supported on the rest, it is cut into an oval
accordingly. The small jplate may be made to slide
eitheT more or less in the grooves ; and by this con¬
trivance the transverse diameter of the oval, or rather
ellipse,^ may be made longer or shorter at pleasure.
i. T-f/e method of moulding boxes of shell mid horn.—-
n the first place, form a proper mould, which must con¬
sist of two pieces, viz. of a circle about half an inch
tuck, which should slope a little in order to draw out
| e moulded shell the more easily ; and a ring fitted to
e outside of the circle, so that both together make the
ape of a hox. These two pieces being adiusted, it is
VOL. XX. Part [I. b J *
;*3 ] T u u
necessary to rountl the shell to be moulded of such a size Ti
that when moulded, it will be a Jittle higher than the
ring of the mould, that there may be no deficiency.
The mould is then to be put into a press on a plate of
iron, exactly under the screw of the press; put then
the shell upon the circle of the mould, so that its centre
also is exactly opposite to the screw of the press : then
take a piece of wood formed into a truncated cone, and
not so thick as the diameter of the circle of the mould,
nor so deep as the ring : then put a plate of iron above
the cone, and screw down the press gently and cautiously
till the whole is well fixed : then plunge the whole into
a cauldron of boiling water placed above a fire. In 8
or xo minutes the shell or horn will begin to soften;
screw the press a little firmer that the wooden cone may
sink into the softened shell: repeat this from time tw
time till the cone is quite sunk in the mould ; then take
out the press and plunge it into cold water. When it
is cold, take'tbe box now formed out of the mould, and
put into the inside of it a new mould of tin exactly of
the form you wish the inside of the box to be ; do the
same with the outside, put it again into the press and
plunge it into boiling water; screw the press gradually
till the box receive the desired form.
2. Method of preparing green wood so that it wilt
not split in the turning.—Cut the wood into pieces of
a proper size, put them into a vessel full of potash ley.
Boil them about an hour ; take the cauldron from the
fire, allow the ley to cool; and take out the wood and
dry it in the shade.
3. Method of giving an ebony-black to hard and Jim
woods.—After forming the wood into the destined
figure, rub it with aquafortis a little diluted. Small
threads of wood will rise in the drying, which you will
rub oft with pumice-stone. Repeat this process again,
and then rub the wood with the following composition :
Put into a glazed earthen vessel a pint of strong vinegar,
two ounces of fine iron filings, and half a pound of
pounded galls, and allow them to infuse for three or
four hours on hot cinders. At the end of this time
augment the fire, and pour into the vessel four ounces
of copperas, and a chopin of water having half an
ounce of borax and as much indigo dissolved in it; and
make the whole boil till a froth rises. Rub several
layers of this upon the wood ; and when it is dry*
polish it with leather, on which you have put a littfo
tripoli.
4. Method of giving to plum-tree the colour of bra%il
xvood.—Slake lime with urine, and bedaub the wood
over with it while it is hot: allow it to dry ; then take
off the coat of lime, and rub it with shamoy skin well
oiled. Or, steep the wood in water, having a quan¬
tity of alum dissolved in it: then, having allowed brazil
wood to dissolve in water five or six hours, steep the
wood in it, kept lukewarm during a night; and when
it is dry, rub it, as before directed, with shamoy skin
well oiled.
5. Method of giving a fine black colour to xvood.——
Steep the wood for two or three days in lukewarm
water in which a little alum has been dissolved; then
put a handful of logwood, cut small, into a pint of wa¬
ter, and boil it down to less than half a pint. If you
then add a little indigo, the colour will be more beauti¬
ful. Spread a layer of this liquor quite hot on the
wood with a pencil, which will give it a violet colour.
TUB. [5
Turning, When it is dry, spread on another layer; dry it again
Turnstone, and give it a third : then boil verdegrise at discretion
v— v ' in its own vinegar, and spread a layer of it on the
wood : when it is dry, mb it with a brush, and then
wdth oiled shamoy skin. This gives a fine black, and
imitates perfectly the colour of ebony.
6- Method of cleaning and whitening bones before
using them.—Having taken off with a saw the useless
ends of the bones, make a strong ley of ashes and quick¬
lime, and into a pailful of this ley put four ounces of
alum, and boil the bones in it for an hour ; then take
the vessel containing the ley off the fire, and let it
cool ; then take out the bones and dry them in the
shade.
7. Method of soldering shells.—Clean the two sides
of the shells which you wish to join together ; then, ha¬
ving joined them, wrap them up in linen folded double
and well moistened; then heat two plates of iron pretty
hot, that they may keep their heat for some time ; and
putting the shells rolled up between them under a
press, which you must screw very tight, leave them
there till the whole is cold, and they will be soldered.
If you do not succeed the first time, repeat the pro¬
cess.
8. Method of moulding shells.—Put six pints of water
into a kettle ; add to it an ounce of olive or other
oil ; make the water boil ; then put in your shell, and
it will grow soft. Take it out and put it into a mould
under a press, and it will take the figure you want.
This must be done quickly ; for if the shell cool ever
so little, the process will fail. It will not require much
pressure.
9. Method of tinging bones and ivory red.—Boil
shavings of scarlet in water. When it begins to boil,
throw in a quarter of a pound of ashes made from the
dregs of wine, which will extract the colour : then
throw in a little rock alum to clear it, and pass the wa¬
ter through a linen cloth. Steep the ivory or bone in
aquafortis, and put it into the water. If you wish to
leave white spots, cover the places destined for them
with wax.
10. To tinge ivory black.—Steep the ivory during
five or six days in water of galls with ashes made with
dried diegs of wine and arsenic; then give it two or
three layers of the same black with which plum-tree
is blackened, in order to imitate ebony. Or, dissolve
silver in aquafortis, and put into it a little rose-water.
Hub the ivory with this, and allow it to dry in the sun.
11. Method of hardening wood to make pulleys.—
After finishing the pulley, boil it seven or eight minutes
in olive oil, and it will become as hard as copper.
12. To make Chinese varnish.—Take of gum lac in
grains four ounces ; put it into a strong bottle with
a pound of good spirit of wine, and add about the bulk
of a h tzel nut of camphor. Allow them to mix in
summer in the sun, or in winter on hot embers for
24 hours, shaking the bottle from time to time. Pass
th e whole through a fine cloth, and throw away what
remains upon it. Then let it settle for 24 hours, and
you will find a clear part in the upper part of the
bottle, which you must separate gently, and put into
another vial, and the remains will serve for the first
layers.
TURNSTONE. See Tringa, Ornithology
Index.
4 ] T U S
TURPENTINE, a transparent viscous substance, Turptniini
flowing either naturally or by incision from several re- I! ,
sinous trees ; as the terebinthus, pine larch, fir, &c. Tusca>'y-
See Pinus, Botany Index. See also Chemistry and
Materia Medica Index.
Oil of Turpentine. See Chemistry and Mate¬
ria. Medica Index.
TURPETH, the cortical part of the root of a spe¬
cies of convolvulus. See Materia Medica Index. „
TURQUOISE, is the tooth of an animal penetrated
with copper ore.
TURRITIS, Tower-mustard ; a genus of plants
belonging to the class tetradynamia ; and in the natural
system ranging under the 39th order, Siliquoscc. Se«
Botany Index.
TURTLE. See Testudo, Erpetology Index.
Turtle-Dove. See Columba, Ornithology In¬
dex.
TUSCAN order, in Architecture. See Archi¬
tecture, N° 42.
Tuscan Earth, a yellowish kind of bole found in
many parts of Italy, and particularly about Florence,
where there is a stratum eight or ten feet thick, at tb«
depth of five or six feet from the surface. It is suppo¬
sed to have an astringent property. v
TUSCANY, a duchy of Italy, which makes part cf
the ancient Hetruria, and, excepting some detached
parts, is encompassed by a part of the Mediterranean,
called the Tuscan sea; the ecclesiastical state; the du¬
chy of Modena ; and the republic of Lucca ; its extent
from north to south being about 116 English miles, and
from east to west about 80 ; its area 8400 ; and in
1819 it was estimated to contain 1,195,000 inhabitants.
Though some parts of it are mountainous, yet both
the hills and dales are covered with vines, olives, citron,
lemon, and orange trees, &c. Ihe mountains yield
also copper, iron, alum, &c. and some of the finest
marble. Here is also plenty of corn, rice, saffron, ho¬
ney, wax, wool, flax, hemp, with mineral waters, rich
pasture, salt-pits, sulphur, alabaster, calcedony, lapis
lazuli, borax, amethysts, carnelians, and jaspers. In
some places the elms and ashes yield manna.
The principal river in Tuscany is the Arno, which
has its source in the Apennine mountains, and tails in¬
to the sea below Pisa. There are some other smaller
rivers.
This duchy fell under the dominion of the Romans
about 455 years before Christ. flhe Ostrogoths posses¬
sed themselves of it in the fifth century, and after them
the Lombards, who were expelled by Charlemagne
anno 800 ; in consequence of which it became subject
to the German emperors, who appointed governors over
it. At last the cities of Florence, Pisa, Sienna, and
some others, during the contentions between the pop«
and the emperor, and their respective adherents, tKS
Guelphs and Gibbelines, withdrew themselves from the
dominion of both, and erected themselves into separate
commonwealths. In that of Florence, John tie e*
cis, a popular nobleman, so insinuated himself into t
favour of his countrymen, that they invested him wt
sovereign power. Pope Pius V. conferred the titeo
grand duke on Cosmo de Medic is anno 157®’ 111 "
family the duchy continued until the death of Gaston «
Medicis, who died anno 1737. The duchy was t e
transferred to the duke of Lorrain* afterwards tie
T Y M [5
cany peror Francis I. in lieu of the ducliy of Lorrain, which,
II by the peace of 1736, was given to King Stanislaus
span^ ^tiring his life, and then was to be annexed to France.
The Austrian family lost this duchy in 1797. After
Type.
undergoing various changes, it was united to France in
1806, and continued in her possession till the events of
1814 restored its independence. Its prince, who is of
the royal family of Spain, is now a minor. The grand
duke’s annual revenues are computed at about 500,000!.
sterling, arising chiefly from the tenths of all estates that
are sold or alienated, and the ground rents of the houses
in Leghorn, and the duties on almost all manner of
provisions.
TUSK, or Torsk. See Gadus, Ichthyology
Index.
TUSSILAGO, Colt’s-foot ; a genus of plants,
belonging to the class of syngenesia ; and in the natural
system ranging under the 49th order, Composites. See
Botany Index.
TUTENAG, an alloy of zinc. See Chemistry
Index.
TUTOR, in the civil law, is one chosen to look to
the persons and estates of children left by their fathers
and mothers in their minority. The different kinds of
tutonj established among the Romans, and the powers and
duties of tutors, are described in Inst. leg. 1. tom. xiii.
sect. 1. and 2. to which the reader is referred. See also
the article Guardian.—For the nature and effects of
tutorv in the Scotch law, which is founded on that of
the Romans. See Scots Law, Part III. Sect. 7.
Tutor is also used in the English universities for a
member of some college or hall, who takes on him the
instruction of young students in the arts and faculties.
TU l TY, an impure ore of zinc, employed as an
unguent and absorbent. See Materia Medica In-
dj.r.
TWEED, a river of Scotland, which rises on the
confines of Clydesdale, and running eastward through
Tweedale, and dividing the shire of Merse from Te-
viotdale and Northumberland, falls into the German
sea at Berwick. It abounds with salmon. See Ber¬
wick.
TWEEDALE, or Peebles, a county in the south
of Scotland. See PEEBLES SHIRE.
TWELFTH day, the festival of the Epiphany, or
the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles J so called,
as being the twelfth day, exclusive, from the nativity
or Christmas-day.
1 WI LIGHT, that light, whether in the morning
before sunrise, or in the. evening after sunset, supposed
to begin and end when the least stars that can be setn
by the naked eye cease or begin to appear.
1'WINKLING of the Stars. See Optics, N°
21.
twins, two young ones delivered at a birth, by
*n animal which ordinarily brings forth but one.
TWITE. See F ringilla, Ornithology Index.
TYGER, or Tiger. See Felis, Mammalia In¬
dex.
TYLE, or Tile, in building, a thin laminated
brick used on the roofs of houses.
tympan, among printers, a double frame belong-
mg to the press, covered with parchment, on which the
blank sheets are laid in order to be printed off. See
Printing-Press,
15 ] T Y P
TYMPANUM, in Mechanics, a kind of wheel pla-Tympanum
ced round an axis or cylindrical beam, on the top of
which are two levers or fixed staves for the more ea¬
sily turning the axis in order to raise a weight re¬
quired.
Tympanum, in Anatomy. See Anatomy, N° 14i.
TYMPANY, or Tympanites, in Medicine. See
Medicine, N° 337, and Surgery Index.
IYNDALE, William, a zealous English reform¬
er, and memorable for having made the first English
version of the Bible, was born on the borders of Wales
some time before 1500. He was of Magdalene-hall in
Oxford, where he distinguished himself by imbibing
early the doctrines ot Luther, and by as zealously pro¬
pagating them. Afterwards he removed to Cambridge,
and from thence went to live with a gentleman in Glou¬
cestershire in the capacity of tutor to his children. 
While he continued there, he showed himself so furious
for Luther, and so inveterate to the pope, that he was
forced, merely for the security of his person, to leave the
place. He next endeavoured to get into the service of
lonstall bishop of Durham, but did not succeed. His
zeal lor Lutheranism made him desirous to tianslate the
New Testament into English ; and as this could not
safely be done in England, he went into Germany,
where, setting about the work, he finished it in 1527.
He then began with the Old Testament, and finished,
the five hooks ol Moses, prefixing discourses to each
book, as he had done to those of the New Testament.
At his first going over into Germany, he went into
Saxony, and had much conference with Luther ; and
then returning to the Netherlands, made his abode
chiefly at Antwerp. During his peregrinations from
one country to another, he suffered shipwreck upon the
coast ot Holland, and lost all his books and papers.
His translations of the Scriptures being in the mean
time sent to England, made a great noise there } and,
in the opinion of the clergy, did so much mischief, that
a royal proclamation was issued, prohibiting tbe buying
or reading them. But the clergy were not satisfied
with this, they knew Tyndale capable of doing infinite
harm, and therefore thought of nothing less than remo¬
ving him out of the way. For this purpose one Philips
was sent over to Antwerp, who insinuated himself into
his company, and under the pretext of friendship be¬
trayed him into custody. Pie was sent to the castle of
Fit ford, about 18 miles from Antwerp; and though
the English merchants at Antwerp did what they could
to procure his release, and letters were also sent from
Lord Cromwell and others out of England, yet Philips
bestirred himself so heartily, that he was tried and con¬
demned to die., He was first strangled by the hands of
the common hangman, and then burned near Filford
castle, in 1536. While he was tying to the stake, he
cried with a fervent and loud voice, “ Lord, open the
king of England’s eyes.”
TYPE (rtesa?), an impression, image, or re presenta¬
tion of some model, which is termed the antitype. In
tins sense the word occurs often in the writings of di¬
vines, who employ it to denote that prefiguration of the
great events of man’s redemption which they have
found or fancied in the principal transactions recorded
in the Old Testament.
Type, among letter-founders and printers, the same
with letter.
3 I’ 2 Type
T Y A r 5
Type is also used to denote the order observed in the
intension and remission of fevers, pulses, &c.
TYJPHA, Cat’s-tail •, a genus of plants belonging
to the classof monceeia,and in the natural systemranging
under the 3d order, Calamarice. See Botany Index.
TYPHON. See Whirlwind.
Typhon, the devil of the ancient Egyptians. See
Polytheism, N° 29.
TYPOGRAPHY, the art of printing. See Print¬
ing.
TYRANT, among the anoients, denoted simply a
Aing or mouarcji j but the ill use which several persons
invested with that sacred character made ot it, has al¬
tered the import of the word 5 and tyrant now conveys
•the idea of an unjust or cruel prince, who rules in a
jaiore despotic manner than the laws allow.
TYRE, formerly a celebrated city of Asia, on the
coast of Syria, situated under the 54th degree ot east
longitude, and 3 2d of noith latitude. It was built, ac¬
cording to some writers, 2760 years before the Chris¬
tian era. There were two cities ot that name } the one
called Palcetyrus, situated on the continent j and the
other the city ot Tyi't’, built on an island about halt a
mile from the shore. It was about 19 miles in circum¬
ference, including Palmtyrus ^ the town on the island
was about four miles round. The buildings ot lyre
were very magnificent; the walls were 150 feet high,
am! broad 111 proportion. The city was at one period
tho most famous commercial city in the world. Ot its
commercial transactions, the most particular account
16 ] T Y H
that is to be found in any ancient writer has been given
by the prophet Ezekiel, which at the same time con¬
veys a magnificent idea of the extensive power of that
state. It resisted Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon for
13 years ; at the end of which, wearied with fruitless
efforts, the inhabitants resolved to place the sea be¬
tween them and their enemy, and passed accordingly in¬
to the island. The new city stood out against Alexan¬
der the Great for seven months $ and before he could
take it, he was obliged to fill up the strait which sepa¬
rated the island from the continent. It was repaired af¬
terwards by Adrian, and became the metropolis of the
province. It afterwards fell into the hands of the A-
rabs and after being taken by Baldwin II. king of Je¬
rusalem, it was destroyed by the sultan of Egypt in
1289, and abandoned. An excellent account of its
modern state may he found in Volney’s Travels, vol. ii.
It now consists of a small village, composed of fisher¬
men’s huts, and containing about 50 or 60 poor families.
TYRIAN dye. See Murex, Conchology In¬
dex.
TYRONE, a county of Ireland, in the province of
Ulster, 46 miles in length and 37 in breadth ^ bounded
on the north by Londonderry, on the east by Armagh
and Lough-Neagh, on the south by Fermanagh, and
on the west by Donnegal. It is a rough and rugged
country, but tolerably fruitful ; contains 12,683 houses,
30 parishes, 4 baronies, 4 boroughs, and formerlysent 10
members to the Irish parliament. The principal town is
Dungannon.
U, V.
Uor u, the 20th letter and 5th vowel of our alpha-
5 bet, is formed in the voice by a round configura¬
tion of the lips, and a greater extrusion of the under
one than in forming the letter o, and the tongue is also
more cannulated. The sound is short in curst, must, tun,
tub; hut is lengthened by a final e, as in tune, tube, &c.
In some words it is rather acute than long ; as in brute,
Jlute, lute, &c. It is mostly long in pul\syllables ; as
in union, curious, &c. j but in some words it is obscure,
as in nature, venture, &c. This letter in the term ot
V or v, is properly a consonant, and as such is placed
before all the vowels $ as in vacant, venal, vibrate, &c.
Though the letters v and n had always two sounds, they
tad only the form v till the beginning of the fourth
century, when the. other form was introduced, the in¬
convenience of expressing two different sounds by the
same letter having been observed long before. In nu¬
merals V stands for five 5 and with a dash added at top,
thus Y, it signifies 5000.
In abbreviations, amongst the Romans, V. A. stood
for veterani assignati; V. B. viro bona ; V. B. A. viri
boni arbitratu ; V. B. F. vir borne fulei ; V. C. vir con-
sularis j V. C. C. F. vale, conjux charissime, fehciter ;
V. D. 1). voto dedicatin'; V. G verbi gratia j A ir. Ve.
pirgo vestalis ; VL. videlicet ; V. N. quinta nonarum.
VACCINIUM, the WlIORTLE-BERRY, or Bilberry, Vacciniua
a genus of plants belonging to the class octandria, and
arranged in the natural system under the 18lh order,^ 1
Bicornes. See Botany Index.
VACUUM, in Philosophy, denotes a space devoid of
all matter or body.
It has been greatly disputed whether there he in na¬
ture a perfect vacuum, or space void of all matter; but
if bodies consist of material solid atoms, it is evident
that there must be vacuities, or motion would be im¬
possible (See Metaphysics, N° 193.). We can even
produce something very near a vacuum in the receiver
of an air-pump and in the Torricellian tube (see Pneu¬
matics, passim').
VADIUM, a pledge in law, is either twttfw or rrwr-
tuum.
Vadium Vivum, or Living Pledge, is when a man
borrows a sum (suppose 200I.) of another; and grants
him an estate, as of 20I. per annum, to hold till the
rents and profits shall repay the sum so borrowed. I hi*
is an estate conditioned to be void as soon as such sum
is raised. And in this case the land or pledge is said
to be living : it subsists, and survives the debts; and,
immediately on the discharge of that,, reverts to the
borrower.
VjDJt/M
V A L is*
Vadium Mortuum, or Dead P/edge. See Mort¬
gage.
VAGABOND, or Vagrant, one who wanders il¬
legally, without a settled habitation. Such persons are
cognizable by the laws. See IDLENESS.
VAGINA, properly signifies a sheath or scabbard j
ami the term vagina is used in architecture for the part
of a terminus, because resembling a sheath out of which
the statue seems to issue.
Vagina. See Anatomy Index.
VA ILL ANT, John Foy, a physician and great
medalist, to whom, according to Voltaire, France was
indebted for the science of medals, and Louis XIV. for
one half of his cabinet, was born at Beauvais in 1632.
Through the means of the minister Colbert he travelled
into Italy, Greece, Egypt, and Persia, to collect medals
for the royal cabinet; and returned with so many as
made the king’s cabinet superior to any in Europe. In
one of his voyages the ship was taken by an Algerine
corsair. After a captivity of near five months he was
permitted to return to France, and received at the same
time 20 gold medals which had been taken from him.
He embarked in a vessel bound for Marseilles, and was
carried on with a favourable wind for two days, when
another corsair appeared, which, in spite of all the sail
they could make, bore down upon them within the
reach of cannon shot. Mr Vaillant, dreading the mi¬
series of a fresh slavery, resolved, however, to secure the
medals which he had received at Algiers, and therefore
swallowed them. But a sudden turn of the wind freed
them from this adversary, and cast them upon the coast
of Catalonia, where, after expecting to run aground
every moment, they at length fell among the sands at
the mouth of the Rhone. Mr Vaillant got to shore in
a skiff, but felt himself extremely incommoded with the
medals he had swallowed, which might weigh alto¬
gether five or six ounces, and therefore did not pass like
Scarborough waters. He had recourse to a couple of
physicians; who were a little puzzled with the singula¬
rity of his case j however, nature relieved him from time
to time, and he found himself in possession of the great¬
est part of his treasure when he got to Lvons. Among
his collection was an Otho, valuable for its rarity.— He
was much caressed on his return \ and when Louis XIV.
gave a new form to the academy of inscriptions in 1 701,
Mr Vaillant was first made associate, and then pension¬
ary. He wrote several works relating to ancient coins,
and died in 1 706.
VA1R, or VairE, a kind of fur, formerly used for
lining the garments of great men and knights of renown.
It is represented in engraving by the figures of little
bells reversed, ranged in a line. See Heraldry,
Chap. II. Sect. 2.
VAIRY, in Heraldry, expresses a coat, or the bear¬
ings of a coat, when charged or chequered with vairs.
VALAIS, a valley in Swisserland, which extends
from the source of the river Rhone to the lake of Ge¬
neva. It is near ion miles in length, but of unequal
breadth. It is bounded on the north by the Alps,
which separate it from the cantons of Berne and Uri, on
the east by the mountains of Forche, on the south by
the duchy of Milan and the Val d’Aoste, and on the
west by Savoy and the republic of Geneva. The inha¬
bitants profess the Roman Catholic religion, and are sub¬
ject to the swelling of the throat called bvov.chocelc ;
7 1 V A L
and idiots are said to abound among them more than Ta]ais
in any other place of the globe. They are naturally fl
hardy, enterprising, ami good-natured. Valais is sur- Valeiitim
rounded on all sides by very high mountains, most of. a”‘
which are covered with perpetual snow. The soil is
fertile in corn, wine, and fruits. The muscat-wine,
which is produced here is excellent, and well known
all over Europe. This country comprehends 55 large
parishes, with one bishop. The religion is the Roman
Catholic.
VALANTIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class polygamia, and in the natural system arranged un¬
der the 41st order, Asperifoh'ce. See Botany Index.
VALENCIA, a province of Spain, which has the
title of a kingdom j and is bounded on the east and south
by the Mediterranean sea, on the north by Catalonia
and Arragon, and on the west by New Castile and tire
kingdom of Murcia. It is about 165 miles in length,
and 63 in breadth, and in 1788 contained 783,000 in¬
habitants. It is one of the most agreeable parts of
Spain, enjoying almost a perpetual spring. The great
number of rivers wherewith it is watered renders it
extremely fertile. There are very rugged mountains ia
it, which contain mines of alum and other minerals.
Valencia, a city of Spain, and capital of the king¬
dom of the same name. It contains, according to La-
borde, 20,000 houses, and 100,000 inhabitants. It
has an university, and an archbishop’s see y and was
taken from the Moors by the Christians in the 13th
century. The town is handsome, and adorned with
very fine structures. It is not very strong, though
there are some bastions along the sides of the walk..
They have manufactures in wool and silk, which bring
in great sums to the inhabitants. It is seated on the
river Guadalaviar, over which there five handsome
bridges ; and it is about three miles from the sea,
where there is a harbour, i 10 miles north of Murcia,
and 165 east by south of Madrid. This city surren¬
dered to the earl of Peterborough in the year 1705$
and suffered dreadfully when taken by Marshal Suchet
in 1811. W. Long. o. 10. N. Lat. 39. 27.
VALENCIENNES, an ancient, strong, and con¬
siderable city of France, in the department of tire
North, containing about 17,000 inhabitants in 1800..
The Scheldt divides it into two parts. It is a very im¬
portant place: the citadel and fortifications, the work,
of Vauban, were constructed by order of Louis XIV.
who took this town from the Spaniards., It was con¬
firmed to him by the treaty of Nimeguen, in 1678. In
1793, it surrendered to the allies after a severe siege,
but was afterwards abandoned ; and is now in possession
of the French. Besides lace, this 1 is\ is noted for ma¬
nufactories of woollen stuffs and very fine linens. It is
20 miles west-south-west of Mons, 17 north-east of ”
Camhray, and 120 north east by north of Paris. E.
Long. 3. 37. N. Lat. 50. 21.
V A LENS, Flavius, emperor of the Fast, a great
patron of the Al lans. Killed by the Goths in the year
379. See Constantinople, N° 76.
VALENT1NIAN 1. emperor of the West, a re¬
nowned warrior, but a tyrant over his subjects. See •
Rome, N° 523.
Valenti ni an II. emperor of the West, a, prince ce¬
lebrated for his virtues, and above all for his modera¬
tion 5 yet a conspiracy was formed against him by Ar--
hogasteSj^
V A L
Valentin!- bogastes, the commander in chief of his armies ; and he
an was strangled in the year 392. See Rome, N° 536.
y II t VALENTINIANS, in church history, a sect of
^ . Christian heretics, who sprung up in the second century,
and were so called from their leader Valentinus.
The Valentinians were only a branch of the Gnostics,
who realised or personified the Platonic ideas concern¬
ing the Deity, whom they called Plcroma or Plenitude.
Their system was this: the first principle is Bythos, i. e.
Depth, which remained many ages unknown, having
with it Emioe or Thought, and Sige or Silence j from
these sprung the Nous or Intelligence, which is the only
son, equal to and alone capable of comprehending the
Bythos ^ the sister of Nous they called Aletheia or
Truth 5 and these constituted the first quaternity of
aeons, which were the source and original of all the
rest : for Nous and Aletheia produced the World and
Eife 5 and from these two proceeded Man and the
Church. But besides these 8 principal aeons, there were
22 more; the last of which, called Sophia, being de¬
sirous to arrive at the knowledge of Bythos, gave her¬
self a great deal of uneasiness, which created in her
Anger and Fear, of which was born Matter. But the
Horos or Bounder stopped her, preserved her in the
Pleroma, and restored her to Perfection. Sophia then
produced the Christ and the Holy Spirit, which brought
the aeons to their last perfection, and made every one of
them contribute their utmost to form the Saviour. Her
Enthymese, or Thought, dwelling near the Pleroma,
perfected by the Christ, produced every thing that is in’
the world by its divers passions. The Christ sent into
it the Saviour, accompanied with angels, who deliver¬
ed it from its passions, without annihilating it: from
thence was formed corporeal matter. And in this man¬
ner did they romance concerning God, nature, and
the mysteries of the Christian religion.
VALERIAN, or Valerianus, Publius Licinius,
emperor of Rome, remarkable for his captivity and
cruel treatment by Sapor I. king of Persia. See Rome,
N° 491.
VALERIANA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class triandria, and in the natural system arranged
under the 48th order, Aggregated. See Botany and
Materia Medica Index.
VALERIUS Maximus, a Latin historian, sprung
from the families of the Valerii and Fabii, which made
him take the name of Valerius Maximus.. He studied
polite literature, and afterwards followed Sextus Pom-
pey to the wars. At his return he composed an account
of the actions and remarkable sayings of the Romans
and other great men ; and dedicated that work to the
emperor Tiberius. _ Many of the learned think that
this is the same that is now extant, and bears the name
of Valerius Maximus; but others maintain, that what
we have now is only an abridgment of the work written
by this celebrated historian, and that this abridgment
was made by one Nepotian of Africa. However, this
work is well written, and contains a great number of
memorable actions performed by the Greeks and Ro¬
mans that are worthy of being read.
VALE I', a I rench term, used as a common name
for all domestic men servants employed in the more ser¬
vile offices, as grooms, footmen, coachmen, &c. But
i\vith us it is only used in the phrase valet de chambre,
VAN
which is a servant wdiose office is to dress and undress \
his master, &c. jj
VALETTA, a city of Malta, and capital of the Vanbra^
island (see Malta, N° 26.). It is situated in E. Long.’—
14. 34. N. Lat. 35. 54.
VALETUDINARY, among medical writers, de¬
notes a person of a weak and sickly constitution, and
frequently out of order.
VALID, in Law, an appellation given to acts,
deeds, transactions, &.c. which are clothed with all the
formalities requisite to their being put into execution,
and to their being admitted in a court of justice.
VALLADOLID, an ancient, large, and handsome
city of Spain, in Old Castile, and capital of a principa¬
lity of the same name, with a bishop’s see and an uni¬
versity. It is surrounded with strong walls, embellished
with handsome buildings, large public squares, piazzas,
and fountains; containing 11,00c houses, with fine
long and broad streets, and high houses, adorned with
balconies. 1 here is a square in the middle of the city,
surrounded with handsome brick houses, having under
them piazzas, where people may walk dry in all
weathers. Within these piazzas merchants and trades¬
men keep their shops. All the houses are of the same
height, being four stories ; and there are balconies at
every window, of gilt iron. In the whole there are 70
monasteries and nunneries ; the finest of w hich is that of
the Dominicans, remarkable for its church, which is
one of the most magnificent in the city.. The kings re¬
sided a long while at this place ; and the royal palace
which still remains, is of very large extent, though but
two stories high ; within are fine paintings of various
kinds, and at one of the corners a curious clock, made
in the same manner as that of Strasburg. The envi¬
rons of the city are a fine plain, covered with gardens,
orchards, vineyards and meadows. It is seated on the
rivers Escarva and Pesuerga, in W7 Long. 4. 30. N.
Lat. 41. 42.
VALUE, in Commerce, denotes the price or worth
of any thing.
VALVE, in Hydraulics, Pneumatics, &c. is a
kind of lid or cover of a tube or vessel, so contrived as
to open one way, but which, the more forcibly it is
pressed the other way, the closer it shuts the aperture;
so that it either admits the entrance of a fluid into the
tube or vessel and prevents its return ; or admits iti
escape, and prevents its re-entrance.
Valve, in Anatomy, a thin membrane .applied on
several cavities and vessels of the body, to afford a pas¬
sage to certain humours going one way, and prevent
their reflux towards the place from whence they came.
VAMPYRE, a species of bat. See Vespertilio,
Mammalia Index.
VAN, a term derived from the French (want or tf-
vaunt, signifying before or foremost of any thing: thus
we say, the van-guard of the army, &c.
VANBRUGH, Sir John, a celebrated English dra¬
matic writer and architect, was descended of a family in
Cheshire which came from France, though by his name
he appears to have been originally of Dutch extraction.
He was born about the middle of the reign of Charles
II. and received a liberal education. His first comedy,
called the Relapse or V irtue in Danger, was acted in the
year 1697 with great applause ; which gave him such
encouragement,
[ 518 ]
3
VAN [ 519 ] VAR
iSh encouragement, that he wrote eleven more comedies.
He was the friend of Mr Congreve, whose genius was
,ck- naturally turned for dramatic performances ; and these
two gave new life to the English stage, and restored its
sinking reputation. Sir John was also esteemed an able
architect. Under his direction was raised Blenheim-
house in Oxfordshire. He died in 1726.
VANDELLIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class didynamia. See Botany Index.
VAN-Diemen’s land. See Diemen.
VANDYCK, Sir Anthony, a celebrated painter,
was born at Antwerp in the year 1599. After giving
early proofs of his genius, he became the disciple of the
illustrious Rubens. In the church of the Augustines at
Antwerp, at the high altar, is a celebrated picture of
Rubens, representing, in one part, the Virgin Mary
sitting with the child Jesus in her lap, and in another
part several saints, male and female, standing. The
breast of one of these, St Sebastian, is said to have been
painted by Vandyck when he was only a disciple of
Rubens. This great master being engaged one day
abroad, his disciples went into his painting-room, where,
after having been some time employed in admiring his
works, they began to play or romp in such a manner,
that the breast of St Sebestian, which was not yet dry,
was brushed away by a hat thrown at random. This
accident put an end to their play : they were very
anxious to restore it, fearing that if Rubens discovered
it they should all be discarded. At length it was
agreed that Anthony should undertake to mend the
saint’s breast. In short, taking his master’s pallet and
brushes, he succeeded so well that his companions ima¬
gined Rubens would overlook it. They were mistaken 5
for Rubens at his return knew immediately that some
one had touched upon his performance: calling his dis-
ciples, he asked them why any one had dared to meddle
with his painting ! They were some time doubtful
whether they should confess or deny the fact. Threats
at length prevailed: they owned that Vandyck had
thrown his hat upon it. Upon this, closeting Vandyck,
instead of chiding him, he told him, that “ it was pro¬
per and even necessary for him to travel into Italy, the
only school that produced excellent painters.” By this
advice, and with the assistance of his master, he set out
for Italy, about the year 1621, being then about 21 or 22
years of age. Having staid a short time at Rome, he re¬
moved to Venice, where he attained the beautiful colour¬
ing of Titian, Paul Veronese, and the Venetian school.
After a few years he returned to Flanders, with so
noble, so easy, and natural a manner of painting, that
litian himself was hardly his superior: and no other
master could equal him in portraits. Soon after his re¬
turn, he accidentally met with D. Teniers, who accost¬
ed him with great politeness, and asked him whether he
bad much business since he came from Rome P “ What
business, think you, can I have had time to do (replied
Yandyck) ? I am only just arrived here. Would you
believe, that I offered to draw that fat brewer’s picture
who just passed by us for two pistoles, and that the
looby laughed in my face, saying it was too dear? I as¬
sure you, that if the cards do not turn up better, I shall
make no long stay at Brussels.” Soon after this, he-
painted those two famous pictures, the Nativity and a
dying Christj the first in the parish-church, the second
f m that of the Capuchins, at Termond.
Vandyck, finding he could not make a fortune in his
own country, took a resolution ot going over into Eng¬
land. Accordingly he borrowed some guineas of Te¬
niers, and set out, furnished with letters of recommenda¬
tion. His superior genius soon brought him into great
reputation ; and above all, he excelled in portraits,
which he drew with an inconceivable facility, and for
which he charged a very high price, according to the
instructions which had been given him on that head.
It is affirmed, that for some ot them he received 400
guineas apiece. He soon found himself loaded with
honours and riches5 and as he had a noble and gener¬
ous heart, he lived equal to his fortune. He married
a daughter of the lord Ruthven, earl of Gowry $ and
though she had but little fortune, maintained her in a
style suitable to her birth. He generally kept a mag¬
nificent equipage, and a numerous retinue. - He died in
1641, at the age of 42, leaving property, it is said, to
the amount of 40,000!. sterling.
VANE, a thin slip of bunting hung to the mast¬
head, or some other conspicuous place in the ship, to
show the direction of the wind. It is commonly sewed
upon a wooden frame called the stock, which contains
two holes whereby to slip over the spindle, upon which
it turns about as the wind changes.
VANILLA, or Vanillo. See Epidendrum,
Botany Index.
Yandyck
.11.
Variation.
VAPOUR, in Philosophy, the particles of bodies
rarefied by heat, and thus rendered specifically lighter
than the atmosphere, in which they rise. See EVAPO¬
RATION and Heat, Chemistry Index.
Vapours, in Medicine, otherwise called hypo¬
chondriasis or spleen. See Medicine, N° 276 and
32i.
IrAPOVR-Bath, in Chemistry, a term applied to a
chemist’s bath or heat, in which a body is placed so as
to receive the fumes of boiling water.
VAR, a department in the south-east of France, ly¬
ing next to Italy, and along the shores of the Mediter¬
ranean. It is mountainous, and deficient in grain, but
produces excellent wine, and is the only district of
France where oranges and some other fruits belonging
to the climates of Spain and Italy will ripen. Con¬
siderable quantities of raw silk are produced. Its ma¬
nufactures consist chiefly of soap, paper, coarse cloth,
pottery, leather, and some silk articles-, and it has very
little trade. Its extent is 725,580 hectares, and its
population in 1817 was 283,296. Draguignan is the
chief town.
VARf, in Medicine, little, hard, and ruddy tumors,
which frequently infest the faces of young persons of a
hot temperament of body.
VARIATION 0/' the Compass, is tbe deviation of
the magnetic or mariner’s needle from the meridian or
true north and south line. On the continent it is call¬
ed the declination of the magnetic needle $ and this
is a better term, for reasons which will appear by and
hy‘
We have given the general facts relating to magne¬
tic variation under the article Magnetism, N° 19. j
and under the articles Compass, and Azimuth Compass,
we have noticed the methods of ascertaining (he varia¬
tion at any particular time or place. We shall here
only give a short historical account of the progressive
discoveries respecting magnetic variation, and notice
tb*
VAR [ 526 ] VAR
Variation, the explanations that have been offered to account for
*■—-y-1 1 this phenomenon.
About the time that the polarity of the magnet was
first observed in Europe, the magnetic direction, both in
Europe and in China, was nearly in the plane of the
meridian. It was therefore an inestimable present to the
mariner, giving him a sure direction in his course
through the pathless ocean. But by the time that the
European navigators had engaged in their adventurous
voyages to far distant shores, the deviation of the needle
from the meridian was very sensible even in Europe.
The son of Columbus positively says, that it was obser¬
ved by his father in his first voyage to America, and
made his companions so anxious lest they should not
find the way back again to their own country, that they
mutinied and refused to proceed. It is certain that
Gonzales Oviedo and Sebastian Cabot observed it in
their voyages. Indeed it could not possibly escape
them j for in some parts of their several tracks the
needle deviated above 250 from the meridian •, and the
rudest dead reckoning, made on the supposition of the
needle pointing due north and south, must have thrown
the navigators into the utmost confusion. We know
that spherical trigonometry was at that time abundantly
familiar to the mathematicians of Europe, and that no
person pretended to take the command of a ship hound
to a distant port that was not much more informed in
this science than most masters of ships are at present.
The deviation of the compass, however, was not gene¬
rally allowed hy mathematicians, who had not yet be¬
come sensible of the necessity of quitting tbe Aristote¬
lian trammels, and investigating nature by experiments.
They chose rather to charge the navigators with inac¬
curacy in their observations than the schoolmen with
errors in principles. Pedro de Medina at Valladolid,
in his Arte de Naviggar, published in 1545, denies the
variation of the compass. But the concurring reports
of the commanders of ships on distant voyages, in a few
years, obliged tbe landsmen in their closets to give up
the point ; and Martin Cortez, in a treatise of naviga¬
tion, printed at Seville before 1556, treats it as a thing
completely established, and gives rules and instruments
for discovering its quantity. About the year 158°
Norman published his discovery of the dip of the needle,
and speaks largely of the horizontal deviation from the
plane of the meridian, and attributes it to the attraction
of a point, not in the heavens, but in tbe earth, and
describes methods by which he hoped to find its place.
To the third, and all the subsequent editions of Nor¬
man’s book (called the Neiv Attructive), was subjoin* d a
dissertation by Mr Borroughs, comptroller of the navy,
on tbe variation off the compass, in which is recorded
the quantity of this deviation in many places; and he
laments the obstacle which it causes to navigation by its
total uncertainty previous to observation. The author
indeed offers a rule for computing it d prion, founded
en some conjecture as to its cause ; but, with the mo¬
desty and candour of a gentleman, acknowledges that
this is but a guess, and intreats all navigators to be assi¬
duous in their observations, and ready in communicat¬
ing them to the public. Accordingly observations were
liberally contributed from time to time, and were pub¬
lished in the subsequent treatises on navigation.
But in 1635*1110 mariners were thrown into a new
and great perplexity, by the publication of a Discourse
5
Mathematical on the Variation of the Magnetical Needle,
by Mr Henry Gillebrand, Gresham professor of astro-
nomy. Pie had compared the variations observed at
London by Burroughs, Gunter, and himself, and found
that the north end of the mariner’s needle was gradual¬
ly drawing more to the westward. For Norman and
Burroughs had observed it to point about 1 i-J degree#
to the east of north in 1580; Gunter found its devia¬
tion only 6^ in 1622, and he himself had observed only
40 in 1634; and it has been found to deviate more and
more to the westward ever since, as may be seen from
the tallies given under Magnetism.
Mr Bond, teacher of mathematics in London, and
employed to edit and improve the impressions of the po¬
pular treatises of navigation, about 1650, declared, in a
work called the “ Seaman’s Kalendar,” that he had
discovered the true progress of the deviation of the coin-
pass ; and published in another work, called “ the Lon¬
gitude Found,” a table of the variation for 50 years.
This was, however, a gratuitous prognostication, not
founded on any well-grounded principles ; and though
it agreed very well with the observations made in Lon¬
don, winch showed a gradual motion to the westward at
the rate of *-—.12' annually, by no means agreed with
tiie observations made in other places. See Phil. Trans,
1668.
But this news soon lost its credit: for the inconsist¬
ency with observation appeared more and more every
day, and all were anxious to discover some general rule,
by which a near guess at least might be made as to the
direction of the needle in the most frequented seas.
Halley recommended the matter in the most earnest
manner to the attention of government; and, after
much unwearied solicitation, obtained a ship to be sent
on a voyage of discovery for this purpose. He got the
command of this ship, in which he repeatedly traversed
the Atlantic ocean, and went as far as the 50th degree
of southern latitude. See his very curious speculations
on this subject in the Phil. Trans. 1683 and 1692.
After he had collected a prodigious number of obser¬
vations made by others, and compared them u’ith Ins
own, he publishe d in 1700 a synoptical account ol them
in a very ingenious form ol a sea chart, where the ocean
was crossed by a number of lines passing through those
planes where the compass had the same deviation.
Thus, in every point of one line there was no variation
in 1700; in every point of another line the compass
had 20° of east variation ; and in every point ol a third
line it had 20° of west variation. These lines have
since been called Halleyan lines, or curves. This chart
was received with universal applause, and was un¬
doubtedly one of tbe most valuable presents that science
lias made to the arts. t
The polarity of the magnetic needle, and a general
though inrricate connection between its positions in all
parts of the world, naturally makes tbe philosopher spe¬
culate about its cause. We see that Cortez ascribed it
to the attraction of an eccentric point, and that Bona
thought that this point was placed not in the heavens,
but in the earth. This notion made the basis of the fa¬
mous Theory of Magnetism of l)r Gilbert ol Colches¬
ter. See Magnetism, N° 71.
Gilbert’s theory may be understood from the follow* plate
mg general preposition. . . , .
Let NS (fig. 1.) be a magnet, of winch N lS tlb
VAR [ 521
ion. north and S the south pole : Let n s be any oblong
—^ piece of iron, poised on a point c like a compass needle.
It will arrange itself in a position tics precisely the
same with that which would be assumed by a compass
needle of the same size and shape, having « for its north
and s its south pole. And while the piece of iron re¬
mains in this position, it will be in all respects a magnet
similar to the real compass needle. The pole n will at¬
tract the south pole of a small magnetised needle, and
repel its north pole. If a paper be held over n s, and
fine iron-filings be strewed on it, they will arrange
themselves into curves issuing from one of its ends and
terminating at the other, in the same manner as they
will do when strewed on a paper held over a real com¬
pass needle. But this magnetism is quite temporary ;
for if the piece of iron « ^ be turned the other way,
placing n where s now is, it will remain there, and will
exhibit the same phenomena. We may here add, that
if«.y be almost infinitely small in comparison of NS,
the line 11 s will be in such a position that if s a, s b, be
drawn parallel to N c, S c, we shall have s a to .? &, as
the force of the pole N to the force of the pole S.
And this is the true cause of that curious disposition of
iron-filings when strewed round a magnet. Each frag¬
ment becomes a momentary magnet, and arranges itself
in the true magnetic direction, and when so arranged,
attracts the two adjoining fragments, and co-operates
with‘’the forces, which also arrange them. We throw
this out to the ingenious mechanician as the foundation
1 of a complete theory of the magnetical phenomena.
When the filings are infinitely fine, the curves NcS
* have this property, that, drawing the tangent c we
always have sa : s b ~ force of N : force of S ; and
thus we mav approximate at pleasure to the law of mag_
netic attraction and repulsion. The theory, of which
, an outline is given under Magnetism, is founded on
this principle, and applies with success to every pheno¬
menon yet observed.
Now, to apply this theory to the point in hand.—
Let ns (fig. 2.) be a small compass needle, of which 11
is the north and s the south pole : let this needle be
poised horizontally on the pin c d; and let n' s' be the
position of the dipping needle. Take any long bar of
common iron, and hold it upright, or nearly so, as re¬
presented by AB. The lower end B will repel the
| pole n and will attract the pole .9, thus exhibiting the
properties of a north pole of the bar AB. Keeping B
in its place, turn the bar round B' as a centre, till it
come into the position A' B' nearly parallel to n’ s'.
You will observe the compass needle n s attract the end
! Br with either pole n or s, when B'A' is in the position
B' a perpendicular to the direction n' s' of the dipping
needle: and when the bar lias come into the position
B' A', the upper end B' will show itself to be a south
pole by attracting n and repelling s. This beautiful ex¬
periment was exhibited to the Royal Society in 1673
by Mrs Hindshaw.
from this it appears, that the great magnet in the
-arth induces a momentary magnetism on soft, iron pre-
I -isely as a common magnet would do. Therefore (says
Dr Gilbert) it induces permanent magnetism on magne-
isable ores of iron, such as loadstones, in the same mun-
ler as a great loadstone would do ; and it allects the
nagnetism already imparted to a piece of tempered steel
trecisely as any other great magnet would.
Yol. XX. Part II.
] VAR
Therefore the needle of the mariner's compass in yf
every part of the world arranges itself in the magnetic
direction, so that if poised as a dipping needle should be,
it will be a tangent to one of the curves NcS of fig. 1.
The horizontal needle being so poised as to be capable
of playing only in a horizontal plane, will only arrange
itself in the plane of the triangle NcS. That end of it
which has the same magnetism with the south pole S of
the great magnet included in the earth will be turned
towards its north pole N. Therefore what we call the
north pole of a needle or magnet really has the magne¬
tism of the south pole of the great primitive magnet.
It the line NS be called the axis, and N and S the
poles of this great magnet, the plane of any one of
these curves NcS will cut the earth’s surface in the
circumference of a circle, great or small according as
the plane does or does not pass through the centre of the
earth.
Dr Halley’s first thought was, that the north pole of
the great magnet or loadstone which was included in the
bowels of the earth was not far from Baffin’s bay, and
its south pole in the Indian ocean south-west from New
Zealand. But he could not find any positions of these
two poles which would give the needle that particular
position which it was observed to assume in different
parts of the world ; and he concluded that the great
terrestrial loadstone had four irregular poles (a thing not
unfrequent in natural loadstones, and easily producible at
pleasure), two of which are stronger and two weaker.
When the compass is at a great distance from the two
north poles, it is affected so as to be directed nearly in
a plane passing through the strongest. But if we maka
it approach much more to the weakest, the greater vici-
nitv will compensate for the smaller absolute force of the
weak pole, and occasion considerable irregularities. The
appearances are favourable to this opinion. If this be
the real constitution of the great magnet, it is almost a
desperate task to ascertain by computation what will be
the position of the needle. Halley seems to have de¬
spaired : for he was both an elegant and a most expert
mathematician, and it would have cost him little trouble
to ascertain tbe places of two poles only, and the di¬
rection which these would have given to the needle.
But to say what would be its position when acted on by
four poles, it was necessary to know the law by winch
tbe magnetic action varied by a variation of distance ;
and even then, the computation would have been ex¬
ceedingly difficult.
In order to account for the change of variation, Dr
Halley supposes this internal magnet not to adhere to
the external shell which we inhabit, but to form a nu¬
cleus or kernel detached from it on all sides, and to be
so poised as to revolve freely round an axis, the position
of which he hopes to discover by observation of the
compass. Dr Halley imagined that the nucleus revol¬
ved from east to west round the same axis with the earth.
Thus the poles of the magnet would change their po¬
sitions relatively to the earth’s surface, and this would
-change the direction of the compass needle.
The great Euler, whose delight it yvas always to en¬
gage in the most difficult mathematical researches and
computations, undertook to ascertain the position of the
needle in every part of the earth. His dissertation on
this subject is to be seen in tbe 13th volume of the Me¬
moirs of the Royal Academy of Berlin, and is exceed-
f 3 U i»g]X
VAR [ 522 ] VAR
Variation. >ng beautiful, abounding in those analytical tour's d’’-
v-— 1 adresse in which he surpassed all the world. He has
reduced the computation to a wonderful simplicity.
He found, however, that four poles would engage
him in an analysis which would he excessively intricate,
and has contented himself with computing for two on¬
ly ; observing that this supposition agrees so well with
observation, that it is highly probable that this is the
real constitution of the terrestrial magnet, and that the
coincidence would have been perfect if he had hit on
the due positions of the two poles. He places one ot
them in lat. 76° north, and long. 96° west from Tene-
riffe. The south pole is placed in lat. 58° south, and
long. 158° west from Teneriffe. These are their situa¬
tions for 1757.—Mr Euler has annexed to his disserta¬
tion a chart of Halleyan curves suited to these assump¬
tions, and fitted to the year 1757.
It must be acknowledged, that the general course of
the variations according to this theory greatly resembles
the real state of things •, and we cannot but own our¬
selves highly indebted to this great mathematician for
having made so fine a first attempt. He has improved
it very considerably in another dissertation in the 22d
volume of these memoirs. But there are still such great
differences, that the theory is of no use to the naviga¬
tor, and it only serves as an excellent model for a far¬
ther prosecution of the subject. Since that time an¬
other large variation chart has been published, fitted to
a late period 5 but the public has not sufficient infor¬
mation of the authorities or observations on which it is
founded.
The great object in all these charts is to facilitate the
discovery of a ship’s longitude at sea. For the lines of
variation being drawn on the chart, and the variation
and the latitude being observed at sea, we have only to
look on the chart for the intersection of the parallel of
observed latitude and the Halleyan curve of observed
variation. This intersection must be the place of the
ship. This being the purpose, the Halleyan lines are
of great service j but they do not give us a ready con¬
ception of the direction of the needle. We have always
to imagine a line drawn through the point, cutting the
meridian in the angle corresponding to the Halleyan
line. We should learn the general magnetic affections
of the globe much better if a number of magnetic me¬
ridians were drawn. These are the intersections ot the
earth’s surface with planes passing through the magne-
tical axis, cutting one another in angles of 50 or io°.
This would both show us the places of the magnetic
poles much more clearly, and would, in every place,
show us at once the direction of the needle. In all those
places where these magnetic; curves touch the meridians,
there is no variation ; and the variation in every other
place is the angle contained between these magnetic
meridians and the true ones.
The program of a work of this kind has been pub¬
lished by a Mr Churchman, who appears to have en¬
gaged in the investigation with great zeal and consider¬
able opportunities. It is pretty certain that the north
magnetic pole (or point, as Mr Churchman calls it) is
not far removed from the stations given it by Halley
and Euler ; and there seems no doubt but that in the
countries between Hudson’s bay and the western coasts
of North America the needle will have every position
with respect to the terrestrial meridian, so that the north
end of a compass needle will even point due south in se- y
veral places. Almost every thing that can be desired u
in this inquiry would be obtained by a few well-chosen
observations made in those regions. It would be of im¬
mense advantage to have the dips ascertained with great
precision. These would enable us to judge at what
depth under the surface the pole is situated ; for the
well-informed mechanician, who will study seriously
what we have said about the magnetical curves, will see
that a compass needle, when compared with the great
terrestrial magnet, is but as a particle of iron-filings
compared to a very large artificial magnet. Therefore,
from the position of the dipping needle, we may infer
the place of the pole, if the law of magnetic action be
given; and this law may be found by means of other
experiments, which we could point out. See Magne¬
tism, N° 80, et seq.
Mr Churchman has adopted the opinion of only two
poles. According to him, the north pole was (in 1800)
in Eat. 58° N. and Long. 1340 W. from Greenwich,
very near Cape Fairweather ; and the south pole lies in
Lat. 58° S. and Long. 165° E. from Greenwich. He
also imagines that the north pole has moved to the east¬
ward, on a parallel of latitude, about 65 since the be¬
ginning of the 19th century (from 1600), and concludes
that it makes a revolution in 1096 years. The south¬
ern pole has moved less, and completes its revolution in
2289 years. This motion he ascribes to some influences
which he calls magnetic tides, and which he seems to
consider as celestial. This he infers.from the changes of
variation. He announces a physical theory on this sub¬
ject, which, he says, enables him to compute the varia¬
tion with precision for any time past or to come j and
he even gives the process of trigonometrical computa¬
tion illustrated by examples. But as this publication
(entitled The Magnetic Atlas'), published for the author,
by Barton and Harvey, 1794, is only a program, he
expresses himself obscurely, and somewhat enigmatical¬
ly, respecting his theory. He speaks of the influence of
one pole being greater than that of the other 5 and says,
that in this case the magnetic equator, where the needle
will be parallel to the axis, will not be in the middle
between the poles. This is true of a common magnet.
He must therefore abide by this supposition in its other
consequences. The magnetic meridians must be planes
passing through this axis, and therefore must be circles
on the surface of the earth. This is incompatible with
the observations *, nay, his charts are so in many places,
particularly in the Pacific ocean, where the variations
by his chart are three times greater than what has been
observed.—His parallels of dip are still more different
from observation, and are incompatible with any phe¬
nomena that could be produced by a magnet having
but two poles. His rules of computation are exceed¬
ingly exceptionable. He has in fact but one exanipe?
and that so particular, that the mode of computation
will not apply to any other. 1 his circumstance is no.
taken notice of in the enunciation of his first problem ;
and the reader is made to imagine that he has got a in *
for computing the variation, whereas all the ru es o
calculation are only running in a circle. 'I he variation
computed for the port of St Peter and Paul 1,1 ivlin1 j”
chatka, by the rule, is ten times greater than tlietru •
For our own part, we have little hopes of this jR
blem ever being subjected to accurate calculation. ^
VAR [ 5
slon. believe, liuleed, lliat there is a cosmical change going
on in the earth which will produce a progressive change
in the variation of the needle ; and we see none more
likely than Dr Halley’s motion. There is nothing re¬
pugnant to our knowledge of the universe in the suppo¬
sition of a magnetic nucleus revolving within this earth;
and it is very easy to conceive a very simple motion of
revolution, which shall produce the very motion of the
sensible poles for which Mr Churchman contends. We
need only suppose that the magnetical axis of this nu¬
cleus is not its axis of revolution. It may not even bi¬
sect that axis; and this circumstance will cause the two
poles to have different degrees of motion in relation to
the shell which surrounds it.
But this regular progress of the magnet within the
earth may produce very irregular motions of the com¬
pass needle, by the intervention of a third body suscep¬
tible of magnetism. The theory of which we have just
given a hint comes here to our assistance. Suppose NS
(fig. 3.) to represent the primitive magnet in the earth,
and 11 s to be a stratum of iron ore susceptible of mag¬
netism. Also let v! s' be another small mass of a similar
ere ; and let their situations and magnitudes be such as
is exhibited in the figure. The fact will be that n will
be the north pole and s the south pole of the great stra¬
tum, and and s’ will be the north and south poles of
the small mass or loadstone. Any person may remove
all doubts as to this, by making the experiment with a
magnet NS, a piece of iron or soft tempered steel ns,
and another piece re'The well-informed and atten¬
tive reader will easily see, that by such interventions
every conceivable anomaly may be produced. While
the great magnet makes a revolution in any direction,
the needle will change its position gradually, and with
a certain regularity ; but it will depend entirely on the
size, shape, and situation, of these intervening masses of
magnetisable iron ore, whether the change of variation
of the compass shall be such as the primitive magnet
alone would have produced, or whether it shall be of a
kind wholly different.
j Now, that such intervening disturbances may exist,
is past contradiction. We know that even on the film
of earth which we inhabit, and with which only we are
acquainted, there are extensive strata or otherwise dis¬
posed masses of iron ores in a state susceptible of magne¬
tism ; and experiments made on bars of hard tempered
j steel, and on bits of such ores, assure us that the magne-
I tism is not induced on such bodies in a moment, but
propagated gradually along the mass.—That such di-
! sturbances do actually exist, we have many relations.
J There are many instances on record of very extensive
! magnetic rocks, which affect the needle to very consi-
derable distances. The island of Elba in the Mediter¬
ranean is a very remarkable instance of this. The island
of Cannay also, on the w'est of Scotland, has rocks
which afiect the needle at a great distance.
A similar effect is observed near the Feme islands in
the North sea; the compass has no determined direc¬
tion when brought on shore. Journ. des Syavans, 1679,
p. 174.
In Hudson’s straits, in latitude 63°, the needle has
hardly any polarity. Ellis's Voyage to Hudson's Bay.
Bouguer observed the same thing in Peru. Nay, we
believe that almost all rocks, especially of whin or
kappe stone, contain iron in a proper state.
23 ] YAH
All this refers only to the thin crust through which Variation.
the human eye has occasionally penetrated. Of what v——'
may be below we are ignorant ; but when we see ap¬
pearances which tally so remarkably with what would
be the effects of great masses of magnetical bodies, mo¬
difying the general and regularly progressive action of
a primitive magnet, whose existence and motion is in¬
consistent with nothing that we know of this globe, this
manner of accounting for the observed change of varia¬
tion has all the probability that we can desire. Nay,
we apprehend that very considerable changes may be
produced in the direction of the compass needle, even
without the supposition of any internal motion. If the
great magnet resembles many loadstones we are ac¬
quainted with, having more than two poles, we know
that these poles will act on each other, and gradually
change each other’s force, and consequently the direc¬
tion of the compass. This process, to be sure, tends to
a state of things which will change no more.—But the
period of human history, or of the history of the race
of Adam, may make but a small part of the history
of this globe ; and therefore this objection is of little
force.
There can be no doubt of the operation of the gene¬
ral terrestrial magnetism on every thing susceptible of
magnetic properties ; and we cannot hesitate to ex¬
plain in this way many changes of magnetic direction
which have been observed. Thus, in Italy, Father de
la Torre observed, that during a great eruption of Ve¬
suvius the variation was 160 in the morning, at noon it
was 140, and in the evening it was xo°, and that it
continued in that state till the lava grew so dark as no
longer to be visible in the night; after which it slowly
increased to 13J, where it remained. Daniel Bernoulli
found the needle changed its position 45' by an earth¬
quake. Professor Muller at Manheim observed that the
declination of the needle in that place was greatly af¬
fected by the earthquake in Calabria. Such streams of
lava as flowed from Hecla in the last dreadful eruption
must have made a transfeience of magnetic matter that
would considerably affect the needle. But no observa¬
tions seem to have been made on the occasion ; for we
know that common ironstone, which has no effect on
the needle, will, by mere cementation with any inflam¬
mable substance, become magnetic. In this wray Dr
Knightsometimes madeartificial loadstones.—But these
are partial things, and not connected with the general
change of variation now under consideration.
We have said so much on this subject, chiefly with
the view of cautioning our readers against too sanguine
expectations from any pretensions to the solution of this
great problem. We may certainly gather from these
observations, that even although the theory of the varia¬
tion should be completed, we must expect (by what
we already know of magnetism in general) that the di¬
sturbances of the needle, by local causes intervening be¬
tween it and the great influence by which it is chiefly
directed, may be so considerable as to affect the position
of the compass needle in a very sensible manner : for we
know that the metallic substances in the bowels of the
earth are in a state of continual change, and this to an
extent altogether unknown.
There is another irregularity of the mariner’s needle
that we have noticed under Magnetism, page 365,
namely, the daily variation. This was first observed
3 U 2 by
VAR [ 524 ] VAR
by Mr George Grab am in 1722 (Philosophical Trans¬
actions, N° 383.), and reported to the Royal Society of
London. It usually moves (at least in Europe) to the
westward from 8 morning till 2 P. M. and then gra¬
dually returns to its former situation. The diurnal va¬
riations are seldom less than o° 5', and often much
greater. Mr Graham mentions (Philosophical Trans¬
actions, N° 428.) some observations by a Captain
Hume, in a voyage to America, where he found the
variation greatest in the afternoon. This being a gene¬
ral phenomenon, has also attracted the attention of phi¬
losophers. The most detailed accounts of it to be met
with are those of Mr Canton (see Magnetism), in
Philosophical Transactions, vol. li. part 1. p. 399, and
those of Van Swinden, in his Treatise on Electricity
and Magnetism.
Mr Canton attempts to account for tiiese changes of
position, by observing that the force of a magnet is
weakened by heat. A small magnet being placed near
a compass needle, ENE from it, so as to make it de¬
flect 450 from the natural position, the magnet was co¬
vered with a brass vessel, into which hot water was
poured. The needle gradually receded from the mag¬
net 45', and returned gradually to its place as the w ater
cooled. This is confirmed by uniform experience.
The parts of the earth to the eastward are first heat¬
ed in the morning, and therefore the force of the earth
is weakened, and the needle is made to move to the
westward. Rut as the sun warms the western side of
the earth in the afternoon, the motion of the needle must
take the contrary direction. This explanation, how¬
ever, does not account for the prodigious diversity in
the diurnal variation at different places, and is besides
exposed to other very weighty objections.
Rut, besides this regular diurnal variation, there is
another, which is subjected to no rule. The aurora bo¬
realis is observed (in Europe) to disturb the needle ex¬
ceedingly, sometimes drawing it several degrees from
its position. It i> always observed to increase its de¬
viation from the meridian, that is, an aurora borealis
makes the needle point more westerly. This distur¬
bance sometimes amounts to six or seven degrees, and
is generally observed to be greatest when the aurora bo¬
realis is most remarkable.
The observation of the connection of the polarity of
the needle with the aurora borealis occurred to the late
Professor Robinson in 1759, when a midshipman on
board the Royal William in the river St Lawrence.
The point of the heavens to which all the rays of light
converged was precisely that which was opposite to the
south end of the dipping needle.
This is a very curious phenomenon, and we have not
been able to find any connection between this meteor
and the position of a magnetic needle. It is to be ob¬
served, that a needle of copper or wood, or any sub¬
stance except iron, is not affected. We long thought
it an electric phenomenon, and that the needle was af¬
fected as any other body balanced in the same man¬
ner would be 3 but a copper needle would then be af¬
fected.
We see the needle frequently disturbed both from its
general annual position, and from the change made on
it by the diurnal variation. This is probably the effect
of aurorae boreales which are invisible, either on ac¬
count of thick weather or daylight. Van Swinden says, Yar;st|,.
he seldom or never failed to observe aurorae boreales im-y—.
mediately after any anomalous motion of the needle 3
and concluded that there had been one at the time,
though lie could not see it. Since no needle but a mag¬
netic one is affected by the aurora borealis, we may
conclude that there is some natural connection between
this meteor and magnetism. This should farther incite
us to observe the circumstance above mentioned, viz.
that the south end of the dipping needle points to that
part of the heavens where the rays of the aurora appear
to converge. We wish that this were diligently ob¬
served in places which have very different variation and
dip of the mariner’s needle.
Another species of variation of great importance has
lately been discovered. This arises from the action of
the mass of the ship on the needle, and is found in some
cases to amount to five degrees, so that when bearings-
are taken with the ship’s head first on one side of the
magnetic meridian, and then on the other, a diflerence
will be found of ten degrees. Anomalies arising from
this source had been often observed, and had greatly
perplexed nautical men : they were often attributed to
the defects of the compass. Captain Elinders seems to
have been the first who detected the true cause of these
irregularities, by ascertaining that the mean variation
taken with five different compasses at the binnacle, was
4° 37' greater than at the booms. This suliject, how¬
ever, was first fully investigated and explained by Mr
William Rain, a nautical gentleman, in a small tract
published at Edinburgh in 1817. Mr Rain having de¬
tected the effects of the local attraction of the ship by
his own observations in 1811, has, by means of this
principle, satisfactorily explained many facts recorded
by former navigators, which appeared hitherto inexpli¬
cable. He shows, that in the short course from Ply¬
mouth to Cape Finisterre, by neglecting this local at¬
traction, an error of 12 miles may be committed in lati¬
tude, and of 35 in longitude. In the course from St
John’s Newfoundland to England, the error from the
same cause may amount to 64 miles in latitude, and 198
in longitude. He observes also, that in beating to wind¬
ward, and tacking pretty often, all seamen have remark¬
ed, that every time the ship was put about, the wind
came round some points with the ship. This change in
the wind, however, is merely apparent, and is simply the
effect of the attraction of the ship upon the needle. When
the head is westerly, the north end of the needle is
drawn half the difference westward 3 when the head 1*
easterly, it is drawn half the difference eastward. He
has also shewn, that many of the irregularities ascribed
to currents are truly owing to this cause. The amount
of the local variation caused by the ship must depend
on her construction, and in a merchant vessel on her
cargo. It will therefore most probably vary in differ¬
ent ships, and in the same ship, at different times. Mr
Bain thinks that it would be advisable for every mer¬
chant vessel before she leaves the port, to ascertain by
observations made on some fixed object at a distance,
the precise amount of this local attraction 3 and when
this is once known, she may steer her course with much
greater confidence and security. For farther particu¬
lars the reader may consult Mr Rain’s excellent little
work, entitled, “ An Essay on the Variation of the
Compass.
VAR [ 525 ] VAR
nation Compass.” Edinburgh, 1817. The discovery of this
[) species of variation well deserves to be regarded as an
rnish. important step in the improvement of navigation.
v ' For the diurnal and this irregular variaion, consult
the Dissertations of Celsius and of Hiorter, in the Me¬
moirs of Stockholm j Wargentin, Philosophical Trans¬
actions, vol. xlviii.; Braun {Comment. Petropol. Novi,
tom. v. vii. ix.)j Graham and Canton as above.
VARIETY, a change, succession or difference, in
the appearance or nature of things j in opposition to iitti-
formrty.
Variety, in Botany, is a change in some less essen¬
tial part or quality j as colour, size, pubescence or age.
—Externally; by the plaiting or interweaving of the
branches—by bundling or uniting of several stalks into
one broad flat one *, by the greater breadth or narrow¬
ness, or curling of leaves—by becoming awnless, or
smooth, or hirsute. Internally j by becoming mutila¬
ted in the corolla j or having one larger than ordinary
—by luxuriancy, multiplication, or fulness—by beco¬
ming proliferous, or crested—by bearing bulbs instead
of seeds—or being viviparous.
The usual causes of variation are, climate, soil, ex¬
posure, heat, cold, winds, culture.
VARIOLA, the Smallpox. See Medicine, N°
222—224.
VARIX, in Medicine, the dilatation of a vein, ari¬
sing from the too great abundance or thickness of the
blood.
VARNISH, a clear limpid fluid, capable of harden¬
ing without losing its transparency, used by painters,
gilders, &c. to give a lustre to their works, to preserve
them and defend them from the air.
A coat of varnish ought to possess the following pro¬
perties : 1. It must exclude the action of the air ; be¬
cause wood and metals are varnished to defend them
from decay and rust. 2. It must resist water ; for
otherwise the effect of the varnish could not be perma¬
nent. 3. It ought not to alter such colours as are in¬
tended to be preserved by this means. It is necessary
therefore that a varnish should be easily extended or
spread over the surface, without leaving pores or cavi¬
ties; that it should not crack or scale; and that it
should resist water. Now resins are the only bodies that
possess these properties. Resins consequently must be
used as the bases of varnish. The question which of
course presents itself must then be, how to dispose them
for this use? and for this purpose they must be dissol¬
ved, as minutely divided as possible, and combined in
such a manner that the imperfections of those which
might be disposed to scale may be corrected by others.
Resins may be dissolved by three agents. 1. By fix¬
ed oil. 2. By volatile oil. 3. By alcohol. And ac¬
cordingly we have three kinds of varnish ; the fat or
oily varnish, essential varnish, and spirit varnish. Be¬
fore a resin is dissolved in a fixed oil, it is necessary to
render the oil drying. For this purpose the oil is boiled
with metallic oxides; in which operation the mucilage
of the oil combines with the metal, while the oil itself
unites with the oxygen of the oxide. To accelerate the
drying of this varnish, it is necessary to add oil of tur¬
pentine. The essential varnishes consist of a solution of
resin in oil of turpentine. The varnish being applied,
the essential oil flies off, and leaves the resin. 1 his is
Used only for paintings. When resins are dissolved in
alcohol, the varnish dries very speedily, and is subject Varnish..
to crack; but this fault is corrected by adding a small »- J
quantity of turpentine to the mixture, which renders it
brighter, and less brittle when dry.
We shall now give the method of preparing a num¬
ber of varnishes for different purposes.
A Varnish for Toilet-boxes, Cases, Fans, &c.—Dis¬
solve two ounces of gum mastich and eight ounces of
gum sandarach in a quart of alcohol; then add four
ounces of Venice turpentine.
A Varnish for Wainscots, Cane-chairs, Iron- chairs,
Grates.—Dissolve in a quart of alcohol eight ounces of
gum sandarach, two ounces of seed lac, four ounces of
rosin ; then add six ounces of Venice turpentine. If
the varnish is wished to produce a red colour, more of
the lac and less of sandarach should be used, and a lit¬
tle dragon's blood should be added. This varnish is so
thick that two layers of it are equal to four or five of
another.
A Varnishfor Fiddles, and other Musical Instruments.
—Put four ounces of gum saudarach, two ounces of
lac, two ounces of gum mastich, an ounce of gum
elemi, into a quart of alcohol, and hang them over a
slow fire till they are dissolved ; then add two ounces of
turpentine.
Varnish in order to employ Vermilion for painting
Equipages.. Dissolve in a quart of alcohol six ounces
of sandarach, three ounces of gum lac, and four ounces
of rosin ; afterwards add six ounces of the cheapest
kind of turpentine ; mix with it a proper quantity of
vermilion when it is to be used.
Gold-coloured Varnish.—Pound separately four ounces
of stick lac, four ounces of gamboge, four ounces of
dragon’s blood, four ounces of anotta, and one ounce of
saffron : put each of them separately into a quart of al¬
cohol, and expose them for five days in a narrow¬
mouthed bottle to the sun, or keep them during that
time in a very warm room, shaking them evei'y now and
then to hasten the solution. When they are all melted,
mix them together. More or less of each of these in¬
gredients will give the different tints of gold according
as they are combined. In order to make silver imitate
gold exactly when covered with this varnish, the quan¬
tity of ingredients must be somewhat greater. The me¬
thod of gilding silver-leaf, &c. with this varnish is as
follows : The silver-leaf being fixed on the subject, in
the same manner as gold-leaf, by the interposition of
proper glutinous matters, the varnish is spread upon the
piece with a brush or pencil. The first coat being dry,
the piece is again and again washed over with the var¬
nish till the colour appears sufficiently deep. V hat is
called gilt leather, and many picture frames, have no
other than this counterfeit gilding. Washing them with
a little rectified spirit of wine affords a proof of this; the
spirit dissolving the varnish, and leaving the silver-leaf
of its own whiteness. For plain frames, thick tinfoil
may be used instead of silver. The tin-leaf, fixed on
the piece with glue, is to be burnished, then polished
with emery and a fine linen cloth, and afterwards with
putty applied in the same manner : being then lacquer¬
ed over with the varnish five or six times, it looks very
nearly like burnished gold. The same varnish, made
with a less proportion of the colouring materials, is ap¬
plied also on works of brass ; both for heightening the
colour of the metal to a resemblance with that of gold,
4 and
V A It [ 5:
and for preserving it from being tarnished or corroded
by the air.
Oil Varnishes.—Gum copal and amber are the sub¬
stances principally employed in oil varnishes 5 they pos¬
sess the properties necessary for varnishes, solidity and
transparency.—The copal being whitest, is used for
varnishing light, the amber for dark colours. It is best
to dissolve them before mixing them with the oil, be¬
cause by this means they are in less danger of being
scorched, and at the same time the varnish is more beau¬
tiful. They should be melted in a pot on the fire j
they are in a proper state for receiving the oil when
they give no resistance to the iron spatula, and when
they run off from it drop by drop. The oil employed
should be a drying oil, and perfectly free from grease.
It should be poured into the copal or amber by little
and little, constantly stirring the ingredients at the
same time with the spatula. When the oil is well
mixed with the copal or amber, take it off the fire ; and
when it is pretty cool, pour in a greater quantity of the
essence of turpentine than the oil that was used. After
the varnish is made, it should be passed through a linen
cloth. Oil varnishes become thick by keeping j but
when they are to be used, it is only necessary to pour in
a little essence of turpentine, and to put them for a lit¬
tle on the fire. The turpentine is necessary in oil var¬
nishes to make them dry properly j generally twice as
much of it is used as of oil. Less is necessary in sum¬
mer than in winter. Toe much oil hinders the varnish
from drying j but when too little is used, it cracks and
does not spread properly. We shall subjoin the most
useful oil varnishes:
White Copal Varnish.—On 16 ounces of melted co¬
pal pour four, six, or eight ounces of linseed oil, boiled
and quite free from grease. When they ai'e well mixed,
take them off the fire (not forgetting to stir them pro¬
perly) j and when pretty cool, pour in 16 ounces of
the essence of Venice turpentine. Pass the varnish
through a cloth.—Amber varnish is made in the same
way.
Black Varnish for Coaches andiron Work.—This var¬
nish is composed of bitumen of Palestine, rosin, and am¬
ber, melted separatelv, and afterwards mixed : the oil
is then added, and afterwards the turpentine, as direct¬
ed above. The usual proportions are, 12 ounces of
amber, two ounces of rosin, two ounces of bitumen, six
of oil, and I 2 of the essence of turpentine,—Golden-
coloured varnish may be made also by substituting lin¬
seed oil for alcohol.
Essential Oil Varnishes.—The only essential oil var¬
nishes used are for pictures. Picture varnishes should be
white, light, and quite transparent, which will preserve
the colours without giving them any disagreeable tint j
and it should be possible to take them off the picture
without injuring it. They are usually made of gum
mastich and turpentine dissolved together in some essen¬
tial oil. The varnish is passed through a cloth, and al¬
lowed to clarify. It is applied cold to the picture.
Varnish for Glass in order to preserve it from the
Bays of the Sun.—Pulverise a quantity of gum adra-
gant, and let it dissolve for 24 hours in the white of
eggs well beat up j then rub it gently on the glass with
a brush.
Varnishes before they are used should be carefully
kept from dust, which would spoil them j and they
2
6 ] V A E
should be kept in a vessel quite clean and dry. When
used, they should be lifted lightly with a brush, and
spread upon a ground altogether free from dirt and
moisture. The substance, after being varnished, should
be exposed to the heat of the sun, or placed in a warm
room covered with a glass case, to keep out all filth.
Oil varnishes require more heat than alcohol varnishei.
The varnish should be put on very quickly, making
great strokes with the pencil or brush, taking care that
these strokes never cross one another; it should be spread
equally, and never thicker than a leaf of paper j a se¬
cond coat should never be put on till the first is quite
dry. ll the varnish, after being put on, becomes dull
and uneven, it must be taken off entirely, and new var¬
nish put on.
When wainscot is to be varnished, it is first painted
of a wooden colour. This colour is made by infusing in
water either red or yellow ochre (according to the co¬
lour wished for), terra ombria (a kind of ochre) and
white lead ; into this as much as necessary is put of
parchment paste. Two thin coats of this are to be put
on, and, after they are quite dry, the varnish.
Varnishes are polished with pumice-stone and tripoli
earth. The pumice-stone must be reduced to an impal¬
pable powder, and put upon a piece of serge moistened
with water ; with this the varnished substance is to be
rubbed lightly and equally. The tripoli must also be
reduced to a very fine powder, and put upon a clean
woollen cloth moistened with olive oil, with which the
polishing is to be performed. The varnish is then to be
wiped with soft linen, and, when quite dry, cleaned
with starch or Spanish white, and rubbed with the palm
of the hand or with a linen cloth.
To recover colours or varnish, and to take off the
dirt and filth which may adhere to them, a ley is used
made of potash and the ashes of lees of wine. Take 48
ounces of potash, and 16 of the above-mentioned ashes,
and put them into six quarts of water, and the ley is
made : instead of the ashes an equal quantity of potash
would probably do as well. To clean dirty colours,
dilute some of this ley with four times its quantity of
water, and rub the picture with it; then wash it with
river water *, and when dry, give it a coat or two of
varnish. In order to take off a varnish, wash it with
the above-mentioned ley, then with water, and then lift
it off the substance on which it was with any iron in¬
strument.—We shall finish this article with a descrip¬
tion of the famous Chinese varnish.
The Chinese varnish is not a composition, but a resin
which exudes from a tree called in China tsi-chu, “ var¬
nish tree.” This tree grows in several provinces of the
southern parts of China. The Chinese take the follow¬
ing method of propagating this treee : In spring they
choose a vigorous shoot about a foot in length, which
proceeds immediately from the trunk $ and coat over
the lower part, by which it adheres to the tree, with a
kind of yellow earth, at least three inches in thickness.
This coat is carefully covered with a rhat, to defend it
from rain and the injuries of the air. Towards the au¬
tumnal equinox they detach a little of the earth, to ob¬
serve in what condition the small roots are, which begin
to spring forth from the shoot. If they find that the
filaments which compose them are of a reddish colour,
they judge it is time to make an amputation ) but they
defer it if the roots are white, because this colour short*
VAR [ 5
.4 that they are yet too tender: they then close up the
_ J coat again, and wait till the spring following. 'When
the shoot is separated from the trunk of the tree, it is put
into the earth j but in whatever season it is planted,
whether in spring or autumn, great care must be taken
to put plenty of cinders into the hole prepared for it j
without this precaution the ants would destroy the yet
tender roots, or at least deprive them of all their mois¬
ture, and cause them to decay.
The Chinese do not procure varnish from the tsi-chu
until its trunk is nearly five inches in diameter, which
size it seldom attains to before seven or eight years.
Varnish extracted from a tree smaller or of less age
would not have the same body and splendour. This li¬
quor distils only in the night time, and during the sum¬
mer season. To cause the gum to flow, they make seve¬
ral rows of incisions round the trunk, the number of
which is proportioned to the vigour of the tree. The
first row is seven inches from the earth, and the rest are
at the same distance one from the other, and continue
to the top of the tx-unk, and even sometimes on the
boughs which ax-e of sufficient strength and size. The
Chinese use a crooked iron for making these incisions,
which must run a little obliquely, and be equal in depth
to the thickness of the bark; they make them with one
hand, and with the other hold a shell, the edges of which
they insert into the opening, where it remains without
any support. These incisions are made towards evening,
and next morning they collect the varnish which has
fallen into the shells ; the following evening they are
again inserted, and this operation is continued until the
end of summer. A thousand trees yield almost iu one
night 20 pounds of varnish.
While the varnish distils, it exhales a malignant va¬
pour, the bad ell'ects of which can only be prevented by
preservatives and great precaution. The merchant who
employs the workmen is obliged to keep by him a large
vase filled with rape-oil, in which a certain quantity of
those fleshy filaments have been boiled that are found in
hog’s lard, and which do not melt. When the work¬
men are going to fix the shells to the trees, they cany
some of this oil along with them, and rub their face and
hands with it, which they do with greater cai'e when
they collect in the morning the varnish that has distilled
during night. After eating, they wash their whole bo¬
dies with warm water, in which the bark of the chesnut
! tree, fir wood, crystallized saltpetre, and some other
drugs, have been boiled. When they ai’e at work near
the trees, they put upon their heads a small cloth bag
iu which thex-e ax-e two holes, and cover the fore part of
their bodies with a kind of apron made of doe-skin,
which is suspended from their necks with strings, and
bed round them with a girdle. They also wear boots,
ami have coverings on their arms, made of the same
kind of si dn. The labourer who should attempt to col¬
lect varnish without using this precaution, would soon
be punished for his rashness, and the most dreadful ef¬
fects would ensue. The disorder shows itself by tetters,
which become of a bright red colour’, and spi’ead in a
very short time; the body afterwards swells, and the
skin bursts and appears covered with an universal lepro-
sy* The unhappy wretch could not long endure the ex¬
cruciating pain which he feels, did he not find a speedy
remedy in those presex-vatives which are used against
the malignant and noxious exhalations of the varnish.
27 ] VAR
The season of collecting varnish beingended, the mer- VamisA.
chants put it into small casks closely stopped. A pound ' v 
of it newly made costs him about one shilling and eight
pence sterling j but he gains cent, per cent, upon it,
and sometimes more, according to the distance of th«
place to which he transports it.
Besides the lustre and beauty whicli that varnish gives
to many of the Chinese manufactures, it has also the
property of preserving the wood upon which it is
laid, especially if no other matter be mixed with it.
It pi’events it from being hurt either by dampness or
worms.
Every workman has a particular art and method of
using the varnish. This work requix-es not only much
skill and dexterity, but also great attention, to observe
the proper degree of fluidity which the gum ought to
have, as it must be neither too thick nor too liquid when
it is laid on. Patience above all is necessary in those who
wish to succeed. To be properly varnished, a work must
be done at leisure j and the whole summer is scarcely
sufficient to bring it to perfection. It is therefore rare
to see any of those cabinets which are imported to us
from Canton so beautiful and durable as those manu¬
factured in Japan, Tong-king, and Nang-king, the
capital of the province of Kiang-xian : not that the
artists do not employ the same varnish j but as ther
work for Europeans, who are more easily pleased, they
do not take the trouble of giving the pieces which
come from their hands all the polish they are capable of
receiving.
There are two methods of laying on the varnish;
the simplest is, when it is immediately laid on the wood.
The work is fix-st polished, and then daubed over with
a kind of oil which the Chinese call tong-yeoit. When
this oil is dry, it receives two or three coats of varnish;
which remain so transparent, that all the shades and
veins of the wood may be seen through them. If the
artist is desirous of entirely concealing the substance on
which they are laid, nothing is necessary but to add a
few more coats; these give the work a shining surface,
the smoothness of which equals that of the most beautiful
ice. When the work is dx-y, various figures are painted
upon it in gold and silver, such as flowei’S, birds, trees,
temples, dragons, &c. A new coat of varnish is then
sometimes laid over these figures, which preserves them,
and adds much to their splendour. The second method
requires more preparation. The Chinese workmen fix
to the wood by means of glue a kind of pasteboard, com¬
posed of paper, hemp, lime, and other ingredients, well
beaten that the varnish may incorporate with them. Of
this they make a ground perfectly smooth and solid, over
which the varnish is laid in thin coats, that ai’e left to
dry one after the other.
It often happens, that the lustre of varnished tables
and other pieces of furniture is insensibly destroyed by-
tea and warm liquors. “ The secret of restoring to var¬
nish its shining black colour (says a Chinese author) is
to expose it for one night to a white hoar-frost, or to
cover it some time with snow.” For a method of imi¬
tating Chinese varnish, see Turning.
Varnish also signifies a sort of shining coat, where¬
with potters-wai’e, delft-Avare, china-ware, &c. are co¬
vered, which gives them a smoothness and lustre. Melt¬
ed lead is generally used for the first, and smalt forth*
second. See Glazing.
Varnish,
n.;
VAR [ 528 ] V A U
'Varnish,
Varro.
■Varnish, among medalists, signifies the colours an¬
tique medals have acquired in the earth.
The beauty which nature alone is able to give to me¬
dals, and art has never yet attained to counterfeit, en¬
hances the value of them : that is, the colour which
certain soils in which they have a long time lain tinges
the metals withal : some of which are blue, almost as
beautiful as the turquoise } others with an inimitable
vermilion colour; others with a certain shining polished
brown, vastly finer than Brasil figures. The most usual
varnish is a beautiful green, which hangs to the finest
strokes without effacing them, more accurately than the
finest enamel does on metals. No metal but brass is
susceptible of this; for the green rust that gathers on
silver always spoils it, and it must be got off with vine¬
gar or lemon juice.
Falsifiers of medals have a false or modern varnish,
which they use on their counterfeits, to give them the
appearance or air of being antique. But this may be
discovered by its softness.
VARRO, Marcus Terentius, the most learned of
all the Romans, was born 28 years B. C. He was a
senator of the first distinction, both for birth and merit ;
and bore many great offices. He was an intimate
friend of Cicero ; and this friendship was confirmed and
immortalized by a mutual dedication of their learned
works to each other. Thus Cicero dedicated his Aca¬
demic Questions to Varro ; and Varro dedicated his
treatise on the Latin tongue to Cicero. In the civil
wars he was zealously attached to Pompey ; but after
his defeat soon submitted to Caesar, who was reconciled
to him. Afterwards he applied his whole time to let¬
ters, and had the charge of the Greek and Latin libra¬
ries at Rome. He was above 70 when Antony proscri¬
bed him ; however, he found means to escape and save
his life, though he could not save some of his works and
his library from being plundered by the soldiers. After
this storm was over, he pursued his studies as usual; and
Pliny relates, that he continued to study and to write
when he was 88 years of age. He was 80 when he
wrote his three books Dc re Rustua, which are still ex¬
tant. Five of his books De lingua Latina, which he
addressed to Cicero, are all extant. There remain, too,
divers fragments of his works, particularly of his Menip-
p»an Satires, which are medleys of prose and verse ; and
Scaliger has collected some of his epigrams from among
the Catalecta Virgilii. His books De lingua Latina, and
De re Rustica, were printed with the notes of Joseph
Scaliger, Turnebus, and Victorius, by Henry Stephens
at Paris, 1 1573, in 8vo, and have been published sepa¬
rately since among the Auctores de lingua Latina, and
the Auctores de re Rustica.
There was another Varro of antiquity called Ataci-
nus, a poet, who was born about 10 years after the first,
at a small town near Narbonne. Flis chief works were,
A poem on the war with theSequani, a people of Gaul;
and the Astronomies, that went under the name of Plan-
ciades the grammarian. But the Argonautics, in four
books, was what gained him the greatest reputation:
and though indeed nothing but a translation of Apollo¬
nius Rhodius, yet was so well done as to be commended
by Quintilian.
VARRONIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class pentandria, and arranged in the natural system
.under the 41st order, vlsptfn/bfoe. See Botany Lnde*:.
VASCULAR, something consisting of divers vessels, yarrc
as arteries, veins, &c. y
VASE, a term frequently used for ancient vessels Vudoii
dug from under ground, or otherwise found, and pre- v “
served in the cabinets of the curious. In architecture,
the appellation vase is also given to those ornaments
placed on corniches, fochles, or pedestals, representing
the vessels of the ancients, particularly those used in sa¬
crifice, as incense-pots, flower-pots, &c. See Port¬
land-Vase.
VASSAL, in our ancient customs, signified a tenant
or feudatory ; or person who vowed fidelity and homage
to a lord, on account of some land, &c. held of him in
fee ; also a slave or servant, and especially a domestic
of a prince.—Vassalius is said to be quasi inferior so-
cius; as he is inferior to his master, and must serve
him ; and yet he is in a manner his companion, because
each of them is obliged to the other. See Feodal System.
VATICAN, a magnificent palace of the pope in
Rome, which is said to consist of several thousand rooms:
but the parts of it most admired are the grand staircase,
the pope’s apartment, and especially the library, which
is one of the richest in the world, both in printed books
and manuscripts.
VAUBAN, Sebastian le Frestre, Seigneur
DE, marshal of France, and the greatest engineer that
country ever produced, was born in 1633. He display¬
ed his knowledge of fortification in the course of many
sieges, and his services were rewarded with the first mi¬
litary honours. He was made governor of Lisle in
1668, commissary general of the fortifications of I ranee
in 1678, governor of the maritime parts of Flanders in
1689, and a marshal of France in 1703. He died in
1707, after having brought the arts of attacking and
defending fortified places to a degree of perfection un¬
known before. His writings on these'subjects are in
great esteem.
VAUCLUSE, a department in the south-east of France,
lying between the eastern side of the Rhone, and the
branches of the Alps. The soil is various, in the north
chiefly calcareous, in the west sandy, and in other parts
covered with flinty pebbles. Agriculture is in a very
rude state, the corn raised is not suflicient for internal
consumption, and leguminous plants do not thrive here.
The climate admits of the vine, the olive, and the mul¬
berry, but none of them are cultivated with any degree
of spirit. There are mines of coal, but of a kind ex¬
tremely sulphurous. The manufactures are trifling.
The extent of this department is 234,560 hectares, and
the population in 1817 was 205,832. Avignon is the
chief town.
VAUDOIS, Valdenses, or Waldenses, in ec¬
clesiastical history, a name given to a sect of refor¬
mers, who made their first appearance about the year
1160.
The origin of this famous sect, according to Mo-
sheim, was as follows : Peter, an opulent merchant 0
Lyons, surnamed Vuldensis, or Validisius from "Vauxor
Waldum, a town in the marquisate of Lyons, being ex¬
tremely zealous for the advancement of true piety an
Christian knowledge, employed a certain priest ca e
Stephanas de Evisa, about the year 1160, in translating
from Latin into French the four Gospels, with ot ier
books of Holy Scripture, and the most remarkable sen¬
tences of the ancient doctors, which were so hig > *
esteemed
U B I [ S2C)
esteemed in this century. But no sooner had he perused tius
these sacred books with a proper degree of attention,
than he perceived that the religion which was now
taught in the Roman church, differed totally from that
which was originally inculcated by Christ and his apo¬
stles. Struck with this glaring contradiction between
the doctrines of the pontiffs and the truths of the Gos¬
pel, and animated with zeal, he abandoned his mercan¬
tile vocation, distributed his riches among the poor
(whence the Waldenses were called poor men of Lijons),
and forming an association with other pious men, who
had adopted his sentiments and turn of devotion, he be¬
gan in the year 1180 to assume the quality of a public
teacher, and to instruct the multitude in the doctrines
and precepts of Christianity.
Soon after Peter had assumed the exercise of his mi¬
nistry, the archbishop of Lyons, and the ottier rulers of
the church in that province, vigorously opposed him.
However, their opposition was unsuccessful j for the
purity and simplicity of that religion which these good
men taught, the spotless innocence that shone forth in
their lives and actions, and the noble contempt of riches
and honours, which was conspicuous in the whole of their
conduct and conversation, appeared so engaging to all
such as had any sense of true piety, that the number of
their followers daily increased.— They accordingly for-
wied religious assemblies, first in Prance, and after¬
wards in Lombardy, from whence they propagated their
sect throughout the other provinces of Europe with in-
•redible rapidity, and with such invincible fortitude,
that neither fire, nor sword, nor the most cruel inven¬
tions of merciless persecution, could damp their zeal, or
entirely ruin their cause.
VAULT, in Architecture, an arched roof, so contriv¬
ed that the stones which form it sustain each other.
Vaults are on many occasions to be preferred to sof¬
fits or flat ceilings, as they give a greater height and
elevation, and are besides more firm and durable.
VAYER. See Mothe.
VAYVODE, or Vaivode. See Waywode.
XJBES, St, a sea-port town of Portugal, in the pro¬
vince of Estremadura, seated on a bay of the Atlantic
ocean, 21 miles south of Lisbon. It stands on an emi¬
nence, with a very strong castle built on a rock. The
sod around is fertile in corn, wine, and fruits 5 and it is
furnished with good fish from the sea, and a small lake
in the neighbourhood. Here great quantities of fine
salt are made, which is carried to the American plan¬
tations. E. Long. 8. 54. N. Lat. 38. 2 2.
UBIQUITAR1ANS, formed from uhique, “ every¬
where,” in ecclesiastical history, a sect of Lutherans
which rose and spread itself in Germany •, and whose
distinguishing doctrine was, that the body of Jesus Christ
is everywhere, or in every place.
Brentius, one of the earliest reformers, is said to have
first broached this error, in 1560. Luther himself, in
his controversy with Zuinglius, had thrown out some
unguarded expressions, that seemed to imply a belief of
the omnipresence of the body of Christ *, but he became
sensible afterwards, that this opinion was attended with
great difficulties, and particularly that it ought not to
he made use of as a proof of Christ’s corporal presence
in the eucharist. However, after the death of Luther,
this absurd hypothesis was renewed, and dressed up in
^ specious and plausible form by Brentius, Chemni
Vol. XX. Part II. t
1
V E E
who maintained
Veer.
and Andrseas, who maintained the communica- tlb!qnlta-
tion of the properties of Christ’s divinity to his human rians
nature. It is indeed obvious, that every Lutheran who
believes the doctrine of consubstantiation (see Supper
of the Lord), whatever he may pretend, must be an
Ubiquitarian.
UBIQUI TY, Omnipresence; an attribute of the
Deity, whereby he is always intimately present to all
things; gives the esse to all things $ knows, preserves,
and does all in all things.
UDDER, in comparative anatomy, that part in
brutes wherein the milk is prepared, answering to the
mammae or breasts in women. See Anatomy, Com¬
parative.
VEDAS, the sacred books of the Hindoos, believed
to be revealed by God, and called immortal. "They are
considered as the fountain of all knowledge human and
divine, and are four in number; of which we have the
following account in the first volume of the Asiatic Re¬
searches: the R/givY/o consists office sections ; the Ya-
jurveda of eighty-six: the Samaveda of a thousand; and
the At'harvaveda of nine; with eleven hundred sac'ha's,
or branches, in various divisions and subdivisions. The
Vedas in truth are infinite; but have been long reduced
to this number and older ; the principal part of them is
that which explains the duties of man in a methodical
arrangement; and in the fourth is a system of divine
ordinances.
From these are reduced the four Upavedas, the first of
which was delivered to mankind by Brahma, Indra,
Dhanwantari, and live other deities ; and comprises
the theory of disorders and medicines, with the prac¬
tical methods of curing diseases.
The second consists of music, invented for the pur¬
pose of raising the mind by devotion to the felicity of
the Divine nature ; the third treats of the fabrication
and use of arms ; and the fourth of sixty four mechani¬
cal arts. Of however little value we may esteem the
mechanical arts of the Hindoos, and however despicable
their theological system may really be, the Upaveda,
which treats of diseases and the method of curing them,
surely deserves to be studied by every European physi¬
cian practising in India. There are indeed a great
number of medical books in the Shanscnt language
worthy of attention ; for though the theories of their
authors may be groundless and whimsical, they contain
the names and descriptions of many Indian plants and
minerals, with their uses, discovered by experience, in
the cure of diseases.
VEDETTE, in War, a centinel on horseback, with
his horse’s head towards the place whence any danger is
to be feared, and his carabine advanced, with the butt-
end against his right thigh. When the army has en¬
camped, there are vedettes posted at all the avenues,
and on all the rising grounds, to watch for its security.
To VEER and Haul, to pull a rope tight, by draw¬
ing it in and slackening it alternately, till the body to
which it is applied acquires an additional motion, like
the increased vibrations of a pendulum, so that the rope
is straitened to a greater tension with more facility and
dispatch. This method is particularly used in hauling
the bowlines.
The wind is said to veer and haul when it alters its
dip ction, and becomes more or less fair. Thus it is
said to veer aft and to haul forward.
3 ^ Veer?
V E G [ 530 ] V E G
Veer, Ter-Veer, anciently Camp-Veer, a town of
Zealand in the United Provinces, standing at the mouth
of the East Schelde, about four miles from Middle-
burgh, and eight from Flushing. Veer, in Dutch, sig¬
nifies a passage or ferry over an arm of the sea or a
river ; and as there was once a ferry here over the
Schelde to the village of Compen, on the island of
North Beveland, the town thereby got the name of
Veer, Camp-Veer, and Ter-Veer. It is well fortified,
and formerly enjoyed a good trade, especially to Scot¬
land } the natives enjoying particular privileges here.
The harbour is very good, and the arsenal the best fur¬
nished in the world. Hence the Veres, anciently earls
of Oxford, are said to have derived both their origin
and name.
VEERING, or Wearing, the operation by which
a ship, in changing her course from one board to the
other, turns her stern to windward. Hence it is used
in opposition to Tacking, wherein the head is turned to
the wind and the stern to leeward. See Seamanship.
VEGA, Lopez DE, a celebrated Spanish poet. He
was the son of Felix de Vega and Francisca Fernandez,
who were both descended from honourable families, and
lived in the neighbourhood of Madrid. Our poet was
born in that city on the 25th of November 1562. He
was, according to his own expression, a poet from his
cradle j and beginning to make verses before he had
learned to write, he used to bribe his elder school-fel¬
lows with part of his breakfast, to commit to paper the
lines he had composed. Having lost his father while he
was vet still a child, he engaged in a frolic very natural
to a lively boy, and wandered with another lad to vari¬
ous parts of Spain, till, having spent their money, and
being conducted before a magistrate at Segovia for of¬
fering-to sell a few trinkets, they were sent home again
to Madrid. Soon after this adventure, our young poet
was taken under the protection of Geronimo Manrique,
bishop of Avila, and began to distinguish himself by his
dramatic compositions, which were received with great
applause by the public, though their author had not yet
completed his education : for, after this period, he be¬
came a member of the university of Alcala, where he
devoted himself for four years to the study of philo¬
sophy. He was then engaged as secretary to the duke
of Alva, and wrote his Arcadia in compliment to that
patron : who is frequently mentioned in his occasional
poems. He quitted that employment on his marriage
with Isabel de Urbina, a lady (says his friend and bio¬
grapher Perez de Montalvan) beautiful without arti¬
fice, and virtuous without affectation. His domestic
happiness was soon interrupted by a painful incident :
Having written some lively verses in ridicule of a person
who had taken some injurious freedom with his charac¬
ter, he received a challenge in consequence of his wit j
and happening, in the duel which ensued, to give his
adversary a dangerous wound, he was obliged to fly
from his family, and shelter himself in Valencia. He
resided there a considerable time; but connubial affec¬
tion recalled him to Madrid. His wife died in the year
of his return. H is affliction at this event led him to re¬
linquish his favourite studies, and embark on board the
Armada which was then preparing for the invasion of
England. He had a brother who served in that fleet as
a lieutenant y and being shot in an engagement with
some Dutch vessels, his virtues were celebrated by our Y#g(
afflicted poet, whose heart was peculiarly alive to every Vegeta
generous affection. After the ill success of the Armada, Phydok.
the disconsolate Lopez de Vega returned to Madrid, '“nr
and became secretary to the marquis of Mai pica, to
whom he has addressed a grateful sonnet. From the
service of this patron he passed into the household of the
count of Lemos, whom he celebrates as an inimitable
poet. He was once more induced to quit his attendance
on the great, for the more inviting comforts of a mar¬
ried life. His second choice was Juana de Guardio, of
noble birth and singular beauty. By this lady he had
two children, a son who died in his infancy, and a
daughter named Feliciana, who survived her father.
The death of his little boy is said to have hastened that
of his wife, whom he had the misfortune to lose in about
seven years after his marriage. Having now experi¬
enced the precariousness of all human enjoyments, he
devoted himself to a religious life, and fulfilled all the
duties of it with the most exemplary piety: still conti¬
nuing to produce an astonishing variety of poetical com¬
positions. His talents and virtues procured him many
unsolicited honours. Pope Urban VIII. sent him the
cross of Malta, with the title of Doctor in Divinity,
and appointed him to a place of profit in the Apostolic
Chamber : favours for which he expressed his gratitude
by dedicating his Corona Tragica (a long poem on the
fate of Mary queen of Scots) to that liberal pontiff. In
his 73d year he felt the approaches of death, and pre¬
pared himself for it with the utmost composure and de¬
votion. His last hours were attended by many of hi»
intimate friends, and particularly his chief patron the
duke of Sessa, whom he had made his executor; leaving
him the care of his daughter Feliciana, and of his vari¬
ous manuscripts. The manner in which he took leave
of those he loved was most tender and affecting. He
said to his disciple and biographer Montalvan, That
true fame consisted in being good : and that he would
willingly exchange all the applauses he had received to
add a single deed of virtue to the actions of his life.
Having given his dying benediction to his daughter,
and performed the last ceremonies of his religion, he
expired on the 25th of August 1635.
VEGETABLE Physiology.—Under the article
Botany, and also under Plant, we have already de¬
livered some of the commonly received doctrines on this
subject. But as some late investigations seem to lead
to new views with regard to the structure and nature ot
vegetables, we have thought it necessary to resume the
subject, and to give as full a detail of the experiments
and observations to which we allude as our limits will
permit; we shall first treat of the structure, and se¬
condly of the physiology of plants.
I. Structure of Plants.—In considering the
stucture or anatomy of plants, we shall treat, 1st, ot
the root ; 2d, of the stem and branches; 3d, ot thfl
leaves ; and 4th, of the flowers; in the order in which
they are now enumerated.
1. The Root.—The root is that organ belonging to
vegetables by which they are supplied with nourishment,
and by which they are fixed to a commodious situation.
It was formerly supposed to be composed of outer and ^
inner bark, of wood, and of pith; but Mrs Ibbetson, who
has lately communicated * to the public the results ol a” ‘ ’
elaborate33*
V E G T 531 ] V E G
table elaborate series of experiments on this subject, thinks
mology. that it is wholly composed of the rind much thickened,
-Y with perhaps a very little of the outer bark, but no in¬
ner bark ; of a quantity of wood, hardly any pith, and
no spiral vessels. Mrs Ibbetson searched in vain for the
lareer vessels of the inner bark, till it occurred to her
that the want of this bark accounted for there being no
leaves on the root. Mrs Ibbetson had often been as¬
sured that roots were found bearing leaves, but on dis¬
section of these supposed roots, she found that they were
branches which crossed the root.
The root consists of the caudex, stock or main body,
and of the radiculse or fibres which arise from the cau¬
dex, and are the organs by which the moisture is im¬
mediately imbibed.
In botanical terminology, we generally consider all
that part of a plant which is under ground as the root;
but Linne comprehends under his definition, what We
term the body or trunk of the plant ; and he went so
far as to call the stems of trees “ roots above ground
but as Dr Smith justly remarks, this seems paradoxical
and scarcely correct. Dr Smith adds, that perhaps it
would be more accurate to call the caudex a subterra¬
neous stem ; although he is rather inclined to think that
it has functions distinct from the stem, analogous to di¬
gestion ; for there is evidently a great difference in many
cases, between the fluids of the root, at least the secret¬
ed ones, and those of the rest of the plant.
In botanical physiology, by the term root, is often un¬
derstood the parts only which serve to keep the plants
firm in the ground : thus the bulbous and fleshy roots
as they are called, are, strictly speaking, not roots ; the
radiculae or fibres being the real roots. The duration
of roots is various ; they are either annual, biennial, or
perennial.
2. The Stems and Branches.—Linne long ago di*
vided the stems of trees into four parts ; the rind, the
bark, the wood and the pith : and nearly a similar divi¬
sion has been adopted by most vegetable physiologists
till the present time.
Mrs Ibbetson (aided by a powerful solar microscope),
however, thinks that nature points out a more regular
division, a division marked not only by the form, but
by the difference of the juices, with which the parts are
swelled.
Mrs Ibbetson divides the stem of trees into six parts ;
I. The rind ; 2. The bark and inner bark ; 3. The
wood ; 4. The spiral nerves ; 3. The nerves or circle of
life (corona of Hill) ; and, 6. The pith.
Of the rind.—Mrs Ibbetson conceives the rind to
be merely an outward covering to the tree, which pre¬
vents its juices from being evaporated by the influence
of the sun’s heat. The rind is continued under ground:
but it mav be as useful there to prevent the entrance of
the dust and earth, the pressure of stones, or the injury
of insects.
The rind is composed of two rows of cylinders, with
a single line to divide them. The cylinders are filled
with a pellucid liquor. There are seldom more than
four or five layers of vessels in the rind ; but it is in ge¬
neral so covered with parasitic plants, as powdery li¬
chens, &.c. that its thickness is often more than dou¬
bled.
The rind does not appear to be necessary to plants in
general, as there are many in which the bark serves
as a covering in its stead ; but it seems to form an es- Vegetabls
sential part of trees. Physiology,
2. Of the bark and inner AonL—These parts, though y——'
certainly different as to form, contain the same kind of
juice; and being so nearly allied, may be treated of as
one. From the bark and inner bark the leaves take
their origin, as will be shown when we come to treat of
the formation of the leaf-bud. Mrs lobetson conceives
that the juice of the bark is the blood of the tree.
In the bark alone are produced the gums, the resins,
the oil, the milk, &c.; in short all that belongs to the
tree ; gives taste to it ; all that makes one plant differ
from another, and all its virtues, if the expression may
be used. The bark is generally green ; the inner bark
white, yellow, or green* The former consists of vessels
crossing each other ; the latter of bundles of vessels of
two sizes. The large vessels consist of broad cylinders,
having a bottom with a hole in it, through which the
liquid passes, though not with perfect ease.
Mrs Ibbetson says that on exposing several pieces of
the inner bark to the solar microscope, the moment she
turned the light on the specimen, the juice, which had
before proceeded up the pipes rather slowly, w as sudden¬
ly propelled forward with a force truly astonishing.
When the heat and light were increased by causing
the focus of the rays to fall on the vessels, the side divi¬
sions of the vessels were broken through, thus inundat¬
ing the specimen ; but when a proper degree of light
and heat was kept up, it was curious to observe the li¬
quid passing from pipe to pipe, in one regular and easy
flow, making only a short stop as it issued through the
straitened apertures at the bottom of the vessels. Mr«
Ibbetson has often stood for more than an hour watch¬
ing the current, (which passes, however, much slower
than the sap does), nor could she perceive while the
heat and light were on it, that it required any addi¬
tional expedient to hasten its momentum ; but during
the cold and darkness of night, she supposes that the
pressure of the bastard grain mentioned by Mr Knight,
may very likely assist its flow, as it is at night that the
bastard grain is pressed against the cylinders.
The bastard grain is found however only in the wood ;
but the contraction at the bottom of the large vessels of
the inner bark, may probably serve the same purpose,
the impetus of the current being increased by the less¬
ening of the apertures of the vessels.
The vessels of the inner bark are very thick in pro¬
portion to their size,' and there is placed in them a pe¬
culiar circular body, which resembles a cullender full of
holes so small that no liquid could pass them. In view¬
ing the thick juice which runs through these pipes, Mrs
Ibbetson observed many bubbles of air, the size of which
was increased or diminished according to the tempera¬
ture ; and as their size varied, so w'as the flow of the
liquid accelerated or retarded. To see these vessels
well, the specimens may be placed in a basket which is
to be fastened in a running stream for some time, or
boiled thoroughly, and then thrown into green wax
perfectly melted.
Mirbel says that “ some plants have the same juices
in every part of them but Mrs Ibbetson does not coin¬
cide with his idea, for she did not find it to he so ; though
the potent smell of the liquid belonging to the bark of¬
ten extends to other parts of the plant, yet it general¬
ly vanishes if kept separate for a day, or becomes so
3X2 faint
V E G [ 532 ] V E G
Vcg«ta'blc faint in comparison with the real liquid of the bark as
Physiology, to prove that it does not form an ingredient of these
v parts. Mirhel says that the cylinders of the inner bark
are merely vacancies of the ordinary vessels $ but Mrs
Ibbetson states that they are exactly the same as these
vessels, and occupy the same place.
. They have a peculiar shape, being unlike any other
vessels of the tree, and they perform a particular of¬
fice.
The vessels of the bark are smaller, and more simple
than those of the inner bark, and are divided by a line
or two, running longitudinally between them.
3. Of the irooD-—This is a very obvious part. Place
the stem of any plant in a coloured liquid, and every
vessel which conveys the sap from the earth to the top
of the tree will be tinged.
The sap is a thin watery liquor, probably medicated
from the earth, in order to become suitable for the life
of vegetables.
Mrs Ibbetson supposes that the sap may vary with the
soil, though on trial she has never found that change
which might have been suspected.
If we make a transverse section of the stem of a tree,
two different kinds of layers present themselves in the
wood j some running in a circular manner, which tim¬
ber merchants call the silver grain; and others from the
circumference to the centre, which they denominate the
bastard grain. Linne long ago believed that one of
the circular layers was added to the tree each year.
This opinion has often been controverted, and among
others by Duhamel and Mirbel; but Mrs Ibbetson has
had an opportunity of verifying the accuracy of Linne’s
opinion. She also observed that the layer was large
or small according to the exposure of the tree, and
the favourableness of the season : thus in exposed situ¬
ations, the circles taken as a whole, were much narrow¬
er than in trees not exposed. In some trees she noticed
only half a circular layer.
Mrs Ibbetson thinks the bastard stripe consists of
two lines or strings with a little scale between them $
and they appear, from their extreme susceptibility, to be
formed of the same leather-like substance as the spiral
vessels, which we are immediately to notice.
Mr Knight merely calls them scales; but as he
mentions their pressing close (which they certainly do)
to the cylinders at night, and during cold weather^ it
is obvious (whichever of the opinions we adopt) that
the bastard grains are capable of supplying the place
of the sun’s rays, by their pressure.
The wood-vessels are far more simple in structure
than those of the bark j they are very narrow cylin¬
ders, and the two rows next to the corona are covered
by the spiral vessels.
It is indeed difficult to determine the exact extent of
the spiral vessels even with the assistance of the solar
microscope, for it is by unwinding them alone that they
can be known ; and their extreme fineness confuses, in
consequence of which they have been taken for sap ves¬
sels. Neither Mr Knight nor Mirbel was led into this
mistake, and Mrs Ibbetson thinks that there can be no
doubt that these vessels (formerly so called) are solid
strings which hold no liquid.
The vessels of the wood may be best seen in slices of
the stems of young trees j and if not very visible when
recently cut, they will soon become so if the slices are
kept in a dry place.
If the wood-vessels are cut longitudinally and observ¬
ed with a high magnifier, as soon as the light is permit-
ted to come on the glass, the flow of sap will be acce¬
lerated, and with perfect ease will run up vessels so di¬
minutive that to measure them is almost impossible.
A few of the w*ood-vessels are separated and run with
the spiral vessels to each leaf, in order to nourish it, as
will be more particularly noticed, when we come to
treat of the leaf-bud.
Vegetable
Physiology.
But little of the sap, however, passes off in this way
from the principal current, which flows on •, its chief
purpose being to form the stamen and the pollen apper¬
taining to it, and afterwards to lend its principal aid to
the formation of the fruit and seed.
4. The spiral vessels are a quantity of solid strings
coiled up into a spiral form. Mrs Ibbetson supposes
them to be formed of a leather-like substance, and, as
already mentioned, to be rolled round the wood. In this
spiral manner they run up the stems of trees and plants
of every kind (with a few exceptions), and from thence
into every leaf and flower. These spiral cords are singly
too small to be observed by the naked eye. They run
into every fibre of the leaf, and are fastened to its edges,
thus crossing among the vessels in every direction like
a spider’s web j by which disposition they can draw
the leaves in any way that is necessary for them.
The larger of the interior wood-vessels are each sup¬
plied with sets of ten or twelve spiral cords, but the
smaller of these have only three or four to each.
In the cabbage leaf and in the burdock, the spiral
cords may be found in bundles almost as thick as a
packthread, but in smaller leaves they are proper¬
ly proportioned. These spiral cords, Mrs Ibbetson
thinks, are the cause of the motions of plants. See
Plant, p. 601, where these cords are called ofr-ves¬
sels.
5. Of the corona or circle of life.—The next part to
be noticed is the small circle of vessels situated between
the wood and the pith, the importance of which, in the
formation of the seed, will be noticed under Impregna¬
tion of the Seed; where are also related strong proofs to
show that a plant cannot exist a day without the corona,
and that if a young plant be deprived of this part, it
will not grow again, though it will certainly do so if
the plant be somewhat old. It is very curious that al¬
most every botanical anatomist should have figured this
part, without giving it a name, or noticing it particu¬
larly •, and that these anatomists should have attributed
all its power’s to the pith, which, from the short term
of its existence, and its being perpetually impeded in
its progress to make way for the flower-bud, can evi¬
dently have but little influence. The circle of life»
however, has not escaped the notice of Hill, who term¬
ed it the corona.
The circle of life consists of rows of little cylinders
which have their own peculiar juice, generally of an
austere quality. From the corona all branches take
their rise, and from it all wood threads grow. The cy¬
linders of which it is composed run up into all flower-
buds, but never approach the leaf-bud as is represented
by fig. 1. and 2. j when these cylinders enter the flower- Pb1'
bud, they make their way distinctly to each separate * J(
flower, ll»• '
V E G [ 533 1 V E G
abje flower, forming the pistil, and after depositing in each
ogy. side the line, which is the first origin of life, they are
afterwards impregnated, or acquire the power of giving
life by the juice ot the stamen, which runs through the
same string into the seed.
That the principal vitality of the plant resides in the
corona, we think is proved by the experiments and ob¬
servations ol Mrs Ibbetson under Impregnation ojseed^
and seems to be farther confirmed by the following re¬
marks.
When a branch is cut from a tree, or a tree is torn
up, the corona or circle of life is the first part that dies j
and if, after a sudden frost, we examine the flowers of a
fruit tree, we shall find that neither the calyx, the co¬
rolla, the stamina, nor the seeds are hurt, but that the
pistilla are destroyed. And if we now observe the pistils
with care, we shall see that it is the line of life which is
decayed, and that this is the first part in which morti¬
fication commences. The peculiar liquor of the pistil
acquires a blood-red colour, and the vessels which run
up to the stigma become black, instead of their natural
yellow colour.
If in wood, this line is injured (either by the decay
of the bark or other means) the circle will undulate into
a thousand forms, for the purpose of regaining a healthy
situation in which it may pursue its course.
Mrs Ibbetson, to prove the power of the circle of
life, relates the following observations respecting the
poa replans.
She had often measured in winter, seven or eight
yards of this grass, which appeared perfectly dead 5 and
yet in May or June, she perceived life in it at the most
distant end from the stalk. Next spring she took up
two of these creeping branches which were much alike ;
and on dissecting one ot them through its whole length,
she found in it a collection of little vessels not thicker
than a very fine thread.
This collection of vessels had run about half way
the length of the branch, which was about three
yards.
Mrs Ibbetson having merely opened the cover of the
grass, laid it down again, and the little vessels continued
increasing till they reached the end of the branch, when
they made a stop, and it was perceived that the grass
began to thicken } and at the end nearest the roots, the
dead part became inflated with juice, lost by degrees
I its dead appearance, thickened about the joints within,
i and at last shot forth fresh leaves and fresh roots from
every joint.
Mrs Ibbetson has since watched with the greatest
care, and found that the fine thread which runs through
1 the grass protected by the dead scale, w'as the circle of
life. When this thread is stopped by the covers decay¬
ing, it waits till the season permits the rest of the plant
to grow. From what has been said, it is evident that
the dead matter may be inflated with a living juice, and
live itself again, provided the life near the stem of the
plant be not extinguished. Mrs Ibbetson has obseived
this to happen in many plants, as in hydrangea, in which
the stalk» apparently lie down and are inflated again, or
at least a part of them.
6* Vith.— Linne considered the pith of plants as of
equal importance with the spinal marrow of animals $
ut Mrs Ibbetson thinks this part of but little conse-
fjueace, and transfers this importance to the circle of
life, which she compares to the brain and spinal mar- Vegetable
row. She conceives that the pith forms merely a Idisiology.
source of moisture for the plant when required. The  v~'
pith stops with every flower-bud, and begins again to
grow as soon as the bud is past ; it decreases as the
strength and size of the tree increase ; it is the only
part of the tree which is devoid of vessels j it is merely
a net, not a bundle of cylinders, and is commonly of a
remarkably splendid or silver white colour.
It has been said that the pith assumes a variety of fi¬
gures, but Mrs Ibbetson thinks this is a mistake, though
she admits a few different sorts.
All young trees and shrubs are provided with pith j
but in the progress of their growth they need it no long¬
er, the wood being a good substitute. On the same ac¬
count, in general, we find no pith in water plants, which
have a hollow stem, and rarely suffer from draught.
Linne thought that the pith was the seat of life
and the source of vegetation ; or in a word, the primary-
part of the plant. Duhamel considered it as of but little
importance at all. Wildenow and Knight concur with
Mrs Ibbetson in regarding it as a reservoir of moisture
for the young plants ; and Dr Smith holds a medium
opinion between that of Linne and the other authors
just named.
He says “ there is in certain respects an analogy be¬
tween the medulla of plants, and the nervous system of
animals j it is no less assiduously protected than the spi¬
nal marrow 5 it is branched off and diffused through the
plant, as nerves through the animal. Hence it is not
absurd to presume that it may in like manner give life
and vigour to the whole, though by no means, any more
than nerves, the organ or source of nourishment * ” ^
We were somewhat surprised to find that Mrs Ibbet-
son had not particularly noticed the cellular tissue as a 4’ an
distinct part to be seen in the stems of trees, as it has
been long known j we shall therefore subjoin a descrip¬
tion of it. It is a succulent cellular substance, general¬
ly of a green colour, at least in the leaves and branches.
Duhamel long ago called it envellope cellulaire^ and
Mirbel, more lately, tissue herbaci.
Duhamel supposed that the cellular tissue formed the
cuticle, or epidermis ; but this is not very probable, as
his own experiments show that when the cuticle is re¬
moved, the cellular integument exfoliates, at least in
trees, or is thrown off in consequence of the injury, and
a new cuticle, covering a new layer of the cellular tis¬
sue, is formed under the old one. This substance is
very universal, even in mosses and ferns. Leaves consist
almost entirely of a plate of this substance, covered on
each side by the cuticle. The stems and branches both
of annual and perennial plants are invested with it 5 but
in woody plants it is dried up, and reproduced almost
continually, such parts only having that reproductive
power. The old layers remain, are pushed outward by
the new ones, and form at length the rugged dry dead
covering of the old trunks of trees. The cellular inte¬
gument is a part of plants of the greatest importance j
for in it the juices of plants are operated on by li^ht
air, &c. ' o >
With regard to the branches of trees it has been al¬
ready noticed, that they derive their origin from the
corona ; and they are composed exactly of the same
parts as the trunks from which they arise,
3. The Leaves.—Mrs Ibbetson has, with the assist¬
ance
V E G
t 534 ]
V E G
Vegetable ance of the solar microscope, and by great attention to
Physiology, this natural process, being enabled to give some new and
l” » 1 interesting views on this subject. Her opinion respect¬
ing the formation of the leaf-bud is, “ That leaves are
formed or woven by the vessels or cotton that is gene¬
rally supposed by botanists (to be) placed there to de¬
fend the bud from the severities of winter j that these
vessels (or cotton) are a continuation of those of the bark
and inner bark in the stem of the plant j that these ves¬
sels compose the various interlacing branches of the leaf,
which are soon filled up by the concentrated and thick¬
ened juices of the inner bark, which form the pabulum
of the leaf.”
Mrs Ibbetson says the truth of her assertion may be
easily seen by dissecting early buds, in which, except
two or three, nothing but the cotton-like vessels will
he found. She asks then what could be the use of these
vessels ? and answers, that to put them within the bud
to keep the outside warm is against nature, for it is con¬
trary to nature. The leaf-bud in its first state consists
of two or three scales, inclosing a parcel of vessels, which
appear like very moist coarse cotton, but when drawn
out and placed in the solar microscope, they shew them¬
selves to be merely the vessels of the bark and inner
bark elongated and curled up in various forms.
These vessels are of three kinds like the bark, &c»
First, Three or four short thick ones which appear to
grow from the larger vessels of the inner bark, and
through which the thickened juice flows, but with this
diflerence, that the holes are not there.
Then there are twTo smaller sized Vessels, which ex¬
actly resemble the smaller vessels of the bark.
Mrs Ibbetson has always found the short thick kind
of vessels to form the mid-rib of the leaves, and the
smaller-sized vessels to compose the interlacing fibres (or
vessels) of the other parts of the leaves •, and from often
comparing the full-grown leaf with the leaf of the bud,
she feels the most thorough conviction that the latter
takes its origin as above noticed. The pabulum of the
leaf which lies between the vessels, is composed of that
thick juice which runs in the bark or inner bark of the
tree, and which does not exist in any other part of it.
The pabulum differs essentially from the sap, and may
be called the blood of the tree, as it possesses peculiar
properties in different trees *, thus it is of a gummy na¬
ture in one, of a resinous in a second, and of an oily na¬
ture in a third, &c.
Mrs Ibbetson is not certain whether the pabulum
both flows forwards and in a retrograde direction j but
she is convinced that the greatest part of it is taken up
in forming the leaves. The pabulum of the leaf, after
the vessels are arranged and crossed, grows over in blad¬
ders, making alternate layers with the smaller pipes
(vessels), and with the branches of the leaf.
Mrs Ibbetson states, that she does not know any tree
which gives a more convincing proof of the formation
of the leaves in the bud, than may be seen in the horse
chesnut (cesculus hippocastanum) about the month of
November or December.
Several different mid-ribs may be taken out at once
from the same leaf-bud, which have an innumerable
number of extremely fine silken vessels fastened to or
growing up from each side of them. When these vessels
have become sufficiently interlaced with each other, the
pabulum will begin to grow over them, in form of
small bladders full of a watery juice ; and then larger Pl»h»ioi,;
vessels will cross over them, which will soon be follow-'■"“v—
ed by another row of bladders ; and a similar process
will go on until the leaf has attained its proper thick¬
ness. The leaves thus formed are very small, but when
once their shape is completed every part of them con¬
tinues to increase in size. Fig. 6. represents the leaf-Fig.
bud of the horse-chesnut, as Fit was examined by Mrs
Ibbetson about the month of January.
Mrs Ibbetson next notices tbe arrangement of the
leaves in the buds of different trees j but we shall consi¬
der them by and bye.
The rolling, folding, or plaiting, &c. of the leaf-
bud, it is observed, does not merely take place at
once *, but to complete tbe process of budding, it ap¬
pears that this arrangement of the leaves is repeat¬
ed several times. During this arrangement the bod-
leaves are immersed in the glutinous liquor which runs
in the bark (and forms the pabulum) j and the pressure
of the leaves is very great. By this pressure and the
rolling, &.c. the leaves are completed ; for if a leaf be
taken from the bud before this process commences, it
may he compared to a piece of cloth before it is dressed j
for its back will be obscured by the ends of vessels,
which, had it remained in situ, would have been all rub¬
bed off, except the hairs which remain on many plants.
We come now to the formation of the edge of the
leaf, a curious and beautiful process.
The bud if opened will appear full of the glutinous
liquor which forms the pabulum, and the leaves arran¬
ged in the manner proper to the particular tree from
which the bud is taken. If one of the leaves be taken
out, the edges (in whatever manner folded) will exhi¬
bit a perfect double row of bubbles, following the scol¬
lop of the edge of the leaf j and it will appear as if it
were set with brilliants.
Things being in this state, all that is wanting for the
completion of the leaf is the formation of the pores,
now to be mentioned. Mrs Ibbetson states that in
many hundred forming leaves which she exposed to
the solar microscope, she had never once been able to
see the pores ; which she has often observed after the
leaves have completely quitted the bud $ and she is un¬
certain whether this is owing to the greater thickness of
the young leaf, and its being covered with more hairs
than it is afterwards, which obscure or conceal the pores;
or whether it be caused by the upper net-work of the
leaf growing last. While the upper and under cuticle*
of the leaf are growing, the edge of it is completing;
for the bubbles generally divide, and partly dry up,
leaving horny points in their stead. When the edges
of the leaves are completely formed, they burst from the
bud and assume a diflerent aspect.
The vessels of the leaves (those confined within the
mid ribs and side ribs of the leaves) are of two sorts,
the spiral, and the nourishing. The spiral vessels are
those corkscrew*’ike wires which surround the two last
rows of the sap vessels. The nourishing vessels are the
only parts formed of the wood. I hey convey the sap
necessary for the support of the leaves, and run on eacli
side of the spiral vessels. . _
To prove that she has given a fair and accura
account of the formation of the leaf, Mrs e
so*
V E G
[ 535 ]
V E G
table
ology.
'«• >5- 9
%
'«•!
son adds the following remarks. The colour of leaves,
she observes, is not to be found in their substance, but
in the liquid with which it is filled. The darkest green
leaf that can be procured, has both its upper and un¬
der cuticles of a perfect white colour. In the cuticle
the pores are to be found.
A leaf has rather a thicker net below than it has a-
bove : but this does not sufficiently account for the va¬
rieties of tints in different leaves.
The under net (or cuticle) does not lie so close to
the pabulum of the leaf as the upper one j which may
account for the colour not piercing so much through.
When the two nets (or cuticles) are taken ofi’, then the
pabulum of the leaf appears.
The pabulum is formed of little bladders, filled with
a dark-green liquid, and interlaced with vessels. When
the pabulum is removed, a bed of large vessels presents
itself; then a collection of bladders j which is followed
by the larger lines (or veins) of the leaf. We next
meet with another bed of bladders, which is covered
by the under cuticle. Though the bladders differ in
size and colour as well as in thickness in different leaves,
yet the general arrangement is the same in most plants j
but there are exceptions, as the firs, grasses, or those
grassy leaves of early spring, which we have in the iris,
crocus, snow-drop, &c. for their leaves are of a differ¬
ent nature.
But we shall now refer to the figures, which will
serve to illustrate the mode of formation, &c. of the
leaf-bud.
Fig. 7. 8. 9. exhibit the commencement of the for¬
mation and growth of" leaves ; a, o, a, a, the mid rib j
b, b, b, the young vessels appearing like cotton j c, c,
the spiral nerves ; d, the smaller vessels crossing each
other. Fig. 10. shews the formation of the pabulum ;
f, e, the fine vessels growing up each side of the mid
rib ; yj the pabulum. Fig. 11. bud of the lime-tree
[tdia Europea).
4. Of the Flowers, including the calyx, corolla,
stamina, andpistillum.—Linne long ago expressed his
opinion that each of these parts was formed from a par¬
ticular part of the stem ; thus the calyx was formed by
the bark, the corolla by the inner bark, the stamina
by the wood, and the pistilla by the pith. Linne also
reckoned the pith of a plant (which he considered to
be of equal importance with the spinal marrow of ani¬
mals), as the sole formative organ of the whole vege¬
table kingdom.
Linne’s idea respecting the formation of the calyx,
corolla, &c. has been often refuted ; but Mrs Ibbetson
comes forward to defend the opinion of the illustrious
author with a little modification. She does not, as al¬
ready noticed, consider the pith as of great import¬
ance ; she therefore says, that the corona or circle of
Hfe forms the pistil, not the pith 5 and thinks that each
part of the stem has, when it arrives near the flower
*talk, its peculiar juice.
Mrs Ibbetson, as a strong proof that the circle of
ffe lorms the pistil, says that it is to be found in all
ibese leaves that bear the flower either on the middle
m on their side j but in no other leaves.
She first observed this in the butcher’s broom, where
diis circle leads directly up to the flower; then in sco-
iopeudrums, and afterwards in xylophyllos.
The leaves of such plants are more woody than any VegctabU
others, as every one may know on breaking them. In Physiology,
such plants also the circle of life may be traced as
leading from one flower to another.
Mrs Ibbetson also thinks that all those parts which
concur in forming the flower also join in forming the
fruit and seed.
Mrs Ibbetson then adverts to the opinion of Wilde—
now, when he says, “ we find in the springing flower,
elongations of air-vessels, but we never see the elonga¬
tions from each particular part, one forming the future
calyx, another the corolla, and so forth.” “ For in¬
stance, in the common sun-flower {helianthus annuus\
where in an immense large receptacle, numerous small
flowers are placed, how should these elongations be able
to unfold themselves into florets from the bark, inner
bark, &c. through such a receptacle ? There would
arise a confusion amongst these small parts which is
never met with.”
“ How should, besides, the stamina be formed in
herbs, which are not ligneous, or the pistil in plants
which have no pith ? Every one may thus easily con¬
ceive that all these opinions are mere hypotheses,^
which may be refuted, even without the aid of anato¬
mical dissection.
Mrs Ibbetson attacks Wildenow’s opinion, and says
that he adduces the syngenesian class to prove the ae-
curacy of it, the class which contains the very plants
that would have proved the mistake of his argument,
had he dissected them.
Mrs Ibbetson then proposes the following questions
to Wildenow. Why, if the nourishment of each part
of the stem be not confined to each difierent part of the
flower, does the whole arrangement of the parts alter,
the moment it gets to the flower-stalk ?
Why are there particular vessels to confine and carry
the juice to each peculiar part, if it were not of conse¬
quence that this juice should touch no other places ?
For what purpose is the curious and artificial manage¬
ment in the bottom and top of a seed-vessel, which en¬
ables the dissector to say, that “ there are five divisions
of little vessels proceeding from the wood 5 I know,
therefore (though I do not see it), that this must be a
pentandrian flower •, here is but one middle vessel pro¬
ceeding from the circle of life (for the pith stops), it is
therefore of the order monogynia ; here are five divi¬
sions of little vessels proceeding from the inner bark, it
must therefore have five petals ?” Mrs Ibbetson wishes
others to be convinced of these facts as well as herself. If
a cut be made above or below the seed-vessel of a lily, a
violet, or a tulip, she thinks conviction of her accuracy
will follow. Why in cutting above or below the seed-ves¬
sel of a syngenesian flower can you directly tell, whether
it belong to the order superflua, aequalis, or segregata ?
Look at the bottom of the seed-vessel of the sonchus j
every pin hole of the vessel of the male is carried up by
corresponding vessels in the outward cuticle of the seed,
till it meets and joins the ligature of the males; and
the female liquor is protruded through the inside of the
seed, and is perhaps one of the strongest proofs of the
impregnation of the female. In the syngenesian class
(see fig. 12.), the delicacy of the vessels, which may be
supposed too small for a liquid to flow through them,
must not impede the belief that it does so, when we con¬
sider
V E G '. [ s.?6 ] V E G
Vegetable sitter tlie circulation of blood in the diminutive animal
Physiology that torments the body of the flea or louse. Mrs Ib-
v“" ' betson says she has seen the liquor run up with the ut¬
most celerity through the upper cuticle of a very small
seed of a plant belonging to the syngenesian class, till it
m^t the male and continued its course. It is to be un¬
derstood that the juice from the corolla flows in the rest
of the cuticle, and that the largest vessels are those for
Fig. i2. the male liquor. See fig. 12. 13.
II. Physiology of Plants—In treating this part
of the subject, we propose to consider, first, the impreg¬
nation of seeds, and, second, the irritability of vegeta¬
bles.
1. The impregnation of the seed.—The investigation
of what is included under this title, forms one of the
most beautiful and interesting pursuits of the vegetable
physiologist. Mrs Ibbetson has communicated some
curious observations on this subject. Provided with a
powerful solar microscope for opaque objects, she pro¬
ceeds to an examination of the seed, and the first shoot¬
ing of the infant plant, or rather of the germ or vessel
■which precedes it , and she remarks that it is almost im¬
possible to ascertain the exact time when the seed is
first formed in the pericarp; but that she has always
found it in the winter buds when they were large
enough for tbssection.
It is curious to observe the vessels, which, she says,
may properly be called the life, tracing their way to
each flower-bud : for a seed may be said to depend for
perfection on two separate moments: the one in which
the fife frst enters the seed, when the whole outward
form appears to fie perfected ; and the second, when the
impregnation of the seed takes place, by the ripening
of the pollen.
But when the life enters, it leaves a little string, and
remains for a long time afterwards in a torpid state.
This string crosses the corculum, or heart of the seed,
so called because it is the cradle of the infant plant.
She then states that the seed is attached to the seed-ves¬
sel by two distinct organs, termed by the first botanists
the umbilical cord, but as she thinks improperly, since
they do not convey nourishment to the infant plant,
which is wholly the office of the second set of vessels.
We cannot agree with Mrs Ibbetson in her opinion ; for
although the umbilical cord of an infant contains nour¬
ishing vessels, it also contains nerves, and yet we would
never think of restricting this term alone to the arteries.
The first of the connecting organs Mrs Ibbetson con¬
ceives to be the circle of life, first, because without it
the plant dies, and, second, because although every
other part be eradicated by degrees and the circle of
life be uninjured, the plant will grow again.
She has made these experiments many thousand times
and with the above results. The circle of fife consists
of delicate simple vessels, which carry a juice of a parti¬
cular nature, and may be traced in every part lying be¬
tween the wood and the pith. These vessels are not to
be found in the leaf-bud; for they pass by it to the
female flower, where they establish a new life in the
seed : a life which will enable it to grow, but not to y ,
give fife without impregnation. These vessels are the Ph^ioinl-
fife, therefore, from which all flower branches grow
and all root-threads proceed. In calling these vessels
the circle of life, Mrs Ibbetson says she only expresses
what its office seems to denote.
Mrs Ibbetson goes on to describe the next (or second)
organ by which the seed is attached to the seed-vessel.
It consists of the nourishing vessels, which she is incli¬
ned to think proceed from the inner bark ; at least they
may certainly be traced thence after the infant plant has
left the seed. When introduced, they enter not the
seed at the same place as the fife does ; they come not
into the corculum, but pass it, and spread themselves over
a small spot below it, which is visibly of a dift’erent na¬
ture from the rest of the seed. In farinaceous plants
this spot is yellow, and yields a milk-white juice ; but
in other seeds it is white, and gives a glutinous water
of a sweetish taste. Mrs Ibbetson thinks it probable
that the nourishing vessels come from the fruit filled
with this juice, which medicated with that part of the
seed (which very apparently dissolves), they together
form a nourishment suited to the infant plant. When
the seed is so far perfected, it remains in an almost tor¬
pid state, or growing very little; while the flower ex¬
pands daily, and the stamens are hastily advancing to
enough their perfect state.
It is now that by an almost imperceptible contraction
of the lower part of the pistil, the juice is raised to the
stigma (a), on which it may be seen hanging in a
large glutinous drop, which never falls oft’. As soon,
however, as the mid-day heat abates, this juice, which
is peculiar to the pistil, retires again within the tube,
the contraction ceasing with the heat that caused it.
The same process goes on daily, till the stamina are
ripe and ready to give out their interior powder to the
pistil, which is always so placed as to receive the greater
part of it ; and as the anther (b) requires only moisture •
to burst it, it soon yields that fine and imperceptible
dust, which quickly melting and mixing ivith the before-
mentioned liquid, forms a combination of so powerful and
stimulating a quality, that it no sooner runs down the
interior of the style, and touches the nerve of life in the
heart of the seed, than this vessel shoots forth in the most
surprising degree, forming directly a species of circular
hook within the void; which in less than two days is of¬
ten completely filled, though it had perhaps for many
weeks before lain in an absolute torpor. This circular
nerve is soon covered by an excrescence that hides it;
but if the corculum be divided with a fine lancet, the
circular hook is discoverable, until the young plant is
near leaving its cradle or seed. At the turn ol the hook
the cotyledons grow, and the root shoots from the co¬
vered end. The plant may be now said to lie in the seed
in a contrary direction from that in which it will at a
future time grow, since the root is above, and the stem
below : but nature has provided for their change ef
place, since it is effected as they leave the seed. It l>aS
been already noticed that the nourishment of the infant
(a) In the journal it is said “ to the pointal;” but certainly stigma is meant, for pistil and pointal are
synonymous.
fB) In the journal it is called pollen, but anther must be meant.
1
V E G [
rc table plant Is medicated between the juice brought in the
!l: >togy; nourishing vessels, and the peculiar spot in the seed,
forming a liquid which continues to abound ; indeed
the infant plant may be said to repose in it, till the root
has opened the whole or part of the seed. The root
then changes its direction, and runs into the earth, soon
forming a number of stringy hairs, which serve as so
many suckers to draw the liquid nourishment from the
earth, while the plant quickly shews, by the rapid pro¬
gress it makes, the advantage it receives from its change
of diet j for it soon raises itself from its prostrate posture,
emerges from the seed, and is now seen in its proper
direction. The above account, we think Mrs Ibbetson
justly remarks, affords a complete confirmation of the
sexual system.
In the syngenesian orders, the pistil being mostly sin¬
gle, runs up from the seed ; and the juice of the pistil has
no other wray of reaching the pointal (stigma must be
here meant), but by passing through the seed, which it
does without producing any effect, or filling up the va-
ftancy at the top of the corculum. But as soon as the
juice of the pistil becomes mixed with the pollen, which
dissolves in it, the void of the corculum is filled, the
hook is soon afterwards formed, and the plant is roused
to life. Mrs Ibbetson relates some experiments which
she made to ascertain whether the umbilical cord was,
or was not, the life of the plant. She placed a bean
in the earth, and when the infant plant was ready
to leave the seed she opened it with a fine lancet, and
cut off the cotyledons, just where they join the heart
and the circular hook which have been before described.
She then tied a piece of very fine thread round the
bean, and replaced it in the earth. The cotyledons
grew again, though higher up, but they appeared very
weak and sickly for some time. She cut off the root
of another bean which had been placed in the earth,
and which was of the same age as the above, and found
that the root grew again in a few days and appeared
quite healthy.
In a third experiment she separated and cut off the
nourishing vessels from each side of the bean ; but a
great number of hairs grew from the wounded part,
which, by attaining moisture from the earth for nourish¬
ment, supplied the place of the vessels cut off; so that
it was not ascertained whether or not the bean would
live independent of these vessels, which was the object
of the experiment. We observe here, however, a grand
provision of nature for the embryo plant : hairs being
formed to supply it with moisture when the nourishing
vessels are destroyed. Mrs Ibbetson next took a bean
which bad been about four days in the earth, and open¬
ing it with great care took out with a fine lancet the
part which she esteems the cord of life, that is, the part
which crosses the corculum and shot forth on the first
»' r4
impregnation of the plant, oo, fig. 14. and 15. represent
the nourishing vessels of a bean ; L to n two seminal
leaves or cotyledons ; // the cord of life, which is more
easily seen in the seed of the lily, fig. 1 $• 11 crossing the
empty part of the corculum. Mrs Ibbetson took a
aovyer of the lilium genus, as having a large vessel
easily attained ; and being careful not to separate it
l0lu nourishing vessels, she divided the line of life
ag- 16. 11, cutting each thread between the seeds, and
Vol. XX. Part II. f
537 ] V E G
so cutting off their communication ; but did not touch Vegetable
0 0, which she thinks is the nourishing vessel. Physiology
I he consequence was, that the seeds of this flower v "
were never impregnated. Mrs Ibbetson next tried the
eftect of taking the nerve of life from the chesnut, the
walnut, acorn, &c ; first opening a seed without touch¬
ing the nerve, that she might be certain that the open¬
ing vvas not the cause of its death. Big. 17- represents Fig. 17.
the heart taken out of a seed of the chesnut; /is the
circular hook already described ; 0 0 the nourishing ves¬
sels, and / / the line of life, which was taken out from
some seeds where it crosses the heart at m. Fig. 18. Hg. iS.
is the seed of the gooseberry ; 0 the nourishing vessels,
e the line of life, and m the corculum or heart.
She found that all those seeds from which she took
the nerve of life died ; and that the others, which had
been merely laid open, lived. She remarks that it is
only at the beginning of life, that the plant can be
killed by this process ; for when older, if the nerves
of life decay, they shoot out above the declining part,
and run into any part of the stem that is pure, to pre¬
serve themselves. Mrs Ibbetson then states that this
nerve is the source of life in very decayed trees; and is
also the cause of a double pith, or at least the appear¬
ance of it, in many trees.
To observe this line of life, seeds must be examined
in their first formation ; for when it has done its office,
it detaches itself. When the seed is boiled, the line of
life and nourishing vessels mark themselves by becoming
of a dark colour.
2. Irritability of vegetables.—In entering upon this
subject, we ought to warn our readers, that very oppo¬
site opinions have been entertained respecting it; some
physiologists of the greatest eminence allowing that we
have satisfactory proofs of the irritability of vegetables
in a variety of plants, but more particularly in the mo¬
tions of the mimosse, dionea, &c. ; while others of no
less respectability ascribe these motions to the influence
of light, heat, or some other mechanical agent.
As neither muscles nor nerves have ever been demon¬
strated in the vegetable structure, of course the proof's of
the irritability of vegetables are drawn from the inti ¬
mate analogy which seems to exist between the motions
of some plants and those of animals. Some physiolo¬
gists, from observing the similarity of motions in the
two kingdoms, were naturally led to ascribe them to
the same cause ; others, from not being able to observe
the same motive organs, namely, muscles, in both king¬
doms, denied that plants could possess irritability ; a
third set, waving the idea of irritability in the vegeta¬
ble kingdom, have laboured to shew that the motions of
plants depend on mechanical causes alone.
We shall first notice the observations of Mrs Ibbet¬
son, who ascribes the motion of plants to the spiral
wires which we have described. Her opinion is found¬
ed upon a number of new observations made with the
solar microscope, which we shall proceed to relate.
1st, The spiral vessels are not to be found in any
plants to which motion is unnecessary.
She could not observe these vessels In any of the
firs, in any of the plants which spread their leaves upon
the surface of the water, in any of the sea weeds (c),
of the lichens, or of the grasses ; and she does not think
3 Y that
(c) She afterwards excepts the confervas, which have motion.
V E G r 538 ] v E G
Yefc.elabk that they exist in the scolopendrums or lemnas. We
Physiology, would here observe that if these observations were com-
pletely true, they would certainly afford a strong proof
in confirmation of her opinion; but we suspect that they
are not altogether just, especially as we observe a discre¬
pancy in the papers of Mrs Ibbetson. Thus at one part
she has given us a very minute description of the spiral
vessels in the runners of the poa replans, and now she
says they are not to be found in the grasses (d).
Mrs Ibbetson’s second argument is, that it a plant
whose leaves present their faces to the light, be turned
so that the backs are to the sun, the leaves in a few
hours will regain their former position ; but if this be
often repeated, although the plant will not suffer, yet
the leaves will be longer at every repetition in retura-
ing to their former situation, or will cease to move at
all. She accounts for this by saying, that the spiral-like
elastic vessels are relaxed by the operation, and lose
their power of coiling into their usual form.
Others would account lor the above fact by saying
that the irritability of the plant was exhausted by these
repeated and unnatural actions ; in the same manner as
the mimosa becomes gradually less sensible to impres¬
sions when too often renewed.
Mrs Ibbetson’s third argument is, that those leaves
which have most motion, are provided with most spiral
vessels, and have these vessels most twisted •, as in the
populus tremula.
Fourth proof. Mrs Ibbetson divided the spiral ves¬
sels of a vine leaf while growing, without touching the
nourishing vessels; and from that moment it never con¬
tracted, and when placed with its hack to the light,
it did not alter its position, though it was long before it
decayed. Both electricity and galvanism cause these
leaves to contract, by affecting the spiral wires (not the
cuticle), for when the leaf is deprived of these vessels
it does not contract at all.
"YVe would here remark that we suspect much, in the
above experiment, that more than the spiral vessels was
divided: at any rate there is very great discordance be¬
tween Mrs Ibbetson’s experiments and that of M. Ca-
landrini, who found that vine leaves turned to the light
when they were separated from the stem and suspended
by a thread.
* Fifth argument. Mrs Ibbetson observed, when she
placed some of the spiral vessels taken from a cabbage
leaf upon one end of a long netting needle, and caused
a candle to approach, that they were much agitated, and
at last flung themselves oft the needle. YVe think no
conclusion can be drawn from what is here stated.
The fresh water conferva and the dodder tribe, are
the only plants, without leaves, that Mrs Ibbetson is
acquainted wdtb, which have spiral vessels.
Mrs Ibbetson says that the spiral vessels are so very
tough, and so very tightly coiled, in the leaf stem
(petiole') of the geranium cordifoliurn, that she has by
means of them been enabled to draw up the leaf; but it
is difficult to be done.
The sixth proof is drawn from the effect produced by
moisture on Captain Kater’s hygrometer, which will be
noticed soon.
General Observations.—Mrs Ibbetson says the spiral Vegetal
wires may be considered as a secondary cause of motion, Physiol ,
as they are primarily acted upon by light and moisture.
By means of the spiral wire, all the movements of plants
are made ; by it, flowers open in the morning and shut
in the evening; the leaves turn, and the creeping plants
wind in their regular order. Mrs Ibbetson says, the
opening of the flower at a different time of the day, or
its turning in a different manner, does not militate a-
gainst the above statement ; as strong light and dry
weather produce a contraction of the wire, while dark¬
ness and moisture effect a dilatation of it. It depends
wholly upon the position in which the spiral wire is
placed, whether by its dilatation the flowers shall be
opened or shut, as in mechanics the same spring may be
made to turn to the right or to the left, to open or to
shut a box. Most of the flowers which Mrs Ibbetson
has observed to close at noon, have an extremely limber
corolla, formed only of a double cuticle without pabu
lum ; and hence they are soon overcome by beat, and
relaxation directly takes place ; as in the convolvulus
nil, the evening or tree primrose, &c.
YVe must add, however, that we regard this account
of the spiral vessels with some degree of doubt. YVe
suspect that the spiral vessels, if they have the power of
opening or shutting a flower, will always act in one
uniform manner; i. e. if they are able to open it, they
will always do so, and vice versa.
The nyrnphea alba raises itself out of the water, and
expands, about seven o’clock in the morning; and closes
again, reposing upon the surface, about four in the even¬
ing. Now its petals are much thicker than those of
the leontodon taraxacum, which shuts up its flowers be¬
tween eight and nine in the evening.
We could multiply instances ; but we conceive we
have said enough to shew, that the flowers with the
most slender corolla are not uniformly those which
soonest close.
Mrs Ibbetson says, contrary to the opinion of Mir-
bel, that the ease in which the spiral vessels are inclosed
is capable of being stretched ; indeed it is formed of so
thin (or rather so loose) a substance, as plainly to be
intended to dilate and contract. The case is composed
of a verv few thin vessels, interlaced with an extremely
fine spiral wire ; while the large spiral vessels fill upthe
ease in an irregular manner, the nourishing vessels form
a regular circle of tubes around it. See fig. 29. and 30.
Of the Indian grass (andropogon contortum of Lin-
ne), of which Captain Kater’s hygrometer is formed.
—The chief part of it is made with the spiral awn of
an Indian grass, which readily untwists in a moist at¬
mosphere, and vice versa. Now Mrs Ibbetson asks, if
the most trifling change of moisture can untwist one sort
of vegetable fibre, and by this means manage an instru¬
ment, why should not a quantity of similar formed fibres
or spiral vessels produce the same effect on leaves and
flowers ? She says, Captain Kater’s hygrometer moves
very sensibly if a finger be placed within half an inch
of the fibre (awn.) Now, the most sensitive plant we
have will not move but with the touch.”
We are quite aware of the effects of moisture on some
vegetables*
(d) She found the spiral vessels also in the andropogon contortum.
V E G
r 539 ]
V E G
' -etablc
I siology.
Fig.
vegetables. We have strong proofs of it in some of the
mosses, as in the bryum hygrometricum^ which, if the
fruitstalk be moistened at the bottom, makes three or
four revolutions $ if the upper part be moistened, it
turns the contrary way.
We can scarcely compare these motions with those of
the mimosae \ for it is quite evident that they are pro¬
duced by moisture : but as we are to speak of the mo¬
tions of the niimosse in a little, we would only observe,
that when Mrs Ibbetson says “ the sensitive plant will
not move but with the touch,” she argues against her¬
self 5 for this shews that it is acted upon by the same
causes as animal muscles, and that it is not governed by
moisture alone.
The only sensitive part of the Indian grass is the awn,
which is formed of a leather-like substance, infinitely
thicker and stronger than the usual spiral vessels in
plants. The awn is formed of two apparently flat
pieces, with a eylindric hollow running through the
middle, which is filled with a thick spiral wire. Fig.
H. 22. 23. and 24. Each side of the awn is bristled j
but the bristles do not add to its sensibility.
Of the Nettle.—The awn or sting of the nettle is
a long pipe with a bag at the end divided into two
parts ; the smaller contains the poison, and the larger
is situated below it. This bag seems also to be compo¬
sed of a leather-like substance, and it is likewise affect¬
ed by light and moisture.
The moment the upper part of the pipe is touched,
the under part of the bag whirls up, breaks the poison
bladder, and throws its contents violently up the pipe,
burning the person who touches it.
Light thrown upon the bag by means of the solar
microscope, produces the same effect as touching it.
The poisonous liquor is protruded up the pipe with
great force, till it issues out at the minute aperture at
the point •, but before it does so, the pipe is bent down
with a jerk, by means of the spiral wire.
The spiral wire winds round the hag at the bottom
of the pipe ; and it is by the action of this wire that
the bag is made to contract. The nettle lays down its
stings every evening, just as the sensitive plant does its
branches. See fig. 19, and 20.
Mimosa Sensitiva.—The motions of this plant are re¬
gulated not only by the spiral wire, but also by a bag
of a leather-like substance, which is capable of contrac¬
tion and dilatation.
We shall next give Mrs Ibbetsen’s plate respecting
the structure of this plant, with her description.
Fig. 25. is a representation of the springs which go¬
vern each leaf*, d, d is the stalk. Each leaf has a
base c, c, which serves to concentrate the spiral wires.
These passing over in every direction, being drawn
through the narrowest parts of the stem b bb b, press
the stem together j and, when touched, lay the leaves,
one on the other, the whole way down the leaf-stalk.
But, before the stimulus is applied, the stem is flat¬
tened in a contrary direction. The ball of the leaf
is hollow and filled with oil. The parts ee and pp
(fig. 26 ) are made of that leathery substance, which
forms the cuticle, and is contracted by the light in
the solar microscope. The parts e e contain the oil
which serves to lubricate the knots (we suppose), and
enable them to slip over each other j beside, probably,
acting some important part in the formation of the va- Vegetable
rious gasses and juices in the composition of the plant. Physiology.
When touched, the whole string relaxes at 0 0, and v"
lets the branch fall. This it would also do at if it
were not supported by the wood-vessels turning into the
leaf. Fig. 27. is the part e epp uncut, and in its na¬
tural sate. Mrs Ibbetson thinks that not only the mo¬
tions of this plant, but of all others, depend upon the
spiral wires which contract and dilate by the action of
light and moisture. She adds, that there are no spiral
wires in the seminal leaves of the mimosa sensitiva, and
that the seminal leaves have no motion whatever.
In farther illustration of this subject, we shall next
present our readers with some observations by Mr Lvall,
lately published in Nicholson’s Journal*, respecting * Vol. xxv.
the irritability of the mimosa pudica, and some other s’2-
plants.
“ It is well known (he observes), if we take a leaf
of this plant, similar to what is represented (fig. 31.),
and then, by means of a pair of scissars (completely
dry), cut off half the pinnula A, this pinnula will con¬
tract at its joint, either immediately, or in a few se¬
conds $ its neighbour, or opposite pinnula, B, closing
at the same time, or soon after.
“ The pinnulse A and B having come into contact,
there is a pause, or a short cessation, of motion $ but
in the course of a few more seconds, the next pair of
pinnulte, CC, will also shut up, and the same will hap¬
pen with every pair of pinnulce of that pinna succes¬
sively 5 only with this difference, that the intervals be¬
tween the shutting up of each pair of pinnulas will be
shorter, the farther it is from the pinnula that was cut.
After the whole of the pinnulse of this pinna have com¬
pletely closed, and a little interval, then the joint D
will bend so as to allow the pinna to drop consider¬
ably.
“ Nevertheless, the motion is often not so obvious in
this joint, as in that to be mentioned.
“ A longer pause will now intervene, in some cases
so long as to make us suppose that all motion is at an
end ; but at length the joint E suddenly bends, and
astonishes the beholder.
“ The petiole F now, instead of forming an acute
angle with the stem above the joint, forms a very ob¬
tuse angle with it.
“ We shall now have another cessation of motion,
and then the joint, H, will slightly bend j then another
pause, then a shutting up of the pair of pinnula, H,
and so on with the other pinnulae, till the whole pinna
is closed. The motions, however, will not be so regu¬
lar in this pinna as they were in the other j for as the
pinnulae II approach, they press forward the next pair,
and so on with all the rest.”
These motions, the author supposes, are not occasion¬
ed by impulse j for a bit of the pinnula may be cut off
almost without producing any motion.
But, allowing that a little motion were produced, it
comes naturally as a question, Why does the motion
become so extensive ? how is the impulse communicated
to the origin of the petiole? The author does not think
that these questions will ever be satisfactorily answered
upon mechanical principles.
He admits indeed, that a structure exists in the mi¬
mosa sensitiva, corresponding to what Mrs Ibbetson lias
3 Y 2 .described>
V E G [540
Vegetable described ; although lie seems to have some doubts re-
physiology. specting it. He then proceeds to inquire, whether by
’ v such a structure, acted upon by heat, light, or mois¬
ture, we could possibly explain the motions of the mi¬
mosa pudica. “ On the experiments above related, (he
observes), I presume no one would say, that moisture
was the cause of motion, as the scissars were quite
dry.”
It is to be remembered also, that this plant will per¬
form its motions under water.
As there was no change of light, consequently this
had no share iu the effect. Besides, when moisture is
produced (Mr Lyall certainly means darkness) in con¬
sequence of the abstraction of light, all the pinnulse
shut up at the same time ; not, however in the regular
order mentioned in the experiment. Neither does the
motion take place from change of temperature, for the
temperature was not altered.
A great many questions will here suggest themselves,
as, How does it happen that the motion is produced ?
how does it become so extensive ? how comes it that
there are regular motions and pauses, &c. ?
The author concludes, by saying, that it is vain to at¬
tempt any mechanical solution of the phenomenon men¬
tioned above, “ which would seem to depend on an ex¬
quisite irritability in the plant itself.”
Dioncea Muscipula.—Mr Lyall does not think that
the motions of this plant are to be explained in the man¬
ner spoken of by Broussonet, who ascribed them to the
evacuation of a fluid from the leaf, which will be noticed
when we speak of the droserce. For the leaf may be
touched without causing any efflux of fluid whatever,
and yet it will contract completely.
Comparetti’s explanation respecting the motion of
this plant is not admitted ; because it seems improbable,
is contrary to analogy, and inadequate to explain the
phenomenon.
Of the Drosera Longifdlia and Rotundifolia.—As
many of the muscles of the animal system, as the heart,
diaphragm, &c. act quite independent of the will, and
as these parts are highly irritable, Mr Lyall wishes to
show, that a voluntary command of a muscular force
should not be taken into the definition of the word irri¬
tability, as has been done by some. Mr Lyall says,
“ By irritability, I understand, that property inherent
in some bodies (or rather parts of bodies), by which,
when a stimulus is applied, they are enabled to con¬
tract.
The leaves of the drosera rotundifolia, when proper¬
ly unfolded, lie round the stem in a stellated manner.
The footstalks of the leaves vary in length from half an
inch to an inch and a half. The leaves are covered on
their upper surface by a number of hairs, varying also
in length from one line to three-eighths of an inch, and
are each terminated by a little gland, which gland is
covered by a transparent viscid fluid, presenting a fine
appearance.
The chief difference between the drosera longifolia
and rotundifolia is in the shape of the leaves *, those of
the former being obovate, while those of the latter are
of an orbicular shape.
Mr Lyall mentions the observations of Mr Mhately,
who, it would appear, was the first in this kingdom who
described the contractions of the droserce when irrita¬
ted.
] . V E G
Mr Whately and Mr Gardom had observed some in- Vegf,j
sects imprisoned in the leaves of this plant, and hence Physic
were led to press with a pin the centre of other leaves
in their natural and expanded form, when they very
suddenly contracted, and, as it were, encircled the
pin.
Roth had noticed, in 1779, that the leaves of the dro-
serae moved, when irritated. He placed an ant upon
the middle of a leaf of the drosera rotundifolia, but so
as not to disturb the plant. The ant endeavoured to
escape, but was held fast by the clammy juice of the
points of the hairs, which was drawn out by its feet
into fine threads ; in some minutes the short hairs on
the disk of the leaf began to bend, then the long hairs,
and laid themselves upon the insect. After a while the
leaf itself began to bend, and in some hours the end of
the leaf wras so bent inwards as to touch the base. The
same happened when the experiments were made on the
drosera longifolia, but more rapidly.
Roth also found that the hairs bent themselves when
he touched them with the point of a needle, with a hog’a
bristle, or when he placed a very small piece ot wood
the weight of an ant upon the leaves.
Mr Lyall next gives us an account of his own expe¬
riments. He says, “ that for five months, he almost,
every day, had the species of droserae under his eye, ei¬
ther at home or in the countryand he confesses, that
he never saw such a rapid contraction oi the leaves of
the drosera rotundifolia, as had been noticed by Messrs
Whately and Gardom : but in all his experiments the
contraction was gradual, though it seldom failed to hap¬
pen, if the plant was in good condition. In most of
his experiments an hour was necessary for the complete
bending of all the hairs j and it required some hours for
the perfect shutting up of the leaves. Hence it is evi¬
dent, that whoever has a wish to notice the motions of
the droserte, must not set out with the expectation of
seeing a rapid motion, similar to what happens in the
mimosae, follow the application of a stimulus j but, to
observe the ultimate effects, must watch with an atten¬
tive eye, for at least 20 minutes.
In accounting for the manner in which these motions
are performed, various opinions have been held. Brous¬
sonet suspects that the disengagement of some fluids
influences them. He says, that the insect, by absorbing
the fluid which is on the points of the hairs, empties the
vessels of the leaf, which folds upon itself ; and the
quickness of the action is proportional to the number of
hairs touched by the insect.
Our author observes, that “ this theory, at first sight,
does not appear even to be plausible ; for, how is it possi¬
ble that an insect can absorb a thick tenacious fluid ? iNo
doubt, however, part of this fluid will be attached to
the part of the insect which touches it j but this seems
quite unconnected with the contraction of the leaf. On
the 30th of July, Mr Lyall brought from the country a
number of plants of the drosera rotundifolia, and, on
inspecting them, he found many of the hairs of the
leaves deprived of their viscid fluid 5 but yet both they
and the leaf remained quite expanded and in good con¬
dition. Next day, about four o’clock, he placed a
small bit of sulphate of copper, in the disk ot one of
these expanded leaves, and by six o’clock most of the
hairs on one side of the leaf, even the outermost, ha
beat themselves over the bit of copper j this seems
v E G [ 541 ] V E G
Vc table to prove the inaccuracy of Broussonet’s theory. In
pb;- logy. 0t|ier experiments, he placed small bits of bread or
u’ wood, or three or four of the central hairs, without
touching the other hairs, or the viscid fluid on their
ends $ and in a few hours he found that all the hairs had
contracted around the foreign body. In some plants,
the sulphate of copper was placed upon some of the
small hairs in the disk of the leaf, without touching the
leaf itself; yet the bending of the hairs and leaf was
complete.
“ We have here proof (he adds), 1st, That the
leaves do not contract when deprived of their viscid
fluid, which ought to have been the case if Broussonet’s
theory had been true. 2dly, That the contraction
takes place even when the viscid fluid does not cover
the little glands. 3dly, That the contraction follows,
although the foreign body is not brought into contact
with all the hairs.
The opinion of Sennebier, who appears to have
ascribed the motions of the droserre to the effect of pres¬
sure is next examined. “ Sennebier seems (it is ob¬
served) sensible, that the contractions of the leaves
take place even when light bodies are placed on them,
which circumstance of itself would lead us to suspect,
that pressure is not alone the cause.
“ J know (it is added), that, if we press on the centre
of a leaf with a pin, &c. we may cause its margin to
approximate the pin ; and this certainly would be owing
to a mechanical cause. But, suppose we see the con¬
traction take place, as I have done, when a body speci¬
fically lighter than the leaf itself is placed in the centre,
as a bit of rotten wood ; should we be still inclined to
ascribe it to a mechanical cause ? Admit that it is the
case. Suppose, then, we place the same bit of wood on
the margin of the leaf, what effect ought to follow ? If it
were owing to a mechanical cause, or the weight of the
foreign body, as in the last mentioned case, then we
should expect, that the part of the margin of the leaf, on
which the bit of wood rested, would be depressed ;
which undoubtedly is not the case : but, on the contrary,
the margin rises, and then contracts towards the foreign
body, or towards the footstalk of the leaf.
“ That this motion does not depend on pressure, may
be still better illustrated, by placing a fly, or some other
body, on the apex of a leaf of the drosera longifolia.
The hairs near the foreign body will contract around it,
and then the apex of the leaf will rise upwards, and
turn inwards, until it touches the base. Or, if the of¬
fending body is small, the leaf will become convoluted
around it.”
From the result of his experiments, the author thinks,
that the motions of the leaves of the droserae cannot be
explained on mechanical principles. He conceives,
that these motions are performed, if not by muscles, at
least by something which is equivalent to muscles in the
animal body.
It appears that the leaves of the drosera rotundifolia
and longifolia remain completely expanded during the
hottest sunshine and driest weather ; during the coldest
and wettest weather ; during the greatest darkness, and,
finally, during the brightest light of day. This, how¬
ever, is to be taken in a limited sense, i. e. only during
the expansion of the leaves, not during the cold of win¬
ter. “ Here, then, neither heat, cold, dryness, damp¬
ness, darkness, nor light in general, at all affect the
2
leaves ; but, if a foreign body be applied to the leaf so as Vegetable
to stimulate, then it will shut up” in the manner we Physiology,
have already described. See Vegetable Anatomy, '"""“v-'
Supplement.
EXPLANATION of PLATES DXLI. DXLTP
AND DXLIII.
[Arote, that some errors in the references to figures
in the text may be corrected by this explanation, which
is accurate.~\
Fig. 1. Part of a branch, shewing the manner in
which the line of life, c c, enters into the flower-bud, a,
and passes by the leaf, b b.
Fig. 2. A flower-bud, showing the line of life, cc,
running up to each flower, a, a, a, <7, a, a, <7, and th«
pith terminating at b.
Fig. 3. Section of the stem of a tree ; a, the rind ;
b, the bark ; c, the inner bark ; d, the wood ; e, the
spiral nerves ; f, the corona or line of life the pith ;
h, k, the silver grain ; 0, 0, 0, the bastard grain.
Fig. 4. Cylinders of the inner bark.
Fig. 5. Cylinders of the wood.
Fig. 6, 7, 8, 9. Commencement of the growth of
leaves, exhibited in different stages, o, o, 0, a, The
mid-rib ; b, b, b, the young vessels appearing like cot¬
ton ; c, c, the spiral nerves ; d, the smaller vessels cros¬
sing each other. Fig. 9. also shews, e, e, the fine ves¬
sels growing up each side of the mid-rib; and fi, the
pabulum.
Fig. 10. Leaf-bud of the lime-tree.
Fig. II. Leaf-bud of the horse-chesnut about Ja¬
nuary.
Fig. 12. A seed-vessel of the class syngenesia ; a, the
calyx ; b, female florets; c, male and female florets.
Fig. 13. Section just above the seed-vessel of the di-
anthus. a, the calyx proceeding from the bark ; b, the
the corolla, from the inner bark ; r, r, c, c, ten stamina
from the wood ; d, the seed-vessel; e, the pistil from
the corona or circle of life.
Fig. 14. Representation of the bean. 0, 0, the nou¬
rishing vessels ; L to », the seminal leaves, or cotyle¬
dons ; /, to /, the embryo.
Fig. 15. 0, The nourishing vessels; //, the embryo
in the seed of the lily, crossing the empty part of the
corculum.
Fig. 16. Shews, /, /, the line of life; 0, 0, the nou¬
rishing vessels.
Fig. 17. Represents the heart taken-out of the seed
of a chesnut. /, the circular hook ; 0, 0, the nourish¬
ing vessels ; /, /, the line of life, which was taken out
where it crosses the heart at m.
Fig. 18. The seed of the gooseberry, c, the nourishing
vessels; /, the line of life ; m, the corculum or heart.
Fig. 19. The sting of the nettle, as viewed with the
solar microscope; 5S, the bag of poison; the spiral wire.
Fig. 20. The sting after the poison has been thrown
to the point ; x, the spiral wire contracted.
Fig. 21. Indian grass greatly magnified, showing
the manner in which it is formed.
Fig. 22. Awn of the grass.
Fig. 23 and 24. The grass twisted.
Fig. 25. Leaf of the mimosa sensitiva.
Fig. 26. A longitudinal section of the leaf-stalk of
the mimosa sensitiva, the middle part containing five
cases of spiral wire, and each extremity only three.
Fig.
V E L [ 542 ] YEN
Vegetable Fig. 27. The extremity of the uncut leaf-stalk, which
rimiology Js divided at/?/? in fig. 26.
,r Fig. 28. A horizontal section of the stem of the mi-
Velez. °
■ ^ mosa.
Fig. 29. A case full of the spiral wire much magni¬
fied.
Fig. 30. Spiral wire still more magnified.
Fig. 31. Leaf of the mimosa pudica.
VEGETATIVE SOUL, among philosophers, de¬
notes that principle in plants, by virtue of which they
vegetate, or receive nourishment and grow'.
VEHICLE, in general, denotes any thing that car¬
ries or bears another along*, but is more particularly
used in pharmacy for any liquid serving to dilute some
medicine, in order that it may be administered more
commodiously to the patient.
VEII, in Ancient Geography, a city of Etruria, the
long and powerful rival of Rome; distant about 100
stadia, or 12 miles, to the north-west; situated on a
high and steep rock. Taken after a siege of 10 years
by Camillus, six years before the taking of Rome by the
Gauls: and thither the Romans, after the burning of
their city, had thoughts of removing ; but were dissuaded
from it by Camillus (Livy). It remained standing after
the Punic war; and a colony was there settled, and its
territory assigned to the soldiers. But after that it de¬
clined so gradually, as not to leave a single trace stand¬
ing. Famous for the slaughter of the 3CO Fabii on the
Cremera (Ovid). The spot on which it stood lies near
Isola, in St. Peter’s patrimony (Holstenius).
VEIL, a piece of stuff, serving to cover or hide any
thing.
In the Romish churches, in time of Lent, they have
veils or curtains over the altar, crucifix, images of
saints, &c.
A veil of crape is worn on the head by nuns, as a
badge of their profession : the novices wear white veils,
but those who have made the vows black ones. See the
article Nun.
VEIN, in Anatomy, is a vessel which carries the
blood from the several parts of the body to the heart.
See Anatomy, N° 123.
Vein, among miners, is a fissure in the hori*zontal
strata which contains ore, spar, cauk, clay, chert, croil,
brownhen, pitcher-chert, cur, which the philosophers
call the mother of metals, and sometimes soil oj all co¬
lours. When it bears ore, it is called a quick vein ;
when no ore, a dead vein.
VELA, a remarkable cape on the coast of Terra
Firma, in South America. W. Long. 71. 25. N. Lat.
12.3°.
VELARIUS, in antiquity, an officer in the court of
the Roman emperors, being a kind of usher, whose post
was behind the curtain in the prince’s apartment, as that
of the chancellor’s was at the entry of the baliustrade ;
and that of the ostiarii at the door. The velarii had
a superior of the same denomination, who commanded
-them.
VELEZ de-Gomara, a town of Africa, in the
kingdom of Fez, and in the province of Eritf. It is
the ancient AcaRTH. With a harbour and a handsome
castle, where the governor resides. It is seated be¬
tween two high mountains, on the coast of the Medi¬
terranean sea. W. Long. 4. o. N. 1 at. 35. 10.
S
V ELITES, in the Roman army, a kind of ancient
soldiery, who w7ere armed lightly with a javelin, a cask,
cuirass, and shield.
VELLEIUS Paterculus. See Paterculus.
VELLUM, is a kind of parchment, that is finer,
evener, and more white than the common parchment.
The word is formed from the French vtlin, of the Latin
vitulinus, “ belonging to a calf.”
VELOCITY, in Mechanics, swiftness ; that affec¬
tion of motion whereby a moveable is disposed to run
over a certain space in a certain time. It is also called
ederity, and is always proportional to the space moved.
See Quantity, N® ii and 14, &c.
VELVET, a rich kind of stuff, all silk, covered oa
the outside with a close, short, fine, soft shag, the other
side being a very strong close tissue.
The nap or shag, called also the velveting, of this
stuff, is formed of part of the threads of the warp, which
the workman puts on a long narrow-channelled ruler or
needle, which he afterwards cuts, by drawing a sharp
steel tool along the channel of the needle to the ends of
the warp. The principal and best manufactories of
velvet are in France and Italy, particularly in Venice,
Milan, Florence, Genoa, and Lucca : there are others
in Holland, set up by the French refugees ; whereof
that at Haerlem is the most considerable : but they all
come short of the beauty of those in France, and ac¬
cordingly are sold for 10 or 15 per cent. less. There
are even some brought from China; but they are the
worst of all.
VENAL, or Venous, in Anatomy, something that
bears a relation to the veins. This word is also used for
something bought with money, or procured by bribes.
VENEERING, Vaneering, or Fineering, a kind
of marquetry, or inlaying, whereby several thin slices
or leaves of fine wood, of different kinds, are applied
and fastened on a ground of some common wood.
There are two kinds of inla\ing : the one, which is
the more ordinary, goes no farther than the making of
compartiments of different woods ; the other requires
much more art, and represents flowers, birds, and the
like figures. The first kind is what wre properly call
veneering; the latter we have already described under
Marquetry.
The wood intended for veneering is first sawed out
into slices or leaves, about a line thick : in order to saw
them, the blocks or planks are placed upright in a kmd
of vice or sawing press : the description ot which may
be seen under the article just referred to. These slices
are afterwards cut into slips, and fashioned divers ways,
according to the design proposed ; then the joints being
carefully adjusted, and the pieces brought down to then’
proper thickness, with several planes for the purpose,
they are glued down on a ground or block of dry wood,
with good strong English glue. The pieces thus joined
and glued, the w*ork, if small, is put in a press 5 il large,
it is laid on the bench, covered with a board, and pressed
down with poles, or pieces of wood, one end whereof
reaches to the ceiling of the room, and the other beats
on the boards. When the glue is quite dry they take
it out of the press and finish it ; first with little planes,
then with divers scrapers, some whereof resemble ra’-ps,
which take off dents, &c. left by the planes. Mhen
sufficiently scraped, the work is polished with the skin 0
Velites
/'L l'/'E DXLJ.
Vegetable Physiology.
I'LA'J'E IJXL77.
Fig. /2. . Fig. L4.
E.MitcUl fen !/,
/■)}/. M.
/ ( tj y
ft;/
Fig. Si.
Fig. 2g.
\'I'.(iETAlll.i: PiIV.SIO1.00V.
r/s.rn: dx/jh
li.MiicUi fmy.
v E N [ 5+3 ] YEN
encerinj
II
Venice.
nation
>iboau-
i gen.
i 452,
3.
ablish-
1 t of a
e or
e.
■ ®97‘
\ ?.,
| '-viih
* 'Bpe-
^ -harle,
Be.
*■ 76s.
a sea dog, wax, and a brush and polisher of shave-grass;
which is the last operation.
VENEREAL, something belonging to venery j as
the lues venerea, &c. See Medicine Index.
VENERY, is commonly used for the act of copula¬
tion, or coition, between the two sexes 5 it has also been
employed by old writers as applicable to hunting or the
chacc, as beasts of venery.
VENESECTION, or Phlebotomy, in Surgery.
See Surgery Index.
VENETIAN Bole, a fine red earth used in paint¬
ing, and called in the colour shops Venetian red.—It is
du'r up in Carinthia, and sent from Venice to all parts
of the world ; but the use of it is much superseded by
a bright colcothar of vitriol.
VENICE, State OF, formerly a celebrated repub¬
lic, which for nearly ten centuries formed one of the
most powerful maritime states of Europe. Its dominions
lay chiefly along the coasts at the head of the Adriatic
sea, comprehending not only a considerable tract round
the city of Venice, but several districts both to the east
and west of that sea, together with the islands of Corfu,
Zante, Cephalouia, Cerigo, and some others of less note
in the Archipelago. It was bounded to the north by
the Alps, to the west by the duchy of Milan, and to
the east by Croatia, a province of Turkey in Europe.
The republic of Venice is said to have taken its rise
from a small Italian colony, who in the middle of the
5th century were driven by Attila king of the Huns
from the cities of Aquileia, Verona, Mantua, &c. and
took refuge in the group of small islands where now
stands the city of Venice. Here they established them¬
selves, and formed a small independent slate, adopting
the consular form of government which had so long pre¬
vailed at Rome. By the end of the 5th century they
had become of consequence, and were able to raise and
maintain a fleet and a small army. They engaged in a
war with the Lombards, and distinguished themselves
against the Istrian pirates, and the inhabitants of the
neighbouring port of Trieste. They also assisted Jus¬
tinian in his contest with the Goths, and received from
him and his general Narses, many marks of favour and
distinction,
About the year 697, the tribunitian power, which bad
prevailed in Venice from the end of the 5th century*
was abolished, and the states elected a supreme magi¬
strate, whom they called doge, or duke. He was to
represent the honour and majesty of the state j to assem¬
ble and preside at the great council, where he had a
casting vote in all disputed points j to nominate to all
offices, places, and preferments, and to enjoy the same
authority in the church as in the state. Excepting a
short intermission of about five years, the power of the
doges continued till the fall of the republic.
Under the doges, the power and wealth of the repub¬
lic continued to increase. In 765, the Heraclians and
Gezulans, subjects of the republic, revolted, and threw
themselves on the protection of the emperor Charle-
Riagne. That emperor settled them for the present at
- Malamoe, in the neighbourhood-of the Venetian capi¬
tal j hut from this asylum they were quickly driven by
the forces of the republic, Incensed at this affront com-
nntted against his authority, Charlemagne ordered bis
son Pepin to declare war against the Venetians j but as
Astolphus king of the Lombards was then laying waste Venice,
the territories ol the church, the troops of Pepin were, —v—
by the intreaties of the pope, dispatched against that
powerful monarch ; and though, on the defeat of Astol¬
phus they marched against the Venetians, it does not
appear that the enterprise was productive of either ho¬
nour or success. The war with Pepin was renewed in
804, on occasion of Obelerio, the doge of Venice,
shewing an inclination to favour the Greek emperor
Nicephorus against Pepin. Obelerio was related to the
Irench monarch, having married his sister*, and as on
this account the Venetians were jealous of the attach¬
ment of their doge, he was superseded, and Valentin
nominated commander in his place. Pepin had collect¬
ed a numerous and well appointed army, and had fitted
out a fleet to act against the Venetians by sea. With
this formidable force he advanced directly to Venice,
but here he was opposed with all the valour of inde¬
pendent citizens fighting for their liberties. ^
The Venetians, however, notwithstanding the most Intrepidity
obstinate defence, the most vigorous sallies, and their and success
selling every inch of ground at an incredible expence ofot h110 Ve_
blood, were at length reduced to that part of the city
south of the Rialto (rse,<? the next article'); this stream and
their own bravery, being now their only defence. While
Pepin was preparing to throw a bridge over the canal,
they resolved, as a last effort, to attack Pepin’s fleet, and
to vanquish or die in defence of their liberty. Embark¬
ing all the troops they could spare, they bore down
with the advantage of the wind and tide, upon the ene-
mv, and began the attack with such fury, as obliged
the French admiral te give way. The lightness of their
ships, and the knowledge of the soundings, gave the
Venetians every advantage they could wish : the ene¬
my’s fleet was run aground, and the greater part of
their troops perished in attempting to escape : the ships
were all to a few either taken or destroyed. During
this action at sea, Pepin resolved to assault the city by
land, not doubting but the garrison was so weakened by
the number of forces they had sent on board the fleetj
as to he able to make but a slight resistance. Having
for this purpose thrown a bridge over the Rialto, he was
marching his troops a cross-it, when he found himselfat¬
tacked on every side by the Venetians from their boats,
and others who had posted themselves on the bridge.
The battle was long, bloody, and doubtful, until the
Venetians employed all their power to break down the
bridge ; which at last yielding to their obstinate endea-
voux’s, a prodigious slaughterof the French ensued j they
fought, however, like men in despair, seeing no hopes of
safety hut in victory ; but all communication being cu-t
off with the troops on shore, they were to a man either
killed or drowned. The number of slain was so great
that the space between the Rialto and Malamoe was co¬
vered with dead bodies, and has ever since gone by a
name expressive ofthe prodigious slaughter. Pepin was
so struck with the intrepidity of the Venetians, that he
raised the siege, abandoned the enterprise, and conclud¬
ed a peace with the republic.
In 8*19 the Venetians engaged in an offensive and Venetian
defensive alliance against the Saracens, with the Greek fl^ei de¬
emperor Michael, to whose assistance they sent a fleet ofeil
60 galleys. In an engagement which took place be-^^ ara-
tween the allied fleets and that of the Saracens, the for- An. 839.
YEN
t 544 ]
YEN
Venice, mer were completely defeated, and almost all the Vene-
——v— ■ •' tian galleys were either taken or destroyed. On the
news of this defeat, the capital was thrown into the
greatest consternation, justly dreading an attack from
the victorious Saracens. This alarm, however, soon
subsided, on finding that the barbarians had turned off
on the side of Ancona. The city now became a prey
to internal dissension. Popular tumults were frequent,
and in one of these the doge was murdered. By the
prudent and vigorous administration of a succeeding
doge, Orso Participate, good order was re-established,
and at the-commencement of the 10th century, the re¬
putation of the republic for military prowess was much
advanced by a victory gained over the Huns, who had
^ invaded Italy, and defeated Berengarius.
Towards the close of the nth century, Venice began
to make a considerable figure among the states of Europe,
having acquired the sovereignty of Dalmatia and Cro¬
atia, with which in 1084 they were formally invested
by the Constantinopolitan emperor.
About this time a crusade, Or holy rvar against the
active part SaracenS) Was preached up by the emissaries of the pope,
Increased
power of
the repub¬
lic.
Ah. 1084.
8
Take an
in the cru¬
sades.
An. 1095.
9
Dispute
with the
Greek em
peror,
and the Venetian republic engaged in the undertaking
with such ardour, as to equip a fleet of 200 sail, under
the command of the doge Vitalis Michael. Before he
sailed for the coast of Asia, however, the doge found it
necessary to chastise the Pisans, whom he defeated in a
terrible engagement. He then sailed for Askalon, at
that time besieged by the Christian forces, and it was
chiefly by his valour that that city, as well as Caipha
and Tiberias, fell into the hands of the Christians.
Prom these victories he was recalled to repel an invasion
of Dalmatia by the Normans, whom he also defeated,
carrying off considerable booty.: His-successor assisted
Baldwin in the conquest of Ptoiemais, but was defeat¬
ed and killed in attempting to quell a rebellion of the
Croatians.
Under the government of Domeirieo Michtli, who
succeeded Ordelapho, the pope’s nuncio arrived at Ve¬
nice, and excited such a spirit of enthusiasm among all
ranks and degrees of men, that they strove whose names
should he first enrolled for the holy war. The doge,
having fitted out a fleet of 60 galleys, sailed with it to
Joppa, which place the Saracens were at that time be¬
sieging. The garrison was reduced to the last extre¬
mity when the Venetian fleet arrived, which surprised
and defeated that of the enemy with great slaughter ;
soon after which the Saracens raised the siege with pre¬
cipitation. Tyre was next besieged, and soon was ob¬
liged to capitulate ; on which occasion, as well as on the
taking of Ascalon, the Venetians shared two-thirds of
the spoils. While the doge was absent on those im¬
portant affairs, the emperor of Constantinople, jealous
of the growing power of the Venetians, resolved to
take advantage of their apparent incapacity to resist an
attack at home. The Venetians, however, had timely
notice of his approach, and instantly recalled the doge,
who on his return laid waste and destroyed the country
round Chios, seized on the islands of Samos, Lesbos, and
Andros, then belonging to the emperor, and reduced
several places in Dalmatia which had revolted.
In 1173, the republic ventured to oppose Frederick
Barbarossa. garbarossa in his attack on the pope. Frederick, after
a- I,73i a haughty reply to an embassy sent him by the Vene¬
tians, dispatched against them his son Otho, who soon
and with
■ • 1 tinople.
'vhlch An. nr
arrived before the city with 75 galleys. The doge ye„|a
Sebastiano Ziani sailed out with the few vessels he had*—y*.
got equipped, to give the enemy battle. The fleets
met oft the coast of Istria, and a terrible engagement
ensued, in which the imperial fleet was totally defeated,
Otho himself taken prisoner, and 48 of his ships de¬
stroyed. On the doge’s return, the pope went out to
meet him, and presented him with a ring, saying,
“ Take this, Ziani, and give it to the sea, as a testimony
of your dominion over it. Let your successors annually
perforin the same ceremony, that posterity may know
that your valour has purchased this prerogative, and
subjected this element to you, even as a husband sub-
jecteth his wife.” Otho was treated with the respect
due to his rank, and soon conceived a great friendship
for Ziani. At last, being permitted to visit the impe¬
rial court, on his parole, he not only prevailed on his
father to make peace with the Venetians, but even to
visit theix' city, so famed for its commerce and naval
power. He was received with all possible respect, and
on his departure attended to Ancona by the doge, the
senate, and the whole body of the nobility. During
this journey he was reconciled to the pope ; and both
agreed to pay the highest honours to the doge and re¬
public. Ir
In the beginning of the 13th century, the Venetians They gi
in conjunction with the French, besieged and took Con-po'sessic
stantinople, as has been related under the article C'oN-of^onst:
STANTINOPOLITAN HlSTORY, N° I44 146,
they held till the year 1261.
In the mean time the Genoese, by their successful War w
application to Commerce, having raised themselves intic Ge‘
such a manner as to be capable of rivalling the Vene-noese'
tians, a long series of wars took place between the re¬
publics j in which the Venetians generally had the ad¬
vantage, though sometimes they met with terrible over¬
throws. These expensive and bloody quarrels undoubted¬
ly contributed to weaken the republic notwithstanding
its successes. In the year 1348, however, the Genoese Ar, 13
were obliged to implore the protection ol Visconti duke
of Milan, in order to support them against their implaca¬
ble enemies the Venetians. Soon after this, in the year
1352, the latter were utterly defeated with such loss,
that it was thought the city itself must have fallen into
the hands of the Genoese, had they known how to im¬
prove their victory. This was in a short time followed
by a peace j hut from this time the power of the repub¬
lic began to decline. Continual war with the states of
Italy, with the Hungarians, and their own rebellious
subjects, kept the Venetians employed, so that they had
no leisure to oppose the Turks, whose impid advances
might have alarmed all Europe. After the destruction
of the eastern empire, however, in 1453 ^,e ^ ur^s ^e’
gan more immediately to interfere with the republic.
Whatever valour might be shewn by the Venetians, or
whatever successes they might boast of, it is certain the
Turks ultimately prevailed ; so that for some time U
seemed scarcely possible to resist them. What also con¬
tributed greatly to the decline of the republic, was the
discovery of a passage to the East Indies by the Capeo
Good Hope in 1497. Till then the greatest part of the
East India goods imported into Europe passed thiough
the hands of the Venetians ; but as soon as the Cape wa*
discovered, the conveyance by the way of Alexandria
almost entirely ceased. Still, however, the ’Venetian
power
YEN
it-
A ijoS.
J4
> r wars
w tlie
T s.
A i545-
IS
I Vrne-
tii eon-
qiitthe
M a;
Ai 6S7,
S
wh is
An
llS’
.nice, power was strong; and in tlie beginning of the 16th
' -v'—^ century they maintained a war against almost the whole
1.3 force of France, Germany, and Italy, associated against
(,)8e<* by them in what has been called the League of Cambray.
8 am? Soon after, however, we find them entering into an al¬
liance with the king of France against the emperor.
After this, nothing of importance occurs in the his¬
tory of the Venetian republic till the year 1645, when
the republic was involved in a new and sanguinary con¬
flict with the Turks, in defence of the important island
of Candia. The transactions to which this war gave
rise, and the spirit and bravery displayed by the Vene¬
tians, in defending their colonial possessions, are amply
detailed under the article Candia.
At the end of the 17th century, the Venetians ob¬
tained an important acquisition of territory by the con¬
quest of the Morea, which at the peace of Carlowitz
in 1699, was formally ceded by Turkey to the state of
* k Mod. Venice *.
Ur Hist. During the war of the Succession, the states of Venice
TS ITa’ observed a strict neutrality. They considered that dis¬
pute as unconnected with their interests ; taking care,
however, to keep on foot an army on their frontiers in
Italy, of sufficient force to make them respected by the
belligerent powers. But soon after the peace of U-
trecht, the Venetians were again attacked by their old
enemies the Turks, who beholding the great European
looi.fter powers exhausted by their late efforts, and unable to as-
re> id to sist the republic, thought this the favourable moment
Tu ty. for recovering the Morea, which had been so lately ra¬
vished trom them. The Turks obtained their object,
and at the peace of Passarowitz in 1715, which termi¬
nated this unsuccessful war, the Venetian states yielded
up the Morea ; the grand seignior on his part restoring
to them the small islands of Cerigo and Cerigetto, with
some places which his troops had taken during the
course of the war in Dalmatia.
Irom the peace of Passarowitz to the conclusion of
18th century, the affairs of Venice ceased to form
1 tee of an ,nteresting part of the history of Europe. Ever since
the league of Cambray, the republic, weakened by its
continual struggles with Turkey, had declined in power
and in consequence, and was incapable of opposing a
barrier to the encroachments of its more powerful neigh¬
bours. During the first war which the French republic
maintained against the emperor in Italy, the states of
Venice afforded a tempting object to each of the con¬
tending parties; and in May I797> the capital was oc¬
cupied by a body of French troops, who under pretence
01 quelling a tumult that had arisen in the city, took
possession of the forts, and subverted the existing autho¬
rities. By the treaty of Campo Formic, concluded in
October of the same year, the French consented that
the emperor should take possession of the Venetian ter-
ntory, with the islands in the Archipelago, which had
been subject to the Venetian republic. At the treaty
of Presburg in 1805, Austria was compelled to cede
the Venetian states to the kingdom of Italy, of which
these states continued to form a part till the overthrow
of the Irench power in 1814, when they reverted to
Austria.
It is not necessary for us to be very minute in our ac-
-- ue q?Un* ^,e constitution and government of Venice.
h|ei V . e g°vernment was strictly aristocratical, being vested
lc' m the great council or senate, in which each of the nobi-
Vol. XX. Part II.
[ 545 1
YEN
Tli
of
bee
pro
Aui
7
at*
lice
es a
An.
‘97.
Con!
lion,
term it
^J’be
lity had a seat. The nobility were extremely numerous, Venice.
being computed at not fewer than aooo, whereas the  v 
whole population of the state did not exceed 2,500,000.
Besides the great council, or tl constglio grande, there
were four others ; one composed of the doge and six
counsellors, called la signona; another called il consiglio
du pregodi, consisting of about 250 of the nobility; a
third united to la signoria, consisting of 28 assessors, or
great sages, which gave audience to ambassadors ; and a
fourth, composed of 10 counsellors, who took cogni¬
zance of all criminal matters, and before whom even
the doge himself must appear, if accused. The secret
business of the state was often carried on by spies and
informers ; and there were in the ducal palace several
statues of lions with open mouths, which formed so many
receptacles for secret and anonymous information.
The office and privileges of the doge of Venice have
been already mentioned under the article Doge. Of
late this office was little more than nominal ; and the
doge was a mere state puppet, without authority and
without power. His establishment, however, was splen¬
did, and his revenue not contemptible. The mode of
electing the doge deserves notice, as it was well calcu¬
lated to prevent bribery, or the exertion of party influ¬
ence. Fie was elected by a plurality of voices, and held
his dignity for life. In his election they made use of
gold and silver balls, which were put into a vessel, and
served for balloting. Those who drew nine golden
balls, first elected 40 counsellors, who drew 12 others,
and elected 25 in addition. Of this number nine per¬
sons, who had drawn golden balls, chose 40 more ; 11
of those, appointed in the same way, chose 41 counsel¬
lors, who finally proceeded to the election, till 25 votes
or more fell upon the same person, who was then de¬
clared doge. After this election they placed the ducal
cap upon his head, upon which he took possession of the
doge’s palace. He never uncovered his head to any
person, because he did not wear the cap in his own
name, but in that of the republic.
The military strength of the Venetians consisted of
nearly 30,000 land forces, under the command of a ca-
pitano, who was always a foreigner of distinction ; be¬
sides a considerable fleet, which they boasted could, in
time of war, be increased to 60 men of war, and above
100 galleys. The ordinary revenues of the state have
been computed at rather more than l,oco,oool. sterling,
a considerable part of which arose from the customs,
and the duty on salt made at Corfu and Chiosa.
Venice, the city which was tire seat of government
of the Venetian republic, is built on 72 small islands at
the head of the Adriatic or gulf of Venice, about five
miles from the main land. That part of the gulf which
lies between the city and the continent forms a kind of
laguna or lake, which, at low water, is very shallow,
and on the opposite side of the islands there are nume¬
rous shallows, the channels between which are marked
by stakes, to direct ships in entering the port. The la-
gunes that lie between the islands form so many canals
that intersect the city in all directions, and over these
the streets communicate by not fewer than 500 bridges.
The principal or gren’/canal is broad, and has a serpen¬
tine course through the middle of the city, but the
others are narrow and crooked. The streets are also
narrow and winding, but clean and neat. The houses
are built on piles, and have each a door opening to the
t 3 ^ adjacent
YEN [ 546 ] YEN
'Venice adjacent canal, and another to the street. As the nar-
|| rowness of the streets hot ill adapts them for walking in,
Ventilator. t|,e only places ot resort on land are the Rialto, a noble
v bridge across the great canal, bordered with booths and
shops and the great square of St Mark, or PiaK'za di
St Marco, an irregular quadrangle, formed of several
buildings some of which are magnificent. Of these,
the ducal palace where the business ot the state used to
be transacted *, the patriarchal church of St Mark ; the
steeple of St Mark, at a little distance from the church }
the church of St Geminiano j and the new and old
Procuraries, are most deserving the notice of travellers.
The canals form the great medium of communication,
as well as the principal scene of relaxation and amuse¬
ment to the inhabitants. Here ply numerous gondolas,
(see Gondola, and Macgill's Travels, vol. i.) which
are rowed with admirable speed and dexterity by the
gondoliers 5 and here are occasionally held races, or ra¬
ther rowing matches. As the canals are, of necessity,
the receptacles of all the filth of the city, they become,
in hot weather, very offensive. The whole city is a-
bout six miles in circumference, and the inhabitants
were formerly estimated at 163,000, but have been
continually decreasing since it lost its independence :
at present they are not supposed to exceed 100,000.
The inhabitants of Venice formerly carried on a
flourishing trade in silk manufactures, gold lace, mirrors
and other articles of glass, besides military stores and
implements of war. At some distance from the city
there is a large and commodious lazaretto, where ships
coming from the Levant unload their goods, and per¬
form quarantine from 20 to 40 days.
This celebrated city, once the seat of power, opu¬
lence and the fine arts, whose carnival revelries have
been the subject of so many animated descriptions, has
undergone a melancholy change. Her streets and ca¬
nals no longer resound with the strains of the musician
and the serenades of watchful lovers, and her gay gon¬
dolas, which were formerly occupied by fashionable
groups and parties of pleasure, are now become the ve¬
hicles of trade, or serve for the accommodation of the
soldier and the mechanic. The trade of the city, which
had long declined, has, since the cession of the Venetian
territory to Austria, been almost entirely transferred to
Trieste. Venice is 72 miles E. by N. of Mantua •, 11 5
N. E. of Florence 5 140 E. of Milan; 212 N. of Rome,
and 300 N. by W. of Naples. E. Long. 12° 33'. N.
Lat. 450 26'.
VENIRE facias, in Law, is a judicial writ lying
where two parties plead and come to issue, directed to
the sheriff, to cause 12 men of the same neighbourhood
to meet and try the same, and to say the truth upon the
issue taken.
VENTER, signifies the belly; but it is also used
for the children by a woman of one marriage : there is
in law a first and second venter, &c. where a man hath
children by several wives; and how they shall take in
descents of lands.
VENTILATOR, a machine by which the noxious
air of any close place, as an hospital, gaol, ship, cham¬
ber, &c. may be discharged and changed for fresh.
The noxious qualities of bad air have been long
known ; and no one has taken greater pains to set the
mischiefs arising from foul air in a just light than Dr
Hales; who has also proposed an easy and effectual re¬
medy by the use of his ventilators; his account of which Ventiku
was read to the Royal Society in May 1741. In the'■—Y'-
November following M. Triewald, military architect to
the king of Sweden, informed Dr Mortimer secretary
to the Royal Society, that he had in the preceding spring
invented a machine for the use of his majesty’s men of
war, in order to draw out the bad air from under their
decks, the least of which exhausted 36,172 cubic feet
in an hour, or at the rate of 21,732 tons in 24 hours.
In l 742 he sent one of them, formed for a 60 gun ship
to France ; which was approved of by the Royal Aca¬
demy of Sciences at Paris ; and the king of France or¬
dered all the men of war to be furnished with the like
ventilators.
The ventilators invented by Dr Hales consist of a
square box ABCD (fig. 1.) of any size ; in the middle ]
of one side of this box a broad partition or midriffis fix¬
ed by hinges X, and it moves up and down from A to
C, by means of an iron rod ZR, fixed at a proper di¬
stance from the other end of the midriff, and passing
through a small hole in the cover of the box up to R.
Two boxes of this kind may be employed at once, and
the two iron rods may be fixed to a lever EG (fig. 2.)
moving on a fixed centre O ; so that by the alternate
raising and pressing down of the lever EG, the midriffs
axe also alteir.ately raised and depressed, whereby these
double bellows are at the same time both drawing in air,
and pouring it out, through apertuxes with valves made
on the same side with, and placed both above and be¬
low the hinges of the midriffs. In order to render the
midriffs light, they are nmde of four bars lengthwise,
and as many across them breadthwise, the vacant spaces
being filled up with thin pannels of fir board; and that
they may move to and fro with the greater ease, and
without touching the sides of the boxes, there is an iron
regulator fixed upright to the middle of the end of the
box AC (fig. I.) from N to L, with a notch cut into
the middle of the end of the midriff at Z ; so that the
midriffs, in rising and falling, suffer no other friction
than what is made between the x-egulator and the notch.
Moreover, as the midriff ZX moves with its edges only
one-twentieth of an inch from the sides of the box
ARCDFE, very little air will escape by the edges;
and therefore, there will be no need of leathern sides as
in the common bellows. The end of the box at AC is
made a little circular, that it may be better adapted
between A and C to the rising and falling midriff; and
at the other end X of the midriff a slip of leather may
be nailed over the joints if needful. rlhe eight large
valves through which the air is to pass, are plated at
the hinge-end of the boxes BK (fig. 2.) as at I, 2, 3»
&c. The valve I opens inward to admit the air to
enter, when the midriff is depressed at the other end
by means of the lever I G. And at the same time the
valve 3 in the lower ventilator is shut by the compressed
air which passes out at the valve 4. But when that
midriff is raised, the valve 1 shuts, and the air passes
out at the valve 2. And it is the same with the valves
5, 6, &c. of the other box ; so that the midriffs are al¬
ternately rising and falling, and two of the ventilator#
drawing in air, and two blowing it out; the air enter¬
ing at the valves 1, 3, 6, 8, and passing out at the valves
2, 4, 5, 7. Before these last valves there is fixed to the
ventilators a box QQNM (fig. 3.) as a common recep-Fig-.
tacle for all the air which comes out of these valves;
wbicli
v E N [ 547 ] V E R
\ tilatoc which air passes off by the trunk P, through the wall
|| of a building. See Description of Ventilators by Ste-
phen Hales, D. D. Lond, 1743, 8vo.; and for the me-
"v thod of freeing mines, ships, prisons, &c. from noxious
air by means of fire-pipes, see Pneumatics, N° 371.
Ventiu Inspiciendo, is a writ to search a woman that
saith she is with child, and thereby withholdeth lands
from the next heir : the trial whereof is by a jury of
women.
VENTRICLE, properly denotes any little cavity j
but is more particularly used by physicians and anato¬
mists for the stomach and certain cavities of the heart
and brain.
VENTRILOQUISM, an art by which certain per¬
sons can so modify their voice, as to make it appear to
the audience to proceed from any distance, and in any
direction. See PHYSIOLOGY Index.
VENUS, in Pagan worship, the goddess of love and
beauty. Cicero mentions two other deities of this name.
Venus,styled Urania and Celestis; and the Venus Pan¬
demos or Populai'is, the wife of Vulchn, and the god¬
dess of wanton and eft'eminate love. To the first the
Pagans ascribed no attributes but such as were agree¬
able to the strictest chastity and virtue 5 and of this dei¬
ty they admitted no corporeal resemblance, she being
only represented by the form of a globe, ending coni¬
cally. Her sacrifices wrere termed nephalia, on account
of their sobriety. To her honey and wine were offered,
and no animal except the heifer ; and on her altars the
* wood of figs, vines, or mulberries, was not sufi'ered to
be burnt. The Romans dedicated a temple to this god¬
dess, to whom they gave the name of Verticordia ; be¬
cause she turned the hearts of lewd women, and inspired
them with modesty and virtue.
But the most famous of these goddesses is the wife of
Vulcan ; who is represented as springing from the froth
raised by the genitals of Saturn, when cut off by Jupi¬
ter and thrown into the sea. As soon as she was form¬
ed, she was laid in a beautiful shell embellished with
pearl, and wafted by gentle zephyrs to the isle of Cy-
therea, whence she sailed to Cyprus. At her landing,
flowers rose beneath her feet ■, she was received by the
Hours, who braided her hair with golden fillets ; and
then wafted her to heaven, where her charms appeared
*0 attractive, that most of the gods desired her in mar¬
riage *, but Vulcan, by the advice of Jupiter, gained
possession by putting poppies into her nectar. As Ve¬
nus was the goddess of love and pleasure, the poets have
been lavish in the description of her beauties j and the
painters and statuaries have endeavoured to give her
the most lovely form. Sometimes she is represented
clothed in purple, glittering with gems, her head
crowned with roses, and drawn in an ivory car by
*wans, doves, or sparrows; at others she stands attend¬
ed by the Graces ; but in all positions, her son Cupid
is her inseparable companion. She was honoured as
the mother of Hymeneus, Cupid, ./Eneas, and the
Graces, and was passionately fond of Adonis and An-
chises.
This goddess was principally worshipped at Paphos
and Cyprus-, and the sacrifices offered to her were white
goats and swine, with libations of wine, milk, and
honey. Her victims were crowned with flowers, or
wreaths of myrtle,
Venus, one of the planets. See Astronomy Index.
Venus's Fly-trap. See Dionma Muscipula, Bota¬
ny Index.
Venus, a genus of shell-fish. See Conchology In¬
dex.
VEPRECUL/E, diminutive from vepres, “ a briar
or bramble j” the name of the 31st order in Linnaeus’s
Fragments of a Natural Method. See Botany Index.
VERA-Cruz, a sea port town of North America, in
New Spain. This city is almost the sole channel of
communication between Mexico and the mother coun¬
try. It is beautifully and regularly built, and is situ¬
ated in an arid plain, destitute of running water, on
which the north winds have formed hills of moving sand.
Near the town are considerable marshes and stagnant
pools, which occasion intermittent fever among the in¬
habitants. I he population of Vera-Cruz in 1803
amounted to 16,000. The port is not very secure,
though it is the best on the Mexican coast. The trade
of this town is very extensive : the exports consist of
gold and silver in ingots, cochineal, sugar, flour, indigo,
salted provisions, tanned hides, vanilla, soap, cam-
peachy wood, &c. and amount annually, according to
Humboldt, to 4,620,000!. sterling ; while the imports,
consisting of linens, woollens, cottons, paper, mercury,
iron, brandy, wine, &c. amount only to 3,150,000!.
W. Long. 96. 15. N. Lat. 19. 12.
VERAGUA, a province of New Spain, bounded 011
the east by that of Costa Rica, on the west by Pana¬
ma, on the north by Darien and the gulf of Mexico,
and on the south by the South sea. It is about 12;
miles in length from east to west, and 60 in breadth
from north to south. It is a mountainous barren coun¬
try j but has plenty of gold and silver. Conception is
the capital town.
VERATRUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
class polygamia, and in the natural system arranged un¬
der the 10th order, Coronarice. See Botany and Ma¬
teria Medica Index.
VERB, in Grammar. See Grammar, chap. iv.
VERBASCUM, a genus of plants of the class pent-
andria, and in the natural system arranged under the
28th order, Luridce. See Botany Index.
VERBENA, a genus of plants of the class of diau-
dria, and in the natural system arranged under the 40th
order, Personatce. See Botany Index.
VERD, Cape, a promontory on the west coast of
Africa, 40 miles north-west of the mouth of the river
Gambia. W. Long. 17. 38. N. Lat. 14. 45.
The islands of Cape de Verd are seated in the Atlan¬
tic ocean, about 400 miles west of the Cape. They are
between the 13th and 19th degree of latitude; and the
principal are 10 in number, lying in a semicircle. Their
names are, St Antony. St Vincent, St Lucia, St Ni¬
cholas, the isle of Sal, Bona Vista, Mayo, St logo,
Fuego, and Brava.
VERDICT, (Vere dictvni), is the answer of the jury
given to the court concerning the matter of fact, in any
case civil or criminal, committed by the court to then-
trial and examination. See Law, N°clxxxvi. 51. and
Trial.
VERDIGRISE, the acetate of copper, much used
by painters as a green colour. See Copper, Chemi¬
stry Index.
VERD ITER, or Verdater, a preparation of cop¬
per, sometimes used by painters, &c. for a blue;
3 Z 2 but
Venus
n
Verditer.
V E R [ 548 ] V E R
VcrJitcr but more usually mixed with a yellow for a green co¬
ll lour. See Copper, Chemistry Index, and Colour-
Vermin. Milkin'!;, N° 28.
v VERGE ( Virgata), in Law, signifies the compass
of the king’s court, -which bounds tlie jurisdiction ol the
lord steward of the household ) and which is thought to
have been 12 miles round.
The term verge is also used for a stick or rod, where¬
by one is admitted tenant to a copyhold estate, by hold¬
ing it in his hand, and swearing fealty to the lord of the
manor.
VERGERS, certain officers of the courts of king’s
bench and common pleas, whose business it is to carry
white wands before the judges. There are also vergers
of cathedrals, who carry a rod tipped with silver before
the bishop, dean, &c.
VERGIL, Polydore. See Virgil.
VERJUICE, a liquor obtained from grapes orapples^
unfit for wine or cyder; and chiefly used in sauces, ra¬
gouts, &c.
VERMES, the sixth class of animals in the Lin-
nsean system, comprehending five orders. See Natu¬
ral History, and Conchology and Helmintho¬
logy Index.
VERMICELLI, or Vermichelly, a composition
of flour, cheese, yolks of eggs, sugar, and saffron, redu¬
ced to a paste, and formed into long slender pieces like
worms, by forcing it with a piston through a number of
little holes. It was first brought from Italy } and is
chiefly used in soups and pottages.
VERMICULAR, an epithet given to any thing
that bears a relation or resemblance to worms.
VERMIFORMIS, in Anatomy, a term applied to
various parts in the human body, bearing some resem¬
blance to worms.
VERMILION, a bright and beautiful red colour,
composed of quicksilver and sulphur, in great esteem
among the ancients under the name of mimimi. See
Chemistry, N° 1701, and 1713 j but what goes by
the name of minium amongst us, is a preparation of
lead, known also by the name of red-lead. See Che¬
mistry, N0 1832.
VERMIN is a general term, denoting those animals
which are either directly or indirectly injurious to man¬
kind, the inferior animals, or the fruits of the earth j as
fleas, caterpillars, flies, worms, &c.
Vermin, Destruction of. As we propose in this ar¬
ticle to point out the means of destroying some of those
animals that are hurtful or troublesome to man, we
shall employ the term vermin, in a more extended sense,
including also under it, mice, rats, moles, &c. VYe
shall endeavour to collect the most useful observations
that have been made on the means of diminishing or
extirpating such animals as are obviously injurious.
We cannot avoid here remarking, that although the
seemingly excessive increase of one species of animals
is hurtful or inconvenient to another, or to man himself,
and their existence is attended with great loss and da¬
mage, by their infesting and destroying grains and other
fruits of the earth destined for the food of man or those
animals that are subservient to him *, we are not of opi¬
nion that this excess ought to be considered merely as
a useless excrescence in the great scale of being j nor
are we of opinion that their numbers ought not to be
reduced, because we are too short-sighted to compre¬
hend tire wise purposes for which they are called into vtr«m
life. We have heard such a doctrine held up, althoughr—i
we are inclined to suspect that it is founded on a love
of singularity, or indolence, rather than proceeding from
pure motives of benevolence. But we must abstain
from such discussions, and occupy the limits allotted to
the proper subject of consideration.
Rats and Mice.—Various methods have been propo¬
sed for the destruction of these vermin. The following
preparation has been recommended as very effectual.
Take of the seeds of stavesacre {delphinium staphisa-
gria), or of louse wort {pedicularis palustris), powdered,,
more or less as the occasion requires, one part j of oat
meal, three parts : mix them well, and make them up
into a paste with honey. Lay pieces of this paste in.
the holes, and on the places where mice and rats fre¬
quent ; and it will effectually kill or rid the places of
those kind of vermin by their eating of it.
Some time ago the society for encouraging arts pro-
posed a premium of 50I. for a preparation capable of
alluring or fascinating rats so that they might be taken
alive. In consequence of this, a great number of new
traps, &c. were invented, and the following methods of
alluring the rats to a certain place were published. One
of the methods which is most easily and efficaciously
practised, is the trailing of some pieces of their most fa¬
vourite food, which should be of the kind which has the
strongest scent, such as toasted cheese or boiled red her¬
rings, from the holes or entrances of the closet to their
recesses in every part of the house or contiguous build¬
ing. At the extremities, and at different parts of the
course of this trailed track, small quantities of meal, or
any other kind of their food, should be laid to bring
the greater number into the tracks, and to encourage
them to pursue it to the place where they are intended*
to be taken •, at that place, when time admits of it, a
more plentiful repast is laid for them, and the trailing
repeated for two or three nights.
Besides this trailing and way-baiting, some of the
most expert of the rat-catchers have a shorter, and per¬
haps more effectual method of bringing them together;
which is the calling them, by making such a whistling
noise as resembles their own call ; and by this means,
with the assistance of the way-baits, they call them out
of their holes, and lead them to the repast previously
prepared for them at the places designed for taking
them. But this is much more difficult to be practised
than the art of trailing ; for the learning of the exact
notes or cries of any kind of beasts or birds, so as to
deceive them, is a peculiar talent which is attained on¬
ly by few.
In practising either of these methods of trailing or
calling, great caution must be used by the operator to
suppress and prevent the scent of his feet and body from
being perceived ; which is done by overpowering that
scent, by other scents of a stronger nature. In order
to do this, the feet are to be covered with cloths
rubbed over with asaftetida, or other strong smelling
substances ; and even oil of rhodium is sometimes used
for this purpose, but sparingly, on account of its high
price, though it has a very alluring as well as disgusting
effect. If this caution of avoiding the scent of the ope¬
rators feet, near the track, and in the place where the
rats are proposed to be collected, be not properly ob¬
served, it will very much obstruct the success of the at¬
tempt
V E R [ S49 ] V E. R
V nin. tempt to take them ; for they ai’e very shy of coming
wliere the scent of human feet lies very fresh, as it inti¬
mates to their sagacious instinct the presence of human
creatures, whom they naturally dread. To the above-
mentioned means of alluring by trailing, way-baiting
and calling, is added another of very material efficacy,
which is the use of oil of rhodium, which, like the marum
syriacum and valerian in the case of cats, lias a very ex¬
traordinary fascinating power on these animals. This oil,
as it is extremely dear, is therefore sparingly used. It is
exalted in a small quantity in the place, and at the en¬
trance of it, where the rats are intended to be taken,
particularly at the time when they are to be last brought
together, in order to their destruction : and it is used
also by smearing it on tire surface of some of the imple¬
ments used in taking by the method below described •,
and the effect it has in taking off their caution and
dread, by the delight they appear to have in it, is very
extraordinary.
It is usual, likewise, for the operator to disguise his
figure as well as scent, which is done by putting a sort
of gown or cloak, of one colour, that hides the natural
form, and makes him appear like a post, or some such
inanimate thing, which habit must likewise be scented
as above, to overpower the smell of his person ; and be¬
sides this, he is to avoid ail motion till he has secured
his point of having all the rats in his power.
When the rats are thus enticed and collected, where
time is afforded, and the whole in any house and out¬
buildings are to be cleared away, they are suffered to
regale on what they most like, which is ready prepared
for them, and then to go away quietly for two or three
nights ; by which means those that are not allured the
first night, are brought afterwards, either by their fel¬
lows, or the effects of the trailing, &c. and will not
fail to come duly again, if they are not disturbed or
molested. But many of the rat-catchers make shorter
work, and content themselves with what can be brought
together in one night 5 but this is never effectual, unless
where the building is small and entire, and the rats but
few in number.
The means of taking them when brought together are
various. Some entice them into a very large bag, the
mouth of which is sufficiently capacious to cover nearly
the whole floor of the place where they are collected j
which is done by smearing some vessel, placed in the
middle of the bag, with oil of rhodium, and laying in
the bag baits of food. This bag, which before lay flat
on the ground with the mouth spread open, is to be
suddenly closed when the rats are all in. Others drive
or frighten them, by slight noises or motions into a bag of
a long form, the mouth of which, after all the rats are
come in, is drawn up to the opening of the place by
which they entered, all other ways of retreat being se¬
cured. Others, again, intoxicate or poison them, by
mixing with the repast prepared for them, the cocn-
lus indicus, or the nux vomica. They direct four ounces
of cocz//ws indicus, with 12 ounces of oat-meal, and two
ounces of treacle or honey, made into a moist paste
with strong beer*, but if the nux vomica be used, a
much less proportion will serve than is here given of the
coculus. Any similar composition of these drugs, with
that kind of food the rats are most fond of, and which
has a strong flavour to hide that of the drugs, will
equally answer the end. If indeed coculus indicus
4
be well powdered, and infused in strong beer for some Vermin,
time, at least half the quantity here directed will serve 1 -v— ■■
as well as the quantity before mentioned. When the
rats appear to he thoroughly intoxicated with the cocu¬
lus, or sick with the nux vomica, they may be taken
with the hand and put into a bag or cage, the door of
the place being first shut, lest those who have strength
and sense remaining should escape.
In destroying rats, advantage may be taken of that
remarkable degree of instinct which they possess of de¬
serting one place, where they find themselves disturbed
or harassed, and retiring to new haunts. It is well,
known, that after one or two rats are poisoned, or ta¬
ken in traps, or wounded or otherwise injured, and af¬
terwards permitted to escape, the whole colony immedi¬
ately disappears. The practice, however, of destroying
rats that frequent dwelling-houses, by poison, should be
as much as possible avoided j for they retire to places
behind the wainscot, &c. from which, after death, their
putrid bodies emitting a most offensive smell cannot be
removed. But it is far less difficult than, is generally
imagined to secure the diffex-ent apartments of a dwell¬
ing house, and even the cellars, from the inroads of rats
and mice, and thus to prevent their unwelcome visits,
by shutting up the passages through which they enter.
Stone and lime, when they can be applied, are effec¬
tual ; but common plaster, by introducing pieces of
broken pottery ware or glass, along with it, will also
answer the purpose •, and even a piece of cork, with a
pin or two stuck through it to prevent them from eating
it away, is a complete barrier to mice entering through
a hole in wood, and may even prevent the entrance of
rats.
We have seen this method of shutting up the holes, as
soon as they were opened by the industry of the enemy,
steadily pursued for some time, attended with the fullest
success, even in an old house of considei'able extent, and
finished from top to bottom with wood, some of which
was much decayed.
Often for the sake of food, rats and mice frequent
gardens, fields, and woods, in the summer season ; but,
on the approach of winter, they return to their former
haunts in the habitations of man ; and, accordingly, it
is observed, that houses which are free from those ver¬
min during the summer, swarm with them about the
end of harvest. Attention to this circumstance in the
habits of these animals, may be the means of securing
us from their visits and depredations : for if, at the time
alluded to, every hole and cranny through which rat or
mouse can entei', be shut up, and carefully kept close
and secure, the perseverance of the foe is exhausted and
overcome by repeated 'and constant resistance, and thus
he is forced to abandon the unequal contest, and to re¬
tire to other haunts where his motions are less inter¬
rupted.
Various other methods have been proposed for the
destruction of rats ; and although we have thrown out
a hint against the use of arsenic for this purpose, in
dwelling-houses j yet where it can be employed with
perfect safety, and without risk of the nuisance alluded
to, as in cellars and outhouses, it is undoubtedly one of
the most effectual to which we can have recourse.
Suffocating these vermin by means of the fumes of
sulphur, as on board of ships, in granaries, and other
buildings, which can be shut up, is sometimes also suc¬
cessfully
V E K [ 550 ] V E R
Vermin, cessfully practised. Rats and other vermin have also
-—been effectually destroyed and eradicated by burning
wood in close apartments, thus producing fixed air or
carbonic acid gas, by which they are also suffocated.
Moles.—Various methods have been proposed for
the destruction of these animals. But the following ob¬
servations on this subject, which we shall give in the
words of the author, seem to be more satisfactory than
any thing we have met with.
“ The great damage (says he) which moles occasion
in cultivated land, and particularly gardens, is well
known-, and the best means of remedying this evil is by
destroying all those that make their appearance, as far
as possible. The secrets which quacks sell forextirpating
th ese destructive animals are of very little avail and
even poison produces no effect, as the mole does not
drink, and lives only on roots and worms. In regard
to gins and traps, the moles must be enticed to them by
some kind of bait, which does not always produce the
intended effect. Buffon advises a trench to be dug a-
round the bills under which they conceal themselves,
and thus to cut them off from all communication with
the neighbouring ground. This method requires three
or four people to dig trenches *, and though it may prove
effectual, it is attended with too much trouble. The
other methods proposed by different naturalists are nei¬
ther easier nor more certain.
“ It is well known that this animal lives under the
earth 5 and if at any time it comes forth from its holes,
it is only when compelled to do so, in consequence of
large quantities of water accumulated after the heavy
rains which fall in summer, or when the earth is so much
parched and dried by the continued drought, that it can
no longer continue its labour : but it again creeps back
into the earth when it finds a spot convenient for its pur¬
pose.
“ This animal, as already remarked, feeds upon roots
and worms, and for this reason is generally found in rich
fertile soil j but never in that which is marshy or stony.
In the winter time it retires to elevated places, because
it is there best secured from inundations. In summer,
however, it descends to the low hillocks and flat land,
and above all makes choice of meadows for the place of
its residence, because it finds the earth there fresher and
softer for it to dig through. If the weather continues
long dry, it repairs to the borders of ditches, the banks
of rivws and streams, and to places contiguous to hedges.
“ The mole breeds generally at the beginning of win¬
ter, and the months when they are found big with young
are January and February. In the month of April a
great many of their young may be seen. Among 122
caught in the month of May by my method, there were
only four big with young. This animal cannot live
without digging ; it is obliged to find its nourishment
in the bowels of the earth j and on that account is un¬
der the necessity of making those long subterranean pas¬
sages which are found between one mole-hill and ano¬
ther. In general it begins to dig five or six inches un¬
der the surface j it scrapes the earth before it on one side
till the quantity becomes too great for it to labour with
ease; it then works towards the surface ; and by push¬
ing with its head, and the assistance of its nervous paws,
gradually raises up the earth which incommodes it, and
which produces those small hills so common in fields.
After getting rid of the earth in this manner, it pro-
3
ceeds forwards, and continues its labour as before. The yer
farther it goes the more hills are produced. At each1—-n-
period of its labour it throws up four or five.
“ In places overgrown with grass and shrubs, the mole
is often contented with only forcing a passage through
between the roots : and when the earth in gardens ha*
been newly watered, it keeps itself at the depth of
scarcely half an inch under the surface. This animal
shews an equal aversion to great cold and violent heat;
and in order to avoid both, it forces its way, when either
prevail, to the greatest depth in the earth.
“ It continues its labour at all times, because it is ne¬
cessary for it to procure nourishment. It is absolutely
false that it sleeps throughout the winter, as some natu¬
ralists have asserted ; for it throws up the earth in the
coldest season, as well as during the summer. It is most
busily employed towards the end of winter, and at that
period forms the greatest number of hills. To this it is
impelled by more than one reason. In the first place, it
must provide nourishment for its young ; secondly, it
finds it easiest at that time to dig its way through the
earth ; and lastly, as the air begins to be milder, the
animal then recovers that strength which it had lost dur¬
ing the intense cold. At this season, therefore, it is most
proper to pursue means for extirpating this animal, as it
can be destroyed with greater ease while employed at
its labour.
“ The male is much stronger than the female, and the
hills thrown up by the former are much larger as well
as more numerous. The periods when the mole is most
busily employed in digging are in the morning, at sun¬
rise, at noon, and at sunset. In dry weather moles are
observed to throw up the earth for the most part only at
sunrise, and in winter when the earth has been some¬
what heated by the sun’s rays.
“ A person may easily discover how many moles are
contained in a certain space of ground, by counting the
fresh raised mole-bills which have no communication
with each other. I must remark also, that this animal
has very bad sight, being almost totally blind ; but its
hearing, on the other hand, is so much the more acute.
“ I shall now proceed to the method of destroying
them. Immediately at day-break it will be necessary to
make a tour round the garden or meadow, from which
it is wished to extirpate the moles; for at that time they
will be all found at work, as may be seen by the hills
newly thrown up. If the person is then close to the hill,
he must proceed as the gardeners do, and turn up with
a stroke of the spade the hill together with the digger.
The passage is then cut through before the animal is a-
ware of the attack, and therefore it has not power to
escape. If the mole-hill be fresh, even though the ani¬
mal may not be throwing up earth, the person ought not
to lose his time in waiting, but should immediately pro¬
ceed to the operation above mentioned.
“ If you find a fresh hill standing by itself, which
seems to shew by its situation that it has no communica¬
tion with any other, which is always the case when the
mole has worked from the surface downwards in endea¬
vouring to procure a more convenient habitation, alter
the hill has been turned up with the spade, a bucket 0
water should be poured over the mouth of the passage-
By these means the animal, which is at no great distance,
will be obliged to come forth, and may be easily caught
with the hand. „ v ,
V E R [5
“ Yon may discover also whether a hill has any com¬
munication with another, if yon apply your ear to it,
and then cough or make a loud noise. If it has no
communication with the neighbouring hills, you will
hear the terrified animal make a noise by its motion.
It will then be impossible for it to escape*, and you
may either pour water into the hole, or turn up the
hill with a spade until the mole is found •, for in gene¬
ral it never goes deeper into the earth than from fifteen
to eighteen inches.
“ When any of the beds in a garden have been new¬
ly watered, the mole, attracted by the coolness and
moisture, readily repairs thither, and takes up its re¬
sidence in them, making a passage at the depth of
scarcely an inch below the surface. In that case it may
be easily caught. When you see it at work, you need
only tread behind the animal with your feet on the pas¬
sage to prevent its retreat, and then turn up the hill with
a spade •, by which means you will be sure to catch it.
“ When you dig after it with a spade, the animal
forces its way downwards into the earth in a perpendi¬
cular direction, in order that it may better escape the
threatened danger. In that case it will not be neces¬
sary to dig long, but to pour water over the place,
which will soon make the animal return upwards.
“ People in general are not aware of the great mis¬
chief occasioned in fields and gardens by tfn-se animals.
We are, however, informed by Buffon, that in the year
1740 he planted 15 or 16 acres of land with acorns,
and that the greater part of them were in a little time
carried away by the moles to their subterranean retreats.
In many of these there were found half a bushel, and in
others a bushel. Buffon, after this circumstance, caused
a great number of iron traps to be constructed, by which
in less than three weeks he caught 1300. To this in¬
stance of the devastation occasioned by these animals,
we may add the following: In the year 1742 they were
so numerous in some parts of Holland, that one farmer
alone caught between five and six thousand of them.
The destruction occasioned by these animals is, how¬
ever, no new phenomenon. We are informed by hi¬
story, that the inhabitants of the island of Tenedos,
the Trojans, and the HLolians, were infested by them
m the earliest ages. For this reason a temple was
erected to Apollo Smynthius, the destroyer of moles.
Insects.—Many insects, in the different states of ex¬
istence through which they pass, are exceedingly tren-
blesome and destructive. Sometimes they spread their
devastations in the state of lai va or grub, and some¬
times in that of perfect insect.
Of the coleopterous insects, the grub of the cock-
chafFer, which is a brownish or chesnut-colured beetle,
commits the greatest ravages. This beetle appears do¬
ling great part of the summer, the most plentiful in May
or June, and hence called the Mat! bug. It flies only
m the evening, and lodges during the day under the
leaves of trees, which it devours, and is sometimes in
such numbers, as to defoliate whole woods. 'The beetle
deposits its eggs in the earth, and from these are
hatched white or bluish grubs, that feed on the roots of
grass, corn, and other vegetables, during the whole sum-
raer. In the winter they lie deep in the earth j but in
the spring, as vegetation advances, they rise to the sur¬
face, and renew their work of destruction. In this state
they continue for four, five, or six years, before they
;i ] V E R
change to the chrysalis state, in which they remain till V
the month of May, when the perfect insect appears. w-'
As these insects require so many years to assume the
perfect form, they only appear occasionally sufficiently
numerous to be extensively destructive to the crops of
grain, or vegetables in general. Their numbers, how¬
ever, have often produced great alarm, and even ex¬
cited the attention of governments to offer rewards for
an effectual method of destroying them.
In the spring season, if the weather prove warm,
when the laud is ploughed up, these grubs are generally
so near the surface as to be turned up with the plough j
and being thus exposed, they are picked up and devour¬
ed by various birds, which, it is suggested, should not
be disturbed or driven away in this salutary labour.
When these grubs infest meadow land, it has been pro¬
posed to drown them in their holes by overflowing it.
But it is supposed that this plan would not be successful,
even where it is practicable, unless there is a bed of clay
immediately under the soil, to retain the water for a
sufficient length of time. A more efficacious way is
recommended to prevent the increase of the grubs, by
destroying the flies in May or June, before they have
deposited their eggs. This may be done by shaking
and beating the trees and hedges in the middle of the
day j and, as this is a work which may be performed
by children, it is a less difficult task than wmuld at first
sight be imagined. Domestic fowls are remarkably
fond of these beetles, so that a double object is thus
gained, the destruction of the beetles and the procuring
of food for the poultry.
Some species of the dermesfes, and also of the genus
ptinus, are exceedingly destructive in the cabinets of na¬
turalists, and also to furniture. Various methods have
been recommended to stop their ravages. We believe
the most effectual is spirit of turpentine, when it can be
properly applied. A solution of corrosive sublimate is
sometimes employed, but it should be recollected that it
seldom fails in time to produce some chemical change
on animal and vegetable matters. Objects of natural
history, as birds, animals, &c. are sometimes exposed
to the moderate heat of an oven, or before a fire, for
several hours 5 but this method will also be attended
with injurious effects, unless practised with great care.
Insects which infest furniture have been destroyed by
the application of oil, and allowing it to remain for a
day or two, before the furniture is rubbed up. Japan¬
ned or varnished furniture may be secured from the ef¬
fects of these insects, by re-coating it, when they are in
the larva state, by which they are deprived of air. Rail¬
ing, and other works out of doors, which are exposed
to the weather, are sometimes eaten with insects, and
particularly by some of the larvae of the genus curculio.
The wood thus attacked may be prevented from farther
ravages, by a fresh coat of paint.
The earwig is a destructive insect in the flower,
kitchen, and fruit garden. To prevent their depreda¬
tions, it has been recommended to take them by the
hand, when they come out during the night in search of
food. They may be taken also by rolling up a piece of
paper, and hanging it up on the plants which they in¬
fest ; for in these places they take shelter through the
day. Another method of destroying them has been
mentioned, and that is to watch them towards morn¬
ing with the view of discovering the haunts to which
V E Tt
Vermin.
r 55
they resort during the day ; and this discovery being
made, which may perhaps be a melon frame, dunghill,
or heap of rubbish, the removing of which will destroy
the greater number of those troublesome insects.
The small insect which commits such depredations
among turnips, by eating the seedling leaves as soon as
they appear, as frequently to destroy whole crops, is
supposed to be a small black polished beetle, belonging
to the genus chrysomela. It does not seem to be well
ascertained whether this small beetle, which is better
known by the name of turnip fly, commits its ravages
in the larva or in the beetle state. It is said that it
prefers the leaves of the common radish to those of the
turnip, and it is therefore recommended to sow radishes
along with the turnips to prevent the destruction of the
latter.
Of the insects belonging to the order hemiptera,
there are some which are exceedingly destructive. The
cock-roach, a native of the warmer parts of America
and the West Indies, is a very troublesome, and a very
voracious insect. It has been introduced into this coun¬
try, and particularly into the seaport towns, in conse¬
quence of commercial intercourse. It comes out to
feed in the night-time, and eats of almost every thing
that comes in its way. Cock-roaches are easily taken by
the following method. Cover the outside of a deep glass
or bason with paper 5 introduce some bits of bread or
sugar into the bason or glass, and set it in a place fre¬
quented by the cock-roaches. They creep up by means
of the paper on the outside, and drop into the vessel ,
but in consequence of its smooth polished surface, they
cannot effect their escape. In the same way crickets
and beetles may be taken and destroyed. It is quite
unnecessary to speak of the means of destroying the my¬
riads of locusts which not unfrequently infest eastern
countries, and particularly Egypt and Syria } for no
means are likely to be devised, which promise to resist
the effects of such an host of foes, by whose ravages
every green thing is consumed j but the insect itself be¬
comes,"among the poorer inhabitants of those countries,
a partial substitute for the fruits of the eaith which it
has destroyed. The insects are taken, reduced to
powder, and converted into a kind of meal.
The common or the bed-bug is a very troublesome,
and a very common inmate in the crowded houses of
many large towns in this country. Its usual haunts aie
the crevices of wood, and particularly those pieces of
furniture which are usually kept in the warmest corners
of the apartment. Cleanliness will perhaps be found
the best preservative against the introduction and in¬
crease of these insects } but sometimes even the greatest
care and attention are ineffectual in keeping houses
entirely free, from them. When it can be conveniently
done, they are completely destroyed by immersing tlie
furniture in boiling water, or by baking it in an oven 5
and by filling np the crevices or holes which were their
haunts, with glaziers putty, their return and increase
will thus be prevented. But a very effectual method of
destroying hugs, is to wash the places which they fre¬
quent with spirit of turpentine, and then filling up the
holes as already mentioned. It is a curious circum¬
stance iii the history of these insects, that some persons
entirely escape from their attacks, while to others they
are exceedingly troublesome and distressing. It is said
that lavender-water, sprinkled over the bed-clothes,
2 ] V E R
often prevents their approach. How far this is the ’Venn
case, we have had no opportunity of ascertaining. U“"V
The small moth, which in the caterpillar state com¬
mits such ravages on woollen cloths, furs, and other ani¬
mal substances, which remain for any length of time in
dark undisturbed places, may be destroyed with the
greatest certainty and facility, by exposing the substances
on which they are suspected to make their depreda¬
tions, to the vapour of spirit of turpentine, or brushing
them with a brush dipped into the same fluid. This
should be done about the months of September or Octo¬
ber j but their effects may be prevented by placing the
cloths, furs, &c. which are likely to become their re¬
sidence, in an airy situation, about the months of July
and August.
The different kinds of lice are very numerous. Every
animal has its peculiar species, and even mankind are
not free from this pest. It is often the consequence of
indolence and nastiness, and it is observed that the lice
which infest any animal increase prodigiously when that
animal becomes languid and sickly. We believe that
the application of spirits of turpentine, already so often
recommended, would also be effectual in this case ; but
mercurial preparations afford a certain remedy against
these insects. For this purpose a very small quantity of
what is called mercurial ointment may be employed.
At the same time it ought to be recollected, that clean¬
liness is the best preservative. A singular notion pre¬
vails in this country, and even among persons who are
by no means in the lowest rank of life, that it is a good
sign of health when children’s heads are infested with
these animals ; and on this account they are not very
anxious in having them entirely eradicated. A mo¬
ment’s reflection may show the absurdity of such an opi¬
nion, so that it would be a waste of time to adduce se¬
rious arguments against it.
It is perhaps more difficult for mankind to secure
themselves and their habitations from the visits of the
common flea. Cleanliness, however, may do much even
in effecting this ; and in particular it appears to us, that
it would be extremely useful, frequently to rub up with
a piece of cloth the more inaccessible parts of furniture
or apartments, or perhaps it would answer better to em¬
ploy a small hard brush. By the less accessible places
we mean the corners and crevices of rooms and furniture
where dust is apt to collect, and especially the canvas
part of a bed. We are persuaded that spirits of turpen¬
tine might also be found useful for the destruction of
these very troublesome insects. The Scotch myrtle
(myrica gale, Lin.) a plant very common in low and
moist moorish places in this country, is said to be an ex¬
cellent remedy, in consequence of its powerful aromatic ^
odour, against the attacks of these animals. For this
purpose, the plant is strewed about the apartment or
bed which is infested with fleas.
The following method of destroying or driving away
all kinds of noxious vermin from fitdds and gardens, it is
said, has been proved by experience to be effectual. B
is recommended by M. Socoloff, and the account of
is taken from the Petersburg!! Transactions *. “ As the^
destructive power of quicklime (says the author), height- ^
ened by a fixed alkali, which corrodes, dissolves and
destroys all the tender parts of animals, has been long
known, I thought this mixture would be the best means
for accomplishing the object I had in view’. I took
v E R C 553
. three parts, therefore, of quicklime, newly made, and the
two parts of a saturated solution of fixed alkali in water,
and thence obtained a somewhat milky liquor sufficiently
caustic, highly hostile and poisonous to earthworms and
other small animals ; for as soon as it touched any part
of their bodies, it occasioned in them violent symptoms
of great uneasiness. If this liquor be poured into those
holes in which the earthworms reside under ground, they
immediately throw themselves out as if driven by some
forcej and, after various contortions, either languish or
die. If the leaves of plants or fruit-trees, frequented
by the voracious caterpillars, which are so destructive to
them, be sprinkled over with this liquor, these insects
suddenly contract their bodies and drop to the ground.
For, though nature has defended them tolerably well
by their hairy skins from any thing that might injure
their delicate bodies, yet, as soon as they touch with
their feet or mouths leaves which have been moistened
by this liquor, they become as it were stupefied, instant¬
ly contract themselves, and fall down.
“ I had not an opportunity of trying a like experi¬
ment on locusts j yet we may conclude, and not with¬
out probability, from their nature, and the general de¬
structive qualities of the above liquor, that they, in like
manner, may be driven from corn-fields, if it be pos¬
sible to sprinkle the corn with the liquor by means of a
machine.
“ With regard to plants or corn, these sustain no in¬
jury from the liquor, because it has no power over the
productions of the vegetable kingdom, as I have fully
learned from experience ; or, if any hurt be sus¬
pected, all the danger will be removed by the first
shower that falls. This liquor may be procured in a-
bundance in every place where lime is burnt. If the
lime he fresh, one part of it infused in about seventy
parts of common water will produce real lime-water.
The want of the fixed alkali may be supplied by boil¬
ing wood-ashes in water, and thickening the ley by
evaporation.
“ The liquor might be employed also to kill bugs and
ether domestic insects which are noxious and trouble¬
some; but on account of its strong lixivious smell, which
disposes the human body to putridity, I dare not recom¬
mend the use of it in houses that are inhabited. Besides,
bugs may be easily got rid of, as I have repeatedly
found from experience, by the oily pickle that remains in
casks in which salted herrings have been packed. To
this liquor they have a strong aversion; and, if they are
moistened with it, they die in a very short time
59. For destroying insects and caterpillars, which infest
Iruit-trees, the following method is recommended as
having been successfully practised. The author observes
that “ The present year, for instance, (1805), °^ers a
singularity which I have not before perceived. In some
districts the cherry tree has experienced, at the time of
its blossoming, colds and winds which have prevented it
from setting; but another plague, not less disastrous has
attacked the cherry-trees and plum-trees over several
districts in France. Great swarms of little animals ic-
sembling vine-fretters, hut which are not so in reality,
established their habitations at the extremity of the
branches of the cherry-trees. As soon as a branch was
attacked, the leaves curled, and the juice was dried up.
Bn opening the leaf, a considerable number of ants was
discovered, which, iointly with the insect which began
Vol. XX. Part II. fi
] V E R
ravages, sucked the branch, and made it wither. Vermin.
What I have remarked is, that usually, when the vine- k v
fretters attack any tree, the neighbouring tree very
soon experiences the same fate ; but the attack of this
year is only partial. In an alley of cherry-trees which
I possess, seven trees have been attacked, but not those
which are next eaeli other. One tree was placed be¬
tween two which were very much damaged bv these
insects, and yet this one was not hurt.
“ these vermin the smoke of tobacco had no ef¬
fect at all; tjiis convinces me that they are different
from the ordinary kind.
“ Plum-trees, when attacked by the same insect, do
not lose their fruit like the cherry-trees; hut the little
animals cover them with more rapidity, so as to extir
pate even the appearance of fruit.
“ Having effectually watered a plum-tree, I covered
it with ashes, in the manner we treat beans and cab¬
bages, and the vermin were destroyed : but this is only
practicable with a tree of low height.
“ I made one remark, which I think is essential to
communicate : it is, that plum-trees planted in ground
which is not necessarily watered, are less attacked by
these insects than those which have experienced a hu¬
midity communicated by the plants in their neighbour¬
hood, to which watering is absolutely necessary. L had
one planted in a bed ol artichokes : we know very well
that this plant requires plenty of water; and the tree
was entirely covered with insects. Its leaves withered,
and the fruit fell off'; while two other plum-trees, in
ground not watered at all, were much less attacked.
This convinces me that these were not the ordinary ver¬
min abundant in dry seasons.
“ I was only able to protect my cherries a little, by
cutting off the extremities of the damaged branches.
“ Several people had recourse to sulphur; but I did
not follow that method. The smoke of sulphur destroys
the insect, I admit, but it is at least equally dangerous
to the tree; I always prefer an aspersion of the tree with
soap-suds. This very year I experienced the good effects
of it. I saw my plum-trees look green again, and the
insects abandon them. The aspersion is very easily ma¬
naged, by means of watering-pots or small garden-en¬
gines. I have also employed a ley of wood-ashes with
the same success as soap and water.
“ An observation equally important which I have
made is, the great damage donethis season inall orchards
by the caterpillar. As soon as they devoured the young-
leaves, they attacked the fruit. In spite of the great
care taken in spring to get rid of them, the number of
these insects is iucredible. I have seen them unite on
the large branches, fix their nests to them, and protect
them by means of the downy matter which covers the
buds of the ensuing season. Whatever precaution is
taken, it is almost impossible not to destroy these buds.
It is only necessary to take rff these nests and burn
them ; and this is the only way of getting rid of the
coveys. I employed the same aspersion for my apple-
trees, and by that means got rid of their enemies
also *. * P/nV.
“ The following methods are practised in Germany xx*v*
for freeing granaries from mites or weevils : 2I3*
“ 1. Cover completely the walls and rafters, above
and below, of the granaries which are infested by wee¬
vils, with quicklime slaked in water in which trefoil,
4 ^ wonmyood,
4 • V
V E R [ 554 1 V E R
Vermin, wormwood, and hyssop have been boiled. This com-
-—v——' position ought to be applied as hot as possible.
The following method, discovered by M. Qatin, is
pi-oposed for destroying earth-fleas, bugs, ants, &c.
“ Take black soap, of the best kind, one pound three
quarters, the same quantity of flowers of sulphur, mush¬
rooms two pounds, and sixty measures of river or rain¬
water. Divide the water into two parts, one of which
must be poured into a vessel destined for that purpose:
suffer the soap to dissolve in it, and add the mushrooms
after they have been a little pounded. Boil the other
half of the water in a kettle, and tie up the sulphur in
a bit of rag or piece of fine linen, and suspend from it a
sufficient weight in order that it may sink in the water.
During the time the water is kept boiling, which must
be at least 20 minutes, stir it continually with a stick,
and press the bag containing the sulphur, that the lat¬
ter may be forced out into the water, and communicate
to it the necessary strength and colour.
“ When the liquor is taken from the fire, pour it di¬
rectly into the cask, and stir it round for a considerable
time : the process of stirring must be repeated daily till
it acquire a fetid smell. Experience has shown that the
more fetid the mixture is, its activity is the greater.
Each time that the mixture is stirred, the cask must be
stopped immediately after. When you wish to use the
liquid, nothing is necessary but to sprinkle a little of it
on the plants which you are desirous of preserving, or
to dip their branches in it. It will be better, however,
to make use of a syringe, having at the end a head, an
inch or an inch and a half in diameter, pierced with
small holes. This instrument may be used for tender
plants $ when you apply the liquid to trees, a syringe
with larger holes must be employed.
“ Caterpillars, beetles, earth-fleas, bugs, and the tree-
lice which infest orange trees, will be destroyed by the
first application of the liquid. Insects which reside be¬
low the earth, such as wasps, hornets, ants, &c. require
that the liquid should be squirted out gently, and with¬
out intermission, that it may better penetrate to their
nests. Ants nests, according to their size, require from
two to three measures of liquid, and in many eases it
must be applied for twenty-four hours. W hen the ants
assemble in another place, the process must be repeat¬
ed. Two ounces of mix vomica may be added to the
mixture, and boiled along with the sulphur.”
The use of elder as a preservative to vegetables
against the depredations of insects is detailed in the fol¬
lowing observations.
“ Common elder has appeared to me useful, 1st, For
preventing cabbage plants from being devoured or da¬
maged by caterpillars ; 2d, To prevent blights, and
their effects on fruit and other trees $ 3d, To preserve
corn from yellow flies and other insects j 4th, To secure
turnips from the ravage of flies, &c.
“ 1st, The strong and fetid odour of a bunch of elder
leaves induced me to think that different kinds of but¬
terflies might be incommoded by it in proportion to
their delicacy. I therefore took some young twigs of
elder, at the period when butterflies began to appear,
and whipped well with them some cabbage plants, but
in such a manner as not to damage them. Since that
time, during two summers, though the butterflies ho¬
vered round the plants, I never saw one of them settle
m them ; and I do not think that a single bntterflv was
hatched on the cabbages treated in this manner, though
1
a neighbouring board was dirtied by them xti the usual Verm
manner. *T
“ 2d, After a short reflection on the effects here men¬
tioned, and on blights, which, in my opinion, are
chiefly occasioned by small flies and small insects, whose
organs are still more delicate than those of the former,
I was induced to whip in the same manner with elder
twigs, as high as I could reach, the branches of a plum-
tree which grew in an espalier. The whipped leaves
remained green and in a good condition, while from at
least six inches above to the top of the tree the rest of
the leaves were blighted, wrinkled, and full of worms.
It is here to be observed that the tree was in full flower
when I whipped it, therefore much too late for this ope¬
ration, which ought to have been performed once or
twice before flowering. But I am of opinion, that if
trees were besprinkled with a strong infusion of elder
every eight or 15 days, the success would be certain,
and that there would be no danger of injuring either the
flowers or the fruit.
3d, What the farmers call the yellows in corn, and
which they consider as a kind of blight, is the effect, as
every one knows, of a small yellow fly with blue wings,
nearly of the size of a gnat. It lays its eggs in the ear
of wheat, and produces a worm almost invisible to the
naked eye, but which, when seen by a magnifying glass,
is a large yellow larva, having the shining colour of
amber. This fly is so productive, that I have counted
upwards of forty worms in the chaff oi one ear of wheat,
which was a number sufficient to destroy it entirely. I
therefore proposed to make my experiment as soon as
possible ; but the heat and drought of the season having
advanced the wheat more than usual, it was in flower
before I could attempt it. Next morning, however, at
break of day, two servants having drawn bundles of el¬
der over the ears of wheat on each side of the furrow,
backwards and forwards, in places where the wheat was
not so far advanced, I hoped that the fetid effluvia of
the elder would prevent the flies from remaining on the
ears that were covered with them: and, indeed, I was
not entirely disappointed ; for, on examining my wheat
some time after, I found that the part which had been
beaten with elder was much less damaged than that
which had not been treated in the same manner. I
have no doubt, that, had I employed this precaution
sooner, the corn would have been completely preserved.
Should this be the case, the process is simple j and I
flatter myself that fine crops of corn may be saved by
these means from this small insect, which is so destruc¬
tive to them. One of these yellow flies laid on my
thumb at least eight or ten eggs, of an oblong form, m
the small interval of time which I employed in walking
over two or three furrows, holding it by the wings, and
which I could not observe without the assistance of a
magnifying glass.
“ 4th, It often happens that whole crops of turnips
are destroyed while young, in consequence of being
pricked by certain insects. I have great reason to think
that this evil mav be prevented in an effectual manner,
by causing a pe rson to draw a bunch of elder, sufficient¬
ly large to cover about the breadth of a foot, over the
young turnips, going backwards and forwards. What
confirms me in this idea is, that, having drawn a bunt1
of elder over a bed of young cauliflowers which bad be¬
gun to be pricked, they afterwards remained untouche
by these insects. a 1
1
* 'hi!.
} f. XT.
V E R
li Another fact which tends to
that when my neighbourhood, about eight or nine years
'ago, was so infested with caterpillars that they dex'our-
ed all the vegetables, leaving scarcely a green leaf un¬
touched, they spared the elder trees amidst this general
devastation, and never molested them. In reflecting on
these circumstances, I am of opinion that the elder
might be introduced with advantage in our gardens,
as the means of preserving fruit-trees and various plants
from the rapacity of insects.
“ The dwarf elder appears to me to exhale a much
more fetid smell than the common elder, and therefore
ought to be preferred in making experiments on this
subject
VERMONT, one of the states of the North Ame¬
rican republic. It is entirely an inland state, and has
New Hampshire on the east, Massachusetts on the
south, New York on the west, and Canada on the north.
Its area is 10,237 squ*re miles j and the inhabitants
in 1810 amounted to 217,895. The country is ti'a-
versed by the Green mountains, from which the state
takes its name j but though hilly and uneven, it is ge¬
nerally fertile. The whole surface in its natural state
is thickly wooded. The snow lies from the middle of
December to the middle of March. The extreme sum¬
mer heat is about 940 F. j the extreme winter cold
270 below zero j the mean heat 434* Lake Cham¬
plain forms the western boundary of this state for three
fourths of its length, and Connecticut river the eastern
boundary through its whole extent. There are several
small streams besides these, but no other considerable
rivers in the state.
There are rich mines of iron in Vermont, and mines
of lead and copper of less importance. Marble and
slate are also found in it. Its natural forests furnish
timber of large size, and a great variety of kinds. Of
quadrupeds, there are the hear, wolf, wild cat, fox,
ermine, racoon, beaver and musk rat. The lakes and
rivers furnish a great variety of fish.
The inhabitants have a more florid complexion than
those of the middle and southern states. They are
temperate and industrious, and with a few exceptions
are engaged in agriculture.
The legislature consists of a general assembly chosen
annually by ballot, by the male taxable citizens of
twenty-one years of age j and the executive power is
vested in a governor, lieutenant-governor, and twelve
counsellors chosen along with the representatives. A
peculiar feature in the constitution, is the council of
censors, thirteen in number, chosen every seven years
by the people, to examine and report upon the proceed¬
ings of the executive and the representatives, and with
power to call a convention of the people to amend the
constitution. The judges are chosen annually by the
council and assembly. A portion of land out of each
township is set apart for the support of the clergyman
of any denomination that is first settled. The pre¬
vailing sect are the Congregatioealists, the next in
number the Baptists. Tracts of land have been set
apart also for the support of schools. There are two
colleges, at Burlington and Middlebury.
The value of houses and lands in this state in 1799
Was 16,723,873 dollars, and in 1814 it was 32,747,290,
and the average value of lands at the latter period was
6 dollars 40 cents per acre. The manufactures of this
Venue tv
.. f' 555 ] V E R
support this idea is state in 1810 were valued at 4,325,824 dollars j and Vermont
the exports in 1817 amounted to 913,201 dollars.
VERNACULAR, a word applied to something that,
is p^uliar to any one country.
VERNA L, something belonging to the spring-season.
VERNIER Scale, a scale excellently adapted for
the graduation of mathematical instruments, thus called
from its inventor Peter Vernier, a person of distinction
in the Franche Comte. See Nonius.
Vernier’s method is derived from the following prin¬
ciple. If two equal right lines, or circular arcs, A, B,
are so divided, that the number of equal divisions in B
is one less than the number of equal divisions of A, then
will the excess of one division of B above one division of
A be compounded of the ratios of one of A to A, and
of one of B to B.
For let A contain 11 parts, then one of A to A is as
1 to II, or —. Let B contain lo parts, then one of B
to B
is as 1 to 10, or
11-
-10
10
10
11 loxn
1 1
— X—.
10 11
iox 11
Or if B contains n parts, and A contains «-{-i parts;
then — is one part of B,
n
and
n-\-1
is one part of A.
And -
fr-j-1—n
1 I
-X ——
n n-\-i
n 71« x « +1
The most commodious divisions, and their aliquot
parts, into which the degrees on the circular limb of an
instrument may be supposed to be divided, depend on
the radius of that instrument.
Let R he the radius of a circle in inches j and a de¬
of
gree to be divided into n parts, each being —th part
an inch.
Now the circumference of a circle, in parts of its dia¬
meter 2R inches, is 3,1415926 X ^R - i°: X
2R inches.
Or, 0,017453 29 XR is the length of one degree in
inches.
Or, 0,017453 29 xR XT? is the length of i°, in pth
parts of an inch.
But as every degree contains n times such parts, there¬
fore w=o,01749329 xRxp-
The most commodious perceptible division is — or —
8 10
of an inch.
Example. Suppose an instrument of 30 inches radius,
into how many convenient parts may each degree be di¬
vided ? how many of these parts are to go to the breadth
of the vernier, and to what parts of a degree may an
observation be made by that instrument ?
Now 0,01745 xR=0>5236 inches, the length of each
degr
and p be supposed about of an inch for one
o
division $ then 0,5236 XjP=4»i88 shows the number of
such parts in a degree. But as this number must be an
integer, let it be 4, each being 15" j and let the breadth
of the vernier contain 3! of those parts, or 7^°, and be
divided into 30 parts.
4 A 2 Here
Vernier
Versailles.
V E R [ 556 ] V E R
Here n~-\ m——-.then- X—- ~ of a de-
4. . 3° 4 30 120
gree, or 30', which is the least part of a degree that in¬
strument can show.
1 1 , 1 1 60
If n~ and m — — \ then — X a
5 36 5 36 5x36
minute, or 20".
The following table, taken as examples in the instru¬
ments commonly made from 3 inches to 8 feet radius,
shows the divisions of the limb to nearest tenths of inches,
so as to be an aliquot of 6o’s, and what parts of a degree
may be estimated by the vernier, it being divided into
such equal parts, and containing such degrees as their
columns show.
Rad.
Indies.
3
6
9
12
15
18
21
24
3°
36
42
48
60
72
84
96
farts of a
degree.
I
1
2
2
3
3
4
4
5
6
8
9
10
12
*5
15
Pm i ts in
vernier.
J5
20
20
24
20
3°
3°
30
3°
3°
40
36
30
40
60
Breadth of
vernier
20-4
ioi
12!
64
104
74
94
74
Si
3i
47
3to
2tV
24 ’
4
Barts
observed.
4/
3
1
1
1
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
0
o
o"
o
3°
*5
o
40
3°
25
20
20
10
10
10
6
4
By altering the number of divisions, either in the de¬
grees or in the vernier, or in both, an angle can be ob¬
served to a different degree of accuracy. Thus, to a ra¬
dius of 30 inches, if a degree be divided into 12 parts,
each being five minutes, and the breadth of the vernier
be 21 such parts, or i^0, and divided into 20 parts,
t],en _L v — — ——- — 1 c" : or taking the breadth of
12 20 24O J 0 »
the vernier 2TV°> ant^ divided into 30 parts j then — X
or 10"
Or
— y— = 6"; where
1 1 _ 1
30 360’ ' 12 X 50”“ 600
the breadth of the vernier is 44°.
VERONA, a city of Italy, capital of the Veronese,
and in the territory of Venice, now subject to Austria;
situated on the river Adige, in E. Long. 11. 24. N.
Lat. 45. 26. It is seven miles in compass j and is
strongly fortified. It contains 57,400 inhabitants.
VERONESE, a district of Italy, in the Austro-Ve-
netian territories ; bounded on the north by the Trenti-
no, on the east by the Vicentino and Paduano, on the
south bv the Mantuano, and on the west by the Bresci-
ann. It is about 35 miles in length, and 27 in breadth }
and fertile in corn, wine, fruits, and cattle.
Veronese. See Cagi.tari.
VERONICA, a genus of plants of the class of di-
andria •, and in the natural system arranged under the
40th order, Persrmatce. See Botany Index.
VERSAILLES, a town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Seine and Oise, 10 miles west-south-west of Pa- ytr
ris. It contained 26,000 inhabitants in 181 7, and since j
the Revolution has been created a bishop’s see. In the Veit;
reign of Louis XIII. it was only a small village. Tins
prince built here a hunting-hut in 1630, which Bassom-
pierre calls “ the paltry chateau of Versailles.” Al¬
though the situation was low and very unfavourable,
Louis XIV. built a magnificent palace here, which was
the usual residence of the kings of France till the 6th
of October 1789, when the late unfortunate Louis XVI.
and his family were removed from it to the Thuilleries.
The buildings and the gardens are adorned with a vast
number of statues, done by the greatest masters, and
the water-works are all worthy of admiration. The
great gallery is thought to he as curious a piece of
workmanship of that kind as any in the world : nor Is
the chapel less to be admired for its fine architecture
and ornaments. The gardens, with the park, are five
miles in circumference, and surrounded by walls. There
are three fine avenues to Versailles ; one of which is the
common road to Paris, the other comes from Seaux, arid
the third from St (.loud, E. Long. 2. 12. N. Lat. 48. 48.
VERSE, in Poeti-y, a line consisting of a number of
long and short syllables, which run with an agreeable
cadence.
Verse is also used for a part of a chapter, section, Stc.
VERSIFICATION, the art or manner of making
verse j also the tune and cadence of a verse. See
Poetry, Part III.
VERSION, a translation of some book or writing oat
of one language into another. See Translation.
VERT, in Heraldry, the term for a green colour.
It is called vert in the blazon of the coats ot all under
the degree of nobles: but in coats of nobility it is call¬
ed emerald; and in those of kings vevus. In engra¬
ving it is expressed by diagonals, or lines drawn athwart
from right to left, from the dexter chief corner to the
sinister base.
VERTEBRiE. See Anatomy, N° 30. '
VERTEX, in Anatomy, denotes the crown of the
head. Hence vertex is also used figuratively for the top
of other things : thus we say, the vertex of a cone, py¬
ramid, &c.
Vertex, is also used in Astronomy for the point of
the heaven directly ovpr our heads, properly called the
•zenith.
VERTICILLATiE, the name of a class in Bay’s
and Boerhaave’s Methods, consisting of herbaceous Ve¬
getables. It is also the name of the 42d order in Lin¬
naeus’s Fragments of a Natural Method.
VERTICILLUS, a mode of flowering, in which the
flowers are produced in rings at each joint ot the stem,
with very short foot-stalks. The term is exemplified m
mint, horehound, and the other plants of the natural
order described above.
VERTIC1TY, is that property of the loadstone
whereby it turns or directs itself to one particular point.
VERTIGO, in Medicine. See there, N° 82.
VERTUMNUS, in Mythology, a god who presided
over gardens and orchards, honoured among the Etrus¬
cans, from whom the worship of this deity was trans-
ro tted to the Romans. .
Vertumnus had a temple near the market-place a
Rome, being represented as one of the tutelar deities
of the merchants. The commentators on Ovid say,
that
v E S [ 557 ]
that lie was an ancient king of Hetruriu, who, by
;JJrinUS |lis diligent and successful cultivation of fruit and gar-
bjcrtilio. dens, obtained the honour of being ranked among the
w   gods.
VERUMONTANUM, in Anatomy, a small emi¬
nence near the passages where the semen is discharged
into the urethra.
VERVAIN. See Verbena, Botany Index.
VERTOT d’Auboef, Rene Aubert de, a celebrated
historian, who descended from a noble and ancient fa¬
mily in Normandy, and born in 1655. At 16 years of
age he became a Franciscan friar ; afterwards he en¬
tered into the order of the Premonstratenses, in which
he had several benefices : and at length was a secular ec¬
clesiastic. He became secretary to the duchess of Or¬
leans, member of the Academy of Inscriptions, and his¬
toriographer of Malta. He died at Paris in 1735. His
principal works are, l.The History of the Revolutions
of Sweden. 2. The Revolutions of Portugal. 3. The
Revolutions of the Romans. 4. The History of Malta.
These works are written in elegant French, and trans¬
lated into most of the languages of Europe.
VERULAM. See Bacon.
VESALIUS, Andreas, a celebrated physician and
anatomist, was born at Brussels about the year ly12.
He studied physic at Paris under James Sylvius j but
applied hhnself chiefly to anatomy, which was then
very little known, dissections being esteemed unlawful
and impious : and it appears from his work De Humani
Corporis Fabrica, that he perfected himself in this use¬
ful knowledge very early. About the year 1537, the
republic of Venice made him professor in the university
of Padua, where he taught anatomy for seven years ;
Charles V. called him to be his physician, as he was al¬
so to Philip II. king of Spain. Vesalius was now at the
height of his glory, when all of a sudden he formed the
design of taking a journey to Palestine; concerning
which journey we are told the following story. A
young Spanish nobleman he attended, being believed to
be dead, Vesalius obtained leave to open him to explore
the true cause of his illness ; but when he opened the
breast, he perceived symptoms of life, and saw the heart
beat. The parents, not satisfied with prosecuting him
lor murder, accused him of impiety to the inquisition,
in hopes that tribunal would punish him with greater
vigour: but the king interposing, saved him on condi¬
tion of his making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He
was shipwrecked on his return, and thrown upon the
island of Zante, where he perished, in 1564. He was
the author of several works, the principal of which is
Re Humani Corporis Fabrica.
VESICATORIUM, a Blister; an application of
an acrid nature made to any part of the body, in order
to draw a flux of humours to that part, and thus elevate
the scarfskin into a blister.
VESPA, the Wasp ; a genus of insects belonging to
the order of hymenoptera. See ENTOMOLOGY Index.
^ ESP ASIAN, the loth emperor of Rome ; remark¬
able for his clemency and other virtues. See Rome,
Vesta!?;
V E S
belonging to the « rder of primates. See Mammalia Vespertilio-
Index.
VESSEL, a general name given to the different sorts
of ships which are navigated on the ocean, or in canals
and rivers. It is, however, more particularly applied
to those of the smaller kind, furnished with one or two
masts. See Ship.
VESTA, in pagan worship, the same with Cybele.
See Cybele.
Vesta the Younger, in pagan worship, the goddess
of fire, was the daughter of Saturn and Cybele, and the
sister of Ceres. She was so much in love with chastity:,
that on Jupiter’s ascending the throne and offering to
grant whatever she asked, she only desired the preser¬
vation of her virginity, which she obtained.—Vesta
was not represented in her temple by any image.
Vesta, one of the lately discovered planets, of which
the elements have been determined by Dr Gauss in a
communication to the Royal Society of Gottingen.
Elements of Vesta.
Epoch of the longitude, me¬
ridian of Seeberg
Diurnal tropical motion Tl°" 84
Annual
Aphelion, 1806
Annual motion
Ascending node, 1806
Annual motion
Inclination of the orbit, 1806
Annual diminution
Eccentricity, 1806
Annual diminution
Log. of the greater semiaxis
Elements of Ceres by the same.
Epoch of the mean longitude at Bremen, March 29,
1080 ,19' 34.7"
770"
23
59
1.2
23
i-5
34
0.4
0.0783486
0.0000058
0.4420728
73
326
+
80
+
9
37
2
53
37
1807, at 12 o’clock, mean time
Longitude of its perihelion
   aphelion
ascending node on
193
249
69
the ecliptic
Inclination of its orbit
Diurnal tropical motion
Logarithm of the mean distance
Eccentricity
Greatest distance from the sun
Least
Period of its revolution
103
7
o
8'
7
57
8
4.6"
52
Mag. Ency«
clop, it is
19*° 9 54"*
36
49-5f
18.91
N°
332—339.
VESPERS, in the church of Rome, denote the af¬
ternoon service; answering in some measure to the
evening prayers of the church of England.
VRSPERTILIO, the Bat ; a genus of quadrupeds,
5
16
0.3728428
0.097505
25.625
21.514
1321 days, 12 hours.
VESTALIA, in Roman antiquity, a festival cele¬
brated in honour of the goddess Vesta, on the 5th ofthet
ides of June ; that is, on the 9th of the month.
VESTALS, among the ancient Romans, were priest¬
esses of the goddess Vesta, and had the perpetual fire
committed to their charge ; they were at first only four
in number, but afterwards increased to six; and it does
not appear that their number ever exceeded six, among
whom was one superior to the rest, and called vestalis
maxima.
The vestals were chosen from six to ten years of age,
and obliged to strict continency for 30 years ; the first
10 of which were employed in learning the ceremonies
of religion, the next 10 in the performance of them, and
the 10 last in teaching them to the younger vestals.
The..:
f Ibid.
7° S' 34"“ *
V E S
[ 558 ]
V E S
Vestals
Vesuvius.
General
The habit of the vestals consisted of a head-dress,
called mfula, which sat close to the head, and from
whence hung certain laces called vitta ; a kind of sur¬
plice made of white linen, and over it a purple mantle
with a long train to it.
VEST1BLE, or Vestibule, in Architecture, a khid
of entrance into a large building; being an open place
before the hall, or at the bottom of the staircase.
VESTilY, a place adjoining to a church, where the
vestments of the minister are kept*, and also a meeting
at such place, consisting of the minister, church-wardens,
and chief men of most parishes, who make a parish ves¬
try or meeting. By custom there are select vestries, be¬
ing a certain number of persons chosen to have the go¬
vernment of the parish, make rates, and take the ac¬
counts of church-wardens, &c.
VESUVIAN, a mineral substance. See Mine¬
ralogy Index.
VESUVIUS, a celebrated volcano of Italy, six miles
east from the city of Naples. This mountain has two
tops} one of which only goes by the name of Vesuvius,
the other being now called Somma ; but Sir William
Hamilton is of opinion, that the latter is what the an¬
cients called Vesuvius.
The perpendicular height of Vesuvius is only 3700
description fect> though the ascent from the foot to the top is three
mountain ^ta^an niiles* 0,ie side of the mountain is well culti¬
vated and fertile, producing great plenty of vines ; hut
the south and west sides are entirely covered with
cinders and ashes} while a sulphureous smoke constantly
issues from the top, sometimes attended with the most
violent explosions of stones, the emission of great streams
1 of lava, and all the other attendants of a most formi-
Account of dable volcano. The first of these eruptions recorded in
the first history took place in the year 79 } at which time the
eruption _ tvvo cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum w^ere entirely
Idstprr ^ ^ buried under the stones and ashes thrown out. Incre¬
dible mischief was also done to the neighbouring coun¬
try, and numbers of people lost their lives, among whom
was Pliny the Elder.
It is the opinion of the best judges, however, that
this eruption was by no means the first that had ever
happened. The very streets of those cities which were
at that time overwhelmed are said to be partly paved
with lava. Since that time 30 different eruptions have
been recorded, some of which have been extremely vio¬
lent. In the year 1538, a mountain, three miles in
circumference, and a quarter of a mile in perpendicular
height, was thrown up in the course of one night.
The first great eruption taken notice of by Sir Wil-
cruption in liam Hamilton was that of 1767, which, though very
i767’ violent, was mild in comparison with that of I53^-
Nine^en From this time (1767) Vesuvius never ceased for ten
tions from years to send forth smoke, nor were there many months
1767 to in which it did not throw out stones, scoria;, and cin-
5779* ders } which, increasing to a certain degree, were usu¬
ally followed by lava} so that from the year 1767 to
1779 there were nine eruptions, some of them very con¬
siderable. In the month of August that year, however,
an eruption took place, which, for its extraordinary and
terrible appearance, may be reckoned among the most
5 remarkable of any recorded concerning this or any other
V0lcan°-
eruption in During the whole month of July the mountain con-
1775. tinned in a state of fermentation. Subterraneous explo-
I
3
Of the
sions and rumbling noises were heard } quantities of Vestm-
smoke were thrown up with great violence, sometimes_
with red-hot stones, scoriae, and ashes } and towards the
end of the month these symptoms increased to such a
degree as to exhibit, in the night-time, the most beau¬
tiful fireworks that can be imagined.
On Thursday 5th August the volcano appeared most
violently agitated } a white and sulphureous smoke is¬
sued continually and impetuously from its crater, one
puff seeming to impel another} so that a mass of them
was soon accumulated, to appearance four times ihe
height and size of the volcano itself. These clouds of
smoke were exceedingly white, so that the whole re¬
sembled an immense accumulation of bales of the whitest
cotton. In the midst of this very white smoke, vast
quantities of stones, scoriae, and ashes, were thrown up
to the height of 2000 feet } and a quantity of liquid
lava, seemingly very heavy, was lifted up just high
enough to clear the rim of the crater, and take its way
down the sides of the mountain. This lava, having
run violently for some hours, suddenly cesaed, just be¬
fore it had reached the cultivated parts of the mountain,
near four miles from the spot whence it issued. The
heat, all this day, was intolerable at the towns of Som>
ma and Ottaiano} and was sensibly felt.at Palma and
JLauri, which are much farther off. Reddish ashes fell
so thick on the two former, that the air was darkened,
and that objects could not be distinguished at the distance
of ten feet. Long filaments of a vitrified matter, like
spun glass, were mixed, and fell with these ashes} seve¬
ral birds in cages were suffocated, and the leaves of the
trees in the neighbourhood of Somma were covered with
white and very corrosive salt. 5
About 12 at night, on the 7th, the fermentation
the mountain seemed greatly to increase. Our author(
was watching the motions of the volcano from the mole^^g
at Naples, which has a full view of it. Several glo-|,roach 1
rious picturesque effects had been observed from the re-stormy
flection of the deep red fire within the crater of \'esn-t'out*,‘
vius, and which mounted high amongst those huge
clouds on the top of it: when a summer storm, called
in that country a tropca, came on suddenly, and blend¬
ed its heavy watery clouds with the sulphureous and
mineral ones, which were already like so many other
mountains piled up on the top of the volcano. At this
moment a fountain of fire was shot up to an incredible
height, casting so bright a light, that the smallest ob¬
jects were clearly distinguishable at any place within six
miles or more of Vesuvius. The black stormy clouds,
passing swiftly over, and at times covering the whole or
a part of the bright column of fire, at other times ch ar-
ing ayvay and giving a full view of it, with the various
tints produced by its reverberated light on the wlnte
clouds above in contrast with the pale flashes of forke d
lightning that attended the tropea, formed such a
scene as no power ol art can express. One of his Sici¬
lian majesty’s gamekeepers, who was out in the fields
near Ottaiano whilst this storm was at its height, was
surprised to find the drops of rain scald his face and
hands } a phenomenon probably occasioned by fiie
clouds having acquired a great degree of heat in passing
through the above-mentioned column of fire.
On the 8th, the mountain was quiet till towards six
o’clock in the evening, when a great smoke began to
gather over its crater } and about an hour alter a ruoi-
6 bling
V E S [ 559 ] V E S
ye ,j)is Bling subterraneous noise was beard in tbe neighbour-
j ]jood of the volcano j the usual throws of red-hot stones
and scorise began and increased every instant. I he
crater, viewed through a telescope, seemed much en¬
larged by the violence of last night’s explosions, and the
little mountain on the top was entirely gone. About
nine o’clock a most violent report was heard at Portici
and its neighbourhood, which shook the houses to such
a degree as made the inhabitants run out into the
ram se streets. Many windows were broken, and walls crack-
fouivii e(j ky t[ie concussion of the air on this occasion, though
the noise was but faintly heard at Naples. In an instant
^ \ ^ a fountain of liquid transparent fire began to rise, and
eiiis. gradually increasing, arrived at last at the amazing
height of ten thousand feet and upwards. Pufls ot
smoke, as black as can possibly be imagined, succeeded
one another hastily, and accompanied the red-hot, trans¬
parent, and liquid lava, interrupting its splendid bright¬
ness here and there by patches of the darkest hue.
Within these puffs of smoke, at the very moment of
emission, a bright hut pale electrical fire was observed
playing briskly about in zig-zag lines. "I he wind was
south-west, and, though gentle, was sufficient to carry
these puffs of smoke out of the column of fire ; and a
collection of them by degrees formed a black and ex¬
tensive curtain behind it} in other parts of the sky it
was perfectly clear, and the stars bright. I he fiery
fountain, of such immense magnitude, on the dark
ground just mentioned, made the finest contrast imagi¬
nable ; and the blaze of it reflected from the surface of
the sea, which was at that time perfectly smooth, added
greatly to this sublime view.
The lava, mixed with stones and scorise, having risen
to the amazing height already mentioned, was partly
directed by the wind towards Ottaiano, and partly fall¬
ing, still red hot and liquid, upon the top of Vesuvius,
covered its whole cone, part of that of the summit ot
Somma, and the valley between them. I he tailing
matter, being nearly as inflamed and vivid as that which
was continually issuing fresh from the crater, formed
with it one complete body of fire, which could not be
less than two miles and a half in breadth, and of the
extraordinary height above mentioned, and casta heat to
the distance of at least six miles round. rI he brushwood
on the mountain of Somma was soon in a blaze, and the
flame of it being of a different colour from the deep red
of the matter thrown out by the volcano, and from the
silvery blue of the electrical fire, still added to the con¬
trast of this most extraordinary scene.
The black cloud, increasing greatly, once bent to¬
wards Naples, and threatened the city with speedy de¬
struction j for it was charged with electrical fire, which
kept constantly darting about in bright zig-zag lines.
This fire, however, rarely quitted the cloud, but usual¬
ly returned to the great column of -fire whence it pro¬
ceeded 5 though once or twice it was seen to fall on the
top of Somma, and set fire to some dry grass and bushes.
Fortunately the wind carried back the cloud just as tt
reached the city, and had begun to occasion great
alarm. The column of fire, however, still continued,
and diffused such a strong light, that the most minute
objects could be discerned at the distance of ten miles or
fnore from the mountain. Mr Morris informed.our au-
fiior, that at Sorrento, which is 12 miles distant from
Vesuvius, he read the title-page of a hook by that vol- Vesuviu*.
canic light. i.—-■v—. .»
All this time the miserable inhabitants of Ottaiano . 8
were involved in the utmost distress and danger by the ^etnlmbi-
showers of stones which fell upon them, and which, hadtanls 0f
the eruption continued for a longer time, would most Ottaiano>
certainly have reduced their town to the same situation
with Herculaneum and Pompeii. The mountain off
Somma, at the foot of which the town of Ottaiano is
situated, hides Vesuvius from the view of its inhabi¬
tants 5 so that till the eruption became considerable it
was not visible to them. On Sunday night, when the
noise increased, and the fire began to appear above the
mountain of Somma, many of the inhabitants flew to
the churches, and others were preparing to quit the
town, when a sudden and violent report was heard j
soon after which they found themselves involved in a
thick cloud of smoke and ashes ; a horrid crashing noise
was heard in the air, and presently fell a vast shower of
stones and large pieces of scoriae, some of which were
of the diameter of seven or eight feet, which must have
weighed more than icoo pounds before they were bro¬
ken, as some of the fragments which Sir William Ha¬
milton found in the streets still weighed upwards of 6o
pounds. When these large vitrified masses either struck
against one another in the air, or fell on the ground,
they broke in many pieces, and covered a large space of
ground with vivid sparks of fire, which communicated
their beat to every thing that was combustible. These
masses were formed of the liquid lava j the exterior
parts of which were become black and porous by cool¬
ing in their fall through such a vast space ; whilst the
interior parts, less exposed, retained an extreme heat,
and were perfectly red.
In an instant the town and country about it was on
fire in many parts, for there were several straw huts in
the vineyards, which had been erected for the watch¬
men of the grapes j all of which were burnt. A great
magazine of wood in the heart of the town was all in a
blaze ; and had there been much wind, the flames must
have spread universally, and all the inhabitants would
have been burnt in their houses; for it was impossible
for them to stir out. Some, who attempted it with pil¬
lows, tables, chairs, the tops of wine casks, &c. on their
heads, were either knocked down or soon driven back
to their close quarters under arches and in the cellars of
their houses. Many were wounded, but only two per¬
sons died of their wounds.
To add to the horror of the scene, incessant volcanic
lightning was whisking about the black cloud that sur¬
rounded them, and the sulphureous smell and heat
would scarcely allow them to draw their breath. In
this dreadful situation they remained about 2j minutes,
when the volcanic storm ceased all at once, and Vesu¬
vius remained sullen and silent. ^
Some time after the eruption had ceased, the air con- Vast quan.
tinned greatly impregnated with electrical matter. The tiiy oi e-
duke oi Cottofiano told our author, that having, about kelric mat.
halt an hour after the great eruption had ceased, held a l<:r iu llie
Leyden bottle, armed with a pointed wire, out at his
window at Naples, it soon became considerably charged.
But whilst the eruption was in force, its appearance was
too alarming to allow one to think of such experiments,
 He was informed also by the prince of Monte Mileto,
that
V E s
t 56° ]
Vesuvius.
10
Damage
done by
the erup¬
tion at
Ottaiano.
Vast frag-
' snents of
lava
i thrown out
tnat his son, the duke of Popoli, who was at Monte
Mileto the 8th of August, had been alarmed by the
shower of cinders that fell there 5 some ot which he had
sent to Naples weighing two ounces^ and that stones of
an ounce weight had fallen upon an estate of his ten
miles farther off. Monte Mileto is about 3^ miles
from the volcano. The abb6 Cagliani also related, that
his sister, a nun in a convent at Manfredonia had writ¬
ten to inquire after him, imagining that Naples must
have been destroyed, when they, at so great a distance,
had been alarmed by a shower of ashes which fell on the
city at n o'clock at night, so much as to open all the
churches, and go to prayers. As the great eruption
happened at nine o’clock, these ashes must have travel¬
led 100 miles in the space ot two hours.
Nothing could he more dismal than the appearance
of Ottaiano after this eruption. 1 he houses were un¬
roofed, half buried under the black scoriae and ashes ,
all the windows towards the mountain were broken,
and some of the houses themselves burnt; the streets
choked up with ashes, in some narrow places not less
than fou/feet thick j and a few of the inhabitants who
had just returned, were employed in clearing them
away, and piling them up in hillocks, to get at then
ruined houses. The palace of the prince of Otta.ano is
situated on an eminence above the town, and nearer the
mountain. The steps leading up to it were deeply co¬
vered with volcanic matter 5 the roof was totally de¬
stroyed, and the windows broken, but the house itself,
beimr strongly built, bad not suffered much.
An incredible number of fragments o lava were
thrown out during the eruption, some ot ttluclt were ot
immense magnitude. The largest measured by S,r \\ I-
liam Hamilton was .08 feet in c.rcumference and 7
in height. This was thrown at least a quarter of a mile
clearof the mouth of the volcano. Another, 66 feet
in circumference and 19 in height, being nearly ot a
spherical figure, was thrown out at the same time, and
lily near the former. This last had the marks o being
rounded, nay almost polished, by continual rolling in
torrents or on the sea-shore. Our author conjecture
that it might be a spherical volcanic ^ as that
of 4 5 feet in circumference mentioned by M. de bt
Fond, in his Treatise of Extinguished Volcanoes. A
third of 16 feet in height and 92 in etrcumlerence was
thrown much farther, and lay in the valley between
Vesuvius and the Hermitage. It appeared a sn, Irom
the large fragments that surrounded this mass, that it
bad been much larger while in the an\ .
Vesuvius continued to emit smoke for a considera
time after this great eruption, so that our author wjis
apprehensive that another would soon ensue , but ”
that time nothing comparable to the above has taken
place. From the time of this great eruption to the
year 1784 our author kept an exact diary of the opera-
lions of Vesuvius, with drawings, showing, by lie
quantity of smoke, the degree of fermentation w.tbiu
the volcano. The operations of the subterraneous fire,
however, appear to he very capricious and uncertain.
One day there is the appearance of a violent fei-
mentation, and the next every thing is tranquil', but
whenever therehas been a considerable ejection of scon-
and cinders, it has been a contant observation, that the
.lava soon made its appearance, either by boilmg over the
5
V I c
Victor.
crater, or forcing its way through the crevices in the coni- Vcsimui
cal part of the mountain. Aneruption took place in 1784, I!
but without anv remarkable circumstance, and another in
1794 which destroyed 5000 acres of cultivated land.
VETCH. See Vicia, Botany Index.
VETERAN, among the ancient Romans, an appel¬
lation given to a soldier grown old in the service, or
who had made a certain number of campaigns.
VETERINARY art. See Farriery.
VEXILLUM, in Botany ; the upper petal of a pea-
bloom, or butterfly-shaped flower, which is generally
larger than any of the others.
VIALES, in mythology, a name given among the
Romans to the gods who had the care and guard of the
roads and highways.
1 VIATICUM, in Roman antiquity, an appellation
given in common to all officers of any of the magi¬
strates ; as lictors, accensi, scribes, criers.
VIBEX, is sometimes used by physicians, fora black
and blue spot in the skin occasioned by an efflux or ex¬
travasation of blood.
VIBRATION, in Mechanics, a regular, reciprocal
motion of a body, as a pendulum.
VI BURNUM, a genus of plants of the class pentart-
dria j and in the natural system arranged under the 43d
order, Dumosce. See Botany Index.
VICAR, a person appointed as deputy to another, to
perform his functions in his absence, and under his au¬
thority.
Vicar, in the canon-law, denotes a priest of a parish,
the predial tithes whereof are impropriated or appropri¬
ated ; that is, belong either to a chapter, religions
house, &c. or to a layman who receives them, and only
allows the vicar the small tithes, or a convenient salary.
See the article Parson and Vicar.
VICE, in ethics, is ordinarily defined an elective
habit, denoting either an excess or delect from the just
medium wherein virtue is placed.
Vice, in smithery and other arts conversant in me¬
tals, a machine or instrument serving to hold fast any
thing they are at work upon, whether it is to be beaten,
filed, or rivetted.
Vice is also used in the composition of divers words
to denote the relation of something that comes instead
or in the place of another ; as vice admiral, vice-chan¬
cellor, &c. are officers who take place in the absence
of admirals, &e.
VICEROY, a governor of a kingdom, who com¬
mands in the name and instead of a king, with full an
sovereign authority.
V ICIA, a genus of plants of the class diadelphia J
and in the natural system arranged under the 32d order,
Papilionaccee. See Botany Index.
VICISSITUDE, the regular succession of one thing
after another; as the vicissitude of day and night, 0
tile seasons
. VICTIM, denotes a sacrifice offered to some deity,
of a living creature, as a man or beast, which is slam
to appease his wrath, or to obtain some favour.
VICTOR, Sextus Aurelius, a Roman historian,
who flourished under the emperors Constantins am “
ban ; as we learn from many passages in his °”n.wl! "
7 r A 1   lU.-w.clEnnc. T IllS WS'
ings, and also from Ammianus MarcelLmus. J^1S ^
in us, anu aiso num x*,....—  . ^
tori an relates, that Constantins made him consul,^^
icier
II
1 enna.
VIE [ $6i 1
V I G
honour him with a brazen statue, on account of his
excellent qualifications ; although, as he owns of him¬
self, he was born in an obscure village, and of poor and
illiterate parents. It is commonly believed that lie was
an African. Two books of his are extant in the histo¬
rical way : one De viris ilhistribus urbis llomte; the
Other, De Ceesaribus; to which is prefixed LibeUvs de
origine gevtis Romance. The whole makes an abridged
history of Rome, from its foundation down to the reign
of Julian inclusive.
VICTORY, the overthrow or defeat of an enemy in
war or combat.
Victory, in Pagan worship, is represented by He¬
siod as the daughter of Styx and Pallas j and Varro
calls her the daughter of Heaven and Earth. The Ro¬
mans erected a temple to her, where they prayed to the
gods to give success to their arms. They painted her
in the form of a woman, clad in cloth of g ild. In
some medals, she is represented with wings flving
through the air, holding a laurel crown in one hand and
a palm in the other; but in other medals, she is seen
standing upon a globe, with the same crown and branch
of palm.
VIDA, Marcus Hieronymus, bishop of Alva, in
Montserrat, and one of the most excellent Latin poets
that have appeared since the Augustan age, was horn at
Cremona in 1470. Having distinguished himself by his
learning and taste for literature, he was made bishop of
Alva m 15 52. After continuing two years with Pope
Clement VII. at Rome, he went to reside upon his see;
where, for 30 years, he performed all the offices of a
good bishop and a good man ; and though he was mild,
gentle, and full of goodness, he was so far from want¬
ing spirit, that when the city of Alva was besieged by
the French, he used all possible means to prevent its
being given up, by strenuously exhorting the people,
and, when provisions were scarce, by supplying them at
his own expence. His Poetics, and poem on the silk¬
worm, pass for his masterpiece ; his poem on the game
of chess is also greatly admired. He also wrote hymns,
eclogues, and a poem entitled Christiados\n six hooks;
all which are in Latin, and have gained him a great re¬
putation. His works in prose consist of dialogues, sy¬
nodical constitutions, letters, and other pieces. He died
m 1556, soon after being made bishop of Cremona.
VIENNA, the capital of the circle of Austria, in
Germany, and of the whole German empire, is the place
where the emperor resides. The city itself is not of very
great extent; nor can it be enlarged, it being limited
by a very strong fortification ; but it is very populous.
The streets, in general, are narrow, and the houses built
high. Some of the public buildings are magnificent;
but they appear externally to no great advantage, on ac¬
count of the narrowness of the streets. The chief of
them are the impeiial palace, the library, and the mu¬
seum ; the palaces of the princes Lichtenstein, Eugene,
&c. Vienna was twice ineffectually besieged by the
Turks ; namely, in 1589 and 1683. At the latter pe¬
riod, the siege was raised by John Sohieski, king of Po¬
land, who totally defeated the Turkish army before the
Avails of this place. To strengthen the city against fu¬
ture attacks, no houses without the walls are allowed to
be built nearer to the glacis than 600 yards ; so that
there is a circular field of that breadth all round the
town, which has a very beautiful and salutary effect.
^ol. XX, Part II. f
These magnificent suburbs, and the town together, are
said to contain above 320,000 inhabitants; yet the for¬
mer Ore not near so populous, in proportion to their size,
as the town ; because many houses in the suburbs have
extensive gardens belonging to them, and many families,
who live during the winter within the fortifications,
spend the summer in the suburbs. The cathedral is
built of free stone, is 114 yards long, and 48 broad, and
the steeple is 447 feet high. The university had several
thousand students, who, when this city was besieged,
mounted guard. Beside ibis, there is the academy of
Lower Austria; and the arc hducal library is much
frequented by foreigners, as it contains above ioc,coo
printed books, and 10,00c manuscripts. The acade¬
my of painting is remarkable for the fine pictures it
produces. The archducal treasury, and a cabinet of
curiosities of the house of Austria, are great rarities.
The inhabitants, in general, live in a splendid manner;
and people ot distinction have all sorts ot wines at their
tables, which they are very free with to foreigners.
There is a sort of harbour on the Danube, where there
are magazines of naval stores, and ships have been fit¬
ted out to serve 011 that river against the Turks. Vien¬
na is an archbishop’s see. It is seated at the place where
the river Vienna or Wein, falls into the Danube, 30
miles west of Presburgh, 350 north-north-east of Rome*
520 south-east by south of Amsterdam, 565 east of Paris,
and 680 east-south east of London. E. Long. 16. 15.
N. Lat. 48. 13.
VIENNE, a department in the west of Fiance,
forming part of the ancient Poitou. It derives its name
from the river Vienne which runs through it, and fails
into the Loire. There are extensive tracts of heath in
this department; but the soil in other parts yields in
abundance, grain, hemp, flax, fruits, and vines. Cat¬
tle, fi-di, game, and poultry, are plentiful. There are
extensive forests and mines of coal, antimony, and iron.
The manufactures, which consist of coarse woollens,
linen, leather and paper, are trifling. The extent of
this department is 689,883 hectares, and in 1817 it con¬
tained 253,048 inhabitants. Poitiers is the chief town.
Vienne, Upper, a department of France, lying
south of the Loire, on the upper branches of the river
V ienne. The surface of the country is in general hilly,
and the soil poor. It produces little wheat, but con¬
siderable quantities of rye and barley, and raises great
numbers of cattle, horses, and mules. The hills are ge¬
nerally covered with wood, among which chesnuts
abound. There are mines of iron, lead, copper, anti¬
mony, and coal. The manufactures consist of metals,
coarse woollens and linens, handkerchiefs, pottery, &c.
The extent of this department is 570,035 hectares, and
the population in 1817 was 243,195. Limoges is the
chief town.
VIGIL, in church history, is the eve or next day
before any solemn feast ; because then Christians were
wont to watch, fast, and pray, in their churches.
Vigils of Plants, a term under which botanists com¬
prehend the precise time of the day in which the flowers
of different plants open, expand, and shut.
As all plants do not flower in the same season, or
month ; in like manner, those which flower the same
day, in the same place, do not open and shut precisely
at the same hour. Some open in the morning, as the
lip floweis, and compound flowers with flat spreading
4 ^ petals;
V I L [ 562 J V I L
▼fgil petals j others at noon, as the mallows ; and a third set
If in the evening, or after sunset, as some geraniums and
Villen.tgc. opuntias; the hour of shutting is equally determined.
'v Of those which open in the morning, some shut soon af-
ter, while others remain expanded till night.
The hours of opening, like the time of flowering, seem
to vary, according to the species of the plant, the tem-
p ■rature of the climate, and that of the season. Flowers,
Avho'-e extreme delicacy would be hurt by the strong im¬
pressions of an ardent sun, do not open till night : those
which require a moderate degree of heat to elevate their
juices, in other words, whose juices do not rise but in
the morning or evening, do not expand till then 5 whilst
those which need a more lively heat for the same pur¬
pose, expand at noon when the sun is in his meridian
strength, Hence it is, that the heat of the air being
greater betwixt the tropics than elsewhere, plants which
are transported from those climates into the cold or tem¬
perate climates of Europe, expand their flowers much
later than in their native soil. Thus, a flower which
opens in summer at six o’clock in the morning at Sene¬
gal, will not open at the same season in Prance and Eng¬
land till eight or nine, nor in Sweden till ten.
Linnaeus distinguishes by the general name of solar
(flares so lares) all those flowers which observe a deter¬
minate time in opening and shutting. These flowers
are again divided, from certain circumstances, into
three species, or kinds :
Equinoctial flowers (/lores eequinoetittles') are such as
open and shut at all seasons, at a certain fixed or deter¬
minate hour.
Tropical flowers (/lores tropici') are such whose hour
of opening is not fixed at all seasons, hut accelerated or
retarded according as the length of the day is increased
or diminished.
Meteorous flowers {flares meteorici') are such whose
hour of expansion depends upon the dry or humid state
of the air, and the greater or less pressure of the atmo¬
sphere. Of this kind is the Siberian sow-thistle, which
shuts at night if the ensuing day is to be clear and se¬
rene, and opens if it is to be cloudy and rainy. In like
manner the African marigold, which in dry serene
weather opens at six or seven in the morning, and shuts
at four o’clock in the afternoon, is a sure indication that
rain will fall during the course of the day, when it con¬
tinues shut after seven.
VICO, a sea port town of Galicia in Spain, with an
old castle and a fort. It is seated in a fertile country by
the sea-side. It was rendered famous by a sea-fight be¬
tween the confederate fleet commanded by Sir George
Rook, and a squadron of French men of war, in which
the English took four galleons and five large men of
war, and the Dutch five galleons and one man of war.
W. Long. 8. 43. N. Lat. 42. J4.
VILLA Franca, the name of several towns ; one
in Piedmont, three miles east of Nice ; another of Ca¬
talonia, 18 miles w^est of Barcelona j a third, the capi¬
tal of St Michael, one of the Azores j and a fourth, a
town of Estremadura in Spain, 57 miles south-east of
Salamanca.
VILLAGE, an assemblage of houses inhabited chiefly
by peasants and farmers, and having no mar ket where¬
by it is distinguished from a town. The word is French,
formed of vil or vilis, “ low, mean, contemptible or
rjither, from the Latin villa, a country-house or farm.
> ILLAIN, or Villein, in our ancient customs, viHcna
genotes a man of servile or base condition, viz. a bond-'—y«~-
man or servant.
VILLENAGE, in Law. The folk-land or estates
held in villenage, was a species of tenure neither strictly
leodal, Norman, or Saxon ; but mixed and compounded
of them all •, and which also, on account of the heriots
that usually attend it, may seem to have somewhat Da¬
nish in its composition. Under the Saxon government
there were, as Sir William Temple speaks, a sort of
people in a condition of downright servitude, used and
employed in the most servile wmrks, and belonging, both
they, their children, and effects, to the lord of the soil,
like the rest of the cattle or stock upon it. These seem
to have been those who held what was called the folk-
land, from which they were removeable at the lord’s
pleasure. On the arrival of the Normans here, it seems
not improbable, that they who were strangers to any 0-
ther than a feodal state, might give some sparks of en¬
franchisement to such ■wretched persons as fell to their
share, by admitting them, as well as others, to the oath
of iealty 5 which conferred a right of protection, and
raised the tenant to a kind of estate superior to downright
slavery, but inferior to every other condition. This they
called viUenage, and the tenants villeins.
These villeins, belonging principally to lords of ma¬
nors, were either villeins regardant, that is, annexed to
the manor or land : or else they were in gross, or at
large, that is, annexed to the person of the lord, and
transferable by deed from one owner to another. They
could not leave their lord without his permission j but
if they ran away, or were purloined from him, might
be claimed and recovered by action, like beasts or other
chattels. They held indeed small portions of land by
way of sustaining themselves and families : but it was at
the mere will of the lord, who might dispossess them
whenever he pleased 5 and it was upon villein services,
that is, to carry out dung, to hedge and ditch the lord’*
demesnes, and any other the meanest offices : and their
services were not only base, but uncertain both as to
their time and quantity.
A villein could acquire no property either in lands or
goods : if he purchased either, the lord might seize them
to his own use ; unless he contrived to dispose of them
again before the lord had seized them, for the lord bad
then lost his opportunity.
In many places a fine was also payable to the lord, if
the villein presumed to marry bis daughter to any ous
without leave from the lord : and by the‘common law, the
lord might also bring an action against the husband for
damages in thus purloining his property. For the child¬
ren of villeins were also in the same state of bondage
with their parents •, whence they were called in Latin
nativi, which gave rise to the female appellation of a
villein, who was called a neife. In case of a marriage
between a freemen and a neife, or a villein and afree-
woman, the issue followed the condition of the father,
being free if he was free, and a villein if he was villein,
contrary to the maxim of the civil law, that partus se-
quitur ventrem. But no bastard could be born a villein,
because by another maxim of our law he is nulhusflhus,
and as hecangmrc nothing by inheritance, it were hara
that he should lose his natural freedom by it. I he law,
however, protected the persons of villeins agamst
atrocious injuries of the lord: for he might not ku
V I L
[ 563 ] V I N
. or maim his villein ; though he might beat him with the
impunity. fer
Villeins might be enfranchised by manumission. In leges before mentioned : as also they differ from^free-St Vl'ncent-
process of time they gained considerable ground on their holders by one especial mark and tincture of villenage, ' 
lords; and in particular strengthened the tenure of their noted by Bracton, and remaining to this day > viz. that
estates to that degree, that they came to have in them they cannot be conveyed from man to man by the gene-
an interest in many places full as good, in others better ral common-law conveyances of feoffment, and the rest j
than their lords. For the good nature and benevolence but must pass by surrender to the lord or his steward, in
of many lords of manors having, time out of mind, per- the manner of common copyholds: yet with the differ-
mitted their villeins and their children to enjoy their ence, that, in the surrender of these lands in ancient de¬
possessions without interruption, in a regular course of mesne, it is not used to say, “ to hold at the will of their
descent, the common law, of which custom is the life, lord,” in their copies) but only, “ to hold according
now gave them title to prescribe against their lords j to the custom of the manor.”
and, on performance of the same services, to hold their VILLI, among botanists, a kind of down like short
lands in spite of any determination of the lord’s will. hair, with which some trees abound.
For though in general they are still said to hold their VILLOSE, or Villous, something abounding with
estates at the will of the lord, yet it is such a will as is villi or fibres like short hair; such is one of the coats
agreeable to the custom of the manor; which customs of the stomach.
are preserved and evidenced by the rolls of the several VINCA, a genus of plants of the class pentandria ;
courts-baron in which they are entered, or kept on foot and in the natural system arranged under the 30th or-
by the constant immemorial usage of the several manors der, Contortce. See Botany Index.
in which the lands lie. And as such tenants had nothing St VINCENT, one of the windward Caribbee
to show for their estates but those customs, and admissions islands, which received its name from being discovered
in pursuance of them, entered on these rolls, or the on the 22d of January, the feast of that saint. It is in¬
copies of such entries witnessed by the steward, they habited by a race of people, of whom Dr Robertson
now began to be called tenants by copy of court ro/l, and gives this account: “There is a great distinction in
their tenure itself a copyhold. _ character between the Caribbees and the inhabitants of
Privileged Villenage, a species of tenure otherwise the larger islands. The former appear manifestly to be a
called villein socage. See Tenure. separate race. Their language is totally different from
Ancient demesne consists of those lands or manors that of their neighbours in the large islands. They
which, though now perhaps granted out to private sub- themselves have a tradition that their ancestors came ori-
jects, were actually in the hands of the crown in the time ginally from some part of the continent, and having con-
of Edward the Confessor, or William the Conqueror; quered and exterminated the ancient inhabitants, took
and so appear to have been, by the great survey in the possession of their lands and of their women. Hence
exchequer, called the doomsday-hook. The tenants of they call themselves Banaree, which signifies a man
these lands, under the crown, were not all of thevsame come from beyond sea. Accordingly, the Caribbees
order or degree. Some of them, as Britton testifies, still use two distinct languages, one peculiar to the men,
continued for a long time pure and absolute villeins, de- and the other to the women. The language of the men
pendent on the will of the lord ; and common copy- has nothing common with that spoken in the large
holders in only a few points. Others were in a great islands. The dialect of the women considerably resem-
measure enfranchised by the royal favour ; being only hies it. This strongly confirms the tradition which I
bound in respect of their lands to perform some of the have mentioned. The Caribbees themselves imagine that
better sort of villein-services, but those determinate and they were a colony from the Galibis, a powerful nation
certain.; as, to plough the king’s land for so many days, of Guiana in South America. But as their fierce man-
to supply his court with such a quantity of provisions, ners approach nearer to those of the people in the
and the like; all of which are now changed into pecu- northern continent, than to those of the natives of South
niary rents : and in consideration hereof they had many America, and as their language has likewise some affini-
immunities and privileges granted to them ; as to try ty to that spoken in Florida, their origin should be de-
the right of their property in a peculiar court of their duced rather from the former than from the latter. In
own, called a cow£ o/awc/tfrat by a peculiar pro- their wars they still preserve their ancient practice of
cess denominated a writ of right close ; not to pay toll destroying all the males, and preserving the women ei-
or taxes ; not to contribute to the expences of knights ther for servitude or for breeding.”
ol the shire ; not to be put on juries, and the like. It remained a long time after it was discovered inha-
These tenants, therefore, though their tenure be abso- bited by these people, and by another race improperly
lutely copyhold, yet have an interest equivalent to a styled Black Caribs, who are in reality negroes descend-
freehold : for though their services were of a base and ed, as is generally believed, from some who escaped out
villenous original, yet the tenants were esteemed in all of a Guinea ship wrecked upon the coast, and gradually
other respects to be highly privileged villeins ; and augmented by such as from time to time fled thither
especially for that their services were fixed and determi- from Barbadoes. These nations were often at war; but
nate, and that they could not be compelled (like pure when their quarrels were composed, they had a strength
villeins) to relinquish those tenements at the lord’s will, sufficient to prevent strangers from settling by force,
or to hold them against their own : et idea (says Brae- The French, about half a century ago, at the request of
ton) dicuntur liheri. the Caribs, made a descent from Martinico,and attacked.
Lands holding by this tenure are therefore a species the negroes, but were repulsed with loss ; and found it
of copyhold, and as such preserved and exempted from their interest to conciliate a friendship with both nations
4 B 2 by
operation 01 the statute of Charles 11. Yet they dif- Villenaje
from common convholds. nrincinallv in the nrivi- il
V I N
St Vincent,means of presents, and furnishing them with arms
Vinci, and ammunition.
St Vincent was long a neutral island; but at the
peace of 1763, the French agreed that the right to it
should be vested in the English ; who, in the sequel, at
the instance of some rapacious planters, engaged in an
unjust war against the Caribbees, who inhabited the
windward side of the island, and who were obliged to
consent to a peace, by which they ceded a very large
tract of valuable land to the crown. The consequence
of this was that in the next war, in 1779, they greatly
contributed to the reduction of this island by the French,
who, however, restored it by the peace of 1783. Since
that time it has continued in the possession of Great Bri¬
tain. During the French revolutionary war, the Ca-
ribs revolted ; and, assisted by the French, spread deso¬
lation over the whole island; but by the exertions of the
governor and the British forces in the West Indies, the
revolt was quelled.
St Vincent is in length about 24 miles, and about 18
in breadth. The climate is very warm. The country
is in general hilly, in some places mountainous ; but
interspersed with a variety of pleasant valleys, and
some luxuriant plains, the soil being everywhere very
fertile, and the high grounds are at least in general easy
of ascent. Few islands are so well watered with rivers
and springs. The inhabitants raise all kinds of ground
provisions in plenty. The rivers supply them with va¬
riety of fish. W. Long. 6i°. N. Lat. 130.
VINCI, Leonardo da, an illustrious Italian pain¬
ter, descended from a noble Tuscan family, was born in
the castle of Vinci, near Florence in 1445. He was
placed under Andrea Verochia, a celebrated painter in
that city ; but soon surpassed him and all his predeces¬
sors so much as to be reputed the master of the third or
golden age of modern painting. But his studies were
far from terminating here ; no man’s genius was more
universal: he applied himself to arts, to literature, and
to the accomplishments of the body ; and he excelled in
every thing which he attempted. Lewis Sforza duke
of Milan prevailed on him to be director of the academy
for architecture he had just established; where Leonardo
soon banished all the Gothic fashions, and reduced every
thing to the happy simplicity of the Greek and Romm
style. By the duke’s order he constructed the famous
aqueduct that ^supplies the city of Milan with water:
this canal goes by the name of Mortesana, being above
200 miles in length, and conducts the water of the river
Adda quite to the walls of the citv. In 1479, he was
desired to construct some new device for the entertain¬
ment ot Louis XII. of France, who was then to make
his entrance into Milan. Leonardo accordingly made
a very curious automaton in the form of a lion/ which
marched out to meet the king, reared up on its hinder
legs before him, and opening its breast, displayed an
escutcheon with fleurs-de-lis quartered on it. The dis¬
orders of Lombardy, with the misfortunes of his patrons
the Sforzi, obliging Leonardo to quit Milan, he retired
to Florence, where he flourished under the Medici :
here he raised the envy of Michael Angelo, who was his
contemporary ; and Raphael, from the study of his
works, acquired his best manner of designing. At
length, on the invitation of Francis I. he removed to
I1 ranee when above 70 years of age ; where the journey
and change el climate threw him into his last sickness:
V I R
he languished for some months at Fontainbleau, where y:.u
the king came frequently to see him ; and one day ri- |j
sing up in his bed to acknowledge tbe honour clone him, Virj>,!
he fainted, and Francis supporting him, Leonardo died '““V"
in his arms. His death happened in 1520. Some of
his paintings are to be seen in England and other coun¬
tries, but the greatest part of them are in Florence and
France. He composed a great number of discourses on
curious subjects; but none of them have been pub¬
lished but his treatise on the Art of Painting.—For his
anatomical knowledge, see Anatomy (history of),
p. 669.
VINCULUM, in Algebra, a character in form of a
line or stroke drawn over a factor, divisor, or dividend,
when compounded of several letters or quantities, to
connect them, and shows that they are to be multiplied
ov divided, &c. together by the other term.
Thus dy^a-\-b—c shows that d is to be multiplied
into a-\-b—c.
VINE. See Vitis, Botany Index.
VINEGAR, Acetum, an agreeable acid, prepared
from wine, cyder, beer, and other liquors ; of consider¬
able use, both as a medicine and a sauce. The word is
French, vinaigre; formed from vin, “ wine and a/gre,
“ sour.” See Acetic Acid, and Chemistry Index.
Eels in Vinegar. See Animalcule, Na 9.
VINEYARD, a plantation of vines. Tbe best si¬
tuation of a vineyard is on the declivity of a hill facing
the south.
VIO, Thomas de. See Cajetan.
VIOL, a musical instrument of the same form with
the violin, and, like that, struck with a bow.
VIOLA, a genus of plants of the class syngenesia;
in the natural system arranged under the 29th order,
Campanacece. See Botany Index.
VIOLATION, the act of violating, that is, forcing
a woman, or committing a rape upon her.—This term
is also used in a moral sense, for a breach or infringe¬
ment of a law, ordinance, 01 the like.
VIOLET. See Viola, Botany Index.
VioLET-Crab. See Cancer, Entomology Index.
VIOLIN, or Fiddle, a musical instrument mounted
with four strings or guts, and struck or played with a
bow. The style and sound of the violin is the gayest
and most sprightly of all other instruments ; and lienee
it is of all others the fittest for dancing. Yet there are
ways of touching it, which render it grave, soft, lan¬
guishing, and fit for church or chamber music.—It ge¬
nerally makes the treble or highest part in concerts.
Its harmony is from fifth to fifth. Its play is composed
of bass, counter-tenor, tenor, and treble; to which may
be added, a fifth part: each part has four fifths, which
rise to a greater seventeenth.
VIOLONCELLO, of the Italians, is properly our
fifth violin ; which is a little bass violin half the size of
the common bass violin, and the strings bigger and long¬
er in proportion ; consequently its sound is an octave
lower than our bass violin ; which has a noble effect m
concerts.
VIPER. See Ophiology Index.
VIRAGO, a woman of extraordinary stature and
courage ; who has the mein and air of a man, and per¬
forms the actions and exercises of men.
VIRGIL, or Publius Virgilius Maro, the most
excellent of all the Latin poets, was the son of a potte^
[ 564 ]
V I R [ ;
? 6f Aii(le9f near Mantua, where he was born, 70 years
u- —JB. C. He stndied first at Mantua j then at Cremona,
Milan, and Naples j whence geing to Rome, he acquired
the esteem of the greatest wits and most illustrious per¬
sons of his time} and among others of the emperor Au¬
gustus, Maecenas, and Pollio. He was well skilled not on¬
ly in polite literature and poetry, but also in philosophy,
the mathematics, geography, medicine, and natural hi¬
story. Though one of the greatest geniuses of his age,
and the admiration of the Romans, be always preserved
a singular modesty, and lived chaste at a time when the
manners of the people were extremely corrupt. He car¬
ried Latin poetry to such a high perfection, that he was
justly esteemed the prince of Latin poets. He first turn¬
ed himself to pastoral } and being captivated with the
beauty and sweetness of Theocritus, was ambitious to
introduce this new species of poetry among the Romans.
His first performance in this way is supposed to have
been written U. C. 709, the year before the death of
Julius Caesar, when the poet was in his 25th year: it is
intitled Alexis. Possibly Palamon was his second : it
is a close imitation of the fourth and fifth Idylls of Theo¬
critus. Mr Wharton places Silemtsnexl', which is said
to have been publicly recited on the stage by Cytheris,
a celebrated comedian. Virgil’s fifth eclogue is com¬
posed in allusion to the death and deification of Caesar.
The battle of Philippi in 7x2 having put an end to the
Roman liberty, the veteran soldiers began to murmur
for their pay } and Augustus, to reward them, distri¬
buted among them the lands of Mantua and Cremona.
Virgil was involved in this common calamity } and ap¬
plied to Varus and Pollio, who warmly recommended
him to Augustus, and procured for him his patrimony
again. Full of gratitude to Augustus, he composed the
Tityrus, in which he introduces two shepherds} one of
them complaining of the distraction of the times, and of
the havock the soldiers made among the Mantuan far¬
mers ; the other rejoicing for the recovery of his estate,
and promising to honour as a god the person who restor¬
ed it to him. But our poet’s joy was not of long conti¬
nuance } for we are told, that when he returned to take
possession of his farm, he was violently assaulted by the
intruder, and would certainly have been killed by him
if he had not escaped by swimming hastily over the Min-
cio. Upon this unexpected disappointment, he returned
to Rome to renew his petition } and during his journey
seems to have composed his ninth eclogue. The cele¬
brated eclogue, intitled Pollio, was composed U. C. 7I4»
upon the following occasion : The consul Pollio on the
part of Antony, and Maecenas on the part of Caesar,
had made up the differences between them} by agree¬
ing, that Octavia, half-sister to Caesar, should be given
m marriage to Antony. This agreement caused an uni¬
versal joy} and Virgil, in his eclogue, testified his. Oc¬
tavia was with child by her late husband Marcellos at
the time of this marriage} and whereas the Sibylline
oracles had foretold, that a child was to be born about
this time, who should rule the world, and establish per¬
petual peace, the poet ingeniously supposes the child in
Octavia’s womb to be the glorious infant, under whose
reign mankind was to be happy, the golden age to re¬
turn from heaven, and fraud and violence to be no more.
In this celebrated poem, the author, with great delica¬
cy at the same time, pays his court to both the chiefs,
his patron Pollio, to Octavia, and to the unborn
65 ] VIE
infant. In 715» Pollio was sent against the Parthini,
a people of Illyricum } and during this expedition, Vir¬
gil addressed to him a beautiful eclogue, called Phar-
niaceutria. His tenth and last eclogue was addressed
to Gallus.
In his 34th year, he retired to Naples, and laid the
plan of his Georgies ; which he undertook at the intrea¬
ties of Maecenas, to whom he dedicated them. This
wise and able minister resolved, if possible, to revive
the decayed spirit of husbandry } to introduce a taster
for agriculture, even among the great} and could not
think of a better method to effect this, than to recom¬
mend it by the insinuating charms of poetry. Virgil
fully answsred the expectations of his patron by his
Georgies. They are divided into four books. Corn
and ploughing are the subject of the first, vines of tho
second, cattle of the third, and bees of the fourth.
He is supposed to have been in his 45th year when
he began to write the /Eneid } the design of which was
to reconcile the Romans to the government of Augu¬
stus. Augustus was eager to peruse this poem before it
was finished ; and intreated him by letters to communi¬
cate it. Macrobius has preserved to us part of one of
Virgil’s answers to the emperor, in which the poet ex¬
cuses himself: who, however, at length complied, and
read himself the sixth book to the emperor} when Oc¬
tavia, who had just lost her son Marcellus, the darling
of Rome, and adopted son of Augustus, made one of
the audience. Virgil had artfully inserted that beau¬
tiful lamentation for the death of young Marcellus, be¬
ginning with—0 note, ingentem luctum ne qiuere tu-
orum—but suppressed his name till he came to the line
—Tu Mareellus eris: upon hearing which, Octavia
could bear no more, but fainted away, overcome with
surprise and sorrow. When she recovered, she made
the poet a present of ten sesterces for every line, which
amounted in the whole to above 2000I.
The iEneid being brought to a conclusion, but not to
the perfection our author intended to give it, he resol¬
ved to travel into Greece, to correct and polish it at
leisure. It was probably on this occasion that Horace
addressed that affectionate ode to him, Sic te Dtvce
potens Cypri, §c. Augustus returning victorious from
the east, met with Virgil at Athens, who thought him¬
self obliged to attend the emperor to Italy: but the
poet was suddenly seized with a fatal distemper, which
being increased by the agitation of the vessel, put an
end to his life as soon as he landed at Brundusium, in
his 52d year. He had ordered in his will, that the
JEneid should be burnt as an unfinished poem } but
Augustus forbade it, and had it delivered to Varius and
Tucca, with the strictest charge to make no additions,
but only to publish it correctly. He died with such
steadiness and tranquillity, as to be able to dictate his
own epitaph in the following words :
Mantua me genuit: Calabri rapuere, tenet nunc
Parthenope; cecini Pascua, Rura, Duces.
Hb bones were carried to Naples, according to his
earnest request} and a monument was erected at a
small distance from the city.
Virgil was of a swarthy complexion, tall, of a sickly
constitution, and afflicted with frequent headachs, and
spitting of blood. He was so very bashful, that he of¬
ten ran into the shops to prevent being gazed at in the
streets j
V I R [ 566 ] V I R
Virgil, streets; yet was so honoured by the Roman people, that
Virginia, once coming into the theatre, the whole audience rose
V up out of respect to him. He was of a thoughtful and
melancholy temper ; he spoke little, and loved retire¬
ment and contemplation. His fortune was affluent; he
had a fine house and well furnished library near Muece-
nas’s gardens, on the Esquiline mount at Rome, and
also a delightful villa in Sicily. He was so benevolent
and inoffensive, that most of his contemporary poets,
though they envied each other, agreed in loving and
esteeming him. He revised his verses with prodigious
severity ; and used to compare himself to a she bear,
which licked her cubs into shape.
The best edition of Virgil’s works are those of Mos-
vicius, with the notes of Servius, printed at Lewarden
in 1717, two vols qto; and that of Burman, at Amster¬
dam, 1746, in four vols 410. There are several English
translations, whicfi are well known.
Virgil, Polydore, an English historian, born at Ur-
bino in Italy, was sent in tbe beginning of the 16th
century by Pope Alexander VI. as sub-collector of the
Papal tax, called Peter-pence, in this kingdom. He had
not been long in England before he obtained preferment
in the church; for in 1503 he was presented to the rec¬
tory of Church-Langton in the archdeaconry of Lei¬
cester. In 1507 he was collated to the prebend of
Scamlesby in the church of Lincoln ; and in the same
year was made archdeacon of Wells, and prebendary of
Hereford. In 1513, he resigned his prebend of Lin¬
coln, and was collated to that of Oxgate in St Paul’s,
London. We are told, that on his preferment to the
archdeaconry of Wells, he resigned the office of sub-col¬
lector to tbe pope, and determined to spend the remain-
cer of his life in England, the History of which king-
ocm he began in the year 1505, at the command of
Henry VII. That work cost him 12 years labour. In
3526, he finished his treatise on Prodigies. Polydore
continued in England during the whole reign of Henry
VIII. and part of that of Edward VI. whence it is con¬
cluded that he was a moderate Papist. In 1550, being
now an old man, he requested leave to revisit his native
country. He was accordingly dismissed with a present
of 300 crowns, together with the privilege of holding
his preferments to the end of his life. He died at Ur-
bino in the year 1555. As an historian, he is accused
by some as a malignant slanderer of the English nation;
yet Jovius remarks, that the French and Scotch accuse
him of having flattered that nation too much : (See his
AJ/qg. cap. 135. p. I79*)' Besides the above, he wrote,
I. De Perum Inventoribus; of which an English trans¬
lation was published by Langley in 1663* It was also
translated into French and Spanish. 2. De Prodigtis
et Sortibus. 3. E*pi$coporiim Angliee Catalogus. Ma¬
nuscript. 4. De Vita Perfecta, Basil, 1546, 1553,
8vo. 5. Epistolce Eruditce ; and some other works.
VIRGINIA, one of the United States of the North
American republic. It is bounded by the sea and the
bay of Chesapeake on the east, by Maryland and
Pennsylvania on the north, by Ohio and Kentucky on
the west, and by North Carolina on the south. Its
greatest length east and west is 350 miles ; its breadth
220; and its area is about 56,000 square miles. About
one-third of the surface of this state is occupied by the
different ridges of the Alleghany chain, which traverse
it in the direction of north-east and south-west. These
3
ridges rise to the height of about 3000 feet, and are y\{ri-&
generally covered with natural wood. That part of'—
the country which lies immediately along the shores of
the ocean and the Chesapeake bay is generally flat,
sandy, and so poor as to admit of cultivation only on
the banks of the rivers. This tract extends about 60
or 80 miles inward. Beyond it, as far as the foot of
the Blue ridge or eastern chain of the Alleghanies, the
soil is greatly superior, and bears excellent crops of
wheat, maize, barley, tobacco, hemp, &c. Tbe soil of
of tbe broad valleys between the Alleghany ridges is
similar, and that on tbe western slope of the mountains
reaching to the banks of the Ohio, is believed to be the
richest of the whole.
In point of climate, (his state is probably one of the
most agreeable in North America. The extremes of
heat and cold, at Mr Jefferson’s seat of Monticello, are
98° above, and 6° below zero. The mean annual tem¬
perature at Williamsburg is 57®; and the average an¬
nual quantity of rain 47 inches.
It is remarkable that, proceeding on the same paral¬
lel of latitude westwardly, the climate becomes colder
in like manner as when you proceed northwardly. This
continues to be tbe case till you attain the summit of
the Alleghany, which is the highest land between the
ocean and the Mississippi. From thence, descending
in the same latitude towards the Mississippi, the change
reverses ; and, if we may believe travellers, it becomes
warmer there than it is in the same latitude on the sea¬
side.
The principal rivers of this state are, James’s river,
which falls into the Chesapeake bay after a course of
270 miles, through the greater part of which it admits
of boat navigation; York river; Rappahanock; the
Patowmac, which separates Virginia from Maryland;
the Shenandoah, which falls into the Patowmac ; the
Monongahela ; the Ohio ; and the Kenhawa. These
rivers afford a great extent of inland navigation, and
have contributed much to the improvement of the state.
Iron and lead ores are found and worked in several
places. Native copper, manganese, and antimony,
have also been discovered. Lime is abundant on the
west side, and coal is found on both sides of the moun¬
tains. Salt is also extracted in great quantities from
springs on the banks of some of the branches of the
Ohio.
The wild animals are now scarce on the east side of
the Alleghanies, but the bear, wolf, deer, racoon, op-
possum, are still numerous in the western parts. There
are rattlesnakes and serpents of a large size, but they
are rarely met with. The remains of the mammoth
have been found also in this state. There are various
species of wild fowl, of which the most esteemed are
the turkeys. Tbe rivers and bays contain a great va¬
riety of fish ; with which the towns on the coast are
generally well supplied.
This state was first settled in 1607 when the whole
inhabitants amounted only to 40 persons. In 1703
they amounted to 60,000 ; in 1790 to 747,610; and
in 1810 to 974,672, including 392,518 slaves. Tbe
inhabitants of the upper country are generally much
above the average stature of Europeans, and strong
and active in proportion. On the coast, where the cli¬
mate is rather unhealthy, the inhabitants are not so
tall or athletic. The Virginians are polite, frank, li-
VIE [
i,ia. beral, and high spirited j but they are charged with'be-
—ing impetuous, proud, indolent, superficial in their ac¬
quirements, addicted to gaming, and lax in their mo¬
rals. The most prominent defects in their character
may be attributed to the debasing influence of slavery.
The legislature consists of a senate and house of de¬
legates ; the former composed of 24 members chosen
for four years; the latter of two freeholders for each
county, and one for each city, chosen annually by the
persons possessing land. The executive power is vest¬
ed in the governor, assisted by a council of eight mem¬
bers chosen annually by both houses of the legislature.
The judges are appointed by the legislature, and hold
their offices during good behaviour. The clergy are
supported by voluntary contributions. The Presbyte¬
rians are the most numerous sect.
There are two colleges in this state : That of Wil¬
liam and Mary, founded in 1692, is under the direction
of 20 governors, who appoint the president and profes¬
sors, and frame regulations. There are five professor¬
ships, viz. law, medicine, mathematics, philosophy, and
modern languages. Hampden and Sydney college in
Prince Edward county has been lately established.
There are academies in all the considerable towns.
Hitherto there has been a want of the means of ele¬
mentary education in this state ; but in 1816 the legis¬
lature set apart one million of dollars for the support of
schools.
The produce of this state consists of tobacco, which
is cultivated to a great extent eastward of the Alleg¬
hany mountains 5 maize, or Indian corn, which yields
from 12 to 50 bushels an acre ; wheat, which yields on an
average 15 bushels an acre, being generally raised from
land that has been exhausted by crops of tobacco ; rice
on the borders of the swamps ; buck wheat, oats, hemp,
j and cotton ; the last not to a great extent. Potatoes
are in general use. Among the fruits are plums,
| almonds, pomegranates, figs, peaches, and melons. The
breeds of cattle and horses are much inferior in general
to those ol Pennsylvania. Mules and oxen are much
employed in agricultural labour. Merino sheep have
been introduced, and are extending through the state.
Great numbers of bogs are fid on acorns in the woods.
The manufactures of this state are inconsiderable.
They consist chiefly of spirits, brewed liquors, salt, ca¬
binet ware, leather, and linen for domestic use. The
whole value of manufactures in 1810 was estimated at
| 12.263,473 doll ars.
The exports consist chiefly of tobacco, wheat, maize,
lumber, tar, turpentine, beef, pork, peltries, &c. The
imports are manufactured articles of all kinds, and
West India produce. In 1817 the exports amounted
to 5,621,442 dollars, of which 60,204 (!ollars were for
foreign produce, and the rest for articles of domestic
growth. In 1815 the shipping belonging to this state
amounted to 71,492 tons. The principal trading port
is North folk ^ the next in importance is Richmond the
capital.
, Virginia, like the other states, has advanced rapidly
since the revolution ; and having still vast tracts of
uncleared land, she has yet a great progress to make.
I he baneful influence of slavery, however, will un-
! doubtedly throw her behind the northern and middle
states, and the restrictions on the elective franchise
aye also a tendency to prevent the industrious classes
rom settling here. The value of lands and houses in
57 ] V I s
Virginia in 1799 '-’as estimated in the official returns Virginia
af 7_1>i25.127, and in 1813 af 165,6o8,i99 dollars. ij
Rut including slaves the value in 1815 was 263,737,699
dollars. Virginia has had the honour of giving four v
presidents to the republic; Washington, Jefferson, Mad-
dison, and Munroe. The two first, as well as several
otuer citizens of this state, have been ranked among
most distinguished men whom America has produced.
VIRGO, in Astronomy, one of the signs or constella¬
tions of the zodiac.
VIRGULA D1 vi N AT OKI a , divining rod. See
Mine.
VIRTUAL, or Potential ; something that has a
power or virtue of acting or doing. The term is chiefly
understood of something that acts by a secret invisible
cause, in opposition to actual and sensible.
V IRTUE, a term used in various significations. In
the general it denotes power, or the perfection of any
thing, whether natural or supernatural, animate or ina¬
nimate, essential or accessory. But, in its more proper
or restrained sense, virtue signifies a habit, which im¬
proves and perfects the possessor and his actions. See
Moral Philosophy, N° 84.
VIR1U0S0, an Italian term lately introduced into
the English, signifying a man of curiosity and learning,
or one who loves and promotes the arts’ and sciences.
Rut among us the term seems to be appropriated to
those who apply themselves to some curious and quaint
rather than immediately useful art or study ; as antiqua¬
ries, collectors of rarities of any kind, microscopical ob¬
servers, &c.
A IRULENT, a term applied to any thing that
yields a virus; that is, a contagious or malignant pus.
^ ISCERA, in Anatomy, a term signifying the same
with entrails; including the heart, liver, lungs, spleen,
intestines, and other inward parts of the body.
VISCIDITY, or Viscosity, the quality of some¬
thing that is viscid or viscous ; that is, glutinous and
sticky like bird lime, which the Latins call by the name
of viscus.
VISCOUNT ( Vice Comes), was anciently an officer
under an earl, to whom, during his attendance at court,
he acted as deputy to look alter the affairs of the coun¬
try. But the name was afterwards made use of as an
arbitrary title of honour, without any shadow of office
pertaining to it, by Henry VI.: when in the i8tb year
of his reign, he created John Beaumont a peer by the
name of Viscount Beaumont; which was the first in¬
stance of the kind.
A viscount is created by a patent as an earl is ; his
title is Right Honourable; his mantle is two doublings
and a half of plain fur; and his coronet has only a row
of pearls close to the circle.
VISCUM, a genus of plants of the class dioecia, and
in the natural system arranged under the 48th order,
Aggregatce. See Botany Index.
VLSHNOU, that person in the triad of the Bramins
who is considered as the preserver of the universe-
Brahma is the creator, and Siva the destroyer; and these
two, with Vishnou, united in some inexplicable manner,
constitute Brahme, or the supreme numen of the Hin¬
doos. See Polytheism, N° 36.
VISIBLE, something that is an object of sight or
vision ; or something whereby the eye is affected so as
to produce this sensation.
VISIER, an officer or dignitary in the Ottoman em¬
pire, >
U K R [ 568 ] U L vS
Visicr pire, wliereof there are two kinds ; one called by the
|| Turks Visier-a%em^ that is, “grand visicr,” is the prime
Ukraine, minister of state in the whole empire. lie commands
the army in chief, and presides in the divan or great
council. Next to him are six other subordinate visiers,
called visiers of the bench; who officiate as his coun¬
sellors or assessors in the divan.
VISION, in Optics, the act of seeing or perceiving
external objects by means of the organ of sight, the eye.
Sec Anatomy, N* 142, and Metaphysics, N° 49—
54.
VISTULA, or Weisel, a large river of Poland,
which taking its rise in the mountains south of Silesia,
visits Cracow, Warsaw, &c. and continuing its course
northward, falls into the Baltic sea below Ilantzic.
VISUAL, in general, something belonging to vision.
VITAL, in Physiology, an appellation given to what¬
ever ministers principally to the constituting or main¬
taining life in the bodies of animals : thus the heart,
lungs, and brain, are called vital parts ; and the opera¬
tions of these parts by which the life of animals is main¬
tained are called vital functions.
VITELLUS, the yolk of an egg.
VITIS, or Vine, a genus of the class pentandria,
and in the natural system arranged under the 46th or¬
der, HeJeracece. See BotanX Index; and for its cul¬
ture, see Gardening.
VITREOUS humour of the Eye. See Anato¬
my, N° 142.
VITRIFICATION, in Chemistry, the conversion
of a body into glass by means of fire. See Glass.
VITRIOL, a compound salt, formed by the union
of iron, copper, or zinc, with sulphuric acid; hence
called from the colours white, blue, and green, accord¬
ing to the metal. See Chemistry.
VITRIOLATED, among chemists, something im¬
pregnated, or supposed to be so, with vitriol or its acid.
VITRIOLIC acid. See Sulphuric Acid and
Chemistry Index.
VITRUVIUS POLLIO, Marcus, a very cele¬
brated Roman architect, was, according to the common
opinion, born at Verona, and lived in the reign of Au¬
gustus, to whom he dedicated his excellent treatise on
architecture, divided into ten books. William Philan-
tler’s edition of this celebrated work is esteemed. Clau¬
dius Perrault has given an excellent translation of it in
French, with learned notes. There are also several Eng¬
lish translations of Vitruvius.
VITUS’S DANCE. See MEDICINE, N° 284.
VIVERRA, the Weasel ; a genus of quadrupeds
belonging to the order of ferae. See Mammalia Index.
VIVES. See Farriery.
VIVIPAROUS, in Natural History, an epithet ap¬
plied to such animals as bring forth their young alive
and perfect; in contradistinction to those that lay eggs,
which are called oviparous animals.
UKRAINE, a large country of Europe, lying on
the borders of Turkey in Europe, Poland, Russia, and
Inttle Tartary. Its name properly signifies a frontier.
By a treaty between Russia and Poland in 1693, the
latter remained in possession of all that part of the
Ukraine lying on the west side of the river Dnieper,
which is but indifferently cultivated ; while the country
on the east side, inhabited by the Cossacs, is in much
better condition. The Russian part is comprised in the
I
government of Kiof; and the empress of Russia having
obtained the Polish palatinate of Kiof, by the treaty of |f ’
partition in 1793, the whole of the Ukraine, on both Ulster
sides of the Dnieper, belongs now to that ambitious and
formidable power. The principal town is Kiof.
ULCER, in Surgery. See Surgery Index.
Ulcer, in Farriery. See Farriery.
ULEX, a genus of plants of the class of diadelphia,
and in the natural system arranged under the 32d order,
P■ ipilionacece. See Botany Index.
ULIETEA, one of the Society islands in the South
sea. This island is about 21 leagues in circuit. Its
productions are plantains, cocoa-nuts, yams, hogs, and
fowl; the two latter of which are scarce. The soil on
the top of one of the hills was found to be a kind of
stone marie ; on the sides were found some scattered
flints, and a few small pieces of a cavernous or spongy
stone lava, of a whitish colour, which seemed to contain
some remains of iron, so that it may possibly be here
lodged in the mountains in a great quantity. Nothing
was seen on this island to distinguish either its inhabi¬
tants, or their manners, from the other neighbouring
islands. The first Europeans who landed on this shore
were Mr (now Sir Joseph) Banks and Dr Solander;
they were received by the natives in the most courteous
manner, reports concerning them having been thur har¬
bingers from Otaheite. Every body seemed to fear and
respect them, placing in them at the same time the ut¬
most confidence : behaving, as if conscious that their
visitors possessed the power of doing them mischief with¬
out a disposition to make use of it.
ULIGINOUS, in Agriculture an appellation given
to a moist, moorish, and fenny soil.
ULLAGE, in gauging, is so much of a cask or other
vessel as it wants of being full.
ULM, formerly a free and imperial city of Germany,
but now belonging to Bavaria. It is a pretty large
place, defended by fortifications ; and the inhabitants,
who are chiefly Protestants,amounted to 14,000 in 1800.
The town is seated on the Danube, a little above the
confluence of that river and the lller, and canies on
a considerable trade. It has many handsome build¬
ings. The principal church is a magnificent Gothic
edifice, and is said to surpass all the cathedrals in Ger¬
many in height. The Roman Catholics have but two
churches, all the rest belonging to the Protestants.
E. Long. 9. 59. N. Lat. 48. 25,
ULMUS, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of pentandria ; and in the natural system arranged under
the 53d order, Scabridce. See Botany Index.
ULSTER, the most northerly province of Ireland.
In Latin it is called Ultonia, in Irish Cui Gmlly; and
gives the title of earl to the dukes of York of the royal
family. It is bounded by the Atlantic ocean on the
west, St George’s channel and the Irish sea on the east,
the Deucaledonian ocean on the north, and on the soul
and south-west the provinces of Leinster and Connaugh .
Its greatest length is near 120 miles,_ its breadth about
100; and its circumference, including the windings
and turnings, 460; containing 9 counties, 58 marke-
towns and boroughs, 1 archbishopric, 6 bishoprics, an
214 parishes. Ulster abounds in lakes and riveis, w 1
supply it with variety of fine fish, especially salmon, e-
sides what it has from the sea, with which a great p
of it is bounded. The southern parts of it are
U M B f 5
j er tile, well cultivated, and inclosed ; but the greater part
of the northern is open and mountainous.— The towns
Tml latse. 0f t|1;s province are in general the neatest and best built
of any in Ireland, as well as the farm-houses ; which in
most parts of the kingdom are constructed of no better
materials than clay and straw. The inhabitants of
Ulster are also more like the English in their manners
and dialect than those of the other three provinces : for
as it includes within itself the whole, or by far the
greater part, of the linen manufactory, the best branch
of trade in the kingdom, they have consequently the
greatest intercourse with England. An Englishman, in
some parts of it, indeed, will imagine himself, from the
similarity of their language and manners, in his own
country. This province had anciently pettv kings of
its own. It was first subjected to the English in the
reign of Henry II. by John Courcy, the first who bore
the title of earl of Ulster; but it afterwards threw off
the yoke, and was never entirely reduced till the reign
of James I. when great numbers of Scots by his en¬
couragement went and settled in it. Of these, most of
the present inhabitants are the descendants. This pro¬
vince was the first and principal scene of the bloody mas¬
sacre in 1641. See Ulster, Supplement.
ULTERIOR, in Geography, is applied to some part
of a country or province, which, with regard to the rest
of that country, is situated on the farther side of the
river, mountain, or other boundary which separates the
two countries.
ULTRAMARINE, a beautiful blue colour used by
the painters, prepared from the lapis lazuli by calcina¬
tion. See Lazdlite, Mineralogy Index.
ULTRAMONTANE, something beyond the moun¬
tains. The term is principally applied in relation to
France and Italy, which are separated by the Alps.
ULVA, a genus of plants of the class of cryptogamia.
See Botany Index.
ULUG Beig, a Persian prince and learned astrono¬
mer, was descended from the famous Tamerlane, and
reigned at Samarcand about 40 years ; after which he
was murdered by his own son in 1449. His catalogue
of the fixed stars, rectified for the year 1434, was pub¬
lished at Oxford by Mr Hyde, in 1665,, with learned
notes. Mr Hudson printed in the English Geography
Ulug Beig’s Tabl es of the Longitude and Latitude of
Places ; and Mr Greaves published, in Latin, his Astro¬
nomical Epochas, at London, in 1650. See Astro¬
nomy Index.
ULYSSES, k ing of Ithaca, the son of Laertes, and
father of Telemachus, and one of those heroes who con¬
tributed most to the taking of Troy. After the destruc¬
tion of that city, he wandered for 10 years ; and at last
returned to Ithaca, where, with the assistance of Tele-
' niachus, he killed Antinous and other princes who in¬
tended to marry his wife Penelope and seize his do¬
minions. He at length resigned the government of the
kingdom to his son rI elemachus j and was killed by Te-
legonus, his son by Circe, who did not know him. This
hero is the subject of the Odyssey.
UMBE LLA, an Umbel, a species of receptacle ; or
rather a mode of flowering, in which a number of slen¬
der footstalks proceed from the same centre, and rise to
an equal height, so as to form an even and generally
round surface at top. See Botany.
UMBELLATE, the name of a class in Ray’s and
Vol. XX. Part II.
69 ] UNO
i ournefort’s methods, consisting of plants whose flowers Umbellate
grow in umbels, with five petals that are often unequal, H "
and two naked seeds that are joined at top and separat- TndeceM-
ed below. vir.
The same plants constitute the 45th order of Lin- '
naeus’s Fragments of a Natuxal Method. See Botany.
UMBELLIFEROUS PLANTS, are such as have
their tops branched and spread out like an umbrella.
UMBER, or Umbre, a fossil brown or blackish sub¬
stance, used in painting. See Mineralogy Index.
UMBILICAL, among anatomists, something relat¬
ing to the umbilicus or navel.
UMBRELLA, a moveable canopy, made of silk or
other cloth spread out upon ribs of whale-bone, and sup¬
ported by a stall, to protect a person from rain, or the
scorching beams of the sun.
UMPIRE, a third person chosen to decide a contro¬
versy left to arbitration.
UNCI A, in general, a Latin term, denoting the
twelfth part of any thing; particularly the twelfth part
of a pound, called in English an ounce ; or the twelfth
part of a foot, called an inch.
UNCTION, the act of anointing or rubbing with oil
or other fatty matter.
Unction, in matters of religion, is used for the cha¬
racter conferred on sacred things by anointing them with
oil. Unctions are very frequent among the Hebrews.
J hey anointed both their kings and high-priests at the
ceremony of their inauguration. They also anointed
the sacred vessels of the tabernacle and temple, to sanc¬
tify and consecrate them to the service of God. The
unction of kings is suppose d to be a ceremony introduced
very late among the Christian princes. It is said that
none of the emperors were ever anointed before Justinian
or Justin. The emperors of Germany took the prac¬
tice from those of the eastern empire : King Pepin of
Trance was the first who received the unction. In the
ancient Christian church, unction always accompanied
the ceremonies of baptism and confirmation. Extreme
unction, or the anointing persons in the article of death,
was also practised by the ancient Christians, in compli¬
ance with the precept of St James, chap. v. 14th and
15th verses; and this extreme unction the Romish
church has advanced to the dignity of a sacrament. It
is administered to none but such as are affected with
some mortal disease, or in a decrepit age. It is refused
to impenitent persons, as also to criminals. The parts
to be anointed are the eyes, the ears, the nostrils, the
mouth, the hands, the feet, and the reins. The laity
are anointed in the palms of the hands, but priests on
the back of it; because the palms of their hands have
been already consecrated by ordination.
I he oil with which the sick person is anointed repre¬
sents the grace of God, which is poured down into the
soul, and the prayer used at the time of anointing ex¬
presses the remission of sins thereby granted to the sick
person ; for the prayer is this : “ By this holy unction,
and his own most pious mercy, may the Almighty
God forgive thee whatever sins thou hast committed
by the sight” when the eyes are anointed ; by the hear-*Th« SrVi-
ing, when the ears are anointed ; and so of the other cm; chris-
senses*. tianin^
UNDECAGON, is a regular polygon of II side,.
UNDECEMVIR, a magistrate among the ancient Written ‘
Athenians, who had 10 other colleagues or associates'0''^
4 ^ joined
UNI [ 57° 1 UNI
Umleccm- joined with him in the same commission. The functions
>ii- of the undecemviri at Athens were much the same with
I! those of the late prcvots demarechuusse in France. They
t rnlolu took care of the apprehending of criminals j secured
v~* ' them in the hands of justice 5 and when they were con¬
demned, took them again into custody, that the sen¬
tence might be executed on them. They were chosen
by the tribes, each tribe naming its own j and as the
number of the tribes after Callisthenes was but 10,
which made 10 members, a scribe or notary was added,
which made the number it.
UNDERSTANDING. See Metaphysics and
Logic.
UNDERWALDEN, a canton of Switzerland, and
the sixth in rank. It is bounded on the north by the can¬
ton ofLucern and by the lake ot the Four Cantons, on
the east by the high mountains which separate it from the
canton of Bern, and on the west by the canton of Bern.
The religion of this canton is the Roman Catholic.
UNDULxETION, in Physics, a kind of tremulous
motion or vibration observable in a liquid, by which it
alternately rises and hills like the waves of the sea.
UNGUENT, or Ointment, in Medicine and A»r-
gery,z tropical remedy or composition, chiefly used in the
dressing ot wounds or blisters. See MateriaMedica.
UNICORN, an animal famous among the ancients,
and thought to be the same with the rhinoceros.
Sparmann informs us, that the figure of the unicorn
described by the ancients has been found delineated by
the Snese Hottentots on the plain surface of a rock in
Caffraria 5 and therefore conjectures, that such an ani¬
mal either does exist at present in the internal parts of
Africa, or at least once did so. Father Lobo affirms
that he has seen it. Mr Barrow, in his Travels in
Southern Africa, affords additional reason to believe in
the existence of this curious animal.
Uxiconyr-Fish. See Monodon, Cetoeogy Index.
UNIFORM, d enotes a thing to be similar, or con¬
sistent either with another thing, or with itself, in re¬
spect of figure, structure, proportion, or the like ; in
which sense it stands opposed to difform.
UNIFORMITY, regularity, a similitude or resem¬
blance between the parts of a whole. Such is that we
meet with in figures of many sides, and angles respective¬
ly equal, and answerable to each other. A late inge¬
nious author makes beauty to consist in uniformity, join¬
ed or combined with variety. Where the uniformity is
equal in two objects, the beauty, he contends, is as the
variety •, at\d where the variety is equal, the beauty is
as the uniformity.
Uniformity, is particularly used for one and the
same form of public prayers, and administration of sacra¬
ments, and other rites, &c. of the church of England,
prescribed by the famous stat. 1. Eliz. and 13 and 14
Car. II. cap. 4. called the Act of Uniformity. See Li¬
turgy.
UNION, a junction, coalition, or assemblage of two
or more different things in one.
Union, or The Union, by way of eminence, is more
particularly used to express the act by which the two
separate kingdoms of England and Scotland were incor¬
porated into one, under the title of The kingdom of
Great Britain. This union, in vain attempted by King
James I. was at length effected in the year I707> ^ ^Ll1"
me, when 25 articles were agreed to by the parliament
2
of both nations j the purport of the most considerable pH;on
being as follows : VT-
1. That on the first of May 1707, and for ever after
the kingdoms of England and Scotland shall be united
into one kingdom, by the name of Great Britain.
2. The succession to the monarchy of Great Britain
shall be the same as wras before settled with regard to
that of England.
3. The united kingdom shall be represented by one
parliament.
4. There shall be a communication of all rights and
privileges between the subjects of both kingdoms, except
where it is otherwise agreed.
9. When England raises 2,000,000k by a land tax,
Scotland shall raise 48,000!.
16, 17. The standards of the coin, of weights, and of
measures, shall be reduced to those of England through¬
out the united kingdoms.
18. The laws relating to trade, customs, and the ex¬
cise, shall be the same in Scotland as in England. But
all the other laws of Scotland shall remain in force ; but
alterable by the parliament of Great Britain. Yet with
this caution, that laws relating to public policy are al¬
terable at the discretion of the parliament j laws relating
to private right are not to be altered but for the evident
utility of the people of Scotland.
22. Sixteen peers are to be chosen to represent the
peerage of Scotland in parliament, and 45 members to
sit in the house of commons.
23. The 16 peers of Scotland shall have all privileges
of parliament -, and all peers of Scotland shall be peers
of Great Britain, and rank next after those of the same
degree at the time of the union, and shall have all pri¬
vileges of peers, except sitting in the house of lords, and
voting on the trial of a peer.
These are the principal of the 25 articles of union,
which are ratified and confirmed by statute 5 Ann. c. 8.
in which statute there are also two acts ot parliament
recited ; the one of Scotland, whereby the church of
Scotland, and also the four universities of that kingdom,
are established for ever, and all succeeding sovereigns
are to take an oath inviolably to maintain the same j
the other of England, 5 Anme, c. 6. whereby the acts
of uniformity of 13 Eliz. and 13 Car. II. (except as the
same had been altered by parliament at that time), and
all other acts then in force for the preservation of the
church of England, are declared perpetual 5 and it is
stipulated, that every subsequent king and queen shall
take an oath inviolably to maintain the same within
England, Ireland, Wales, and the town of Berwick-
upon-Tweed. And it is enacted, that these two acts
“ shall for ever be observed as fundamental and essen¬
tial conditions for the union.”
Upon these articles and act of union, it is to be ob¬
served, 1. That the two kingdoms are so inseparably
united, that nothing can ever disunite them \ except the
mutual consent of both, or the successful resistance of
either, upon apprehending an infringement ot those
points which, when they were separate and independen
nations, it was mutually stipulated should be “ tL’njla'
mental and essential conditions of, the union.” 2. 1 ia
whatever else may be deemed “ fundamental and essen¬
tial conditions,” the preservation of the two churches,
of England and Scotland, in the same state that they
were in at the time of the union,, and the maintenance
UNI t 57i ] UNI
nn.
of the acts of uniformity which established the liturgy,
are expressly declared so to be. 3. That therefore any
alteration in the constitution of either of tlrese churches,
or in the liturgy of the church of England (unless with
the consent of the respective churches, collectively or
representatively given), would be an infringement of
these “ fundamental and essential conditions,” and
greatly endanger the union. 4. That the municipal
laws of Scotland are ordained to he still observed in that
part of the island, unless altered by parliament ; and as
the parliament has not yet thought proper, except in a
few instances, to alter them, they still, with regard to
the particulars unaltered, continue in full force.
For an account of the union of Ireland with Great
Britain, thus forming the united kingdom of Great Bri¬
tain and Ireland, see Ireland, N° 120.
UNISON, in Music. See Interval.
UNIT, or Unity, in Arithmetic, the number one 5
or one single individual part ol discrete quantity.
UNITARIANS, in ecclesiastical history, a name
given to those who confine the glory and attribute of
divinity to the One only great and supreme God, and
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
UNITED Brethren, or Unitas Fratrum, a socie¬
ty of Christians, whose chief residence is at Plerrnhut in
Saxony. They are commonly called Moravians from
their original country, and Herrnhuters, from their
chief place of residence. Some account of this society
has already been given under Herrnhut; but as that
account may, by some, not be deemed sufficiently full,
we shall here add a summary of their institutes, derived
from a communication by one of their own clergy.
Though the church of the United Brethren is epis¬
copal, their bishops possess no elevation of rank or pre¬
eminent authority, their church being governed by sy¬
nods or consistories from all the congregations, and by
subordinate bodies, called conferences. The synods are
generally held once in seven years. In the first sitting
a president is chosen j and the elders appointed by the
former synod to superintend the unity, lay down their
office, though they still form a part of the assembly, as
well as the bishops, the lay elders, and those ministers
who have the inspection of several congregations in one
province.
Questions of importance, or of which the consequen¬
ces cannot be foreseen, are decided by lot, though this
is never used till after mature deliberation and fervent
prayer. In the synods, the state of the unity, and the
concerns of the congregations and missions, are taken
into consideration.
Towards the conclusion of every synod, a kind of ex¬
ecutive board is appointed, called the elders conference
of the unity, consisting of 13 elders,, and divided into
four committees or departments, one for superintending
missions into heathen countries j a second for watching
over the conduct of congregations ; a third for mana¬
ging the economical concerns of the unity, and a fourth
lor maintaining the discipline of the society. These
conferences, however, are amenable to a higher com¬
mittee, called the elders conference, the powers of
which are very extensive. It appoints and removes
every servant in the unity, authorises the bishops to or¬
dain presbyters or deacons, and to consecrate other bi¬
shops, and in short, possesses the supreme executive
power over the whole society.
A bishop of the United Brethren can discharge no tJ.-uted
office but by the appointment of the synod, or of tiie Ureiiireu,
elders conference. Indeed their deacons can perform
every office of the bishops, except ordination, and ap- 1 lcn|'lcc'jl-i
pear to confirm young persons when they first become
candidates for the communion. Even female deacons
are employed for the purpose of privately admonishing
their own sex, and visiting them in cases of sickness.
There are also lay elders, whose business it is to watch
over the constitution and discipline of the unity j to en¬
force the observance of the laws of the country in which
missions are established, and to guard the privileges
conferred on the brethren by the government under
which they live.
On Sunday, besides the public prayers, one or two
sermons are preached in every church, and after the
morning service, an exhortation is given to tiie chil¬
dren. Previous to the holy communion, which is ad¬
ministered on some Sunday once a month, and on
Maunday Thursday, each person, before he commu¬
nicates, must converse on the state of his soul with
one of the elders. Love feasts are frequent, and
on Maunday Thursday the society have a solemn foot¬
washing.
Our limits will not permit us to give a systematic
view of the doctrinal tenets of the Brethren. Though
they acknowledge no other standard of truth than the
sacred scriptures, they adhere to the Augsburg confes¬
sion, and speak respectfully of the 39 articles of the
church of England. They profess to believe that the
kingdom of Christ is not confined to any particular
party, community, or church j and they consider them¬
selves as spiritually joined in the bond of Christian love
to all who are taught of God, and belong to the uni¬
versal church of Christ, however much they may differ
in forms, which they deem non-essentials. For a fuller
account of this society, see Crantz’s Ancient and Mo¬
dern History of the Protestant Church of the United
Brethren, London 1780, and An Exposition of Chris¬
tian Doctrine, as taught in the Protestant Church of
the United Brethren, London 1784' T
United Provinces, otherwise called the Republic o/~Situation
Holland, or the Batavian republic, a maritime country and extent,
of Europe, occupying that part of the Netherlands which
lies between Austrian Flanders and Brabant, now form¬
ing a part of the kingdom of the Netherlands, which
was erected in 1814. It is bounded on the north and
west by the German ocean or North sea, and on tho
east by Westphalia. These provinces are situated be¬
tween the parallels of 510 1 o', and 530 35' N. Lat. and
between 30 1 o', and 70 5' E. Long. In British miles
the length of this country from north to south, is esti¬
mated at 165, its breadth from west to east about 100,
and its area at 10,000 square miles. f
Before the French revolution, this part of the Low Divuiou.
Countries was divided into seven provinces, viz. Guei-
DERLAND or CELDERS, HOLLAND, ZEALAND, U-
trecht, Friesland, Overyssel and Groningen,
besides the dependencies of Dutch Brabant and Dutcn,
Flanders. During the time the country was incor¬
porated with France, it was divided into eight depart¬
ments. The following table gives a general view of
the subdivisions, area in geographical miks, population
and chief towns of these provinces.
4 C 2
Provinces*
U N I
[ 5?2 ]
UNI
Unit
Provii
Pn
Subdivisions.
Area.
Population
in 1796.
Chief Towns.
I. Guelderland.
II. Holland.
HI. Zealand.
IV. Utrecht-
V. Friesland.
VI. OVERYSSEL.
VII. Groningen.
Generality lands
Nimegnen
Zutphen
Arnheim
}
1840
North Holland
South Holland
(A) |
West Zealand
East Zealand
Emeland
Abhoude
Montfort
Wyk
Oostergo
Westergo
Zevenwolde
Northern islands
Salland
Twenthe
Woollenhoven
Drenthe
Groningen
Ommeland
Drent
Dutch Brabant
1
2000
217,828
828,542
NlMEGUEN, Zutphen, Arnheim.
r AMSTERDAM, Rotterdam,
•< Hague, Leyden, Haarlem,
(, Helvoetsluys and Alkmaer.
uncertain
>2,212
Middleburg, Flushing.
92,904
Utrecht, Amersfort.
IISS
161,513
r Leewarden, Dockum, Frane
L ker, Harlingen, Bolsvrert.
1792
135,060
f Deventer, Zvvol, Campen, Coe
verden.
}
640
2000
247,849
Groningen, Winchoten.
y Bois-le-duc, Breda, Bergen-op
(_ Zoom.
1,880,563
A great part of these provinces is composed of islands
formed by the mouths of the large rivers which here
disembogue their waters into the German ocean. The
principal islands are Walcheren, Joostland, South and
North Beveland, and Wolfersdyk, composing West Zea¬
land ; Schoiven, Duiveland, Fertholen, and St Phillips-
landr forming East Zealand ; Goeree in South Holland,
the Texel, Vlie land, and Ameland, to the west and north
of Friesland.
3 The Dutch had formerly considerable colonial terri-
Colonies. jory . now re()uced to Java, Sumatra, and
the Molucca islands, with some other settlements in
the East Indies j some trilling factories on the Guinea
coast} St Eustatius and part of Surinam in South Ame¬
rica.
4 The face of the country is, in general, extremely uni-
Snrface, form, consisting of large tracts of marshy pastures, or
*oil, &c. sandy heaths, interspersed with several large rivers, and
numerous canals. There are a few hills in the eastern
districts, but the coasts are so low, that, but for the
di/kes or sea walls, they would be inundated by the sea.
The soil consists almost entirely of alluvial earth and ve¬
getable mould, and is very productive. The climate is
moist, inconstant, and peculiarly insalubrious to stran¬
gers •, intermittent fevers and similar diseases, the at¬
tendants on a marshy and watery soil, being extremely
frequent. The winters are colder and the summers hot¬
ter than in Britain.
5 The principal rivers of the United Provinces, are the
Rivers and
lakes.
Rhine, the Maese or Meuse, and the Escaut or Scheldt,
which separates them from French Flanders. There are
few lakes of any note, except the sea of Haerlem, near
the Zuyder Zee. 6
There is little interesting in the natural history ofpr0(]u,
Holland ’7 the animals and plants resembling those of the and a;
adjacent countries of France and Germany and its mi-««|tur
neral products being extremely few. Its chiel artificial
products are flax, tobacco, madder and flower roots,
butter and cheese. The state of agriculture is but little
advanced 5 as almost the whole country is under grass,
and the corn produced is not nearly sufficient for home
consumption. J
The changes which the coasts of the Dutch provinces progr i
have undergone, in consequence ot the shilling of thegeo&r 1
beds of rivers, the encroachments or retiring of the sea,
and tempests from the German ocean, render their pro¬
gressive geography an interesting object. We find that
in the latter periods of the Roman empire, the river
Rhine divided itself into two great branches at Burgina-
sium, the modern Schenk, about five miles north-west of
Colonia Trajana, near the present Cleves. The southern
branch joined the Meuse at the town of Mosa or Muvi,
while the northern branch passed by Durstadt, Utrecht,
and Leyden, to the ocean. The northern branch of
the Rhine was joined to the Yssel bythe canal of Drusus
(see Batavorum Insula'), while this latter river flowed
into a considerable lake called Flevo, now a southern
portion of the Zuyder Zee. W hen the canal of Drusus
was
(a) See each of these articles in the general alphabet.
Med
Pu ices.
)ro-
™c*it
tie es-
fkiUI.
k 6.
tie
Dlicq ;nt
««-td
Hv.
taniu
»eas ;
«m.
At.
UNI [
was neglected, tlie waters of the Rhine poured into the
Yssel with such violence as to increase tlie lake ofFle-
vo to a great expanse of waters, so that instead of a
river which once ran from that lake to the sea for nearly
50 Roman miles, there was opened the wide gulf which
now forms the entrance. In the mean time, the north¬
ern branch of the Rhine became much diminished, and
the canal of Drusus gradually disappeared. The estua¬
ries of the Meuse and the Scheldt being open to great
inroads from the sea, have also materially changed their
figure and position ; and the latter in particular, which
once formed merely a triangular island, divided into four
or five smaller branches, which are now extensive creeks,
dividing the islands of Zealand and South Holland. In
the beginning of the 15th century, the estuary of the
Meuse suddenly formed a vast lake to the south-east of
Dort, overwhelming 72 villages, and 100,000 inhabi¬
tants. By a subsequent change, the Rhine was again
subdivided, the northern branch falling into the Leek,
while the southern formed the modern Waal.
The early history of these provinces, from their sub¬
jection by the Romans, till they fell under the dominion
of the Spanish monarchy, has been already given under
the article NETHERLANDS, so that we have here to re¬
late only those transactions which have taken place since
the accession of Philip II. to the crown of Spain (b).
At the death of Charles V. the Dutch provinces were
in a very flourishing condition. In this small tract were
then reckoned not fewer than 350 large walled cities,
and 6300 considerable towns or large villages, all be¬
come rich by their application to arts and commerce.
The same application had diffused a spirit of indepen¬
dence among the inhabitants, who were jealously alive
to every invasion of their rights and privileges. The re¬
formed religion had made considerable progress among
all ranks, and the doctrines of Calvin had been embra¬
ced by a great majority of the people. Hence, nothing
could be more impolitic than the measures taken by
Philip to advance the cause of popery, and to enforce
obedience to the tyrannical acts of his deputies. The
establishment of a court of inquisition, the increase of
the number of bishoprics, the appointment of Cardinal
Grandvele to be chief counsellor to the duchess of Parma,
then regent of the Netherlands, and the enormous taxes
levied to support the Spanish forces, w'ere no trifling
grievances, and created such a spirit of disaffection, that
when the duchess assumed the reins of government, in
the year 1560, the murmurs of the people could no
longer be suppressed.
A deputation of the malcontents, at the head of whom
were William prince of Orange, and his brother Louis of
Nassau, with the counts of Egmont and Horn, waited on
the duchess at Brussels, and insisted either on the dismis¬
sal of Cardinal Grandvele, or the calling of an assembly
573
] UNI
of the states-general. The duchess thought proper to United
comply with the former ot these requests, but as that Provinces,
minister was succeeded by two of his creatures, who trod v—'
exactly in his footsteps, and in particular increased the
religious persecutions, and the power of the inquisition,
the popular ferment became greater than ever. The pa¬
triots sent Count Egmont to Madrid, to lay their griev¬
ances before the king ; but that monarch with his accus¬
tomed insincerity, returned a favourable answer to their
remonstrances, without changing any of the obnoxious
measures of the government at Brussels. In the mean
time the diabolical combination that had been formed
between Charles IX. of France and Isabella of Spain,
for the massacre of the protestants, which soon after took
place, had been whispered in the Low Countries, and in
consequence a general association was formed for the
purpose of abolishing the court of inquisition. This as¬
sociation, headed by Henry de Brodenrode, a descen¬
dant of the earls of Holland, waited on the regent in
such a formidable body, that she was obliged to promise
the exertion of her utmost influence towards obtaining
their demands. It is said, however, that she could ob¬
tain no better terms from the bigotted Philip than that
heretics should in future be hanged instead of burnt. ro
As the people found that their dutiful remonstrances The people
could obtain no redress, they determined to take into!nealv out
their own hands the necessary reformation. In seve- rebellion!
ral towns in Flanders, the people assembled, destroyed
churches, pulled down images, and committed other
acts of violence. The principal inhabitants, however,
while they were preparing to resist the oppressive acts
of the government, behaved with more temperance and
moderation ; a new oath of allegiance had been exacted,
and this the counts of Egmont and Horn, probably with
a view to temporise, were induced to take, but the
prince of Orange steadily refused, and retired into Ger¬
many, whither he was followed by great numbers of all
ranks and conditions, so that within a few days ioo,coo
families had left the Low Countries. This emigration
so much alarmed the duchess of Parma, that she resign¬
ed the regency. TI
The duchess was succeeded by the duke of Alva, Duke of
who had been sent into the Netherlands with an army Alva ap-
of 10,000 veteran troops, to intimidate the people, and l,ointet*
enforce obedience to the civil power. We have already tjie
drawn the character of this bloody man (see Alva), therlands.
and have shewn how well he v'as calculated to execute
the orders of a tyrannical and bigotted master. Fie no
sooner entered on his government than the whole coun¬
try was filled with terror; Counts Egmont and Horn
were ignominiously executed, and the estates of the
prince of Orange were confiscated. 12
This prince and his brother had been labouring to sup-Tlie prince
port the cause of their injured countrymen among the0* 0lil"*e
taKes Inc
German commaml
 of the pa¬
triots.
(B) There is no part of the history of nations more interesting in itself, or more replete with useful lessons to
rulers and to subjects, than that which records the struggles of a brave people to preserve or regain their liberties
and independence. Hence the glorious contest which the Dutch provinces maintained against the power of
Spain, and by which they finally triumphed over tyranny and oppression, might well deserve a much fuller detail
than our confined limits will enable us to afford. * In the compendious view which we have here given of these
transactions, we have endeavoured to catch the more prominent features, and thus in some measure preserve the
spirit of the picture. We may refer our readers for a minute account of these events to The Modern Universal
History, vol. xxxi. and Watson’s History of the Reigns of Philip II- and Philip III.
United
Province?.
13
Commence
mentof ho
stilities.
An. i $(><).
H
Cruelty of
tlie duke o
Alva,
TS
A fieet fit¬
ted out by
the patri¬
ot?.
An. 1571,
16
Successes
of the
Orange
party.
U N I f 57
German princes, and had raised a detachment of Ger¬
mans, by which thev were enabled to make head against
' the regent. The prince of Orange, who had been al¬
ways a favourite with the people, was now rendered
more popular in consequence of his sufferings in their
cause, and was invited to take the command of the
armed bodies which were preparing to resist the duke
of Alva.
- The prince first penetrated into Brabant, and attempt-
•ed to surprise liureniond, but was defeated by a detach¬
ment of the Spanish army ; but his brother soon after
overpowered a body of Spaniards, and killed 6oo. In
a subsequent engagement, however, with the main body
of Alva’s army, Prince Louis was entirely defeated, and
all his infantry cut in pieces. 1 he prince of Orange
-finding that lie could not at present keep the field a-
gainst so formidable an enemy, and that his soldiers de¬
serted in consequence of his ill success and want of pay,
was, in 1569, obliged to disband his army, and return
to Germany.
The duke of Alva did not fail to make the most of
Hiis success. All the prisoners taken in the last campaign
were put to death, and the 100th part of every man’s
estate, with a tenth of all merchandise, were exacted as an
annual payment from the inhabitants, under the penalty
of military execution. The states offered to pay an an¬
nual subsidy of 2,000,000 florins, in place of these taxes j
but these offers were rejected with disdain.
The people thus driven to despair, were resolved to
strain every nerve to resist these oppressive acts. The
tradesmen in the towns shut their shops, and the peasants
refused to bring provisions to the markets. In the mean
time a squadron of ships, which is known by the name of
gueux, had been fitted out by the prince of Orange, and
the command given to Lumey. The trifling success of
this squadron, which had captured Briel, in the island
of Voorn, and repulsed a force sent against it by the
duke of Alva, induced the Zealanders to collect all
their ships, and also oppose the enemy at sea. A con¬
siderable advantage was gained by this fleet, against a
Spanish squadron commanded by the duke of Medina
Celi. The duke was entirely defeated, many of his
ships were taken, and the Zealanders carried oft'a booty
of nearly 1,000,000 of livrfes.
To increase his army, the governor had draughted
men from the garrisons of most of the fortified towns,
and thus exposed these to the attacks of the patriots.
Accordingly, Lewis of Nassau surprised Mons, the
count de Bergues gained possession of several towns in
Overyssel, Guelderland, and Friesland ; while another
party of the malcontents made themselves masters of
North Holland. The duke of Alva now began to feel
that he had gone too far, and attempted, when too late,
to conciliate the good opinion of the people. He pub¬
lished an edict consenting to remit the most oppressive
taxes, if the state could suggest any other method of
raising the necessary supplies, and he convoked the
states-general of the Provinces to assemble at the Hague.
His promises and his threats were, however, now disre¬
garded j and the states who, in contempt of his autho¬
rity had assembled at Dordrecht, openly espoused the
cause of their country, declared the prince of Orange
commander of the national forces, and raised a consider¬
able sum for the payment of his troops.
The prince’s forces now amounted to 15,000 foot
U N I
^ 1
and 7000 horse, with which he advanced into Brabant, p(.
and took liuremond by assault. He then possessed him- Proviu,
self of Mechlin, Oudenarde,and Dendermonde, and imv-'—r.
ing levied contributions on those inhabitants who adher¬
ed to the government, he marched towards,Mons then
besieged by the duke of Alva, with an intention to raise
the siege, by bringing the duke to a general action.
This, however, Alva declined, and Alons was obliged
to capitulate.
In the midst of these succeses, a damp was thrown Reverse;
over the ardour of the patriots, by the news of the hor¬
rid massacre of St Bartholomew *, and in the same de-* See
gree the spirit of the Spaniards revived. The prince ofLvmce,
Orange found himself obliged to retire to the province of lN|° I42'
Holland, leaving the cities which he had taken at the
mercy of the army. Mechlin opened its gates, and vras
pillaged without mercy, while the other towns were
evacuated by the garrison, and loaded with heavy im¬
positions. In a short time nothing remained to the pa¬
triots, hut the provinces of Holland and Zealand ; but
these stood firm in the cause of liberty, and soon became
the seat of a sanguinary warfare. Frederick de Toledo
was detached by the duke of Alva to reduce the insur¬
gents in these quarters. He quickly reduced Waerdtn,
where his soldiers committed the most horrid acts of
barbarity. The capture of this place was followed by
that of Haerlem after an obstinate resistance.
iS
To balance this ill success by land, however, the Zea- yava| „
landers obtained many important advantages by sea. tones of
They attacked the harbour of Antwerp, and carried oil'd16 Zea
several ships j and when the governor equipped a squa-*am*et‘'’
dron to oppose them, it was thrice encountered by Wertz,
the Zealand admiral, and totally defeated. In the mean ,9
time the Spanish forces, under Frederick of Toledo, con-Heroici
sisting of 16,000 veterans, sat dorvn before Alkmaer, the fence of
capital of Holland, a town without regular fortifications, A^mac
and defended only by 300 burghers and 800 soldiers, in
great want of provisions, and without any prospect ot
speedy relief; yet this place, though attacked with great
vigour, by a battery of 20 pieces of heavy cannon, which
effected a breach in one of the walls, held out against
every attempt, and the Spanish soldiers who attempted
to storm the place by the breach, tvere repulsed with
great slaughter, and Frederick was at length compelled
to raise the siege.
Notwithstanding these partial successes, the aflairs of
the patriots were still in a precarious situation. Bon
Louis de Requesnes, who had succeeded the duke of Al¬
va in the government, was directed to carry on the war
with the utmost vigour. The prince of Orange had, al¬
ter a long siege, made himself master ot Middleburgh,
but bad sustained a great loss by the defeat and death ol
his brother Louis. The patriotic cause derived some ad¬
vantage, however, from a mutiny which took place in
the Spanish army, but this advantage was of a transient
nature.
In the commencement of the year I575> an attempt The St
at negociation took place between the contending Par”
a. * _ I ..4. a 1.  „ .... 1 ,1 ^ 4- ^ 4- r* r*r\ m rtl Of 12.*
ties, but they could come to no terms of accommoda-^ j.|jj
tion, and the war Was continued with great virulence.^ol
Though much distressed in his finances, Philip made ex-Engb
traordinary efforts to crush the patriots, and succeeds An.
so far, that they almost despaired of ultimate success.
In this dilemma they sent a deputation to Queen Eliza¬
beth of England, offering to become her subjects, if*'1®
would
UNI
[ 575 ]
U ,N I
[jUed
rrices.
ko
ngi
acitiem
sfljy of
on
u. j6.
ike r
eneynl
fitk
t,. 53
t-trec]'
lS7
would afford tliem her protection but from political
reasons she declined the offer. The distresses which
Philip now experienced, and the death of his deputy
Requesnes, did more for the cause of the patriots than
all their own exertions.
Profiting by those events, in the latter end of this
year they attacked and carried the citadel of Ghent j
while the inhabitants of Antwerp, in revenge for hav¬
ing been pillaged by the Spanish garrison that held the
citadel, united in the common cause, by what was call¬
ed the pacification of Ghent.
A second application to Queen Elizabeth met with
more success, and she advanced them the sum of 20,oool.
sterling, on condition that they would not invite the
French into their territories, that they would listen to
any reasonable terms of accommodation, and repay the
loan in the course of the ensuing year. Agreeably to
these conditions, a cessation of hostilities was granted to
the states by Don John of Austria, the present gover¬
nor, and a treaty was entered into with him for disband¬
ing the foreign troops. The weak state of the govern¬
ment required some concessions, and Don John acceded
to the pacification of Ghent, by which most of the de¬
mands of the patriots were granted. The provinces of
Plolland and Zealand, however, conceiving that by this
treaty the other provinces had conceded too much, refu¬
sed their concurrence, and hostilities soon recommenced.
• The king of Spain dissatisfied with the concessions of
Don John, recalled that governor, and appointed the
archduke Matthias in his room, while he made addi¬
tional preparations for a vigorous prosecution of the war.
The states-general in their turn made another applica¬
tion to Queen Elizabeth, and obtained from her, not
only a promise of ioo,oool. sterling, but of a body of
forces consisting of 5000 foot, and 1000 horse ; in re¬
turn for which, the states agreed to put into her posses¬
sion certain fortified towns, and to transport and pay the
forces. These supplies, however, Elizabeth aftenvards
declined sending, though she professed all possible good
will towards the provinces and their cause. A change
of measures which about this time took place in the
states of Guelderland and Groningen, in favour of the
protestant interest, contributed not a little to aid the
general cause of the patriots, though several of the pro¬
vinces were still torn by intestine dissensions and jarring
interests. At last the prince of Orange, perceiving that
little confidence was to be placed in the unanimity of
provinces rent by faction, different in religion, and di¬
vided by ambition, political maxims, and private interest,
formed tbe scheme of more closely uniting the provinces
of which he was governor, and cementing them with
those more contiguous, in which the protestant interest
prevailed. Such an alliance was subject to fewer diflir
cultiesthan attended the more general one of uniting all
the provinces ; it was in fact the only measure that
could be proposed with safety, and it was prosecuted
with that alacrity and address for which William was
deservedly celebrated.
On tbe 23d of January 1579, deputies from the pro¬
vinces of Holland, Zealand, Utrecht, Friesland, Gro¬
ningen, Overyssel, and Guelderland, met at Utrecht,
and signed the alliance ever since known by the name
of the Union of Utrecht, the basis of that commonwealth
So renowned by the appellation of the United Provinces.
■ihis treaty of alliance was founded on the infraction of
the pacification of Ghent solemnly acceded to by Philip, United
and the late invasion of certain towns in Guelderland. Provinces.
It was not hereby intended to divide the seven provin- ’ *
ces from the other ten, or to renounce the pacification
of Ghent ; its object was to preserve the liberty stipu¬
lated in that pacification, by more vigorous operations,
and united councils. The chief articles of this union
were the following.
That the seven provinces shall unite themselves in
interest as one province, never to be separated or divided
by testament, donation, exchange, sale, or agreement j
reserving to each particular province and city all its pri¬
vileges, rights, customs, and statutes. In all disputes
arising between either of the provinces, the rest shall
interpose only as mediators. They shall assist each other
with life and fortune against every foreign attempt upon
any particular province, whether to establish sovereignty,
the Catholic x-eligion, arbitrary measures, or whatever
else may appear inconsistent with the liberties of the
province, and the intention of the alliance. All fron¬
tier towns belonging to the United Provinces shall, if
old, be fortified at the expence of the provinces 5 if
new, at the joint expence of the union. That the pub¬
lic imposts and duties shall be farmed for three months
to the highest bidder, and employed with the king’s
taxes in the public service. No province, city, or mem¬
ber of the union, shall contract an alliance with any fo¬
reign prince or power, without the concurrence of all
the other members. That foreign powers shall be ad¬
mitted into the alliance, only by consent of all the con¬
tracting parties. As to religion, the provinces of Hol¬
land and Zealand shall act in that particular as they
think advisable : the rest shall adhere to the purport of
the edict published by the archduke Matthias, which
prescribed, that no man should be oppressed on account
of conscience. All the inhabitants from the age of 18
to 60, shall be trained and disciplined to war. That
peace and war shall be declared by the unanimous voice
of all the provinces ; other matters that concern the in¬
ternal policy shall be regulated by a majority. That
the states shall be held in the usual constitutional manner,
and coinage shall be deferred to future determination.
Finally, the parties agree, that the interpretation of
these articles shall remain in tbe states-general ; but in
case of their failing to decide, in the stadthoider.
Soon after the union of Utrecht, King Philip did all Heroic be-
in his power to detach the prince of Orange from the haviour of
new confederation. He offered to restore him to all his
estates, to indemnify him for all his losses, and give him <l i,e'
the first place in his esteem and favour ; but William
was too wise to rely on the promises ol a -prince who
had already shewn himself perfidious, and too generous
to abandon a cause in which he had embarked from no
interested motives. He determined to share the fate of
the United Provinces, and not to disappoint the hopes
which they had conceived of his conduct.
In the mean time the duke of Parma was doing hisSuceesUsof
utmost to disconcert the projects of the prince of the dake of
Orange, and to reduce the provinces to their obedience ^arma a*
to Spain.. He besieged and took the town of Marsien 3
invested Maestricht, and carried it after a siege of four rt.oyintcg
months, and reduced the republican general La None
to such straits, that he was glad to retreat under the
cannon of Antwerp. At length the Provinces, by the
advice of the prince of Orange, resolved to solicit the
assistance
UNI [5
-United assistance anil protection of the duke of Anjou, to whom
Provinces, they had formerly applied in vain, and to oiler him the
' *—~J sovereignty of their territories. Accordingly, in 1580,
they solemnly renounced their allegiance to Philip,
and acknowledged as their sovereign, Francis Hercules
de Vallois, duke of Alen^on and Anjou •, and in the
following year they published an edict, entitled the ab¬
dication of Philip king of Spain, for ever excluding
that monarch from any right or authority over the Ne-
26 therlands.
Fnaugura- In the beginning of the year 1582, the duke of An-
tion of the jolj, who had already taken an active part in favour of
duke of jjjg new subjects, and had opposed the duke, of Parma
U N I
duke of
dukcTof5 with some success, arrived in Holland from England j
Brabant, and in the month of February he was solemnly installed
An. 1582. at Antwerp as duke of Brabant. It appears, however,
that the prince of Orange, though he had been the
great promoter of this measure, and even placed the du¬
cal coronet on the head of the new sovereign, still pos¬
sessed the greatest influence and authority in the United
Provinces.
When Philip of Soain found that he could not bribe
the prince o'- Oran to his interest, he resolved to use
s prince every method to rid himself of so dangerous an oppo-
27
Assassi¬
nation of
the prince
•f
Au. 15 84.
28
A truce for
twelve
nent. Soon after the signing of the union of Utrecht,
Philip had proscribed the prince, and oflered a reward
of 25,000 crowns to any person that should bring him
dead or alive to Madrid. The greatness of the reward,
and a bigotted regard for the interests of the Catholic
religion, prompted several to attempt murdering the
prince of Orange. He narrowly escaped assassination
in 1582; but, two years after he met his unmerited
fate at Delft, by the hands of one Guion, or, as he is
commonly called, Balthazar Gerrard. About the same
time the duke of Anjou died in France ; and the pro¬
vinces of Holland and Zealand appointed Maurice, son
of the late prince of Orange, to be their stadtholder and
captain general. For an account ot the actions of this
great man, see the article Maurice of Nassau.
Philip II. died in 1598, and Philip III. prosecuted
the war with the United Provinces with as much ran-
years con- cour as his predecessors, but with much worse success.
S^iUrf WitllThe great defeat sustained by the archduke Albert in
An! 1609. 1600, and many subsequent disasters, induced the court
of Madrid at length to listen to terms of accommoda¬
tion. In 1607 a suspension of hostilities took place,
and the year following a treaty on terms favourable to
the Provinces was concluded for 1 2 years.
At the expiration of the truce, both parties prepared
for a renewal of hostilities-, but now the Spaniards
fought with considerable disadvantage : From a strange
policy, which they have since frequently practised, in
their contests with the powers of Europe, the Dutch
contrived to advance their commercial interests at the
expence of their enemy. A very lucrative trade took
place between the principal Dutch ports and those of
Spain, by which the Spaniards were supplied by their
enemies even with ammunition and warlike stores. At
the same time the Dutch enriched themselves by nume¬
rous prizes taken from the Spaniards, and, in particular
gave a severe blow to the resources of the court of Ma¬
drid, by capturing the flota from Mexico, a prize valued
Conclusion at 15.000,000 of livres.
of peace. These repeated losses of the Spaniards proved the in-
An. 1648, utility of their continuing the war against a people so de-
4
29
Renewal
of hostili¬
ties.
An. 1621.
76 }
termined as the Dutch. Accordingly, in 1648, they un;lc.
agreed to a treaty of peace, by which his Catholic ma- Province
jesty renounced all right and sovereignty over the states- ‘‘—■y'--
general of the United Provinces ; and these provinces
were henceforth declared a free and independent repub¬
lic. It was also agreed between the contending powers,
that each should remain in unmolested possession of those
places which they severally held at the signing of the
treaty. \ .31
From this time to the year 1670 we meet with Floorishi;
nothing very remarkable in the history of the United»tateofki
Provinces. By invariably pursuing the maxims of pru-
deuce, industry, and frugality, the republic had attaia.
ed the highest pitch of grandeur. Amsterdam was be*
come the emporium of Europe, and the richest city io
the universe. The population of the provinces, especi¬
ally of Holland, was much greater than at any former
or subsequent period, though it is scarcely credible that,
as some authors affirm, Holland alone should then con¬
tain 3,000,000 of inhabitants. The states dispatched
ministers and consuls to China, Siam, and Bengal; to
the Great Mogul, the king of Persia, and the khan of
Tartary, the grand signior, the czar of Russia, and the
princes of Africsa. They were considered as an im¬
portant weight in the scale of Europe ; and no treaty
was concluded without the concurrence of their ambas¬
sadors.
It is not surprising that the successes of the Dutch, pj^
and the prosperous condition in which they now beheld with
themselves, should have rendered them rather arrogant
towards the neighbouring states. Louis XlV.of France
had conceived himself affronted by a foolish boast of
one of the Dutch ministers, and he was particularly
jealous of the advantage which the new republic had
acquired over his subjects in the trade to India. The
triple alliance formed about this time between England,
Sweden, and the United Provinces, was an additional
motive with the French king to break of all intercourse
with the Dutch, and to curb their growing power. He
began by prevailing on Charles II. of England to aban¬
don the triple alliance ; a request to which that wo-th-
less monarch, alive to nothing but his pleasures and his
avarice, readily agreed, on condition of being well paid
for his treachery. Louis also persuaded several of the
German princes to unite their forces rvith his against the
republic.^ and of all the Germanic body, only the elec¬
tor of Brandenburg interested himself for the safety of
the states-general. The French king assembled an ar¬
my of 100,000 men, which he divided into four co¬
lumns, one commanded by himself in person, with tire
assistance of Marshal Turenne another by the prince
of Conde 5 a third by General Crequi, and a fourth un¬
der the conduct of the duke of Luxemburg. Such an
army drawing towards the frontiers could not but ter¬
rify the Dutch, now torn with civil and religious fac¬
tions. The partisans of the Orange family were for
abolishing the perpetual edict, and raising William
prince of Orange to the dignity enjoyed by his prede¬
cessors ; but the De Witt faction opposed him violently
though they could not prevent the young prince from
being chosen captain-general and high-admiral. Many
hoped that William’s new dignity would incline hi’
uncle Charles II. to return to the triple alliance ;
that hope was frustrated by the conduct ol his maje.ty,
who, in conjunction with the most Cbri-itian king, d»-
UNI
[ 577 ]
U N I
it)ir;nce-
len f
ostiies.
1 ted c^are^ war aga‘nst ^ie states-general on tlie 7th of April.
r nces. A month after, the elector of Cologne and bishop of
Munster followed the example of the two kings. The
Dutch put themselves in the best posture of defence
that circumstances would admit. Maestricht was strong¬
ly garrisoned ; the prince of Orange had assembled an
army of 25,000 men, with which he advanced to the
banks of the Yssel 5 and the Dutch fleet cruised off the
mouth of the Thames, to prevent the junction of the
naval forces of England and France, which amounted
to 150 ships. All Europe watched the first motions
of the two powerful kings, seconded by the best gene¬
rals of the age.
Holland could be attacked only by the Rhine or the
Me use, and the French generals and ministers differed
by which of these inlets the first impression should be
made. At length, after much deliberation, it was de¬
termined to attack the Dutch on both these sides at the
same time, in order the more to disconcert their coun¬
cils. The campaign began with the siege of Rhinberg,
Vesel, Orsoi, and Rurick, four towns well fortified,
and deemed the keys of Holland. Nothing could op¬
pose armies so well appointed, led by generals so skilful
> and so experienced. The four towns were compelled to
surrender within a few days of each other ; and a severe
defeat sustained by a body of Dutch troops, in attempt¬
ing to defend the passage of the Rhine, by the prince of
Conde, served still more to dishearten the troops of the
states general.
ic- It is almost incredible with what rapidity towns and
the fortresses yielded to the fortune of his majesty’s arms.
The reduction of Belau, the most fruitful country of
the United Provinces, and the surrender of Tolhusfert,
obliged the prince of Orange to abandon the Yssel, lest
he should be attacked in the rear, and to retire to the
very heart of the country, as far as Rhenen in the pro¬
vince of Utrecht. Ry this means the town of Arnheim,
the forts of Knotsemborough, Voorn, St Andre, and
Shenck, this last the strongest in the Netherlands, with
a variety of other forts and towns, surrendered as soon
as summoned ; and at last Nimeguen, a town strong
from the nature of the works and fortifications, and gar¬
risoned by 8000 fighting men, including the inhabi¬
tants, was invested. After the citizens had for eight
days exhibited signal proofs of courage in defence of
their liberties, they were forced to yield to the superior
j skill of Turenne.
Djh The only means by which the Dutch could arrest the
wipel progress of the enemy was, to open the sluices and in-
^tcundate the country. The town of Utrecht set the ex¬
ample, which was soon followed by many others, and
in a short time Holland, Rrabant, and Dutch Flanders,
formed one vast lake, the towns rising like islands in
the midst of the waters. An embassy was also sent to
the king of England, to request that he would prevail
on Louis to relax in the severity of his attack. Charles
pretended a compliance with this request 5 but as his in¬
terference produced no effect, it is probable that he was
not sincere. In the space of three months, Louis con¬
quered the provinces of Guelderland, Overyssel, and
Utrecht, took about towns and forts, and made
24,000 prisoners. The latter, however, were soon re¬
leased for a trifling ransom. The very successes of the
conquerors tended to weaken their force, as they were
compelled to leave behind them several strong bodies of
Vol. XX. Part II. f
licit c
q.
U. i6‘
troops, to garrison the captured towns. This induced United
the French to listen to proposals for a negotiation, Provinces,
which, however, came to nothing. v ’
Marshal Turenne, now appointed generalissimo of the
king’s army on his majesty’s return to Paris, marched to
oppose the elector of Rrandenburg and the German gene¬
ral Montecuculi, who had joined their forces, and were
about to pass the Rhine. For three whole months were
the elector and Montecuculi employed in abortive at¬
tempts to effect a passage at Mentz, Coblentz, Stras-
burg, and other places. This answered the purpose of
making a powerful diversion in favour of the Dutch,
though they could not accomplish their design of join¬
ing the prince of Orange. After repeated disappoint¬
ments, the imperial army directed its march to West¬
phalia ; and Turenne followed, in order to keep tfie
bishop of Munster steady to his engagements. For half
the campaign he, with a body of 16,000 men, baffled
every stratagem of the elector and Montecuculi, the lat¬
ter the most renowned genera! of the empire, at the
head of an army near triple his strength. He obliged
them to go into winter quarters, in a country harassed
and exhausted ; and confirmed the bishop of Munster in
the alliance of France, at the very time he was on terms
with the emperor. He obliged the elector of Branden¬
burg, who took the chief command during Montecu-
culi’s illness, to abandon the siege of Marie, took Un-
ma Kamen, Altena, Berkemham, and several other
towns and fortresses. By continuing his operations, he
forced the elector out of his winter quarters again into
the field, chased him from post to post, until he obliged
him to quit Westphalia, repass the Weser, and retire
with precipitation into the bishopric of Hildersheim.
After taking possession of the elector’s towns in W est-
phalia, he pursued him into the bishopric of Hildersheim,
and at length, by mere dint of superior genius, forced
him to seek shelter in bis hereditary dominions. All
this was effected after Louvois bad appointed the mar¬
shal’s army quarters in Alsace and Lorrain, amidst the
rigours of a severe winter, opposed by a superior enemy,
by the artifices of Louvois, and seconded only by his
own prudence, and the affection of his troops, which he
maintained in defiance of all the difficulties, hardships
and dangers, they encountered. It was indeed suppo¬
sed, that Montecuculi was prevented from giving Tu¬
renne battle by the remonstrances of Prince Lobkovitz,
the emperor’s ambassador, influenced by the gold of
Louis. Certain indeed it is, that Montecuculi’s illness
arose from his chagrin at seeing all his projects frustra¬
ted by the unsteady dilatory conduct of the court of
Vienna. Louis’s negociations disturbed Europe no less
than his arms. His tools and creatures swarmed in
every court. Leopold could not he prevented from
declaring in favour of Holland $ but his ministers were
bought off- from seconding the emperor’s intentions.
The whole English nation exclaimed against the alli¬
ance of their kingdom with France *, but Charles stood
in need of French gold to supply his extravagance and
profligacy. The elector of Bavaria had indeed been
compelled by Louis to retire to his capital; but it was
by dint of intrigue that he was forced from his alliance
with Holland, and constrained to make a peace with
France.
While the French generals were thus carrying all be¬
fore them, the combined fleets of France and England
4 D were
•United
Provinces
tea.
37
Change of
fortune,
UNI [57
we re scarcely less successful against the maritime power
of the Dutch. The English squadron under the duke
of York, uniting to that of France under D’Estrecs,
thrice engaged the Dutch licet commanded hy De Kuy-
tions of the ter; and though neither party could boast of much ad-
JJutih at vantage, the check sustained by the Dutch admiral was
of essential service to the cause of the allies.
At length the tide of fortune began to turn in favour
of the United Provinces. The court of Spain, jealous
of the growing power of France, embraced the cause of
tiie Dutch 5 and sent an army of 10,000 men to the as¬
sistance of the prince ot Orange, while the mercenary
king of England was compelled by his parliament to
withdraw from his unnatural alliance with the French
king; and the late ill success among the allied troops
of France and Germany cooled the elector of Cologne
and the bishop of Munster, in their friendship towards
Eouis. Thus that monarch, forsaken by his allies, was
compelled to maintain singly a war against the empire,
Spain, and the United Provinces. The accession of
the prince of Orange to the throne of England, in
1688, gave an additional blow to the French power,
by bringing on an intimate connection between Eng-
38 land and Holland.
aud coiwc- At length Louis was compelled to negociate for
cpientpeace jjeace^ which was concluded in 1697, by a treaty cx-
Fruice tremely favourable to the United Provinces.
An. 1657. After the death of William III. the same plan of
39 humbling the French king, was, in conjunction with
Summary of t|ie .states-general, pursued hy his successor Queen
^fiu/s^Vom ^nile ? an(l l*ie H’tfnerous and important victories of the
the'end"of1 duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, led to the
the 171I1 to famous treaty of Utrecht, in lyUY ^ee Britain, N°
the begin- 340—371. In 1747, the office of stadtholder was de-
1U"h 01 t*ie clared hereditary in the princes of Orange. In the
i<; ictn- w?ir tjiat tupk p|ace in 1756, between France and
England, a French party was formed in Holland, in
opposition to the stadtholder, who favoured the alli¬
ance with England. Hence arose a jealousy between
the two allies, which, during the American war, in¬
creased to an open rupture. See Britain, N° 427,
and N° 598, et seq. In 1787, some disputes took place
between the stadtholder and the states general, which
induced the former to require the assistance of the king
of Prussia. That monarch accordingly sent an army ot
iS.oco Prussians to Amsterdam, under the duke of
Brunswick, who, in 1788, brought the whole country
into subjection, and reinstated the stadtholder in his au¬
thority. See Prussia, N° 73. In 1794 the republi¬
can armies of France having overrun the greater part ol
Flanders, took possession of the Dutch provinces, which
they converted into the Batavian republic. Ihe stadt¬
holder found refuge in England, and the allied armies
of Germany and Prussia retreated into Germany. See
France, In’0 409, et seq. In the summer of 1799, a
considerable British force landed in the Texel island,
made themselves masters of the Dutch fleet, and, in
conjunction with a body of Russians, gained some ad¬
vantages on the continent. Being opposed, however,
by a superior French force, the army was obliged to re-
imbark, and return to England. See Britain, Ng
1069. By the treaty of Amiens, concluded in March
1802, all the colonies taken bv the British ware restor¬
ed to Holland, except the island of Ceylon. On the
renewal of hostilities in 1803, the Batavian republic
3 j
U N I
[9
fury.
was again compelled to take an active part against Bri-
tain, and in consequence again lost the Cape of Good Provim
Hope, and several other colonies, besides having her w“v—
trade entirely ruined. Soon after the imperial diadem
of France was conferred on Napoleon Bonaparte, his
brother, Louis, was appointed king of Holland. Louis,
however, proved to be a man not calculated to seivo
his brother’s purposes. He was considerate aud hu¬
mane, paid great attention to the complaints of his sub¬
jects, employed none hut Dutchmen in his government,
and continually exerted ills influence to soften the harsh
measures of which he. was compelled to be the instru¬
ment. The nation was sensible of his good services,
and Louis was highly popular. But in the same pro¬
portion as he gained the confidence of the nation, he
lost that of Napoleon; who at length determined on set¬
ting him aside. Louis learned what was intended, and
escaped the humiliation of being deposed, by resigning
the crown to his infant son on the first of July 1810. j|
On the 9th July, Napoleon issued a decree, annexing
the United Provinces to the French empire. From
this period Holland followed the foi runes of France, till
the battle of Leipsic shattered the French power. On
the 15th November, 1813, oner month after the battle
of Leipsic, a simultaneous rising took place in all the
most considerable towns. The French garrisons were
feeble and soon mastered ; and on the 21st November,
a deputation arrived in London to invite the prince of
Orange to return, who accordingly arrived thereon the
301I1, and obtained immediate possession of the govern¬
ment. By the treaty of Paris, 30th May 1814, the
ten provinces of the Netherlands were united to Hol¬
land, and the prince of Orange took the title of king
of the Netherlands. This plan of union was not fa¬
vourably received on either side, there being an ancient
grudge between the two countries, which was strength¬
ened by commercial jealousy, and by difierence of re¬
ligion, the Dutch being chiefly of the reformed church,
and the Belgians catholics. The population of both
countries in 1818 was 5,266,000. 4(
According to the statistical table given in N° 2, the Popullt
uY   _ .. S? ^
population of the United Provinces in the year 1796,°^
appears to amount to 1,880,469 individuals; but this f.r0Yil
enumeration being made while the French had posses¬
sion of the country, was believed to be under the truth.
By returns made to the government in 1818, the popu¬
lation amounted to 2,016,159. 4:
In the late republic of Holland, previous to theComti
French revolution, the states-general formed the greattk'1 a»I
council of the nation. That assembly was formed byjk^
deputies from the provincial states, and was invested
with the supreme legislative power. It could not, how¬
ever, make peace or war, form new alliances, or levy
taxes, without the consent of the provincial states, nor
could these determine any point of importance, without
the consent of each of the cities that had a voice in
their assembly. The stadtholder exercised a consider¬
able part of the executive power, though in later times
his power became very limited. The grand pensionary
was properly a minister of the province ; and though he
possessed great influence, being a perpetual member 01
the states-general, and of the secret committee, he was
considered as inferior in rank to all the deputies. , 1 f
The revenues of the United Provinces arose princi-BeW
pally from taxes imposed on each province and city, ac¬
cording
lilted
!■.‘nets.
Mry
e : i.
k -
4:
ing:?e
id 1 ;v-
re.
4<
.ami
ires,
47
ommi'c.
UNI [ 579 ] UNI
cording to tlieir ability. Tiiesc consisted chiefly of a
general excise, a land-tax, a poll-tax, and hearth mo¬
ney; and are supposed to have amounted to 3,000,000!.
sterling.
Before the French revolution, the Dutch maintaineda
peace establishment of 30,000 men, which in war was
augmented to above 50,000, chiefly by mercenary
troops from Germany. Their naval establishment was
highly respectable ; and at the end of the I 7th century
it exceeded that of any other maritime power in Eu¬
rope. Before the late war they could muster 40 sail
of the line, 40 frigates, and 10 cutters. Since the ce¬
lebrated engagement oil’ the Dogger Bank during the
American war, the Dutch have been scarcely able to
cope with the English at sea; and the victory off Cam-
perdown in October 1797, with the subsequent loss of
the Tex el fleet in 1799, proved the deathblow to the
naval power of Holland.
Before the late change of government, the establish¬
ed religion of Holland was Presbyterianism, according
to the doctrines of Calvin ; though all sects of Christi¬
ans were tolerated. The church was governed by con¬
sistories, classes, and synods, from which there was an
appeal to one great national synod, subject to the con-
tronl of the states-general.
The Dutch language is a dialect of the German, and
in many respects bears a considerable resemblance to the
Old English and Lowland Scotch. The literature of
the United Provinces has long been respectable ; and
the universities of Leyden, Utrecht, Groningen, Har-
derwyck, and Franeker, have produced many eminent
and celebrated men in almost every department of sci¬
ence. Grotius, Erasmus, Boerhaave, Leuwenhoeck,
Swammerdam, Graevius, Burrman, Hooguween, &c.
are names mentioned with admiration and respect in the
annals of literature.
The Dutch manufactures consist principally of fine
linens, earthen ware, chiefly manufactured at Delft, es¬
pecially white and painted tyles, tobacco-pipes, borax,
oil, starch, paper, leather, woollen and cotton cloths,
snuff, tobacco, and gin.
The commerce of the Dutch was formerly more ex¬
tensive than that of any other country in Europe. They
carried on a trade with every quarter of the globe, and
in particular their East India Company was perhaps the
richest society of merchants in the world. Holland was
almost the exclusive centre of the spice trade ; and the
extensive fisheries on the coast of Greenland and in the
North sea, supplied the greater part of Europe with
whale oil and herrings. Besides this external commerce,
they carried on a considerable inland traffic with the in¬
terior of Germany, from which they brought immense
quantities of timber. Vast rafts of trees, many hundred
feet in length, set out annually from the forests of An-
dernach, and other places on the Rhine, and proceeding
down the river under the direction of a gi'eat body of
labourers, that formed a village of huts on the surface
°f the raft, sailed down the Rhine and the Waal to
Port, where the timber was disposed of, and where one
'aft has been sold lor 30,000k sterling. All the foreign
trade of Holland may now be considered as annihilated, United
but the inland traffic in wood and spirits still con- Provinces,
tinues. ' v~—'
I be inland commerce of the United Provinces is
greatly promoted by the facility ot conveyance-from one
part of the country to another, by means of the nume¬
rous canals.
The Dutch are, by constitution, a cool, or rather Cbaracter
phlegmatic people, laborious, patient, obstinate, andol tbe
persevering. When stimulated by any predominant pas-
sion, as avarice, or formerly love of liberty, they are
capable of great exertions. Economy and order in the
management ol their pecuniary concerns are common
among all classes, with whom it is an established maxim
to spend less than their income. Interest and love of
money regulate all their actions, and appear to supplant
in their breasts every noble and generous feeling. These
prominent features in the national character are, of
course, modified by the rank or situation of the different
orders in society. The higher ranks value themselves
much on their distinctions, are reserved to strangers,
but affable and obliging to those with whom they have
bad an opportunity of becoming acquainted ; friendly,
candid, and sincere. The mercantile men and traders
are, in general, fair and honest in their transactions;
though their natural thirst of gain sometimes tempts
them to deceive and overreach their customers. The
lower ranks are ignorant, dull, and slow of apprehen¬
sion, but open to conviction, and patient of fatigue and
labour.
Dress, among the Dutch, is regulated less by fashion, Manners
then by an attention to climate and season. The mois-and cus* 1
ture and inconstancy of these require a greater quantitytonis'
of clothing than is found necessary in other countries
under the same latitude ; and, among the ordinary clas¬
ses, broad hats, large breeches, and thick hoots and
shoes, are still almost universal. Most of the women
wear hats with low crowns and very broad rims, with
jerkins and short petticoats; and, what appears exceed¬
ingly ridiculous to strangers, the hoys and girls wear
the same dress as the men and women.
A close attention to regularity and neatness in the
streets and the interior of the houses prevails throughout
the United Provinces, but is most conspicuous in North
Holland. Ibis was at first rendered necessary by the
nature of the climate, to prevent rust and mouldiness
from destroying their utensils and furniture, and has
since become a habit, conducive at once to comfort and
to health. The manner of living in Holland was, till
of late, not a little gross. Their diet consisted much of
high-seasoned and salted meats, butter, cheese, and spi¬
rituous liquors. In no country was gormandizing re¬
duced more to a system. Convivial entertainments were
extremely frequent ; and the interval between the more
substantial meals of dinner, tea, and supper, were filled
up with cakes, fruits, jellies, and other light things;
not to mention smoking and drinking, which supplied
the place of conversation (c). If we may rely on the
report of a late writer on the statistics of Holland*, the * Metder*
style of living is now much changed, though not much kamP-
0 • . Month.
improved ,,
Mag. for
—  —  'Nov. iSoy.
(c) We must admit, that, in so moist and cold a climate, a full and generous diet may he safe if not necessary
JUt ^ EhUch, like many of our own countrymeri, absurdly carried the same system into their tropical colonies.
4 D 2 The
UNI [ 58° J UNI
United improved. Animal food is become extremely rare, and
Provinces its place is supplied by a greater proportion ot gin, tea,
11 and coffee. The prevailing amusements in winter are
University. (|r.im.ltjc entertainments and skaiting, in w'hich latter
they are exceedingly expert.
The Dutch taste for formal gardens, straight walks,
trees and hedges clipped into fantastic shapes, and
flower roots, has long been proverbial, and has been
treated with more contempt and ridicule than it deserves.
At worst, these are but harmless propensities j and, if
indulged in moderation, are well suited to relieve the
sameness and inactivity of a retirement from the busy
scenes of trade and commerce.
UNITY, in Poetry. There are three unities to he
observed, viz. the unity of action, that of time, and
that of place. In the epic poem, the great and almost
the only, unity, is that of the action. Some regard in¬
deed ought to be had to that of time j for that ef place
there is no room. The unity of character is not reckon¬
ed among the unities. See Poetry, Part II. Sect. 3.
UNIVERSAL, something that is common to many
things j or it is one thing belonging to many or all
things.
UNIVERSE, a collective name, signifying the whole
world 5 or the assemblage of heaven and earth, with all
things therein. See ASTRONOMY and GEOGRAPHY.
UNIVERSITY, is the name of a corporation form¬
ed for the education of youth in the liberal arts and
sciences, and authorised to admit such as have studied
in it, to certain degrees in different faculties, which not
only serve as certificates of proficiency in science, but
also confer on those who obtain them considerable privi¬
leges within the university, as well as some rank in the
state without it. Universities generally comprehend
within them one or more colleges j but this is not always
the case j for the university of St Andrew’s was in being
before either of its colleges was founded, and it would
continue in being, with all its privileges, though both
its colleges were levelled with the dust.
In every university with which we are acquainted,
there are four faculties, viz. Iheology, Law, Physic,
and the Arts and Sciences, comprehending mathematics,
natural and moral philosophy, &c.: and in Oxford,
Cambridge, and some other universities, Music is con¬
sidered as a fifth faculty. In each of these there are
two degrees, those of Bachelor ?ix\& Doctor ; for though
in the universities of Great Britain and Ireland we have
no such degree as Doctor in Arts and Sciences, our Mas¬
ter of Arts, answers to the degree of Doctor in Philoso¬
phy, which is conferred by many of the universities on
the, continent.
Universities in their present form, and with their pre¬
sent privileges, are institutions comparatively modern.
They sprang from the convents of regular clergy, or
from the chapters of cathedrals in the church ot Rome,
where young men were educated tor holy orders, in that
dark period when the clergy possessed all the little erudi¬
tion which was left in Europe. These convents were
seminaries of learning probably from their first institu¬
tion ; and we know with certainty, that in Old Aber¬
deen there was a monastery in which youth were instruct-univers;
ed in theology, the. canon law, and the school philosophy, <—^
at least 200 years before the university and King’s Col¬
lege were founded. The same was doubtless the case in
Oxford and Cambridge, and probably in every town in
Europe, where there is now a university which has any
claim to be called ancient 5 for it was not till the more
eminent of the laity began to see the importance of lite¬
rature and science, tliat universities distinct from con vents
were founded, with the privilege of admitting to degrees,
which conferred some rank in civil society. These uni¬
versities have long been considered as lay corporations;
but as a proof that they had the ecclesiastical origin
which W’e have assigned to them, it will be sufficient to
observe, that the pope arrogated to himself the right of
vesting them with all their privileges; and that, prior
to the Reformation, every university in Europe conferred
its degrees in all the faculties by authority derived from
a papal bull.
It is perhaps no improbable conjecture, that the
church of Rome derived her idea of academical honours
from the Jews, among whom literary distinctions ex¬
tremely similar subsisted before the nativity of our Sa¬
viour. Among them, the young student, with respect
to his learning, was called a disciple ; from his minority
a junior; and the chosen or elected, on account of his
election into the number of disciples. When he had
made some progress in knowledge, and was deemed
worthv of a degree, he was by imposition of hands made
Tin, a companion to a Rabbi, the person who officiate*
using this form, I associate thee, or, Re thou associated}
and as soon afterwards as he was thought worthy to
teach others, the associate was raised to the rank of Rab¬
bi. Whether this process suggested the idea or not, it
has certainly some resemblance to that by which a young
man in onr universities passes through the degree of
Bachelor to that of Master of Arts, or Doctor.
The most ancient universities in Europe are those of
Oxford, Cambridge, Paris, Salamanca, and Bo¬
logna ; and, in the two English universities, the first
colleges are those of University, Baliol, and Merton, in
the former, and St Peter's in the latter. Oxford and
Cambridge, however, were universities, or, as they were
then called, studies, some hundreds of years before col¬
leges or schools were built in them ; for the former flou¬
rished as a seminary of learning in the reign of Alfred
the Great, and the other, could we believe its partial
partizans, at a period still earlier. The universities of
Scotland are four, St Andrews, Glasgow, Aber¬
deen, and Edinburgh. In Ireland there is but one
university, viz. that of Dublin, founded by Queen
Elizabeth, and very richly endowed.
An idle controversy has been agitated, whether the
constitution of the English or of the Scotch universities
he best adapted to answer the ends of their institution;
and, as might be expected, it has been differently deci¬
ded, according to tbe partialities of those who have writ¬
ten on the subject. Were we to hazard our own opi¬
nion, w'e should say, that each has its advantages an
disadvantages ; and that while the English universities.
The account given by a late traveller (see Barrow’s Voyage to Cochin-China') of the luxurious mode of Ihing8
Batavia, affords a melancholy, but accurate picture of Dutch gluttony.
V O C [ 581 ] VOL
,i siiy aided by their great schools, to which we have nothing
that can be compared, are unquestionably fitted to carry
01 ive. tlieir voung members farthest in the knowledge of the
learned languages, the mode of teaching in our own
universities is better adapted to the promotion of arts
and sciences, and the communication of that knowledge
which is of most importance in active life.
University-Courts, in England. The two univer¬
sities enjoy the sole jurisdiction, in exclusion of the king’s
courts, over all civil actions and suits whatsoever, where
a scholar or privileged person is one of the parties j ex¬
cepting in such cases where the right of freehold is con¬
cerned. And then by the university charter they are
at liberty to try and determine, either according to the
common law of the land, or according to their own lo¬
cal customs, at their discretion •, which has generally led
them to carry on their process in a course much confor¬
med to the civil law.
This privilege, so far as it relates to civil causes, is
exercised at Oxford in the chancellor’s court; the judge
of which is the vice-chancellor, his deputy, or assessor.
From his sentence an appeal lies to delegates appointed
by the congregation ; from thence to other delegates
of the house of convocation ; and if they all three concur
in the same sentence, it is final, at least by the statutes
of the university, according to the rule ol the civil law.
But if there be any discordance or variation in any of
the three sentences, an appeal lies in the last resort to
judges delegates appointed by the crown, under the great
seal in chancery.
As to the jurisdiction of the university courts in cri¬
minal matters, the chancellor’s court at Oxford, and
probably also that of Cambridge, hath authority to try
all offences or misdemeanors under the degree of treason,
felony, or mayhem j and the trial of treason, felony, and
mayhem, by a particular charter, is committed to the
university jurisdiction in another court, namely, the
court of the lord high steward of the university.
The process of the trial is this. rl he high steward
issues one precept to the sheriff of the county, who
thereupon returns a panel of 18 freeholders; and ano¬
ther precept to the bedells of the university, who there¬
upon return a panel of 18 matriculated laymen, Icucos
privilegio universitatisgoudentes : and by a jury formed
de medietate, half of freeholders and half matriculated
persons, is the indictment to be tried ; and that in the
guildhall of the city of Oxford. And if execution be
necessary to be awarded in consequence of finding the
party guilty, the sheriff of the county must execute the
university process; to which he is annually bound by
an oath.
VOCABULARY, in Grammar, denotes the col¬
lection of the words of a language, with their significa¬
tions, otherwise called a dictionary, lexicon, or nomen¬
clature. See Dictionary.
A vocabulary is properly a smaller kind of dictionary,
which does not enter so minutely into the origin and
different acceptations of words.
^ OCAL, something that relates to the voice or
speech ; thus vocal music is that set to words, especially
verses, and to be performed by the voice ; in contradis¬
tinction to instrumental music, composed only for instru¬
ments, without singing.
VOCATIVE, in Grammar, the fifth state or case
of nouns. See Grammar.
VOETIUS or Voet, Cisbert, an eminent divine Voetlu*
of the 16th century, was professor of divinity and the |1
Oriental tongues at Utrecht, where he w'as also minister. Volga.
He assisted at the synod of Dort ; and died in 1676, v
aged 87. He wrote a great number of works ; and
was the declared enemy of Des Cartes and his philoso¬
phy. His followers are called Voetians. Voetius had
two sons, Daniel and Paul, both authors. John Voetius,
the son of Paul, was doctor and professor of law at Her-
born, and wrote a commentary on the Pandects.
VOICE, a sound produced in the throat and mouth
of an animal, by peculiar organs.
Voices are either articulate or inarticulate. Articu¬
late voices are those whereof several conspire together
to form some assemblage or little system of sounds : such
are the voices expressing the letters of an alphabet, num¬
bers of which joined together form words. Inarticulate
voices are such as are not organized, or assembled into
words ; such is the barking of dogs, the braying of asses,
the hissing of serpents, the singing of birds, &c.
For a description of the organs of the voice, see Ana¬
tomy ; see also Physiology Index.
Voice, in Grammar, a circumstance in verbs, where¬
by they come to be considered as either active or passive,
i. e. either expressing an action impressed on another
subject, as I beat; or receiving it from another, as, I
am beaten. See Grammar.
Voice, in matters of election, denotes a vote or suf¬
frage.
Voice, in Oratory. See Declamation ; Read¬
ing, N° 5. ; and Oratory, N° 129—131.
VOLANT, in Heraldry, is when a bird, in a coat
of arms, is drawn living, or having its wings spread out.
VOLATILE, in Physics, something that is easily
dissipated by fire or heat.
Volatile Alkali. See Ammonia, Chemistry In¬
dex.
VOLATILISATION, the art of rendering fixed
bodies volatile, or of resolving them by fire into a va¬
pour.
VOLCANO, a name given to burning mountains,
or to vents for subterraneous fires. See Geology In¬
dex, /Etna, Hecla, &c.
VOLERY, a bird-cage, of such a size that the birds
have room to fly up and down in it.
VOLGA, the largest river in Europe, derives its
origin from two small lakes in the forest of Volkonski
about 80 miles from Tver, a town in Russia. It is na¬
vigable a few miles above that town. This noble river
waters some of the finest provinces in the Russian em¬
pire, and at last falls into the Caspian sea by several
mouths, below Astracan.
The Volga is subject to annual inundations. In the
year 1774, the inundations exceeded the lowest water¬
mark by nearly 40 feet, since which period they have
been rather on the decline ; for in 1775, they rose only
to 39 feet 2 inches above that mark; in 1782, they
rose to 26 feet; in 1785, to 25 feet 2 inches ; and in
the year 1791, their height was the same. Pallas is of
opinion that this phenomenon may have originated from
the diminished quantity of snow and rain which had fal¬
len in the higher countries ; from the greater evapora¬
tion of the Caspian sea, and the gradual extension of
the different mouths of the river, or perhaps from the
joint operation of all these causes.
VOLITION,
VOL
[ 582 1
VOL
Volition
(I
Voltaire,
See Metaphy-
YOLFfTON, an act of willing.
SICS.
\ OLLEY, a military salute, made by discharging
a great number of'fire arms at the same time.
VOLONES, in Roman antiquity, slaves who in the
Punic war voluntarily offered their service to the state,
which is the reason of the appellation j upon which they
Were admitted to citizenship, as none but freemen could
be soldiers.
VOLT, in the manege, a round or circular tread 5
and hence, by the phrase to make volts, is understood a
gate of twm treads, made by a horse going sidewdse round
a centre, in such a manner that these two treads make
parallel tracks •, one larger, made by the fore-feet, and
another smaller, made by the hind-feet; the croup ap¬
proaching towards the centre, and the shoulders bearing
out.
VOLTAIRE, Francis Arouet de, a celebrated
French author, w'as born at Paris, February 20. 1694.
His father, Francis Arouet, was ancien notaire au Cha-
tclct, and treasurer of the chamber of accounts ; his
mother, Mary-Margaret Draumart. At the birth of
, this extraordinary man, who lived to the age of 85
years and some months, there was little probability of
Ills being reared, and for a considerable time he con¬
tinued remarkably feeble. In his earliest years he dis¬
played a ready wit and a sprightly imagination ; and,
as he said of himself, made verses before he was out of
his cradle. He was educated under Father Pore, in
tire college of Louis the Great; and such was his pro¬
ficiency, that many of his essays are now existing, which,
though written when he was betw'een 12 and 14, show
no marks of infancy. The famous Ninon de PEnclos,
to whom this ingenious boy W’as introduced, left him a
legacy of 2000 livres to buy him a library. Having
been sent to the equity schools on his quitting college,
he was so disgusted with the dryness of the law, that he
devoted himself entirely to the muses. He was admit¬
ted into the company of the abbe Chaulieu, the mar¬
quis de la Fare, the duke de Sully, the grand prior of
Vendome, Marshal Villars, and the chevalier du Bouil¬
lon ; and caught from them that easy taste and delicate
humour which distinguished the court of Louis XIV.
Voltaire had early imbibed a turn for satire; and, for
some philippics against the government, w7as imprison¬
ed almost a year in the Bastile. He had before this
period produced the tragedy of Oedipus, w hich was re-
presented in 1718 with great success ; and the duke of
Orleans happening to see it performed, was so delighted,
that he obtained his release from prison. The poet
waiting on the duke to return thanks ; “ Be wise (said
the duke), and I will take care of you.” “ I am in¬
finitely obliged (replied the young man); but I intreat
your royal highness not to trouble yourself any farther
about my lodging or board.”
He began his Irleni'iade before he was 18. Having
one day read several cantos of this poem when on a visit
to his intimate friend, the young president de Maisons,
he was so teased with objections, that he lost patience,
and threw his ‘manuscript into the fire. The pre¬
sident Henaut with difficulty rescued it. “ Remem¬
ber (said Mr Henaut to him, in one of his letters) it
was I that saved the Henriade, and that it cost me a
handsome pair ol ruffles.” Some years after, several
copies of this pcem having got abroad, while it was
only a sketch, an edition of itw7as published, with many
chasms, under the title of The League. Instead of fame1
and friends, the author gained only enemies and morti¬
fication, by this first edition. The bigots took fire at
it, and the poet was considered as highly criminal for
praising Admiral (Johnny and Queen Elizabeth. En¬
deavours were even used to get the piece suppressed; but
this strange design proved abortive. His chagrin, on
this occasion first inspired him with tire thought of vi¬
siting England, in order to finish the work, and repu¬
blish it in a land of liberty. He was right ; for King
George I. and more particularly the princess of Males,
afterwards queen of England, raised an immense sub¬
scription for him. Their liberality laid the foundation
of his fortune ; for on his return to Fi ance in 1728, he
put his money into a lottery established byM. Desfortes,
comptroller-general of the finances. The adventurers
received a rent charge on the Hotel-de-ViUe for their
tickets ; and the prizes were paid in ready money(; so
that if a society had taken all the tickets, it would have
gained a million of livres. He joined with a numerous
company of adventurers, and was fortunate.
H is LettresPhilosophiques, abounding in bold expres¬
sions and indecent witticisms against religion, having
been burnt by a decree of the parliament of Paris, and
a warrant being issued for apprehending the author in
1733, Voltaire prudently withdrew ; and was sheltered
by the marchioness du Chatelet, in her castle of Cirey,
on the borders of Champagne and Lorraine, who enter¬
ed with him on the study of the system of Leibnitz, and
the Principia of Newton. A gallery was built, in which
Voltaire formed a good collection of natural history, and
made an infinite number of experiments on light and
electricity. He laboured in the mean time on his Ele¬
ments of the Newtonian Philosophy, then totally un¬
known in France, and which the numerous admirers of
Des Cartes were little desirous should be known. In the
midst of these philosophic pursuits he produced the tra¬
gedy et'i Al%ira. He was now in the meridian of his age
and genius, as was evident from the tragedy of Maho¬
met, first acted in 1741 ; hut it was represented to the
procureui general as a performance offensive to religion;
and the author, by order of Cardinal Flcury, withdrew
it from the stage. Merope, played two years after, 17431
gave an idea of a species of tragedy, of which few mo¬
dels had existed. It was at the representation of this
tragedy, that the pit and boxes were clamorous lor a
sight of the author ; yet it was severely criticised when
it came from the press. He now became a favourite at
couit, thiough the interest of Madame d’Etiole, after*
wards marchioness of Pompadour. He was appointed a
gentleman of the bed-chamber in ordinary, and historio¬
grapher of France. He had frequently attempted to
gain admittance into the Academy of Sciences, but could
not obtain his wish till 1746, when he was the first who
broke through the absurd custom of filling an inaugural
speech with the fulsome adulation of Richelieu ; an ex¬
ample soon followed by other academicians, trom the
satires occasioned by this innovation he felt so much un¬
easiness, that he was glad to retire with the marchioness
du Chatelet to Luneville, in the neighbourhood of King
Stanislaus. The marchioness dying in 17491 V oltaire
returned to Paris, where his stay was but short. Il-e
king of Prussia now gave Voltaire an invitation to live
with him, which he accepted towards the end of Au'
gust
Voltaire,
iiire.
VOL
[ 583 ] VOS
gnsti750. On bis arrival at Be rlin, he was imme¬
diately presented with the Order of Merit, the key of
chamberlain, and 11 pension of 20,000 livres. From the
particular respect that was paid to him, his time was
now spent in the most agreeable manner j his apartments
were under those of the king, whom he was allowed to
visit at stated hours, to read with him the best works of
either ancient or modern authors, and to assist his maje¬
sty in the literary productions by which he relieved the
cares of government. But a dispute which arose be¬
tween him and Maupertuis soon brought on his disgrace.
Maupertuis was at some pains to have it reported at
court, that one day while General Manstein happened
to be in the apartments of M. de Voltaire, who was then
translating into French the Memoirs of Russia, composed
by that officer, the king, in his usual manner sent a co¬
py of verses to be examined, when Voltaire said to Man¬
stein, “ Let us leave oft' for the present, my friend; you
see the king has sent me his dirty linen to wash, I will
wash yours another time.” A single word is sometimes
sufficient to ruin a man at court ; Maupertuis imputed
such a word to Voltaire, and succeeded. It was about
this very time that Maupertuis published his very strange
Philosophical Letters ; and M. de Voltaire did not fail
to heighten, with his utmost powers of raillery, every
thing which he found, or could make ridiculous, in the
projects of M. Maupertuis, who was careful to unite his
own cause with that of the king; Voltaire was consider¬
ed as having failed in respect to his majesty; and there¬
fore, in the most respectful manner, he returned to the
king his chamberlain’s key, and the cross of bis Order
of Merit; accompanied with four lines of verse, in which
he, with great delicacy, compares his situation to that of
a jealous lover, who sends back the picture of his mis¬
tress. The king returned the key and the ribbon ; but
they were not followed by an immediate reconciliation.
Voltaire set out to pay a visit to her highness t he duchess
of Gotha, who honoured him with her friendship as long
as she lived. While he remained at Gotha, Maupertuis
employed all his batteries against him : Voltaire was ar¬
rested by the king’s orders, but afterwards released.
He now settled near Geneva; but afterward being
obliged to quit that republic, he purchased the castle of
Ferney in France, about a league from the lake, of Ge¬
neva. It was here that he undertook the defence of the
celebrated family of Calas ; and it was not long before
he had a second opportunity of vindicating the inno¬
cence of another condemned family of the name of Sir-
ven. It is somewhat remarkable, that in the year 1774,
he had the third time a singular opportunity of employ¬
ing that same zeal which he had the good fortune to
display in the fatal catastrophe of the families of Calas
and Sirven.
In this retreat M. Voltaire continued long to enjoy
the pleasures of a rural life, accompanied with the ad¬
miration of a vast number of wits and philosophers
throughout all Europe. Wearied at length, however,
with his situation, or yielding to the importunities of
friends, he came to Paris about the beginning of the
year i77^> where he wrote a new tragedy called Irene.
By this time his understanding seems to have been im¬
paired, either through the infirmities of age, or conti¬
nued intoxication by the flattery of others; and he ridi¬
culously suffered himself to be crowned in public with
laurel, in testimony of. his great poetical merit. He did
not long survive this farce : for having overheated him¬
self with receiving visits, and exhausted his spirits by
supplying a perpetual fund of conversation, he was first
seized with a spitting of blood ; and at last becoming
restless in the night-time, he was obliged to use a sopo¬
rific medicine. Of this he unluckily one night took so
large a dose, that lie slept 36 hours, and expired a verr
short time after awakening from it.
VOLUME, in matters of literature, a hook or writ¬
ing ot a jnst bulk to be bound by itself. The name is
derived from the Latin volvere, “ to roll up;” the an¬
cient manner of making up books being in rolls of baik
or parchment. See Book.
VOLUNTARY, in Music, a piece played by a mu¬
sician extempore, according to bis fancy. This is often
used before he begins to set himself to play any particu¬
lar composition to try the instrument, and to lead him
into the key of the piece lie intends to perform.
VOLUNTEERS, persons who, of their own ac¬
cord, for the service of the prince or state, serve in the
army without being enlisted, to gain honour and prefer¬
ment.
VOLVQX, a genus of animals belonging to the wr-
?ncs infusoria. See Helminthology Index.
VOLUSENUS. See Wilson-.
VOLUTA, a genus of shell-fish. See CoNCHOLO-
GY Index.
^ OLUTE, in Architecture, a kind of spiral scroll
used in Ionic and Composite capitals, whereof it makes
the principal characteristic and ornament.
^ OMICA, in Medicine, an abscess of the lungs.
See Medicine, N° 186.
Nux Vomica, in Vharmaey. See Materia Me¬
dic a Index.
VOMIT. See Emetic, Materia Medica Index.
VOMITING, a retrograde spasmodic motion of the
muscular fibres of the oesophagus, stomach and intes¬
tines, attended with strong convulsions of the muscles of
the abdomen and diaphragm ; which when gentle cre¬
ate a nausea, when violent a vomiting.
V 00RN, one of the islands of Holland, lying at the
mouth of the Maese, opposite to Rotterdam.
VORTEX, in Meteorology, a whirlwind, or sudden,
rapid, and violent motion of the air in circles ; or that
motion of tho water called an eddy or whirlpool.
Vortex, in the Cartesian philosophy, is a system or
collection of particles of matter moving the same way,
and round the same axis.
VORTTCELLA, an animalcule. See Microscope.
VOSGES, a department in the east of France, form¬
ing part of the ancient Lorraine. It takes its name
from Mount Vosges, which forms its eastern boundary.
It is traversed by. the upper branches of the Moselle.
The soil of this department is poor in the hilly parts,
but tolerably fertile in the plains. It produces vines,.,
though not to a great extent. There are mines of iron,
copper, lead, and silver, and quarries of marble. The
manufactures are trifling. The extent of the depart¬
ment is 587,955 hectares, and the population in 1817
was 334,169. Epinal is the chief town.
VOSSIUS, John Gerard, a most learned and la--
borious writer of the 17th century, was of a considerable
family in the Netherlands; and was born in 1577, in
the palatinate, near Heidelberg, at a place where his
father John Vossius was minister. He was made direc¬
tor,.'
UR [ 584 ] U R I
Vote
tor of the college of Dort, and afterwards professor of
eloquence and chronology at Leyden, from whence he
was called in 1633 to Amsterdam, to fill the chair ot
professor of history. He died in 1649.
VOTE, the suffrage or resolve of each of the mem¬
bers of an assemblage, where any affair is to be carried by
a majority *, but more particularly used for the resolves
of the members of either house of parliament.
VOTIVE MEDALS, those on which are expressed
the vows of the people for the emperors. See Medal.
VOW, a solemn religious promise or oath. See Oath.
The use of vows is found in most religions. They
make up a considerable part of the Pagan worship, be¬
ing made either in consequence of some deliverance, un¬
der some pressing necessity, or for the success of some en¬
terprise. Among the Jews, all vows were to be volun¬
tary, and made by persons wholly in their own power ;
and if such person made a vow in any thing lawful and
possible, be was obliged to fulfil it. If he appointed no
particular time for accomplishing his vow, he was bound
to do it instantly, lest by delay he should prove less able,
or be unwilling, to execute his promise. Among the
Romanists, a person is constituted a religious by taking
three vows; that of poverty, chastity, and obedience.
Vows, among the Romans, signified sacrifices, offer¬
ings, presents, and prayers made for the Caesars, and em¬
perors, particularly for their prosperity and the continu¬
ance of their empire. These were at first made every
five years, then every 15, and afterwards every 20, and
were called quinquennulia, decennalia, and vicennalla.
VOWEL, in Grammar, a letter which affords a
complete sound of itself, or a letter so simple as only to
need a bare opening ot the mouth to make it heard, and
to form a distinct voice. The vowels are six in number,
viz. A, E, I, O, U, Y.
Vowel, John. See Hooker.
UPHOLSTER, Upholsterer, or Upholder, a
tradesmen that makes beds, and all sorts of furniture
thereunto belonging, &c.
UPLAND, denotes high ground,or, as some call it,
terra firma, by which it stands opposed to such as is
moorish, marshy, or low.
Upland, a province of Sweden, bounded on the
north-east by the Baltic sea, on the south by the sea of
Sudermania, and on the west by Westmania and Gestri-
cia, from which it is separated hy the river Dela. It is
about 70 miles in length and 45 in breadth, and con¬
tains mines of iron and lead. Stockholm is the capital.
UPSAL, a rich and considerable city of Sweden, in
Upland, with a famous university, and an archbishop’s
see. The town is pretty large, and as straight as a
line ; but most of the houses are of wood, covered with
birch bark, with turf on the top. On an eminence, to
the south of the town, is a ruined castle. It was former¬
ly the residence of the kings, and is now the usual place
where they are crowned. It is seated on the river Sa-
la. It is 26 miles north-west of Stockholm. E. Long.
17. 48. N. Lat. 59. 52.
UPUPA, a genus of birds belonging to the order of
Piece. Se? Ornithology Index.
UR, in Ancient Geography, a citadel of Mesopotamia,
situated between the Tigris and Nisibis ; taken by some
for Ur of the Chaldees, the residence of Abraham.
What seems to confirm this is, that from Ur to Haran,
the other residence of the patriai'ch, the road lies direct¬
ly for Palestine. And it is no objection that Ur is said
to be in Mesopotamia ; because the parts next the Ti¬
gris were occupied by the Chaldeans, as seems to be
confirmed from Acts vii. 2, 4. It is called Orche, in
Strabo ; Orchoe, in Ptolemy.
URALIAN CHAIN, a range of mountains which
form part of the boundaries of Asia; anciently known
by the name of Riphcei Montes. See Jlipiimi Montes,
and Geology Index.
URANIA, in fabulous history, one of the nine Muses,
was supposed to preside over astronomy. She is com¬
monly represented in an azure robe, crowned with stars,
and supporting a large globe with both hands.
URANIUM, one of the lately discovered metals.
See Chemistry and Mineralogy Index.
URANOSCOPUS, a genus of fishes belonging to
the order 0ijugulares. See Ichthyology Index.
Raphael d’URBINO. See Raphael.
URCHIN, or Hedgehog. See Erinaceus, Mam¬
malia Index.
Sea Urchin. See Echinus, Helminthology i«c/rx
UREA. See Chemistry.
URETERS. See Anatomy, N° 101.
URETHRA. See Anatomy, N° 107.
Uric Acid. See Chemistry Index.
URIM and THUMMIM, among the ancient Hebrews,
a certain oracular manner of consulting God, which was
done by the high-priest dressed in his robes, and having
on his pectoral or breast-plate.
Various have been the sentiments of commentators
concerning the urim and thummim. Josephus, and se¬
veral others, maintain, that it meant the precious stones
set in the high-priest’s breast-plate, which by extraor¬
dinary lustre made known the will of God to those who
consulted him. Spencer believes that the urim ami
thummim were two little golden figures shut up in the
pectoral as in a purse, which gave responses with an ar¬
ticulate voice. In short, there are as many opinions
concerning the urim and thummim as there are particu¬
lar authors that wrote about them. The safest opinion,
according to Broughton, seems to be, that the words
urim and thummim signify some divine virtue and povyer
annexed to the breast-plate of the high-priest, by which
an oraculous answer was obtained from God when he
was consulted bv the high-priest; and that this was call¬
ed urim and thummim, to express the clearness and
perfection which these oracular answers always carried
with them ; for urim signifies “ light,” and thummim
“ perfection these answers not being imperfect and
ambiguous, like the heathen oracles, but clear and evi¬
dent. The use made of the urim and thummim was to
consult God in difficult cases relating to the whole state
of Israel; and sometimes in cases relating to the king,
the sanhedrim, the general of the army, or some other
great personage. . ,
URINAL, in Medicine, a vessel fit to receive amt
hold urine, and used accordingly for the convenience 0
sick persons. It is usually of glass, but sometimes
metal. .
URINE, a fluid, separated from the blood, and car¬
ried by the emulgent arteries to the kidneys, fion™
whence it descends to the bladder by the ureters, an
is from time to time emitted thence by the canal 0
urethra. See Anatomy, N° 107. For the propertie
of urine, see Chemistry Index.
3
U S Q [ 5S5 1 U T R
URN, a kind of vase, of a roundish form, hut biggest
in the middle, like the common pitchers *, now seldom
used hut in the way of ornament over chimney-pieces, in
buffets, &c. The great use of urns among the ancients,
was to preserve the ashes of the dead after they were
burnt j for which reason they were called cineraria, and
tirnde cinerarice, and were placed sometimes under the
tombstone whereon the epitaph was cut; and sometimes
in vaults in their own houses. Urns were also used at
their sacrihces to put liquid things in.
UROGALLUS. See Tetrao, Ornithology
Index.
URSA, in Astronomy, the name of two constella¬
tions in the northern hemisphere
URSULINES, in church history, an order of nuns,
founded originally hy St Angela of Brescia, in the year
1537 ; and so called from St Ursula, to whom they
were dedicated.
URSUS, the Bear, a genus of quadrupeds belong¬
ing to the order of fer<x. See Mammalia Index.
URTICA, a genus of plants of the class of monoecia $
and in the natural system classed under the 53d order,
Scab rides. See Botany Index.
Urtica Marina. See AmMAL-Flower.
USANCE, in Commerce, is a determined time fixed
for the payment of bills of exchange, reckoned either
from the day of the bills being accepted, or from the day
ef their date j and thus called because regulated hy the
usage and custom of the places whereon they are drawn.
USE, in Law, the profit or benefit of lands and te¬
nements •, or a trust and confidence reposed on a person
for the holding of lands, &c. that he to whose use the
trust is made shall receive the profits.
USHANT, an island of France, 15 miles west of the
coast of Britanny, at the entrance of the British channel.
Usher, an officer or servant who has the care and di¬
rection of the door of a court, hall, chamber, or the like.
Usher of the Black Rod, the eldest of the gentlemen
ushers, daily waiters at court, whose duty is to bear the
rod before the king at the feast of St George, and other
solemnities.
USK, a river of Wales, which rises on the west of
Brecknockshire, and runs south-east through that county
and Monmouthshire, falling into the mouth of the Se¬
vern.
USQUEBAUGH, a strong compound liquor, chiefly
taken by way of dram.
There are several different methods of making this
liquor; but the following is esteemed one of the best:
To two gallons of brandy, or other spirits, put a pound
of Spanish liquorice, half a pound of raisins of the sun,
four ounces of currants, and three of sliced dates $ the
tops of baum, mint, savory, thyme, and the tops of the
flowers of rosemary, of each two ounces ; cinnamon and
mace well bruised, nutmegs, aniseeds, and coriander
seeds, bruised likewise, of eagh four ounces; of citron
or lemon, and orange-peel, scraped, of each an ounce:
let all these infuse 48 hours in a warm place, often
shaking them together •, then let them stand in a cool
place for a week : after which the clear liquor is to be
decanted oft’, and to it is tn be put an equal quantity of
neat white port, and a gallon of canary ; after which
it is to he sweetened with a sufficient quantity ot double
refined sugar.
Vol. XX. Part II. f
USTION, in Pharmacy, the preparing of certain Ustiott
substances hy burning them. ||
USUFRUIT, in the Civil Law, the use or enjoy- Utrecht,
ment of any lands or tenements; or the right of re- v
ceiving the fruits and profits of an inheritance, or other
thing, without a power of alienating or changing the
property thereof.
USURER, a pex-son charged with a habit or act of
usury.
USURIOUS CONTRACT, is any bargain or contract
whereby a man is obliged to pay more interest for mo¬
ney than the statute allows.
USURPATION, in Law, is an injurious using or
enjoyment of a thing for continuance of tune, that be-
ongs of right to another.
USURY, an unlawful contract upon the loan of mo¬
ney, to receive the same again with exorbitant increase.
Under the article Interest, it was observed, that hy
statute 37 Hen. VII1. c. 9. the rate of interest was
fixed at 10I. per cent, per annum : which the statute 13
Elii. c. 8. confirms, and ordains, that all brokers shall
be guilty of a prcsnwnire who transact any contracts for
more, and the securities themselves shall be void. The
statute 21 Jac. I. c 17. reduced interest to 81. percent.;
and it having been lowered in 1650, during the usurpa¬
tion, to 6 per cent, the same reduction was re-enacted
after the Restoration by statute 12 Car. II. c. 13. and,
lastly, the statute 12 Annae, st. 2. c. 16. has reduced it
to 5 per cent. Wherefore not only all contracts for
taking more are in themselves totally void, but also the
lender shall forfeit treble the money borrowed. Also
if any scrivener or broker take more than 5s. per cent,
procuration-money, or more than I2d. for making a
bond, he shall forfeit 20I. with costs, and shall sufler im¬
prisonment for half a-year.
UTERUS. See Anatomy, N° 108.
UTICA, in Ancient Geography, a town of Africa
Propria, on the Mediterranean : a Tyrian colony, and
older than Carthage, (Sil. Italicus) ; its name, accord¬
ing to Bochart, denoting o/rf: reckoned second to it;
but after tlie destruction of Carthage, became the capi¬
tal and centre of all the Roman transactions in Africa,
according to Strabo; who adds, that it stood on the
same bay with Carthage, at one of the promontories
called Apollomum, bounding the hay on the west side,
the other to the east called Hermeia. being at Carthage.
It became famous by the death of Cato who thence was
*alled Uticensis.
UTRECHT, one of the seven United Provinces or
States of Holland, wholly surrounded by Holland and
Guelderland, excepting a small part of it that borders
on the Zuyder Zee. Its greatest length is about 32
miles, and breadth about 22. It enjoys a good air ;
and in most places the soil is fruitful, hut in some sandy,
or what is called turf ground, and in others overrun with
wood. It is watered by the Leek, Rhine, Vecht, and
other smaller rivers, besides several canals ; of which
that extending from the village of Vretswyk to Utrecht
is one of the chief.
Utrecht, in Latin Ultrajectum, Trajectum vetus
or inferim, or Trajectum Rheni, capital of a province of
the same name, so called from its ancient ferrv 01 pas¬
sage here over the Rhine ; the word being compounded
of trecht, which in Dutch signifies “ # ferry,” and oud
4 E ©i>
V U L [ 586 ] U Z B
Utrecht or u e- “ ^ a ^a*r> large> an^ populous
city, situated 19 miles from Amsterdam, 25 from Ilot-
Vulcan. terdam, and 27 from Leyden. Here is a stately town-
house, with a commandery of the Teutonic order, and
a celebrated university, which was founded in 1630,
since which it hath flourished greatly, though it has not
all the privileges of most other universities j being wholly
subject to the magistrates of the city. The mall with¬
out the town, having five rows of lofty limes on each
side, is very pleasant: and the physic-garden belonging
to the university is extremely curious. There are five
churches here that have chapters 5 hut the members of
these purchase the places, of which some cost 6000 or
7000 guilders. The streams which run through several
of the streets, contribute much to the beauty and clean¬
liness of the town j and the canal that is cut from the
Leek, and passes through it to Amsterdam, will carry
ships of any burden. Pope Adrian \T. was a native of
this city. Here, in 1579, the memorable union was
formed between the seven provinces; and, in I7I3> tlie
celebrated peace concluded between France on the one
part, and the allies on the other. The Papists have a
nominal archbishop of this city; and there is a silk ma¬
nufactory carried on in it, which employs a number of
hands. The inhabitants are supposed to amount to
30,000. E. Long. 5. 8. N. Lat. 52. 7.
UTRICULAR!A, a genus of plants of the class of
diandria; and in the natural system arranged under the
24th order, Corydalcs. See Botany Index.
UVA ursi. See Arbutus, Botany Index.
VULCAN, in Pagan worship, the god of subterra¬
neous fire and metals, was the son of Jupiter and Juno;
and was said to he so remarkably deformed, that his la¬
ther threw him down from heaven to the isle ot Lem¬
nos, in which fall he broke his leg, and there he set up
his forge, and taught men how to soften and polish brass
and iron. Thence he removed to the Liparian isles,
near Sicily, where, by the assistance of the Cyclops, he
made Jupiter’s thunderbolts, and armour for the other
gods. Notwithstanding the deformity of his person, he
had a passion for Minerva, and by Jupiter’s consent
made his addresses to her, but without success. He Vulcsa
was, however, more fortunate in his suit to Venus; ]|
who, after marriage, chose Mars for her gallant; when kzbeck
Vulcan exposeckthem to the ridicule of the other gods,' 'r"'’
by taking them in a net.
\ ULGATE, a very ancient Latin translation of the
Bible, and the only one acknowledged by the church of
Rome to he authentic. See Bible.
VULNERARY, in Medicine, an epithet formerly
given to remedies supposed to possess virtues for the .
cure of wounds and ulcers.
VULTUR, a genus of birds belonging to the order
of Accipitres. See Ornithology Index.
VULVA. See Anatomy, N° 132.
UVULA. See Anatomy, N° 102.
UZ, or Utz, the country and place of residence of
Job. In the genealogy of the patriarchs there are three
persons called U<z, either of which might give this di¬
strict its name. The first was the grandson of Sem, by
his son Aram (Gen. xxii. 23.), who, according to Jose¬
phus, occupied the Trachonitis, and Damascus, to the
north of Palestine : but Job was among the sons of the
East. Another Us was the son of Nahor, Abraham’s
brother (Gen. x. 21.), who appears to have removed,
after passing the Euphrates, from Haran of Mesopota¬
mia to Arabia Deserta. The third U% was a Horite,
from Mount Seir (Gen. xxxvi. 28.), and thus not of
Eber’s posterity. Now the question is, from which of
these Job’s country, Uz, took its name : Not from the
first, as is already shown; nor from the second, because
his country is always called Scir, or Edom, never Uz;
and then called a south, not an east, country, in Scrip¬
ture. It therefore remains, that we look for the coun¬
try and place of residence of Job in Arabia Deserta;
for which there wTere very probable reasons. The plun¬
derers of Job are called Chaldeans and Sabeans, next
neighbours to him. These Saheans came not from A-
rabia Felix, hut from a nearer Sabe in Arabia Deserta
(Ptolemy) ; and his friends, except Eliphaz the Ihe-
manite, were of Arabia Deserta.
UZBECK Tartary. See Tartary.
W,
W.
Wor w, is the 2ist letter of our alphabet ; and is
3 composed, as its name implies, of two v’s. It
was not in use among the Hebrews, Greeks, or Romans;
but chiefly peculiar to the northern nations, the Teu-
tones, Saxons, Britons, &c. But still it is not used by
the French, Italians, Spaniards, or Portuguese, except
in proper names, and other terms borrowed from lan¬
guages in which it is originally used, and even then it is
sounded like the single v. This letter is c-f an ambigu¬
ous nature ; being a consonant at the beginning of
words, and a vowel at the end. It may stand before all
the vou/els except it; as water, wedge, winter, wonder:
it may also follow the vowels a, e, 0, and unites with
them into a kind of double vowel, or diphthong; as in
saw, few, cotv, &c. It also goes before r, and follows W
s and th ; as in wrath, swear, thwart: it goes belore h ^
also, though in reality it is sounded after it; as in when, ^
what, &c. In some words it is obscure, as in shadow,
widow, &e. _
WAAG, a river of Hungary, which rises in the Car¬
pathian mountains, and falls into the Danube opposite
to the island of Schut.
WAAL, a river of the United Netherlands, being
one of the branches of the Rhine, which runs from east
to west, through Guelderland ; passing by Nimeguen,
Tiel, Bommel, and Gorcum ; and, uniting with the
Maes, falls into the German sea below the Brie!.
WACHENDORFIA, a genus of plants of the class
W A I [ 587 ] W A K
\\ kn- triahdfla *, and arranged in tlie natural method under
( fia the 6th order, Ensatce. See Botany Index.
I W ADD, or Wadding, is a stopple of paper, hay,
'1Ye' . straw, or the like, forced into a gun upon the powder,
to keep it close in the chamber; or to put up close to
the shot, to keep it from rolling out.
WADSET, in Scots Law. See Law, N° clxix. 1.
WAFERS, or Sealing Wafers, are made thus :
Take very fine flour, mix it with glair of eggs, isinglass,
and a little yeast; mingle the materials ; beat them well
together j spread the batter, being made thin with gum-
water, on even tin plates, and dry them in a stove j then
cut them out for use.
You may make them of what colour you please, by
tinging the paste with brasil or vermilion for red 5 in¬
digo or verditer, &c. for blue ; saffron, turmeric, or
gamboge, &c. for yellow.
WAGER of Law. See (fJrager of') Law'.
Wager of Battel. See {Wager of) Battel.
WAGGON, a wheel-carriage, of which there are
various forms, accommodated to the different uses they
are intended for. The common waggon consists of the
shafts or rods, being the two pieces which the hind horse
bears up-} the welds } the slotes, or cross pieces, which
hold the shafts together } the bolster, being that part
on which the fore-wheels and the axle-tree turn in
wheeling the waggon across the road ; the chest or body
of the waggon, having the staves or rails fixed there¬
on } the bales, or hoops which compose the top} the tilt,
the place covered with cloth, at the end of the waggon.
See Mechanics, Sect. iv.
WAGTAIL. See Motacilla, Ornithology
Index.
WAIFS, Bona Waviata, are goods stolen, and
waived or thrown away by the thief in his flight, for fear
of being apprehended. These are given to the king by
the law, as a punishment upon the owner for not him¬
self pursuing the felon, and taking away his goods from
him. And therefore if the party robbed do his dili¬
gence immediately to follow and apprehend the thief
-(which is called making fresh suit), or do convict him
afterwards, or procure evidence to convict him, he shall
have his goods again. Waived goods do also not be¬
long to the king till seized by somebody for his use } for
if the party robbed can seize them first, though at the
distance of 20 years, the king shall never have them.
If the goods are hid by the thief, or left anywhere by
; him, so that he had them not about him when he fled,
and therefore did not throw them away in his flight }
these also are not bona waviata, but the owner may
have them again when he pleases. The goods of a fo-
Teign merchant, though stolen and thrown away in flight,
•shall never be waifs: the reason whereof may be, not
only for the encouragement of trade, but also because
there is no wilful default in the foreign merchant’s not
pursuing the thief, he being generally a stranger to our
laws, our usages, and our language.
WAIGATS straits, situated between Nova Zem-
Ida and Russia, through which the Dutch sailed to the
north, as high as 750, in order to discover a north-east
passage to China and the East Indies.
WAINSCOT, in building, the timber-work that
•serves to line the walls of a room, being usually made
■lo pannels, and painted, to serve instead of hangings.
-WAIVE, in Law, a woman that is put out of, the
protection of the law. She is called waive, as being Waive,
forsaken of the law ; and not an outlaw as a man is ; by Waive,
reason women cannot be of the decenna, and are not ’"'v
sworn in leets to the king, nor to the law, as men are }
who are therefore within the law ; whereas women are
not, and so cannot be outlawed, since they never were
within it. ,
WAKE, the print or track impressed by the course
of a ship on the surface of the water. It is formed by
the re-union of the body of water which was separated
by the ship’s bottom whilst moving through it} and
may be seen to a considerable distance behind the stern,
as smoother than the rest of the sea. Hence it is usual¬
ly observed by the compass, to discover the angle of
lee-way.
A ship is said to be in the wake of another when she
follows her on the same track, or a line supposed to be
formed on the continuation of her keel.
Two distant objects observed at sea are called in the
wake of each other, when the view of the farthest is
intercepted by the nearest so that the observer’s eye
and the two objects are all placed upon the same right
line.
Wake is the eve feast of the dedication of churches,
which is kept with feasting and rural diversions.
Mr Whitaker, in his History of Manchester, has
given a particular account of the origin of wakes and
fairs. He observes, that every church at its consecra¬
tion received the name of some particular saint} this
custom was practised among the Roman Britons, and
continued among the Saxons } and in the council of
Cealchythe, in 816, the name of the denominating
saint was expressly required to be inscribed on the al¬
tars, and also on the walls of the church, or a tablet
within it. The feast of this saint became of course the
festival of the church. Thus Christian festivals were
substituted in the room of the idolatrous anniversaries
of heathenism : accordingly, at the first introduction of
Christianity among the Jutes of Kent, Pope Gregory
the Great advised, what had been previously done among
the Britons, viz. Christian festivals to be instituted in
the room of the idolatrous, and the suffering day of the
martyr whose relics were reposited in the church, or
the day on which the building was actually dedicated,
to be the established feast of the parish. Both were ap¬
pointed and observed } and they were clearly distinguish¬
ed at first among the Saxons, as appears from the laws
of the Confessor, where the dies dedicationis, or dedicatio,
is repeatedly discriminated from the propria festivitas
sancti, or celebratio sancti. They remained equally dis¬
tinct to the Reformation; the dedication-day in 1536
beinu ordered for the future to be kept on the first
Sunday in October, and the festival of the patron saint
to be celebrated no longer. The latter was, by way of
pre-eminence, denominated the church's holiday, or its
peculiar festival; and while this remains in many pa¬
rishes at present, the other is so utterly annihilated in all,
that Bishop Keunet (says Mr Whitaker) knew nothing
of its distinct existence, and has attributed to the day of
dedication what is true only concerning the saint’s day.
Thus instituted at first, the day of the tutelar saint was
observed, most probably by the Britons, and certainly
by the Saxons, with great devotion. And the evening-
before every saint’s day, in the Saxon Jewish method of
reckoning the hours, being an actual hour of the day*
.4 E 2 and
W A K [ s
Wafce. and therefore like that appropriated to the duties of
—v 1 public religion, as they reckoned Sunday from the first
to commence at the sunset of Saturday j the evening
preceding the church’s holiday would be observed with
all the devotion of the festival. The people actually re¬
paired to the church, and joined in the services of it; and
they thus spent the evening of their greater festivities in
the monasteries of the North, as early as the conclusion
of the seventh century.
I'hese services were naturally denominated from their
late hours wacUn or wakes, and vigils or eves. That
of the anniversary at Rippon, as early as the commence¬
ment of the eighth century, is expressly denominated
the vigil. But that of the church’s holiday was named
cyric Wceean, or church-wake,the church-vigil,or church
eve. And it was this commencement of both with a
wake, which has now caused the days to be generally
preceded with vigils, and the church-holiday particular¬
ly to be denominated the church-wake. So religiously
was the eve and festival of the patron saint observed for
many ages by the Saxons, even as late as the reign of
Edgar, the former being spent in the church, and
employed in prayer. And the wakes, and all the other
holidays in the year, Were put upon the same footing
with the Octaves of Christmas, Easter, and of Pente¬
cost. When Gregory recommended the festival of the
patron saint, he advised the people to erect booths of
branches about the church on the day of the festival,
and to feast and be merry in them with innocence. Ac¬
cordingly, in every parish, on the returning anniversary
of the saint, little pavilions were constructed of boughs,
and the people indulged in them to hospitality and
mirth. The feasting of the saint’s day, however, was
soon abused ; and even in the body of the church, when
the people were assembled for devotion, they began to
mind diversions, and to introduce drinking. The
growing intemperance gradually stained the service of
the vigil, till the festivity of it was converted, as it now
is, into the rigour of a fast. At length they too justly
scandalized the Puritans of the last century, and num¬
bers of the wakes were disused entirely, especially in
the east and some western parts of England j but they
are commonly observed in the north, and in the midland
counties.
This custom of celebrity in the neighbourhood of the
church, on the days of particular saints, was introduced
into England from the continent, and must have been
familiar equally to the Britons and Saxons 5 being ob¬
served among the churches of Asia in the sixth century,
and by those of the west of Europe in the seventh.
And equally in Asia and Europe, on the continent and
in the islands, those celebrities were the causes of those
commercial marts which we denominate fairs. The
people resorted in crowds to the festival, and a consider¬
able provision would be wanted for their entertainment.
The prospect of interest invited the little traders of the
country to come and offer their wares j and thus, among
the many pavilions for hospitality in the neighbourhood
of the church, various booths were erected for the sale
of different commodities. In larger towns, surrounded
with populous districts, the resort of the people to the
Wakes would be great, and the attendance of traders
numerous ; and this resort and attendance constitute a
fair.—Basil expressly mentions the numerous appearance
of fraders at these festivals in Asia, and Gregory notes
88 ] W A L
the same custom to be common in Europe. And as the ^
festival was observed on a feria or holyday, it naturally y *
assumed to itself, and as naturally communicated to the Wales,
mart, the appellation of feria or fair. Indeed several of
our most ancient fairs appear to have been usually held,
and have been continued to our time, on the original
church-holydays of the places : besides, it is observable,
that fairs were generally kept in church-yards, and
even in the churches, and also on Sundays, till the inde¬
cency and scandal were so great as to need reformation.
Wake-RoBiN. See Arum, Botany Index.
WALACHIA, a province of Turkey in Europe,
bounded on the north by Moldavia and Transylvania;
on the east and south by the river Danube, and on the
west by Transylvania. It is 225 miles in length, and
125 in breadth; and was ceded to the Turks by the
treaty of Belgrade, in 1739. It abounds in good horses
and cattle ; and there are mines of several kinds. The
soil is so fertile, that it is capable of producing any
thing; and there are good pastures, with wine, oil, and
all manner of European fruits. The inhabitants are
chiefly of the Greek church.
WALCHEREN, an island of the Low Countries,
and one of the principal of those of Zealand ; separated
from Dutch Flanders by the mouth of the Scheldt. It
is about nine miles in length, and eight in breadth ;
and though it lies low, has good arable and pasture land.
The chief town of this island and the whole province is
Middleburgh. But the principal sea port is Flushing,
which is strongly fortified. Walcheren was taken by
the British forces in August 1809 5 ^ soon a^ter
was abandoned, the troops having suffered severely by
sickness.
WALDEN, a town of Essex, commonly called Saf¬
fron Walden, with a market on Saturdays, and two
fairs on Midlent Saturday for horses, and November 1st
for cows. It is remarkable for the plenty of saffron
that grows about it. This town was incorporated by
Edward VI. and is governed by a mayor and 24 aider-
men. It is 27 miles north-west-by-north of Chelms¬
ford, and 43 north-east of London. E. Long. 0. 20,
N. Lat. 52. 4.
WALDENSES. See Waldo.
WALDO, a merchant of Lyons in the latter part of
the 12th century, who applying himself to the study of
the Scriptures, and finding no warrant there for several
of the Romish doctrines, particularly that of transub-
stantiation, publicly opposed them. His followers, who
from him wTere called Waldenses, being chased from
Lyons, spread over Dauphine and Provence ; upon
which Philip II. is said to have razed 300 gentlemen’s
seats, and destroyed several walled towns to stop their
growth : but this, instead of suppressing, spread them
over a great part of Europe. The articles of their
faith, which they drew up and dedicated to the king
of France, agreed in most points with those of the pre¬
sent Protestants. In the year 1200, those of them who
dwelt in the province of Albigeois in Languedoc, from
whence they were called Albigenses, stood upon their
defence; upon which Philip drove them into Bohemia,
Savoy, and England. The crusade against them is smd
to have consisted of 500,000 men, who wore their crosses
on their breasts, to distinguish themselves from those who
went to the Holy Land, and wore them on their shoulders.
WALES, a country situated in the south-west pa1
W A L [ 589 ] W A L
Vies, ol*Britain, into which the ancient Britons retired from
*,.^the persecution of the Saxons. Anciently it was of
greater extent than it is at present, and comprehended
all the country beyond the Severn ; that is, besides the
12 counties included in it at present, those of Hereford¬
shire and Monmouthshire, which now are reckoned a
part of England, were then inhabited by three different
tribes of the Britons, namely the Silures, the Dimetae,
and the Ordovices. The Romans were never able to
subdue them, till the reign of Vespasian, when they
were reduced by Julius Frontinus, who placed garrisons
in their country to keep them in awe. Though the
Saxons made themselves masters of all England, they
never could get possession of Wales, except the counties
of Monmouthshire and Herefordshire, formerly a part of
Wales. About the year 870, Roderic king of Wales
divided it among his three sons; and the names of these
divisions were, Demetia, or South-Wales; Povesia, or
Powis-Land ; and Venedotia, or North Wales. Another
division is mentioned afterwards in the records, viz.
North Wales, South Wales, and West Wales ; the last
comprehending the counties of Monmouth and Here¬
ford. The country derived the name of Wales, and the
inhabitants that of Welsh, from the Saxons, who by
those terms denote a country and people to which they
are strangers ; for the Welsh, in their own language,
call their country Cymry, and their language Cymraeg.
They continued under their own princes and laws from
the above-mentioned period, and were never entirely
subjected to the crown of England till the reign of
Edward I. when Lie well in ap Gryffith, prince of
Wales, lost both his life and dominions. Edward, the
better to secure his conquest, and to reconcile the Welsh
to a foreign yoke, sent his queen to lie in at Caernarvon,
where she was delivered of a prince ; to whom the
Welsh, on that account, the more readily submitted.
Ever since that time, the eldest sons of the kings of
England have commonly been created princes of
Wales, and as such enjoy certain revenues from that
country.
As to the character of the Welsh, they are said to
be a brave hospitable people ; and though very jealous
of affronts, passionate, and hasty, yet are easily recon¬
ciled. The common people look with a suspicious eye
on strangers, and bear a hereditary grudge to the Eng¬
lish nation, by whom their ancestors were expelled from
the finest parts of the island. The gentlemen are apt
to value themselves upon the antiquity of their families ;
and with some reason, as they can generally trace them
much higher than the inhabitants of most other coun¬
tries.
All the better sort, both in town and country, can
speak English, especially in the counties bordering upon
England. The common people, in general, only speak
their own language, which is the ancient British ; and
not only differs entirely from the English, but has very
little affinity with any of the western tongues, unless
we should except the Gaelic, Erse, or Irish. It is said
to be a dialect of the ancient Celtic, and in many re¬
spects to resemble the Hebrew. Most of the clergy are
natives of the country, and understand English so well,
that they could exercise their functions in any part of
Britain. The public worship, however, is as often per¬
formed in Welsh as in English, excepting in the towns,
where the latter is the prevailing language. According
to the returns in 1811, the population of Wales was Wales
611,788. (|
The country, though mountainous, especially in Wall.
North Wales, is far from being barren or unfruitful ; y—
the lulls, besides the metals and minerals they contain,
feeding vast herds of small black cattle, deer, sheep,
and goats, and their valleys abounding in corn, as their
seas and rivers do in fish. Here are also wood, coal,
and turf, for fuel, in abundance.
Wales is bounded on all sides by the sea and the
Severn ; except on the east, where it joins to the coun¬
ties ot Chester, Salop, Hereford, and Monmouth. Its
length, from the southernmost part ol Glamorganshire
to the extremity of Flintshire north, is computed at
about 113 miles; and its greatest breadth, from the
river Wye east to St David’s in Pembrokeshire west, is
nearly of the same dimensions, being about 90 miles.
Alter the conquest of Wales by Edward I. very ma¬
terial alterations were made in their laws, so as to reduce
them nearer to the English standard, especially in the
forms of their judicial proceedings : but they still retain¬
ed very much of their original polity, particularly their
rule of inheritance, viz. that their lands were divided
equally among all the issue male, and did not descend to
the eldest son alone. By other subsequent statutes their
provincial immunities were still farther abridged : but
the finishing stroke to their dependency was given by
the statute 27 Hen. VIII. c. 26. which at the same time
gave the utmost advancement to their civil prosperity,
by admitting them to a thorough communication of laws
with the subjects of England.—Thus were this brave
people gradually conquered into the enjoyment of true
liberty ; being insensibly put upon the same footing,
and made fellow-citizens, with their conquerors.
It is enacted by the 27 Hen. VIII. 1. That the do¬
minions of Wales shall be forever united to the kingdom
of England. 2. That all Welshmen born shall have the
same liberties as other king’s subjects. 3. That lands
in Wales shall be inheritable according to the English
tenures and rules of descent. 4. That the laws of Eng¬
land, and no other, shall be used in Wales; besides ma¬
ny other regulations of the police of this principality.
And the 34 and 35 Hen. VIII. c. 26. confirms the same,
adds fai’ther regulations, divides it into 12 shires, and
in short, reduces it to the same order in which it stands
at this day; differing from the kingdom of England in
only a few particulars, and those too of the nature of
privileges (such as having courts within itself, indepen¬
dent of the process of WTestminster-hall), and some other
immaterial peculiarities, hardly more than axe to be
found in many counties of England itself.
New Wales. See New Piiitain.
New South Wales. See New Holland.
Prince of Wales. See Royal Family.
Walking Leaf, an insect. See Mantis Sycifolia,
Entomolgy Index.
W ALL, in Architecture, the pi'incipal part of a
building, as serving both to inclose it, and to support
the roof, floors, &c.—Walls are distinguished into va¬
rious kinds, from the matter whereof they consist; as
plaster or mud walls, brick walls, stone walls, flint
or boulder walls, and boarded walls. See Archi¬
tecture.
Coh or Mud Wall. In those parts of England where
stone is scarce, it is usual to make walls and houses of
mud,
W fA L [ 5^0 ] W A L
mud, oi4, n,s it is called in Devonshire, cob j which is a
composition of earth and straw, wet up somewhat like
mortar, but well beat and trod together. V* hen a wall
is making, alter being raised to a certain height, it is al¬
lowed time to pitch or settle before the work is resumed.
Some value themselves on their skill in building with
this composition *, the price, when materials are found, is
generally in Devonshire 3s. per perch of i6f feet 5 but
a stone foundation costs more. Houses built with this,
being covered with thatch, are very dry and warm *, a
cob wall, if in a good situation, will last 50 or 60 years
or more. When pulled down, they are used as manure,
and new earth employed to rebuild with.
WALLACE, Sir William, a gallant general of
the Scots, who endeavoured to rescue his country from
the English yoke j but being taken prisoner, he was un¬
justly tried by the English laws, condemned, and exe-
.cuted as a traitor to Edward I. in 1304. See Scot¬
land, N° 103, et scq.
WALLACHIA. See Walachia.
WALLER, Edmund, a celebrated English poet,
was the son of Robert AValler, Esq. of Agmondesham
;in Buckinghamshire, by Anne, the sister of the great
.Hampden who distinguished himself so much in the be¬
ginning of the civil wars. Ele was born in 1605 $
and his father dying when he was very young, the care
of his education fell to his mother, who sent him to Eton
.school. Lie was afterwards sent to King’s college in
Cambridge, where he must have been very assiduous in
his studies, since, at sixteen or seventeen years of age, he
was chosen into the last parliament of King James I.
.and served as burgess for Agmondesham. He began to
exercise his. political talent so early as the year 1623 ; as
appears from his verses “ upon the danger his majesty
.(being prince) escaped in the road of St Andero j” for
there Prince Charles returning from Spain that yeai',
had like to have been cast away. It was not, however,
Mr Waller’s wit, his fine parts, or his poetry, that so
much occasioned him to be fii-st publicly known, as his
. carrying off the daughter and sole heiress of a rich ci-
. tizen, against a rival whose interest was espoused by the
court. It is not known at what time he married his
first lady ; but he was a widower before he w-as 25,
when he began to have a passion for Sacharissa, which
was a fictitious name for the lady Dorothy Sidney,
daughter to the eai'l of Leicester, and afterwards wife to
the earl of Sunderland. He was now' known at coui't,
caressed by all who had any relish for wit and polite
literature 5 and was one of the famous club of which
. Lord Falkland, Mr Chillingworth, and other eminent
men, were members. He was returned bui'gess for Ag-
, mondesham in the parliament which met in April 1640.
An intermission of parliaments having disgusted the na¬
tion, and raised jealousies against the designs of the
court, which would be sure to discover themselves when¬
ever the king came to ask for a supply, Mr W aller was
one of the first who condemned the preceding measures.
He showed himself in opposition to the court, and made
a speech in the house on this occasion ; from which we
may gather some notion of his general principles in go¬
vernment 5 wherein, however, he afterwards proved very
vax-iable and inconstant. He opposed the court also in
the long parliament which met in November following,
and was chosen to impeach Judge Crawley, which he
; did in a warm and eloquent speech, July 16th 1641.
This speech was so highly applauded, that 20,ooo^co-
pies of it were sold in one day. In 1642, he was one Wallis’
of the commissioners appointed by the parliament tore¬
present their propositions of peace to the king at Ox¬
ford. In 1643, ^ie was deeply engaged in a design to
reduce the city of London and the Tower to the service
of the king $ for which he was tried and condemned,
together with Mr Tomkins his brother-in-law, and Mt
Challoner. The two latter suffered death j but Mr
Waller obtained a reprieve : he was, however, sen¬
tenced to suffer a year’s imprisonment, and to pay a fine
of io,oool. After this, he became particularly attached
to Oliver Cromwell, upon whom be wrote a vei'y hand¬
some panegyric. He also wrote a noble poem on the
death of that great man.
At the Restoration, he was treated with great civility
by Charles II. who always made him one of the party
-in his diversions at the duke of Buckingham’s and other
places. He wrote a panegyric upon his majesty’s re¬
turn 5 which being thought to fall much short of that he
-had befoi’e written on Oliver Cromwell, the king one
day asked him in raillery, “ How is it, Waller, that
you wrote a better encomium on Cromwell than on
-me ?” “ May it please your majesty,” answered he,
“ we poets generally succeed best in fiction.” He sat in
several parliaments after the Restoration, and continued
in the full vigour of his genius to the end of his life,
his natural vivacity bearing him up, and making his
.company agreeable to the last. He died of a dropsy in
1687, and was interi’ed in the churchyard of Beacons-
• field, where a monument is erected to his memory. Mr
Waller has been honoured as the most elegant and har¬
monious versifier of his time, and a great refiner of the
English language. The best edition of his works, con¬
taining poems, speeches, letters, &c. is that published
in quarto by Mr Fenton, to 17,30.
WALLIS, Dr John, a celebrated mathematician,
was educated at Cambridge j where he became fellow
of Queen’s college, and continued so till, by his mar¬
riage, he vacated his fellowship. In 1640, he received
holy orders, and became chaplain to the lady \ ere.
While he lived in this family, he cultivated the art of
deciphering ; and it is said that the elector of Branden-
burgh, for whom he explained several lettei'S written in
ciphers, sent him a gold chain and medal. In 1643 l)e
published, “Truth tried; or Animadversions on the Lord
Brooke’s treatise, called The Mature of Truth, &£•
The next year he was chosen one of the scribes or se¬
cretaries to the assembly of divines at Westminster. Dr
Peter Turner, Savilian professor of geometry in Oxford,
being ejected by the pai’liament-visitors in 1649, Hr
Wallis was appointed to succeed him in that place. In
1653 he published at Oxford a Grammar of the Eng¬
lish Tongue in Latin. In 1655 he entered the li-t*
with Mr Hobbes; and their controversy lasted a con¬
siderable time. In 1657 the Doctor published his Ma¬
thematical Works. Upon the death of Dr Langbaine,
he was chosen custos archivorum of the university. A
ter the Restoration he met with great respect, the king
himself entertaining a favourable opinion of him on ac¬
count of some services he had done both to bis roy®
father and himself. He was therefore, confirmed in m*
places, admitted one of the king’s chaplains in ordinary)
and appointed one of the divines empowered to icview
the book of common prayer. He complied with t e
r J (terms
W A L [ 59 r ] W A L
wjiJj terms of the act of uniformity, anil continued a steady
conformist till his death. He was one of the first mem-
a le. bers of the Royal Society, and corresppnded with many
learned men. In 1697, the curators of the university
press at Oxford thought it for the honour of the univer¬
sity to collect the mathematical works of the Doctor,
which had been printed separately, some in Latin, some
in English, and published them all together in the Latin
tongue, in three vols, folio. He died in 1703. He
speaks of himself thus : “ It hath been my endeavour
all along to act by moderate principles, being willing,
whatever side rvas uppermost, to promote any good de¬
sign for the true interest of religion, of learning, and
of the public good.” Besides the works above men¬
tioned, he published many others.
WALLOONS, a name for the inhabitants of a
considerable part of the Netherlands, viz Artois, Hai-
nault, Naum, Luxemburgh, and part of Flanders and
Brabant.
WALNUT-tree. See Juglans, Botany Index.
WALPOLE, Sir Robert, earl of Orford, was
born at Houghton in Norfolk, September 6th, 1674,
and educated on the foundation at Eton school. Thence
he was elected to King’s College in Cambridge; but,
succeeding to the family estate by the death of his elder
brother, he resigned his fellowship. In 1700, he was
chosen member of parliament for King’s Lynn, and re¬
presented that borough in several succeeding parlia¬
ments. In 1705, he was nominated one of the council,
to Prince George of Denmark, lord high admiral of
England j in I7°7» appointed secretary at war j and,
in 1709, treasurer of the navy. In 1710, upon the
change of the ministry, he was removed from all his
posts, and held no place afterwards during the queen’s
reign. In 1711 he was expelled from the house of
1 commons for what they called notorious corruption in
his office as secretary at war. The borough of Lynn,
however, re-elected him ; and, though the house de¬
clared the election void, yet they persisted in the choice.
In the well-known debate relating to Steele for publish¬
ing the Crisis, he greatly distinguished himself in be¬
half of liberty, and added to the popularity he had be¬
fore acquired.
On the death of the queen, a revolution of politics
took place, and the Whig party prevailed both at court
and in the senate. Walpole had before recommended
himself to the house of Hanover by his zeal for its
cause, when the commons considered the state of the
| nation with regard to the Protestant succession : and
: he had now the honour to procure the assurance of the
house to the new king (which attended the address of
condolence and congratulation), “ That the commons
'would make good all parliamentary funds.” It is there¬
fore not to be wondered at, that his promotion soon
took place after the king’s arrival ; and that in a few
days he was appointed receiver and paymaster-general
°f all the guards and garrisons, and of all other the
land forces in Great Britain, paymaster of the royal
hospital at Chelsea, and likewise a privy counsellor.
On the opening of a new parliament, a committee of
secrecy was chosen to inquire into the conduct of the
late ministry, of which Walpole was appointed chair¬
man; and, by his management, articles of impeach*-
ment were read against the earl of Oxford, Lord Bo-
lingbxoke, the duke of Ormond, and the earl of Straf-
Z
ford. The eminent service be was thought to have Walpota.
done the crown, by the vigorous prosecution of those  v—
ministers who were deemed the chief instruments of the
peace, was soon rewarded by the extraordinary pro¬
motions to the offices of first commissioner of the trea¬
sury, and chancellor and under treasurer of the exche¬
quer.
In two years time he resigned all his offices, on ac¬
count of a misunderstanding which took place between-
him and the rest of the ministry about certain supplies
demanded for the support of his majesty’s German do¬
minions. On the day of his resignation he brought in
the famous sinking-fund bill, which he presented as a
country gentleman, saying, that he hoped it would not
fare the worse for having two fathers ; and that his
successor Mr Stanhope would bring it to perfection.
His calling himself the father of a project, which hath,
since been so often employed to other purposes than
were at first declared, gave his enemies frequent oppor¬
tunity for satire and ridicule ; and it hath been sarcasti¬
cally observed, that the father of this fund appeared in
a very bad light when viewed in the capacity of a nurse.
In the next session of parliament, Walpole opposed the
ministry in every thing 5 and even Wyndham or Ship-
pen did not exceed him in patriotism. Upon a motion
in the house for continuing the army, he made a speech
of above an hour long, and displayed the danger of a
standing army in a free country, with all the powers of
eloquence. Early in 1720 the rigour of the patriot
began to soften, and the complaisance of the courtier
to appear; and he was again appointed paymaster of
the forces, and several of his friends were found soon
after in the list of promotions. No doubt now remain¬
ed of his entire conversion to court measures j for be¬
fore the end of the year, we find him pleading as strong¬
ly for the forces required by the war-office as he had
before declaimed against them, even though at this
time the same pretences for keeping them on foot did
not exist.
It was not long before he acquired full ministerial
power, being appointed first lord commissioner of the
treasury, and chancellor of the exchequer; and, when
the king went abroad in 1723, he was nominated one
of the lords justices for the administration of govern¬
ment, and was sworn sole secretary of state.' About
this time he received another distinguished mark of the
royal favour ; his eldest son then on his travels being
created a peer, by the title of Baron Walpole of Wal¬
pole. In 1725 he was made knight of the Bath, and
the year after knight of the Garter. The measures of
his administration, during the long time he remained
prime or rather sole minister, have been often canvassed
with all the severity of critical inquiry. It is difficult
to discern the truth through the exaggerations and mis*-
representations of party. He has indeed been accused
of employing the sinking fund for the purposes of cor¬
ruption, of which it was long the fashion to call him
the father; but the man who reflects on the transactions
of Charles II. and his infamous cabal, will acquit him
of the latter part of this charge. He was an enemy to
war, and the friend of commerce ; and because he did
not resent some petty insults of the court of Spain so
suddenly as the fiery part of the nation thought he
should have done, a formidable opposition was formed
against him in the house, which had influence enough
to ‘
W A L
[ 59
2 j W A L
feet: it was a fault for which no apology can be made *,
because, whether that prelate was innocent or guilty, of
his guilt no legal proof ever appeared. In that instance
the conduct of the minister was the more extraordinary,
that on other occasions he chose to gain over the disaf¬
fected by mildness and beneficence, even when he had
sufficient proofs of their guilt. Of this the following
anecdote, communicated by Lord North to Dr Johnson,
Is a sufficient proof. Sir Robert having got into his
hands some treasonable papers of his inveterate enemy
Shippen, sent for him, and burnt them before his eyes.
Some time afterwards, while Shippen was taking the
oaths to the government in the house of commons, Sir
Robert, who stood next to him, and knew his principles
to be the same as ever, smiled j upon which Shippen,
who had observed him, said “ Egad, Robin, that’s bard-
„r r lp (o emnloy in its cause almost all the wit of the nation.
< Pulteney and Pitt were the great leaders of the party
in the house of commons j while Bolmgbroke and Pope
and Johnson, and almost every man of genius, exerted
themselves without doors to enlighten, by pamphlets in
urose and verse, the minds of the people, and show the
necessity of a Spanish war. This he strenuously oppos¬
ed, because he knew that the foreign settlements of that
power are very remote, and in a climate destructive to
Englishmen *, and that such of them as we might be
able to take, we could not possibly retain. The oppo-
aition however prevailed. The nation was indulged m
a war, of which it surely had no cause to boast ot tbe
success : and it is now universally known, that the
greater part of those who with honest intentions had,
either in parliament or out of it, been engaged to run
down the minister, lived to repent of their conduct, and
do justice to the man whom they had so pertinaciously
^Jn order to encourage commerce and improve the
revenue, Sir Robert projected a scheme for an extension
of the excise, as the only means ot putting a stop to the
frauds of merchants and illicit traders. 1 his wasanother
ground of clamour to the orators within, and the wits
without, doors j and while the opposition represented it
as a measure big with public mischief, Swift and Pope
occasionally alluded to it as an oppression calculated to
deprive private life of all its comforts The minister
was therefore obliged to abandon the scheme j but in a
succeeding administration it was partly carried into exe¬
cution, at the express solicitation of the principal per¬
sons concerned in that article of trade which it was sug¬
gested would be most affected by it j and afterwards the
most popular minister that ever directed the councils ot
this country declared in full senate, that if a time should
ever arrive which was likely to render the project tea-
sible he would himself recommend an extension ot the
excise laws as a measure of the greatest advantage to
commerce, to the revenue, and to the general interests
of the kingdom. i o-
In 1742 the opposition prevailed-, and bir Kobeit
being no longer able to carry a majority in the house
of commons, resigned all his places, and fled for shelter
behind the throne. He was soon afterwards created
earl of Orford j and the king, in consideration ot his
long and faithful services, granted him a pension ot
4000I. per annum. The remainder of his life he spent
in tranquillity and retirement, and died, in 1745, m the
nrist year ot his age. . , , r
He has been severely, and not unjustly, censured tor
that system of corruption by which he almost ayowe
that he governed the nation -, but the objects which he
hud in view are now acknowledged to have been in a
high decree praise-worthy. Johnson, who in the earlier
part of his life had joined the other wits in writing
against his measures, afterwards honoured his memory
for the placability of his temper, and for keeping this
country in peace for so many years ; and Mr Burke
Letters has * declared, that his only defect as a minister was
»n a llegi- the want of sufficient firmness to treat with contempt
ride Peace. t}mt popular clamour, which, by his yielding to it, hur¬
ried the nation into an expensive and unjust war. But
his rancorous prosecution of Atterbury bishop ot Ro¬
chester (see Atterbury), by a hill ot pains and penal¬
ties, may be considered as something worse than a de-
W*!}:
Wald
hail
ly fail
To whatever objections his ministerial conduct may
he liable, in his private character he is universally al¬
lowed to have had amiable and benevolent qualities.
That he %vas a tender parent, a kind master, a bene¬
ficent patron, a firm friend, an agreeable companion,
are points that have been seldom disputed ; and so calm
and equal was his temper, that Pulteney, his great rival
and opponent, said, he was sure that Sir Robert Wal¬
pole never felt the bitterest invective against him for
half an hour.
About the end of Queen Anne’s reign, and the be¬
ginning of Ceorge I.’s he wrote the following pamph¬
lets. I. The Sovereign’s Answer to the Gloucester¬
shire Address. The Sovereign meant Charles duke of
Somerset, so nicknamed by the Whigs. 2. Answer to
the Representation of the House of Lords on the State
of the Navy, 1709. 3. The Debts of the Nation stated
and considered, in four Papers, 1710. 4- ^)e Thiity-
five Millions accounted for, 1710. 5. A Letter front
a foreign Minister in England to Monsieur Pettecum,
1710. 6. Four Letters to a Friend in Scotland upon
Sacheverell’s Trial -, falsely attributed in the General
Dictionary to Mr Maynwaring. 7. A Short History
of the Parliament. It is an account of the last ses¬
sion of the queen. 8. The South-Sea Scheme consider¬
ed. 9. A Pamphlet against the Peerage Billl, 1719-
10. The Report of the Secret Committee, June 9th,
j * I r
WALRUS. See Trichecus, Mammalia Index.
WALSH, William, an English critic and poet,
the son of Joseph Walsh, Esq. of Abberley in Wor¬
cestershire, was born about the year 1660. He became
a gentleman commoner of Wadham college, Uxtord,
but left the university without taking a degree. 1S
writings are printed among the works of the Minor
Poets, printed in 1749. He was made gentleman ot
the horse in Queen Anne’s reign and died in
. . 1 f* -1* /r T'V _ 1 _ . .1 „ i IT. 'I .> I 'n n
me noise m , ---- ■ ,
He was the friend of Mr Dryden and of Mr 1 ope j the
former of whom esteemed him the best critic then living;
and Mr Pope has celebrated his character in the Essay
on Criticism.
WALSINGHAM, a town of Norfolk, with a ma -
ket on Fridays, and a fair on Whit-Monday, for horses
and pedlars ware > it is seated not far from toe sea,
and in former times was famous for its college 0
nons, and was greatly frequented by pilgrims whoje
to pav their devotions to the image of the V irgm i ,
at the chapel, where there are two fine springs, ca ^
1
w A L l 5
, ino.. the Virgin Mary's wells. Not many years ago there
were found here by a husbandman, loo urns full of ashes
which were supposed to be those which the Romans fill-
ed with the ashes of the dead. It is 22 miles north¬
west of Norwich, and 117 north-north-east of London.
E. Long. c. 53. N. Lat. 52. 56.
Walsingham, Thomas, an English Benedictine
monk of the monastery of St Alban’s, who lived about
the year 1440. He applied himself to the history and
antiquity of his country, in quality of historiographer to
the king; and composed the History of King Henry VI.
with other works.
Walsingham, Sir Francis, m in is ter and secretary of
state during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and one" of
the greatest politicians of his time, was descended from
a noble and ancient family at Chislehurst. After having
made great progress in his studies at Cambridge, he was
twice sent ambassador to France, and at his return to
England was employed in the most important affairs,
became secretary of state, and was one of the commis¬
sioners for the trial of Mary queen of Scotland. Sir
Francis was undoubtedly one of the most refined politi¬
cians and most penetrating statesman that any age ever
produced. He had an admirable talent, both in dis¬
covering and managing the secret recesses of the heart.
He had his spifjfs in most courts in Christendom, and
allowed them a liberal maintenance ; for it was his
maxim, That knowledge cannot be bought too dear.
*5^7 the king of Spain having made vast prepara¬
tions, which surprised, and kept all Europe in suspense,
Walsingham employed his utmost endeavours for the
discovery of that important secret; and accordingly
procured intelligence from Madrid, that the king had
informed his council of his having dispatched an express
to Rome, with a letter written with his own hand to
the pope, acquainting him with the true design of his
preparations, and begging bis blessings upon him; which
for some reasons he could not disclose till the return of
the courier. The secret being thus lodged with the
pope, Walsingham, by means of a Venetian priest, whom
he retained at Rome as a spy, got a copy of the original
letter, which was stolen out of the pope’s cabinet by a
gentleman of the bed chamber, who took the key out
of the pope’s pocket while he slept. After this, by his
dexterous management, be caused the Spaniards bills to
be protested at Genoa, which should have supplied them
with money for their extraordinary preparations ; and
93 I WAP
by this means he happily retarded this formidable inva- Walsiuw-
suon for a whole year. In short, he spent his whole ham
time and faculties in the service of Queen Elizabeth ; II
on which account her majesty was heard to say, “ That Wa,pcu'
in diligence and sagacity he exceeded her expectations.” .
However, after all his eminent services to his country,
this man gave a remarkable proof at his death, which
happened on the 6th of April 1590, how far he pre¬
ferred the public interest to his own ; he being so poor,
that excepting his library, which was a very fine one,
he had scarcely effects enough to defray the expence of
his funeral. His principal works are, 1. Memoirs and
Instructions for the use of Ambassadors, with his Letters
and Negociations. 2. Political Memoirs.
WALTHERIA, a genus of plants in the class mo-
nadelphia, and in the natural system arranged under the
37th order, Columniferce. See Botany Index.
WAIjTON, Bryan, bishop of Chester, a learned
English divine, who gained great reputation by his edi¬
tion of the Polyglot bible, with bis Prolegomena in the
beginning; which is more exact, says Father Simon,
than any other which had been published on that sub¬
ject. He died in 1661.
WAMPUM, the money used by the North Ameri¬
can Indians. It is much used in all their treaties as a
symbol of friendship. It is made of a shell of a particu¬
lar species of Venus.
WAPENTAKE, is the same with what is called a
hundred; especially used in the north counties beyond
the river Trent. The word seems to be of Danish ori¬
ginal, and to be so called for this reason : When first
this kingdom, or part thereof, was divided into wapen¬
takes, he who was the chief of the wapentake or hun¬
dred, and who is now called a high constable, as soon as
he entered upon his office, appeared in a field on a cer¬
tain day on horseback with a pike in his hand, and all
the chief men of the hundred met him there with their
lances', and touched his pike ; which was a sign that
they were firmly united to each other by the touching
their weapons. But Sir Thomas Smith says, that an¬
ciently musters were made of the armour and weapons
of the several inhabitants of every wapentake ; and
from those that could not find sufficient pledges for
their good abearing, their weapons were taken away
and given to others ; from whence he derives the
word.
WAR.
I'«i
INTRODUCTION.
in of JN treating the subject of war, we may consider it
first in a political and moral point of view, as one of
those powerful engines employed by civil governments,
to bring about some ends which they deem beneficial to
the community over which they preside ; and secondly,
m a theoretical and practical point of view, as a science
an arI which the necessities or the follies of mankind
have rendered an important object of consideration, not
onlv to certain individuals, but in some measure to so-
ciety at large.
Vol. XX. Part II. f
From the numerous calamities incident to war, it Political
should be presumed that no wise or good government
would have recourse to means so dangerous and expen-
sive, till after all other means of producing the ends
they have in view had failed of success. The ostensible
objects for which a nation or community engages in a
war, are usually to prevent or repel the assaults, en¬
croachments, or invasions of its neighbours ; to revenge
some insult or injury which the community, its allies,
or dependents, may have sustained ; to compel some
other nation or community to respect what are called
the law of nations, and the rights of civil society ; or to
4 F preserve
594-
W A R.
* Bacon.
introduc- preserve that due and equable balance of power among
tion. neighbouring states, which lias of late been considered
”’v as an essential point in the political economy oi civiliz¬
ed nations. We say that these are usually the ostensible
objects of war 5 for though it will scarcely be denied
that ambition, avarice, religious bigotry, a desire of
dominion, and a thirst of military fame, have been the
real causes of many of those long and bloody wars which
have desolated the face of nature, and heaped misery
and wretchedness on millions of human beings, we be¬
lieve few heroes and conquerors, either ot ancient or
modern times, have had the honesty or effrontery to
avow these as the real motives of their military expedi¬
tions. Yet, if we examine the pages of history, we
shall scarcely find a war, from the Battle of the Kings
recorded by the sacred historian, to the present contest
which has for 17 years involved all Europe in confusion
and bloodshed, and reduced many of its fairest states
and provinces under the subjection of a single monarch,
in which one or other of these latter motives has not,
at least to one party, been a principal inducement.
Among the political objects of war, we must not
omit to mention one which, though perhaps less openly
avowed than any other, has, in monarchical and aristo-
cratical governments, always formed a material part of
the state policy ;—w-c mean the object of preventing
tumults and commotions among the people, by engaging
them in a foreign war. It was long ago observed by a
good judge of human nature *, “ that no body can be
healthful without exercise, neither natural, body nor
politic 5” and that “ to a kingdom ora state, a just and
honourable war is the true exercise.” That politicians
have often acted on these principles, is certain. On the
justice of the principles themselves, we presume not to
decide, though we may safely express a doubt whether
the remedy be not worse than the disease, and whether
these popular commotions might not be prevented with
equal ease, and with more advantage to the nation, by
employing the populace in such works of improvement
as may advance the manufactures, commerce, or internal
comforts of the state.
An able and ingenious writer considers a redundance
of population as one of the chief primary causes of war.
“ One of its first causes and most powerful impulses,
rvas undoubtedly an insufficiency of room and food 5
and, greatly as the circumstances of mankind have
changed since it first began, the same cause still conti¬
nues to operate, and to produce, though in a smaller
degree, the same effects. The ambition of princes
would want instruments of destruction, it the distresses
of the lower classes did not drive them under their stan¬
dards. A recruiting serjeant always prays for a bad
harvest, and a want of employment, or, in other words,
a redundant population +.” This redundance he pro¬
poses to obviate, and thus to counteract one of theprin-
lal/on, Mit. cjpa] ca,ises of war, by throwing obstacles in the way of
lSo.3-P- maniage. Without calling in question the justness of
his position, we do not see the necessity of the remedy
which he proposes. We must acknowledge ourselves
such friends to the increase of population as to think
that everv encouragement ought to be given to it, in¬
stead of throwing obstacles in its way. 1 here are few
countries so populous, or so completely cultivated, as to
render it necessary to plunge them iato wars, i* order
to diminish the number of inhabitants, which might be
Exuberant
population
regarded
as a pri¬
mary cause
«f war.
f Malthus
on Popu-
1S03
530,
abundantly supported, were agriculture encouraged, and intiod,
gluttony repressed. tk
Whatever may be the objects for which a nation goes'—v-
to war } whatever the causes which have induced her. .5
to have recourse to such an expedient, we may venture, war
from history and experience, to affirm that she will gain
little solid advantage by the contest. She may drive
an invading enemy from her dominions, and pursue
him to his own •, she may acquire plunder and territory,
and may raise her name among the neighbouring states
by her victories and prowess; but all these, except the
first, will scarcely compensate for the blood and treasure
which she has expended, and for the check given to her
agriculture, manufactures and commerce, by drawing off
many of the labouring part of the community to supply
the fleets and armies of the state. These are the inevi¬
table consequences even of a successful war; and should
it prove otherwise, the calamities and distresses of live
vanquished may readily be conceived. Even to the
established government of a state, war, while it appears
to strengthen their hands and increase their influence, is
fraught with difficulty and danger. No situation of af¬
fairs is so well calculated to show the abilities or insuffi¬
ciency of a cabinet as this, and melancholy is the fate
of that nation whose administration is then conducted
by a weak, inexperienced, or profligate ministry; but
be they ever so able or so upright, still the want of suc¬
cess, or a reverse of fortune, will lower them in the
opinion of the people, and will compel them at last to
conclude a disadvantageous, perhaps a dishonourable
peace, or quit their posts and leave the task to a more
popular or successful administration.
The evils of war do not terminate on the return of
peace. Many of the burdens which it had imposed on
the people must still continue, to discharge the debt
contracted by the state ; while the sudden disbanding of
the fleets and armies pours into the community numbers
of idle and dissipated men, averse to labour, and accus¬
tomed to scenes of confusion, slaughter and rapine. At
no time are robberies, murders, or seditions, so frequent
as on the termination of a long protracted war; at none
are the internal peace and quiet of a nation in so much
danger. 5
On the moral evils of war we surely need not en-Moral *
large. In itself, when undertaken without necessity, itofwar.
is an act of the most criminal and atrocious nature; and
the aggressors are accountable for all the horrid conse¬
quences which may attend it. “ rIhe pomp ajid cir¬
cumstances of glorious war” may form a desirable subject
for the poet and the historian ; hwt the Christian and tlK
philosopher must regard it with horror and detestation,
as the greatest evil with which providence has been
pleased to arm the hands of its ministers to punish and ^
afflict mankind. A late amiable and learned prelate
lias laboured to prove that “ the frequency, duration,|y less |
and cruelty of wars (in Christendom) are less nowthan'l^ f
in ancient times hut we think that neither his rea'eriy. ,
soiling nor his examples are capable of establishing the* jv f*
first part of this position. If we take the last yoosenw
years, and compare it with an equal period of ancient Sen*
history ; if we recollect the crusades, the almost conti¬
nual struggles between France and Britain, the cm
dissensions in kith these mighty empires, the wars be¬
tween the Russians and their neighbours, the Turks, t
Boles, and the Swedes; if we advert to the re^gnsjj
7
{, rn
ra-iess
u inary
btiiose
f ;.'ient
'Wh var
iiju i
alile
dwed eo
*tsi-
\v
Edward III. of England, Charles V. and Philip II. of
Spain, Louis XIV. of France, Gustavus Adolphus and
Charles XII. of Sweden, Frederick II. of Prussia, and
Catherine II. of Russia ; and lastly, if we turn our at¬
tention to the long and ruinous contests which distin¬
guish our own times, we shall find little cause to boast
of having profited by the specific lessons of our Saviour,
whose great object was to promote '"'‘peace on earth”
and good will and brotherhj love among the children of
men.
There is indeed one consolatory circumstance with
respect to the modern system of warfare, that our wars
are now less sanguinary than those of ancient times.
The immense slaughter which attended some of the
battles in the Greek and Roman wars, where the great¬
er part of the vanquished army was frequently put to
the sword, is familiar to our classical readers 5 but in
modern warfare, even of the large armies that have ap¬
peared in the field on the continent of Europe, we sel¬
dom find so many as 30,000 killed and wounded on
both sides, a number vastly inferior to what fell of the
Romans at Cannae, and by no means equal to the loss
of the Carthaginians at the battle of Zama. This di¬
minished slaughter is attributed, and we believe with
justice, to the use of fire-arms j and it is computed that
in this mode of fighting not more than one musket ball
in 40 takes effect, and not more than one in 400 proves
fatal. The introduction of these weapons, therefore,
however it may be declaimed against by theorists,
must be considered as a real improvement in the art of
war; and it is sincerely to be regretted that the use of
them should be laid aside. If, however, the present
practice of deciding battles by the bayonet and the
sabre be continued, it is to be feared that we shall soon
rival the ancients as much in the sanguinary nature of
of our wars as in their frequency.
After what we have said on the impolicy of war, and
the moral evils which attend it, it will scarcely be ex¬
pected that we should allow it to be justifiable, except
in cases of necessity. Indeed we think that war can be
justified only on the principles of self-defence. When a
nation is invaded, or attacked in relation to her un¬
doubted rights and principles, it is then, and then only,
that she has a pretence for war. We will not, indeed,
go so far as to assert, that she ought to await the attack.
Whilst she takes the best methods for defending her ter¬
ritories at home, it is doubtless proper, especially for a
maritime state, to meet the enemy half-way, and by a
timely and spirited resistance, endeavouf to avert those
greater evils which would attend a system of pusillani¬
mity and neglect.
In the present state of human nature, war must be re¬
garded as a necessary evil, and as it is sometimes un¬
avoidable, the principles and practice of it must be stu¬
died by those who are to superintend or to conduct its
operations. It is this necessity that has given occasion
to the art of war, the practice of which is to form the
subject of the present article.
Before we enter on the immediate object of this essay,
however, it may not be improper to enumerate those
branches of knowledge which constitute the principles at
the military art, and of which no officer who expects to
have a principal command in military operations should
he ignorant. We shall first mention those sciences which
should form a part of the education of every command-
A. R: . 595
ing officer, whether military or naval ; and we shall jntrod*«--
then distinguish between those which are most applica- tion.
ble to the land and the sea service. ^ ■ ''
Among the first branches of a military education must
be enumerated the modern languages of French and
German ; geography, by which we would under¬
stand, not merely the description of countries, states,
and kingdoms, but a knowledge of their political con¬
stitution, resources, and productions, and of the man¬
ners, customs, and character of their inhabitants';
history, especially that of modern Europe, and of
the Greeks and Romans. Among particular histories
we would recommend those of Polybius, Xenophon,
Tacitus, with the Commentaries of Caesar, in ancient
history ; and Davila’s account of the civil wars of
France, Guicciardini’s history of the Italian wars,
the history of the seven years war by Frederick the
Great, with a particular attention to the best histo¬
ries of his own country, and of the wars in which she
has been engaged. After these preliminary branches
follow the rudiments of mathematics, including com¬
mon and logarithmic arithmetic, the elements of
theoretical and pi-actical GEOMETRY, plane and spheri¬
cal TRIGONOMETRY, the principles of SURVEYING, CO-
Ntc SECTIONS, and their application to PROJECTIEES ;
certain parts of natural philosophy, especially MECHA¬
NICS ; and the principles of DRAWING plans, maps,
and charts.
Besides these, a military officer should be instructed
in fortification and gunnery, the nature of mili¬
tary exercises, and the duties of the various officers at¬
tached to an army} while the naval officer should par¬
ticularly attend to ASTRONOMY, HYDRODYNAMICS,
NAVIGATION, the principles of SEAMANSHIP and of
SHIP-BUILDING.
There is perhaps no art or profession, in the practice pracJj’e ^
of which the superiority of example ov ex precept is more waPi
apparent than in war, insomuch that we may lay it
down as an axiom, that no man can be a soldier or a
sailor from theory alone. It is not from books that we
are to learn the art of war, though there is no doubt
that they may greatly assist and improve the skill and
experience acquired in the field or on the ocean. In
these active scenes have been found the great com¬
manders, whose lives and actions aie perused with so
much avidity ; and the only method of successfully imi¬
tating their exploits, and emulating their fame, is to en¬
counter the dangers and the hardships to which they
were exposed, and to learn how to command, by first
learning to obey. A considerable share of the mecha¬
nical part of war may be acquired in a well-regulated
military or naval school ; but the experience necessary
for a commander is to be gained only in actual service.
The practical part of war is usually divided into mi¬
litary tactics, and naval tactics; a division which we
shall here adopt, though we have thought proper to
bring the whole under one article. As the space, which
W'e had originally allotted to these subjects, has unavoid¬
ably been reduced one half, we shall be able to give
little more than a general outline, especially of military
tactics, reserving the fuller discussion for naval tactics,
which to a nation whose chief dependence is on her
fleets, must be the most useful and the most interesting
part of the subject.
It would be vain for us to attempt any historical ac-
4 F 2 eoiwit
596
W A R.
Introduc¬
tion.
i c
Present mi¬
litary esta¬
blishment
of the
French.
* Edin.
Revtew,
vo!. xih,
P- 455-
count of the; progressive improvements that have been
made in the art of war. Indeed this would be to repeat
much of what has already been detailed under the prin¬
cipal historical articles of this work $ for the history of
nations, as it is commonly treated, is little more than a
history of their wars. We might, no doubt, bring for¬
wards much curious information respecting the offensive
and defensive weapons of dilferent ages and countries,
and the character and organization of their armies j but
for those and other matters of a similar nature, we may
refer our readers to the following respectable authorities:
Vegetius De re mUitari; Polybius’s History, with the
Commentaries o/ Folard ; Salmasius De re militari Ro¬
ma norinn ; Tacitus’s Vita Agricolce; Rollin’s Ancient
History; Potter’s Grecian Antiquities; Kennet’s and
Adam’s Roman Antiquities ; Goguet’s Origin of Laws,
Arts, Sfc.Daniel Histoire de la Milice Fran poise;
Gough’s Sepulchral Monuments ; Ascbam’s Toxophilus,
and Grose’s History of the English Army, and Essay
on Ancient Armour.
At a period like the present, when the two greatest
powers of Europe are struggling for glory and domi¬
nion, it will not be thought uninteresting, or irrelevant
to the subject of the present article, if we offer a com¬
parative statement of the present military and naval es¬
tablishments of these two mighty empires, with a sketch
of the military character of their armies •, and with these
we shall conclude oui preliminary observations.
According to a statement made to the French go¬
vernment at the commencement of 1805, the grand to¬
tal of the French armies consisted of 570,964 men ; viz.
infantry of the line, 341,412; light infantry, 100,130;
cavalry, 77,488 ; artillery, 46,489 ; engineers, 5445.
Since that time, more than 100,000 have been added,
and, according to the best authority, the present total
does not fall short of 700,000 men *. This vast body
is divided into companies for both cavalry and in¬
fantry ; a certain number of companies forming a batta¬
lion of infantry, or a squadron of cavalry. The deno¬
mination of regiment is appropriated to the cavalry and
artillery, while a similar body of infantry is called a
half brigade. The commanding officer of a regiment is
called colonel; hut the commander of a large body of
infantry is called chief of brigade. The names of lieu,
tenant-colonel and major are changed for those of chief
of a battalion and chief of a squadron. Those general
officers which in other armies are called major-generals,
are, in the French service, denominated generals of bri¬
gade, and lieutenant-generals are there generals of di¬
vision.
The corps of engineers has for its officers 8 inspectors
general, 34 directors, 124 captains of the first class,
117 captains of the w*eond class, 33 lieutenants of the
first class, 21 of the second class, and 20 pupils under
the lieutenants. Attached to this corps are 6 compa¬
nies of miners, commanded by a chief of battalion.
Each company is officered by a captain-command¬
ant, a second captain, first and second lieutenant.
Twelve battalions of miners; each battalion, contain¬
ing 8 companies, forming in all 1606 men, including
officer^. The battalion staff is composed of a chief of
battalion, an adjutant major, and an adjutant. Each
company is officered by a captain, a lieutenant, and
sub-lieutenant.
To raise and jecruit this great military force, the-
French government has, since the year 1798, had re-t
couise to one ot the most tyrannical measures which was lion
ever adopted by a despotic monarchy, we mean that of*-—y~-
conscription, by which every man within a certain age,
is made liable, under circumstances of the greatest ri¬
gour, to serve in the armies of the state. This system
of conscription is exceedingly complex ; but we are en¬
abled, from a respectable periodical publication, to pre¬
sent such a summary of it as will be readily understood.
France is divided into about 30 military governments,
subject to a general of division and his staff, to which
commissaries are attached as executive officers. The ci¬
vil division consists of 122 departments ; 24 of w-hich
have been acquired since the overthrow of the mo¬
narchy, exclusive of Tuscany, not included in any part
of this statement. The departments are divided into di¬
stricts or arrondissenients, from three to five in number;
the arrondissements into cantons, and the cantons into
municipalities, amounting to about 55,000. Each de¬
partment is governed by a prefect and his council, com¬
posed of a commissary of police, a mayor, and certain
inspectors, denominated counsellors of prefecture; the
district or arrondissement, by a subprefect and his coun¬
cil, of a similar formation. The cantons and municipa¬
lities are under the supervision of an administration,com¬
posed of the civil authorities, with a president at their
head. A mayor, a commissary of police, and two offi¬
cers of the government, styled adjuncts, are allotted to
each division having a population above 5000 souls.
These several authorities are in strict subordination to
each other, and at the controul of the prefects and sub¬
prefects, who, themselves, are charged with a weighty
and inflexible responsibility as to the military levies.
By the code de la conscription, all Frenchmen, be¬
tween the ages of 20 and 25, are liable to serve. They
are divided into five classes, from wl.ich the municipal
administration draws up the lists for the ballot. These
are transmitted to the prefects, by whom they are sent
to the war minister, and when properly adjusted, the
subprefect proceeds to the drawing of the quota imposed
on each district. The conscripts drawn are formed into
three divisions, the first called conscripts for actual ser¬
vice, the second the reserve, and the third supplementa¬
ry conscripts. They are marched in companies of 100
men, to the places which are established as depots,
where they are furnished with their arms and clothes.
After this they are trained and exercised, so as to be
inured to unremitting labour and fatigue.
What gives peculiar energy to the French military
system, is the circumstance that their officers rise by me¬
rit and experience, and not by interest. By a law of
the directory, no person (with the exception of engi¬
neers) could become officers, who had not served three
years in a subordinate capacity. The revolution natu¬
rally opened the way to merit; and, seconded by this
admirable policy, has filled all the posts of their army
with men, who unite in themselves the qualities of the
soldier, with the excellencies that qualify for command.
It is not hazarding too much to assert, that nine-tenths
of the present French officers have sprung from the
ranks. Educated in distant camps, they know no other
country, and, habituated by long devotion to the trade
of war, it has become their element and their passion.
Their whole fortune is staked on the sword; and their
attachment is therefore necessarily secured, under the
auspicious
W A R.
597
) i p.
43 '4S1*
2
Lr naval
Tsta dsh-
.W
oduc auspicious influence of a leader, whose indefatigable am-
1 on^ bition occupies them in their favourite pursuits, and
u < whose liberal impartiality feeds the hope of preferment,
and divides the fruits of conquest. To their credit and
example is due much of that spirit, which, notwith¬
standing the causes of alienation hitherto observed, seems
to animate the whole frame of the army j and no small
share of that portentous success which has attended the
course of the French arms. Of the eighteen mare-
chaux d'empire, fourteen have either emerged from the
ranks, or ascended from the lowest employments. Most
of the generals of division, and others who hold the prin¬
cipal commands, have the same origin, and sufficiently
prove, that war is an experimental science, and that
military renown is not the prerogative of birth, but the
harvest of toil, or the bounty of fortune *.
We have no certain means of ascertaining the present
naval establishment of the French empire, though, as it
may be said to have the command of the navies of Hol¬
land, Russia, and the remains of that of Denmark, it
must still be regarded as of no trifling strength. The
principal fleets are indeed kept blocked up by those of
Britain, in the harbours of Brest, Rochefort, Toulon,
the Scheldt, and the Texel; but the escape of any of
these might be the means of conveying a considerable
military force to the remaining colonies, or to the less
powerful allies of France. In 1791, the French fleet
consisted of 73 ships of the line, 67 frigates, 19 cor¬
vettes, and 67 small craft, making a total of 226. Since
that time, however, have taken place the great naval
victories of Howe, St Vincent, Duncan, and Nelson,
by which the greater part of that navy has been carried
into British ports.
In estimating the military establishment of Britain,.
ssta- we shall, for the sake of more accurate comparison, first
•f] a"1 ^le same Per’01^ °f 1805. The British land forces
then consisted of 21,223 cavalry, 124,878 infantry (in¬
cluding 20,747 men for limited service, and 21,208 be¬
longing to foreign and. provincial corps in British pay),
89,809 militia, 8559. artillery, besides about 430,000
volunteers, making a total of 674,469. To these must
be added the royal artillery, the horse brigade, the bri¬
gade of gunners and drivers, and companies of foreign
artillery, amounting to 16,670,. and the corps of artifi¬
cers and labourers, including 704 men. Thus the
whole military force of Britain, in 1805, amounted to
air's >843 f..
Since the passing of Mr Windham’s act, this number
is somewhat diminished, though our military force is
now probably more effective. At the end of 1808 it.
stood as follows.. Two regiments of life-guards, one re¬
giment of royal horse guards, 7 of drogoon guards, 25
of dragoons, 3 battalions of riflemen, 7 battalions of
foot-guards, 5 of light infantry, 176 battalions of in¬
fantry, a corps of royal horse artillery, a regiment of
royal foot artillery, a corps of royal engineers, a bri¬
gade of artillery drivers, and a waggon train. The
dragoons, independent of the royal life and horse guards,
amounted to 19,200 5 the battalions of riflemen and
light infantry to 80005 the infantry of the line to
149,600 5 the king’s German legion to about 20,000 5
exclusive of about 96,000 regular militia, 250,000 local;
wditia, and about 50,000 volunteers 5 making an eflec-
tive force of about 580,00c men.
Each regiment of not more than 500 men is officer-
Pre t mi-
lita ■
ed by a colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, a major, 10 cap- jntroduc-
tains, 10 lieutenants, 8 ensigns, an adjutant, quarter- tion.
master, paymaster, a surgeon and assistant surgeon 5 a. —
sergeant-major, a quartermaster-sergeant, with 30 ordi¬
nary sergeants, 30 corporals, a drum-major and 20
drummers. If the regiment amount to 750 men, it
has usually an addition of second lieutenant-colonel, a
second major, 10 sergeants, and 10 corporals.
The gradation of rank among the officers of the Bri¬
tish army is as follows. Under the king, who com¬
mands the whole as captain-general, is the commander
in chief, then follow the field-marshals, generals, lieu¬
tenant-generals, major-generals, bngadier-generals, co¬
lonels, lieutenant-colonels, majors, captains, and subal¬
terns. The different departments of the army are un¬
der the superintendence of an adjutant-general, a quar¬
termaster-general, a barrack-master-general, a commis¬
sary general, a paymaster-general, a board of ordnance,
and a medical board. See Adjutant, Quartermas¬
ter, &c.
The army of the line is recruited by enlistment; the
recruits receive a bounty, and are engaged to serve for
a limited period, or for life. The militia is filled up-
by ballot, in the several counties to which it belongs,
and also receives recruits by enlistment or by proxy.
Hence the British soldier, while he considers himself as
the servant of the king and the state, justly boasts of
partaking in the general liberty of the subject. He is
protected by fixed and definite laws, against the discre¬
tionary power of his commanding officer, and is encou¬
raged to perform his duty by the liberality of his coun¬
try 5 and not, as in France, compelled to it by the fear
of punishment. His discipline indeed is strict 5 but he
feels none of that severe and tyrannical coercion which
seems to be the first principle of motion in the armies
of Napoleon.
In its naval establishment, Britain justly boasts of be-Naval esta-
ing superior to every nation in the world. The number blislimeat..
of her fleets, and the courage and discipline of her sea¬
men, have given her the unrivalled dominion of the
seas, of which it would be difficult for. the whole com¬
bined navy of Europe to deprive her,. In 1809, the
naval force of Britain consisted of 157 ships of the line,
19 from 50 to 44, 184 frigates, 181 sloops, 308 brigs,
making a total of 849 in commission j besides 56 of the
line, 12 fifties, 56 Irigates, 44 sloops, 24 brigs, total
192 in ordinary and refitting5 and 50 ships of the line,
20 frigates, 20 sloops, 10 brigs, total 100, building:
making a grand total of 1141.
The progressive advance of our navy will appear by
attending to the following recital of its tonnage at dif¬
ferent periods, from the reign of Henry VIII. to th*
present time.
Year. Tons about
At the death of Henry VIII.. 1547 12400,
Edward.VI. 1553 11,000
Mary, 1558. 7000
Elizabeth* 1603 17,000
James E. 1625 19,000
Rebellion, 1641. 22,400
At the death of Charles I. 1649 uncertain..
At the Restoration, 1660 57,460
At the death of Charles II. 1685 103,558
Abdication of James II, 1688 101,900
Au
598
Introduc¬
tion.
* Slate-
merit by
Lord Mel¬
ville.
Military
character
of the
French
army.
W A B.
At the death of William III.
Anne,
George I.
George II.
31st December,
Tear.
1702
I7I4
1727
1670
1788
1806
1809
Tons about
159,000
167,170
170,860
321,200
4i3,66o
776,000
800,000
It appears, however, that notwithstanding the vast
increase of our navy, not a single dockyard has been
added to it since the reign of William TIL about 109
years ago, at which time the tonnage of the naval force
ef this kingdom amounted to nearly 160,000 tons j it
is now nearly 800,900 tons, or about five times as
large *.
In sketching the military character of the French
and British armies at the commencement of the 19th
century, we shall avail ourselves of the observations of
an anonymous, hut able and apparently impartial publi¬
cation, which appeared soon after the peace of Amiens,
entitled The Military Character of the European Armies
at the Peace of Amiens.
The astonishing success which has attended the
French arms on the continent of Europe, is to be at¬
tributed partly to the regular organization and severe
discipline established by the Code de la Conscription, but
it is still more to be ascribed to the skill, experience, and
activity of their officers. The French generals early
discovered the advantages resulting from dispatch. The
alertness of the soldiers, the lightness of their baggage,
and their inattention to regularity in time of action, en¬
abled them to execute their movements with a celerity
which has frequently ensured success. In an open coun¬
try, lines could not be preserved v'ithout difficulty.
The French armies were therefore formed in columns.
Brigade succeeded brigade, and when one division was
repulsed, and fell back on the columns in the rear, those
in their turn attacked the enemy, or sustained his shock,
and fresh troops perpetually came forward, to supply
the place of those which had been defeated.
The French battalions have no field-pieces attached
to them ; but this want is amply compensated by their
flying artillery, which is composed of the flower of the
French soldiers, and by its boldness and rapidity of
movement, supplies the place of that large train of ar¬
tillery with which the other European armies are usual¬
ly burdened. It is a constant maxim in the French
armies to have a body of reserve, composed of their
best troops, and under the command of an able general.
If the main body should be beaten, the reserve covers
their retreat, and on more than one occasion it has
snatched the victory from the hands of the enemy.
The French generals, like rich and bold gamesters,
are incessantly tempting fortune. They look upon their
losses as nothing, provided they succeed in the end.
The little value at which they estimate their men, the
certainty of being able to replace them, the personal inlre..
ambition of their chief, and the customary superiority tiou,
of their numbers, afford them an advantage which can-u^r'
not be counteracted but by great skill, conduct and ac¬
tivity.
The soldiers of Britain are as intrepid by land as herMiii(a.
sailors by sea. Their want of success on the continent charac:
cannot be ascribed to their want of bravery, but ratheroftlie
to the organization of the British armies, their inferio-^ntl^
rity of numbers, or the inexperience of the officers by3™^’
whom they are commanded. Most of their command¬
ing officers, instead of conforming to general regula¬
tions, follow their own particular plans and ideas, ac¬
cording to their several geniuses, acquirements, and pre¬
judices. In a nation, which, from the spirit of its con¬
stitution and the habits of its people, is formed rather
for naval than military operations, a ministry, how¬
ever enlightened, scarcely possesses that authority which
is necessary to give uniformity to the different depart¬
ments of the army, to constitute a regular and corre¬
sponding whole, and to surmount those obstacles which
are thrown in the way of all uniformity of military
system, by the distance and distribution of the troops.
The small numbers in which British troops are general¬
ly compelled to act on the continent, and their mixture
with those of other nations, to which they are sometimes
even subservient, are circumstances extremely disadvan¬
tageous.
In a military life, good faith, honour, and courage,
are the principal qualifications, and these are eminently
conspicuous in the British army. Their military ar¬
dour is greater than what is seen in any other service,
but this is in a great measure damped among the officers
by the difficulty of promotion. Interest with ministers,
and the necessity of raising money to defray the expences
of the different departments of the state, though far from
being the most equitable, are here unhappily among the
first means of military promotion.
The soldiers of the British army are possessed of ele¬
ments to enable them, under a commander of abilities
and officers of experience, to be the best troops in the
world. They require neither brandy nor self-conceit to
make them brave *, their courage is innate ; it is a na¬
tional instinct. Their officers too usually possess much
greater information on general topics than those of all
other European nations, as education is more cultivated
in Britain than elsewhere. They are attached to their
profession, and follow it rather from generous motives
and military spirit, than like mercenaries from a view
of interest and profit.
On the political and moral principles of war, s»e
Cicero Me Oficiis, Grotius JJe Jure Belli et Pans,
Puffendorff’s Law of Nature and Nations, and Ma-
ehiavel's Discorsi; and on the principles of war consider¬
ed as a science, see a memoir by Maizeroy, in the 40th
volume of Histoire de VAcademic des Inscriptions et
Belles Lcttrcs, and Folard’s Commentaries on Polybius.
PART I. MILITARY TACTICS.
27 ^ r # t
Mature and Some writers on the military art distinguish tactics
object of from what they call strategy ; understanding by the lat-
military ^er ^jie science of military movements when not in sight
tacties.
f the enemy, or at least out of the range of their shot;
hile they describe the former to be the science of nu-
tarv movements in sight of an enemy, or within the
7 _ range
I.
'litary
ictics.
 <
WAR. , 599
We do not see tlie necessity of only two principal roads, each leading aci’oss the river, Military
iS
0 rect-
in .ae
m i of
a my
, 9
tin tli a
wcfcain-
wikun-
tfy
te
D ,1V.
range of cannon shot,
this distinction ; and under the head of military tactics
we shall consider whatever relates to military operations
on land.
It is not possible for us, within the very scanty limits
to which we are now reduced, to give any thing like a
regular treatise on the military art. We shall therefore
endeavour toselectthe most useful and interesting topics,
and supply the place of disquisition by-numerous plates
with appropriate explanations.
The science of military tactics comprehends the dis¬
position and arrangement of troops, whether on marches,
in camps, or in line of battle ; the attack and defence of
postsj the construction and superintendenceof the works
by which they are to be defended*, the conducting of
sieges ; and the defence of besieged places. These are
the principal operations of a soldier, and these we shall
briefly consider nearly in the order in which we have
enumerated them,
To direct the march of an army is not one of the
least difficult parts of a general’s duty. To do this with
ability, he must he well acquainted with the nature of
the country through which his troops arc to pass, with
the obstacles which are likely to oppose them in their
progress, and with the disposition of the inhabitants.
Our business here is only with the first of these conside¬
rations. There are three descriptions of countries which
may become the theatre of war } an open country inter¬
sected by rivers, a mountainous, and a woody country.
The march of an army through the first, as far as re¬
spects the face of the country alone, is seldom difficult,
except in the passage of rivers, which we shall consider
by and bye *, and the last description of country is now
so uncommon in Europe, that we need not dwell on if.
A mountainous country, however, presents numerous
difficulties to call forth the abilities and experience of a
commander, as in such a country, not only are the roads
winding and difficult of access, but the unevenness of
the ground, and the intervals between the hills, render
it very easy for an enemy, with a small force, to oppose
and distress a numerous army.
The plan in Plate DXLIV. is intended to illustrate
the march of an army through a mountainous country.
At A is shown the position of the army previous to its
march, with the artillery and baggage P, drawn up
under their proper escorts, in front of the camp. At
B are partiesof hussars constituting the advanced guard
of the army on its march } and at C are parties of in¬
fantry forming the advanced guard of the columns in
which the army is disposed. 13 represents the infantry
forming the head of the columns j E the park of artil¬
lery and waggons attached to it 5 F, battalions of ar¬
tillery, G the cavalry, H the baggage of the army,
and I their escort. At K are parties of hussars and at
L parties of dragoons. M represents the infantry of
the reserve forming the rear guard, and N platoons of
infantry sent forward upon the heights, to cover the
flanks of the principal columns. At O are villages in
front of the position where the army is to encamp, and
which have been taken possession of by the light in¬
fantry.
The number of columns into which the marching
army is to be divided, will depend on the number of
roads or accessible approaches that lead to the position
which it is to take up. In the present case there are
and winding through the valleys to the principal heights, Tactics..
so that the army must march in two divisions. The ^ ^
usual disposition of the columns is as follows. Four or
five brigades of infantry,-according to the number which
composes the army, should he placed at the head of each
column *, the same partition should be made with re¬
gard to the artillery, which must follow the infantry j
the cavalry must march next, and the baggage of each
column, w’ell escorted by infantry, must follow the ca¬
valry, then the rest of the corps of light horse which
are not detached ; and the dragoons are placed the last,
in order to dismount, and sustain the rear guard in case
it shall be attacked. 2Q
An army seldom proceeds far without encountering oi'the pas-
a river in its march, and as it commonly happens in a sage cf ri-
country which has become the seat of war, that thever®*
bridges are destroyed or rendered impassable, the army
must cross the river, either by swimming, at some ford,
or by temporary- bridges thrown over for the purpose.
It is most advantageous to cross a river at some part
where the stream is divided by small islands, unless the
river be so shallow that it may he easily forded. If it
be necessary to construct a bridge, this is best done by
means of boats or pontoons, and all the necessary ap¬
paratus should he ready at the place of crossing at an
appointed hour, and every measure should be taken to
avoid confusion, and to be prepared for the enemy, who
will probably dispute the passage. The two heads of
the bridge when constructed should he entrenched, and
well furnished with troops, and, ifpossible, the islands in
the neighbourhood should be fortified by proper works,
to prevent the enemy from destroying the bridge, or in¬
commoding the labourers employed in its construction.
If the river be narrow, it is best to cross at some
place where it makes an angle, especially if, as com¬
monly happens, one of its banks be higher than the op¬
posite bank, so that the higher ground may he defended
bv a battery. If the river he fordable by infantry, care
should be taken beforehand to clear the bed at the ford,
and render the hanks easy of access.
The lower figure of Plate DXLV. illustrates the pas¬
sage of a river. AAA represent bridges of boats ; B,
redoubts by which the bridges are protected ; C, a bat¬
tery, under cover of which the infantry work at the
construction of the redoubts j D, a battery, to prevent
the enemy from annoying the army on its march ; E,
the march of the army j F, the artillery distributed a-
mong the brigades of infantry ; G, infantry forming in
columns to open on the opposite side through the inter¬
vals of the redoubts ; H, march of the columns in the
front of the redoubts, where they halt to give time fora
part of the cavalry to form upon its flanks ; I, a battery
erected to facilitate the forming of the cavalry ; K, ca¬
valry, which in gaining the opposite shore, forms in or¬
der of battle, and posts itself upon the flanks of the in¬
fantry j L, eight battalions in column upon the right
wing of the army, to go and examine the village and at¬
tack the enemy in it, in c&se he should be possessed of
if, M, hussars and dragodtis, who have taken possession
of the height which is on the left wing of the army y
N, a brigade of infantry posted next the height, cover¬
ing the left wing of the cavalry j O, the disposition of,
the army marching up to the enemy.
It is in general a very difficult task to defen^the^as-
sags}
Plate
DXLV.
fig. 2.
6co
Military
Tactics.
To defend
the passage
of a river.
fig. r.
21
Basis of
modern mi
litary ope-
rationgk
Plate
DXLVI.
%• i.
W A
sage of a river against an army that Is tletermined on
crossing It. Indeed, if the river be of such a nature as
to present several points by which an enemy can cross,
and if the defending army be not of such strength as to
meet their opponents in the field, such a defence will be
almost impracticable. Where it can be attempted, how¬
ever, and where sufficient notice can he procured of the
enemy’s approach, all the boats and barks found on the
river should he removed or destroyed, to prevent the
enemy from using them in constructing his bridges.
Both banks of the river should be carefully reconnoitred,
that the fords and other accessible points of passage
may be sufficiently obstructed j and the ground which
might protect the enemy’s passage, should in particular
be attended to. Roads sufficiently wide to admit of
many columns, should he made along the side of the ri¬
ver to be defended, that a great number of troops may
he advantageously disposed. It must be confessed,
however, that if the accessible points extend along a
considerable tract of country, and if the bank of the ri¬
ver next the enemy overhang that on the opposite side,
a defence will be nearly impossible.
The upper figure of Plate DXLV. shews the manner
of disposing the troops to defend the passage of the ri¬
ver. A, the march of the main army in three parts to
defend the river $ B, the camp of the light horse, infan¬
try, and dragoons, on the wings of the armyj C, castle
and village, guarded by light infantry j D, a town oc¬
cupied by the infantry belonging to the army •, E,
bridge broken down •, F, islands occupied by infantry ;
G, posts of infantry distributed along the side of the ri¬
ver j H, batteries established along the side of the ri¬
ver ; I, posts of cavalry, to keep the communication be¬
tween the camps ; K, bridges constructed to preserve
the communication of the islands j L, bridges for the
communication of the camps.
Modern warfare is distinguished from that of the an¬
cients, not more with respect to the arms which it em¬
ploys, than the multitude of stores, ammunition, and
provisions necessary for a campaign. The number of
horses now employed for drawing the artillery, and the
ammunition waggons, as well as to mount the great in¬
crease of cavalry, considerably adds to the quantity of
military stores required by the troops. This has pro¬
duced the necessity for magazines, established in such
number, and at such distances from each other, as may
most expedite the operations of the campaign; and these
magazines require not only to he fortified themselves,
hut to be strengthened by forts or redoubts in their vi¬
cinity. To these magazines modern writers on the art
of war have appropriated the term of basis of military
operations, and the roads by which an army receives its
subsistence from the magazines, are called lines of ope¬
ration. The situation of the principal magazine, and
the length and direction of the lines of operation, are
considered as of the highest importance. With respect
to the first and second of these, we must refer to Tem-
plehofl’s History of the Seven Years War, where the
question is considered with great minuteness and seienti-
iic accuracy. The direction of a line of operations may
be illustrated by the first seven figuies of Plate HXLVI.
R.
Par
posed to surround a part of the enemy’s territory, and is
strengthened by the two fortresses AB, at the extremi-
Mibij
Tao:
ties of the basis, it is esteemed the most advantageous '“'Y
ir-
form. On the other hand, if the segment had its cir
cumference directed towards the enemy, as in fig. 2. it Fig.
would form the worst possible direction for a basis; for
here the fortresses CD, placed in the circumference, are
very much exposed, and might be easily taken by de¬
tachments from the columns E and F. The only way
of preventing this would be to detach troops from A and
B laterally, to incommode the columns E and F, and
to take up a strong position either at ^ or A The more
the segment approaches to the elliptical form, as in fig.3. Fig, ;
it is the less susceptible of defence, as is evident from the
relative position ot the three fortresses A, C, and B.
The line of operation represented by fig. 4. consisting Fig. J
of salient and obtuse angles, such as A c B, B G, con¬
stitutes an excellent form, as it resembles the outworks
of a fortress, and it is as impracticable for an enemy to
enter into the interior of this basis, as to carry a curtain
between two Banks. The two foitresses ct/ are not nearly
so much exposed as C in fig. 3. as if one of them were
attacked, it would be easy to make a diversion from the
other into the enemy’s country. If the points which
terminate the basis advance as in fig. 5. it will be a Fig.:
favourable circumstance, especially if the most advanced
post were hounded by the sea, or by a large river.
The basis which we have been considering consists of
curved or angular lines. Now, let us suppose two bases,
the one A h B, fig. 6. forming merely a straight line, Fig„d
while the other c eg df, has two of its lines e c and df
advanced towards the enemy. This latter is the more
advantageous, as it exposes so much more of the ene¬
my’s country. In general, it is a good rule to construct
fortresses opposite to those of the enemy, as here the for¬
tress g, if moderately strong, is capable ol protecting the
whole line from e to d, against the three opposite forts
A h B. It is a great fault for any part of a basis to re¬
cede, as dc from the line of the enemy AB, fig. 7. so Fig. I
as to form an angle with it, as here all the country be¬
tween A and c is exposed to the hostile attacks of A
and B ; but, if the line were parallel to that of the
enemy, as de, it would be a good position. t|
Next to the establishing of magazines, and providing Estaf •
for their security, and that of the lines by which they™^
are connected, it is of the highest importance for a ge¬
neral when he takes the field, to select the proper posi¬
tions where he may encamp his army, so as to be rea¬
dily defended against the attacks of a superior enemy,
and have an easy communication with his own posts. In
selecting such a situation he must be guided partly by
the nature of the country, and partly by the situation of
the enemy ; but if possible, he should choose a position
which is rather elevated, and which may be protected
on the flanks or rear, either by the natural situation of
the ground, or by works thrown up for that purpose.
It should not be too near the bank of a river, though it
n ay be of advantage to have such an object in front.
The encampment of an army in such a situation is point- p ,
ed out by Plate DXLVII.; where A is the camp of pj U
the main body of the army ; B, an advanced camp,
Fig. I. represents a line of operation forming the seg- composed of dragoons and hussars, in order to cover the
ment of a circle, having a line of posts ACB towards right of the army, to guard the passes by which the ene-
the enemy’s country, and two principal fortresses DE my might make incursions upon the flanks and rear 01
within the segment. As this circular segment is sup- the army, molest the convoys, and cut ofl the commu¬
nications
W A R.
601
l4
[n :iclicd
te
mm.
IX.
Fi>'
nications j C, villages and bridges, guarded by the light
infantry j D, posts of dismounted dragoons in the front
of their camp; E, posts of dragoons on horseback, to
secure the communication between their camp and that
of the main body of the army ; F, bridges built to keep
up the communication between the grand and the ad¬
vanced camp ; G, bridges and villages guarded by de¬
tachments of infantry; H, grand guards of horse; I,
guards of infantry ; K, bridge, village, and mill, guard-
ed by the infantry belonging to the army ; L, camp of
dragoons and hussars, covering the left of the army,
and supporting the light infantry ; M, villages and
bridges guarded by the light infantry; N, posts of dis¬
mounted dragoons in the front and on the flanks of their
camp; O, posts of dragoons on horseback; P, posts
and detachments of hussars, to patrole in front and on
the flanks of the army and their camp.
It often becomes necessary, either from an inferiori¬
ty of numbers, or from the nature of the ground, to in¬
trench or fortify a camp. In general this is done by
digging deep ditches round the most defenceless part;
driving pallisades in front of this ditch ; forming an
embankment of felled trees, with their unlopped
branches pointing towards the enemy ; or, whgre there
is time for such an operation, and where the proper
materials can be obtained, constructing redoubts or
regular outworks, capable of being defended by artil¬
lery. '
Plate I)XLVIII. represents a camp intrenched in an
open country, without any peculiar advantages of de¬
fence. A, the main body of the army encamped be¬
hind its intrenchments ; JB, the camp of the troops of
reserve; C, camp of the dragoons, to secure the rear
of the army; D, camp of hussars, to cover the ground
on the right of the army; E, villages and redoubts
guarded by the light infantry to secure the camp of
the hussars ; F, bridges built to secure the communi¬
cation of the army with the ground on the right, and
to favour the retreat of the troops posted on the oppo¬
site side ; G, brigades of artillery distributed on the
flanks, and along the whole front of the army ; H, the
park of artillery y I, a bridge intrenched, to secure the
communication between the army and the ground on
the left; K, villages and farm houses, guarded by de¬
tachments of hussars and light infantry, to patrole in
front of the army.
In Plate DXLIX. are shown other methods of in¬
trenching a camp in the neighbourhood of a town or
village, and in situations where the camp can be pro¬
tected by inundations. Fig. i. represents an intrench¬
ed camp in the neighbourhood of a town. A, a deep
marshy valley, with an unfordable rivulet across it. B,
a redoubt constructed on a mountain, by which the
right wing is appuyed. C, a small wood in front of the
mountain. 1), a line which connects two {leeches to¬
gether at the foot of the mountain, where the village
«{ Weilheim is situated. E, a rivulet, over which are
thrown bridges of communication, to facilitate an in¬
tercourse between the camp and the redoubt on the
Ml. I) an eminence with a gentle declivity, at the
foot of which is the village of Mansfeld, surrounded by
defiles and hollow roads. G, defiles and hollow roads.
H, lines which run along the circumference o{ the
heights about Weilheim, forming a retrenchment. I,
close works. L, a redoubt which masks the entrance
^ OL. XX. Part II. i
a, 3.
25
into Stemmern. M, a small Wood, cut down in order
to have a full view in front of Stemmern. N, a thick
wood which covers some high mountains bv which the
left wing is supported. O, an abattis which is made
across the wood for greater security. P, infantry
pickets. Q, a redoubt on a small eminence, construct¬
ed for the purpose of covering the opening behind the
left wing of the camp. R, a line of communication
from the last redoubt to the left of the intrenchment.
S,several passages 3ofeetbroad and closed inby cbevaux-
de-frize, to afford an opportunity for the cavalry to ad¬
vance, should the enemy be foiled in bis attack against
any part of the works. T, the infantry and cavalry
encamped behind the retrenchments ; the infantry in
the first line, and the cavalry in the second. U, X, Y,-
Z, four roads behind the camp to facilitate the retreat
of the army, should it be pressed.
Fig. 2. and 3. represent an intrenched camp with in-I'll
undations in front. Fig. I. « Z>, two dykes 40 paces
long, 5 broad, and as many high. Cl) two rows of
stakes from 4 to 5 Indies thick. E, the coffin formed
by means of stakes filled up. It is eight feet broad. F,
the adjacent country, inundated by the rivulet being
forced out of its current by the last dyke and by a and A
G and H, the outlets which the rivulet seeks, to con¬
tinue its course. I, small creeks or ends of ditches dug
about the ground. Fig. 3. represents the current of a
rivulet, with a dyke to occasion inundations. Camp,
with the several dykes in front, which are calculated to
produce inundations. The spaces between these dykes
are called coffins, viz. I, 2, 3, 4, 5.
We have mentioned the works by which the field posts ConsUnc-
are fortified, and which are usually called redoubts. As1*011 ofre-
the construction of redoubts is generally a work of the :‘ou!jts'
moment, and falls within the province of the command¬
ing officer of a detachment, it is proper that we should
here describe the most useful and expeditious methods
of raising such works. These methods are illustrated by
the plans in the upper part of Plate FL.
Fig. 1. shows the plan of the ordinary square redoubt
which is constructed in the following manner : When
a proper spot has been phosen, a line a AE is drawn of
a sufficient length, and at one extremity a is drawn aC
perpendicular to it. Then from a towards C and F are
set off the dimensions proposed for each side of the pa¬
rapet within the fort, allowing 2 or 2-J fathoms for 30
men, 4 fathoms for 50, and so in proportion for a greater
number. These lines being ascertained, a picket is
placed at C, with a cord attached to it, and with the
length a C is described an arch, and from the point E,
with the same distance, another arch is described, inter¬
secting the former in F. Then joining EF and CF,
the square forming the inner parapet is completed.
Within the square, at the distance of 2 or 3 feet, is de¬
scribed another-square I, L, M, N, having its sides pa¬
rallel to those of the former. This marks the breadth
of the banquette, where the men are to be drawn up.
Again, on the outside of the first square at about 8
or g feet distance is drawn a third square O, P, Q, R,
determining the outer side and thickness of the para¬
pet. This thickness is only calculated to resist musket
balls ; as, if it is to stand against cannon, it should be at
least 18 feet. Lastly, at rather a greater distance from
this third square is drawn a fourth S, T, V, X, marking
the breadth of a ditch that is to surround the redoubt.
4 G The
Plate
DJL,
6o2 W
Military The lines being finished, fascines or faggots of brush-
Tactics. wood are to be laid between the two innermost squares,
1 v '1 as a foundation to support the earth of the banquette j
a second range is laid on the lines AB, GH, to support
the inside of the parapet, and a third on the. square
O, P, Q, R, to strengthen the outside of the parapet,
leaving a space through all [he fascines to the ditch, on
the side least exposed to the enemy, as at B, for an en¬
trance. It is sometimes convenient to make this en¬
trance take a winding direction, as is shown at T,
Fig. 2. fig. 2.
Fig. 3* F'g* 3* exhibits a section of these works, where AB
is the breadth of the ditch at the top} MN its breadth
at the bottom } FN its slope, on a line with the outside
of the parapet, called the scarp, and GM its slope to¬
wards the open country, called the counterscarp. AL
and ID represent the fascines forming the outer and
inner slopes of the parapet, the interval between them
being filled with earth trodden down hard. At E is
the banquette. DC is the thickness of the parapet be¬
low, and IL its thickness above, which forms a slope
for the more convenient firing of musketry.
In this square redoubt it is evident that the men must
fire straight forward in lines perpendicular to the sides
Jig. 4. of the squares, as in fig. 4. As it is often of great
consequence that the directions of firing should cross
each other, the better to flank the enemy, the banquette
Fig. 5. is sometimes formed with angles, as in fig. 5. so that the
men may stand two together in little redans. As, how¬
ever, such a construction takes up too much time and
labour for ordinary occasions, M. Le Cointe prefers a
Fig. circular redoubt, such as is represented at fig. 6. where
the men may fire from evei’y part of the circumference.
The construction of such a redoubt is extremely simple,
and differs only in its first step, viz. describing the con¬
centric circles, which is done with a cord fastened at
one end by a picket at a central point C.
The strength of the redoubt will be much increased,
if the ditch can be filled with water, as by turning into
it the stream of a rivulet. See Q, fig. 7* If tfm ground
be uneven, so that the water will not run equally into
every part of the ditch, dams must be raised, as C, to
keep up the water in the higher parts, whence it may
run to the lower, after the former are full.
Fig, 7. Fig. 7. represents a plan of the square redoubt, with
a wet ditch, when completed. A, the inner ground of
the redoubt; B, the bottom of the ditch ; CDE, the
dam of earth 5 F a dam of boards, planks or fascines }
G the upper part of the redoubt, made with fascines
or with earth thrown out of the ditch } II, the lower
part of the redoubt cut into the earth } I, the berme or
space left at the outer bottom of the parapet, to keep
up the earth } L, the entrance of the redoubt} M, the
inside of the parapet } N, the outside of the parapet }
O, the banquette } P, the glacis} Q, the river intro-
26 duced to fill the ditch with water.
Of detach- The attack and defence of posts are among the most
Hients sent important departments of what the French call la petite-
to attack gUsrre, and in a country where fortified towns are
aVost. '1 rare, constitute a considerable part of field operations.
We shall consider them rather more at large than we
have the preceding parts of military tactics.
When an officer is detached either to attack or to
guard a post, he should provide himself with a cord re¬
gularly divided, for the purpose of describing lines, and
A R. Pi
raising temporary works, and should procure a skilful m
and confidential guide, from whom he may derive the Ti
requisite information respecting the nature of the coun- '—
try, and the breadth and goodness of the roads. He
should dispose his party in such a manner that an ad¬
vanced guard of cavalry, as A, fig. 8. Plate DL, should Fig.
set out first, preceded by a small detachment of about six
horsemen, headed by a corporal, as B, C, C } two horse¬
men in the middle, and two on each side. While the
main body is moving along the principal road, as from
H to F, a detachment of about 8 or 12 horsemen, ac¬
cording to the strength of the corps, should be sent
about 50 paces on each side, by way of wings, as DD }
and from each of these wings 2 men should keep 50
paces farther out, as at EE, by which means the coun¬
try will be properly examined, and surprises from th«
enemy prevented. On coming near a wood, as at NN,
the cavalry should spread, the better to scour the out¬
skirts and the wood itself. When the corps is nume¬
rous, the cavalry should be formed into squadrons, as
G, G, G, and the infantry into platoons, as F, F, F,
marching alternately along the road.
If, on the march, the advanced guard come to a
cross road, or the entrance of a hollow way, as at I, I,
where it is likely they may be met by a party of the
enemy, they should immediately prepare for an attack }
and it the commander of the main body observe his ad¬
vanced guard in action, he should immediately draw
off his platoons of infantry, and form them on the side
of the road, as at L, L, L, or on some neighbouring
height, as at M, M, that they may be out of the way
of the enemy’s cavalry, and ready to engage if occa¬
sion should require it.
On the march the party should carefully avoid vil¬
lages, and rather halt or refresh his men in a wood, or
some other concealed spot.
The commander of a detached party must take theon 1
safest and most effectual methods to reconnoitre thenoit
country through which he is to pass, without being ob¬
served or suspected by the enemy. TLhe method of
doing this recommended by M. Jeney will frequently
succeed, and is as follows: He supposes himself with
his party at Soest in Westphalia A (fig. 2. Plate DLI), F
and the enemy posted at Bervick B, two leagues irora {‘
him. To know the situation of this place without stir¬
ring from Soest, he takes the map of the country : and
from Soest as the centre, he draws a circle, whose cir¬
cumference passes half a league beyond Bervick. He
draws a circle of the same size upon a leaf of paper, to
make his plan, as in fig. 2. and then places Soest in
the centre A, and marks all the villages which he finds
in the map near the circumference upon his plan, with
the distances and bearings as they are represented in
the map, making use of a pencil to mark the places
DDD, so as to correct the errors more easily which
the map may have led him to make.
Having thus formed his plan with a scale of two
leagues, he goes to the burgomaster of the town of
Soest, where he causes some of the most intelligent in¬
habitants to come, and speaking to them freely and
openly, induces them to communicate all the informa¬
tion for which he has occasion.
The better to conceal his designs, he begins his re¬
connoitring by Brockhusen, a village distant fiom ti
enemy. He asks the distance from Soest to Brockhu-
■ sen j 1
I itary
1 tics.
tUa of
llUj
w
sen ; if they say it is a league and three-fourths, he cor¬
rects the distance of his plan, which made it two leagues ;
then he informs himself of all that is to be found on the
road from Soest to Brockhusen, chapels, houses, woods,
fields, orchards, rivers, rivulets, bridges, mills, &c. If
they say that a league from Soest they pass the village
of Kinderking, he marks that place upon his plan. He
asks if the road from Soest to Kinderking be crossed by
any other road ; if there be any morass or heath $ if the
road be inclosed, paved or straight j if there be any
bridges to pass, and at what distance. He takes care
to mark every thing on his plan, forgetting nothing,
even to mills, bushes, gibbets, gullies, fords, and every
thing that can be got from their information •, which
will probably be perfect, because one always knows
more than another. He continues his questions from
Kinderking to Brockhusen, and advancing by little and
little, observes the same method on the roads of the
other villages round, marked HDD. In this manner he
cannot fail to acquire an entire knowledge of all the
places; besides, he finds himself imperceptibly instruct¬
ed in the position of the enemy, by seeing the different
routes by which he can approach with the greatest se¬
curity.
For the attack of an enemy’s post, such men should
be selected as are brave, cool, and experienced ; or if
the affair require a considerable number, the detach¬
ment should be divided into platoons, some composed of
picked men for the real attack, and others of ordinary
soldiers for feints. The men should be provided, be¬
sides their arms, with such instruments as may be ne¬
cessary for pulling down or scaling the enemy’s works,
•uch as shovels and pickaxes for fascine parapets; hatch¬
ets for pallisadoes or chevaux de frize, and scaling lad¬
ders for stone or brick work. Having made the proper
disposition for his attack, and procured the necessary
guides, the commander of the detachment should set
out in the night, so as to be at the place of attack two
or three hours before daybreak, taking care to march
with as little noise or parade as possible.
If the post to be attacked be an ordinary redoubt,
such as we have described in N° 25. on hearing the sig¬
nal previously agreed on, all the divisions are to rise at
once from the place where they should have lain con¬
cealed ; the first ranks should leap into the ditch, and
soon after the second should follow, and both together
assist in undermining the angles of the scarp, or cutting
away the stakes which may impede their progress. If
the parapet be faced with stone or brick work, care
should be taken that the ladders be not too short, and
great expedition should be used in mounting them, and
especially in following the leading men in the assault,
if they should be knocked down by the fire of the ene¬
my.
Should the ditch be filled with water, and too deep
to be waded, it may be crossed on temporary bridges
made of planks, supported on empty casks, or the ditch
may be filled up with casks full of earth. If, as often
happens, the ground be obstructed with caltrops, these
A R. 603
must be swept away by dragging trees with their leaves Military
and branches over the ground (a). Tactics
In attacking posts of considerable magnitude, such V ^
as villages, it is best to divide the attack, and to make
a feint on those parts which seem best defended, while
the true attacks are reserved for those situations which
seem most difficult of access, and where consequently,
the enemy is least upon his guard. As soon as part of
the village has been carried, some divisions of the de¬
tachment should hasten to strengthen their position, by
possessing themselves of some church, or high ground,
from which they annoy the enemy.
When a post is once occupied, if it be thought ofDefenceof
sufficient consequence to retain it, the best methods P05'’8,
should immediately be taken to protect it against an at¬
tack of the enemy. The infantry to remain under arms
in the middle of the place, the cavalry to patrole with¬
out, while the commanding officer, escorted by a dozen
horsemen, goes to examine the environs to make his
arrangements ; having sent several small detachments
before, to cover him in time of reconnoitring.
Having remarked the places proper for his guard,
defence, and retreat, as well as the dangerous ones by
which the enemy can make approaches secretly to sur¬
prise him, he should choose the most convenient in the
front of his post to fix his grand guard D, (fig. 1. Plate Plats
DLL), which must face the enemy. He must mark PLI'
the heights for this guard to place theirvedettes EEL E,
and regulate the number according to the exigencies of
the situation. In a covered country you must not be
sparing of them, and must reinforce every guard. At
50 paces from the front of the grand guard a non¬
commissioned officer with eight horsemen should be al¬
ways ready to set out at K, to go and reconnoitre, when
the vedettes have observed any party.
If the post to be defended be merely a redoubt, it
will be proper to keep in readiness a number of trees
cut down with their branches, to stop up any breaches
made by the enemy’s shot. The men employed in the
defence should stand in three ranks, the front and centx-e
ranks with fixed bayonets, and the third rank provided
with long pikes, so as to project as far as the bayonets
of the front rank. On the enemy’s approach, the men
should reserve their fire till the enemy come up to the
glacis, and the rear rank should be furnished with hand
grenades, or lighted faggots, to throw among the ene¬
my, when they attempt to scale the parapet.
In the defence of a village or small town, guards
should be posted at the entrance of the principal streets;
trenches should be cut across the streets, and cannon
planted behind them, while a detachment of cavalry
should occupy the market-place, or broadest street, to
attack the enemy, if they force an entrance. If the
advanced guards are driven in, they should xetire with
coolness and deliberation, defending their posts from
house to house, till proper support can be given them
from the body of the detachment.
If there be any dangerous place capable of covering
the approaches of the enemy in the environs of the post,
and
(a) The principal engines employed in the attack of posts, are represented
presently refer.
in Plate DLV, to which we shall
4 G 2
6°4
WAR.
Military
Tactics.
and out of the circuit of the patroles, there should he a
guard placed there, more or less strong according to the
importance of the place, and care should be taken to
preserve the communication. The guards and picquets
being placed, the detachment that was sent out on the
3° .
Mode of
fortifying
•villages.
thrown in the way of his approach.
Part
The roads should Milita,
be broken up or intersected with deep ditches.
If there be good hedges or deep roads parallel to the'
village, or in such a situation as to front the enemy,
these will serve as breastworks, and for shelter. The
Tactic
roads must be called fn, and then go to work to lodge the ■ hedges should be cut down to within four feet of the,
party in the gardens that open upon the country, and
the commanding officer’s quarters; beating down hedges,
filling up ditches, and levelling a piece of ground large
enough to draw up the whole corps. The horses to be
put under cover in barns, contiguous to the gardens 5 but
in case there are no barns, they may substitute sheds open
on one side, that the horses may go out together in case
of an alarm. The officers should occupy the houses in
the neighbourhood of the sheds, and one of each com¬
pany remain day and night with the company, to pre¬
vent any of the men from entering the village without
leave, upon any pretence. The commanding officer
must acquaint the officers of his having chosen the place
M for the rendezvous in case of a retreat •, which ought
to be at some distance from the village, and on the side
he judges most convenient for retiring to the army. At
bottom, their tops sloping towards the country, and
deep ditches should be dug in front." If the roads are
deep, banquettes or steps must be thrown up next the
hedge to raise the men to the proper height for firing.
For want of such natural means of defence, it will be
necessary to throw up intrenchments on the side next
the enemy and on the flanks:
Fig. 1. Plate DLII. will explain the method of do¬
ing this in a village, under ordinary circumstances.
The village stands in a. plain, and in front of the army,
which is distant from it about 600 paces, c. The front
of the intrenchment consists of three fleeehes or arrows,
b, c, d, joined together by lines. There are wolf-holes
before the works that cover the left flank e: the line g-,
which crosses some swampy grounds, is broken in seve¬
ral places i; and the grove of wood /, is cut down, to
sunset the grand guard are to return to the post and join f prevent the enemy from approaching under cover of it.
the picquet, the half of each to mount alternately till
daybreak, and then the grand guard to return to the
place which they possessed the day before. The sentries
and vedettes should be doubled} and all the passages shut
up with waggons placed in two rows, except one for>
sallying out at in case of a retreat, made wide enough
for the passage of the patroles or the whole cavalry.
The corporals of the ordinary guard should lead the
relief of the vedettes every hour, setting off together *,
hut when they come to the passage of the post A, they
must separate into two parties, the one to the right to
relieve the vedettes BBB, the other to the left for the
vedettes CCC} then each of them, with the par¬
ties they have relieved, should go on at their head a
quarter of a league by the two routes pointed out in the
plan, to examine the environs, supposing an hour to
each. Besides this reconnoitring, the captain of the
grand guard should send two patroles in the night. To
fill up the intervals, they should set one about half an
hour after the corporals, and make the same round.
In defensive operations in an open country, the forti¬
fying of a village or a church yard may often prove of
importance, as .such posts well defended rnay obstruct
the movements of the enemy, and give time for a suffi¬
cient force to collect to meet them in the field. We
shall therefore describe the most approved mode of
strengthening these positions.
When it is proposed to fortify a village, inquiry
should first be made respecting the surrounding country,
whether there are woods, hills, or rivers near the vil¬
lage, whether the roads be accessible, whether provi¬
sions can be easily obtained, &c. If the village is to
be occupied as a post of defence merely, the woods, ri-
ravines,-or heights, may afford advantageous out-
vers,
posts or situations for batteries or ambuscades } but it it
is to be possessed as an advanced post on the eve ot a
battle, the woods next the army should be cut down,
the hollows filled up, and every thing removed which
may obstruct the freest communication between the vil¬
lage and the main army; while on the side of the ene¬
my, every obstruction by works, trees, &c. should be
Plate
DLII.
fig. i„
As the right flank, consisting of a level plain, is more
exposed than any other quarter, in addition to the works
made of earth, which are thrown up at m, trees are
collected, and heaped up in the form of an abattis, n.
These are defended by a discharge of musquetry from
Lhe intrenchments, whose lines are raised as high as pos¬
sible behind the growing hedges 0, which inclose the
gardens. It has however been judged necessary to throw
the works up in a forward position p, and to have an
interval between them and the hedges, lest the houses
should be -set on fire by the enemy, and the troops be
exposed to it. Every thing is left clear and open at
the back of the village, in order to secure a iree inter¬
course with head-quarters.
Other measures, however, must he adopted in the
fortifying of villages which be at so great a distance
from the camp, that the enemy might surprise and take
possession of them before any succours could be sent;
for in that case, intrenchments must be thrown up
throughout the whole of their circumference. 11, on the-
contrary, one of the wings of the army should be sup¬
ported by such a post, it would be more judicious to
put the flank in a state of defence, and to-lengthefl the
works in that quarter, to prevent the enemy from turn¬
ing it.
If it should be judged expedient, under the circum¬
stances of the army being cantoned, to fortify a village
which lies in a plain, other means must be used; tor in
that case there would not he troops enough to defend it.
Should there be a sufficiency of men, intrenchments
must be thrown up in the manner we have described,
and fleeches must be adopted to cover them behind,
with lines to connect the vacant intervals ; but il there
be a scarcity of soldiers, nothing but what is absolute y
necessary must be done} for it is highly impolitic to <‘t
tempt more than can be easily defended. Under t
circumstances you must be satisfied with erecting sma.
works, or using barricadoes to mask the entrances ;
here and there likewise fleeches must be constructei,
whose communication will be kept up by the g'1 (c!'
hedges. If the village should stand on an eminence, 1
0 0 may
bit I. W
,jtar- may be fortified with more facility, and many things
ctiCSl may be omitted, as the natural situation is itself a re-
- spectable post. ^
Should there be a very great disproportion between
the extent of the village, and the number of men in¬
tended for its defence, and the latter should be too
small, a part only must be fortified, and the remainder
of the houses must be secured by lines. Sometimes in¬
deed it is found necessary to burn or destroy them, to
prevent the enemy from approaching the fortified parts,
urjder cover of the buildings.
But if the garrison should not be sufficiently strong
even to defend a part of the village, you must be con¬
tented with fortifying the church and church-yard, or
the castle if there be one. If any of these posts be
thought defensible, troops must occupy them on the
first alarm •, but this must be done in perfect safety,
and without the soldiers being exposed to be cut off on
their march. This precaution is above all others ne¬
cessary where villages are so long and open that the
cavalry may enter them at every opening. On this
account the ordinary x'oads and avenues must not only
be obstructed, but the garden hedges must be repaired,
and every opening must be closed, which mav be easily
done by driving stakes into the earth, and nailing boards
across them, which will prevent any sudden irruption of
the cavalry, from which alone any danger is to be ap¬
prehended on eccasions of this sort j for the infantry
would scarcely advance, except by surprise, before the
garrison could occupy its station. If any apprehensions
are formed of an attack, the soldiers must not be absent
from their post, either in the dusk of the evening, or at
night ; they must, on the contrary, be assembled in the
intrenchments during that period, to he ready in the
neighbouring houses, always clothed and accoutred.
A church and church-yard afford an admirable post
of defence, especially if, as usually happens, they are
andUrch sea*:e^ 011 an elevation. In fortifying such a post, xve
should first block up every road and bye way leading
g. 2 it, by means of waggons or carts, with their wheels
taken off and loaded with dung or earth ; trees laid
across, or chevaux de frize. The narrow paths may be
barricadoed with rails, with their points standing up¬
wards, and a little outwards, having behind them thick
branches of trees, or logs of wood, with a ditch in
front. These previous precautions being taken, the
doors of the church should be pierced in several places,
about eight feet from the bottom, with holes large
enough to admit the muzzle of the musquet, and plat¬
forms should be raised with steps within for the men to
fire from, Other loop holes should be made at the bot¬
tom of the doors just above the level of the ground,
and a ditch must he dug within, about three feet deep,
so as to admit of men firing from thence through these
, lower loop-holes. See fig. 2. The doors must also be
secured by barricadoes, consisting of pallisades driven
several feet into the ground, and set extremely thick,
some being deeper than others, so as to leave spaces be¬
tween them and the top for loop-boles. See a, a, fig. 3.
This barricade is technically called tambour. The
walls or the church must also he pierced in various
places as directed for the doors, see fig. 3. and ditches
must be dug within them, and scaffolding erected as be¬
fore.
Again, on the outside of the church, a ditch is to be
2
A' R.
605
Military
Tactics.
d of
fOrt II:
dug as close to the Walls as is consistent with safety to
the foundation, about 12 feet in breadth at the top, and
four in depth \ and from the further side of this ditch ' "'V'"
the ground should he gradually sloped towards the open
country. Through the main door of the church an
opening should he made about two feet above the
ground, sufficiently large to admit of one man passing
through without mi\ch difficulty, so that when the
church-yard becomes untenable, the garrison may re¬
treat into the church.
It must not be forgotten to secure the means of a
cross fire. If the church be built in the form of a cross,
cross firings may be easily procured through the proper
loop-holes^ but when this is not the case, loop-holes should
be made through every salient angle of the building, or
tambours, such as represented in fig. 3. must be formed
wherever it can be conveniently done.
Men must be distributed in the upper part of the
building. These men will take out the tiles or slates in
different places, in order to observe the approaches of
the enemy, and to fire upon him when he comes within
musket-shot. The lower windows of the tower or
steeple must likewise he barricadoed, and have loop¬
holes made in them. The pavement of the church must
be taken up, and the stones or bricks be carried to the
top of the building, to enable the besieged to let them
drop upon the enemy, when he gets sufficiently near.
In order to render the defence as practicable as possible,
you must also collect some large barrels or tubs, and
keep them constantly at hand filled with water, for the
purpose of extinguishing any fire which might break
out in the church, or be effected by the enemy’s
shells.
Fig. 4. shows a plan of the church and church-yard Fig. 4.
thus fortified. <?, o, 0, #, the wall of the church yard ;
b, c, tambour work in'the front of the entrances ; d, the
church 5 e, /, tambour work constructed opposite the
doors ; g, the sacristy or vestry. ^
Connected with the attack and defence of posts isofambu
the subject of ambuscades, which we must now briefly cades,
consider.
* Ambuscades may be formed in any place where a
part may lie concealed, to surprise the enemy in pas¬
sing. They are easily carried into execution in woods,
hollow places, and large deserted buildings ; but the " '
placing of an ambuscade in any situation requires pre¬
vious accurate information with respect to the move¬
ments of the enemy. When the commander of a party
has been directed to form an ambuscade, to surprise a
convoy of artillery, baggage, or provisions, or a body
of recruits going to reinforce the enemy, be should first
make every necessary inquiry respecting the route which
the enemy is to take ; the situation of the places near
which he is to pass, and the post to which he is about
to march. He must also inquire with seeming anxiety
about the roads which lead in an opposite direction, on
which he should seem more intent than on his main
object. Having concerted his plan, he should set out
at the head of his detachment if possible, ami leaving
his post on the side opposite to his true route, the better
to conceal his design. If the place where he intends to
plant his ambuscade be not far distant, he should come
into his true route about halfway, and there place half
his infantry in ambush to favour his retreat. But when
the country where he proposes going is distant, and the
march.
6o6
W A
Military
Tactics.
Plate
DLIIL
*g. *•
march requires at least two nights, he must conduct his
party by meandring from wood to wood, if there be
any. He must not forget to provide necessary refresh¬
ments for the day, which must be passed in some con¬
cealed place where he may not be perceived, and must
cause three rations of oats to be carried for each
horse.
Proper precautions having been taken to guard any
cross road or bridge that may lie near the place of am¬
buscade, the commanding officer should take care to be
at least two hours before the enemy, and to place the
ambuscade on that side, by which, if worsted, he may
retire with the greatest safety.
Plate DLIII. fig. 2. will illustrate the proper me¬
thod of laying an ambuscade. A represents the infan¬
try of the surprising party, which ought to be placed at
least 600 paces behind B, the cavalry, so that, if pur¬
sued, they may both fall back to A, and make good
their retreat to the guard at the bridge or cross road j
or to another party of infantry placed in ambush half
way. If the ambuscade be placed in a wood, an intelligent
non-commissioned officer should be chosen to get upon a
high tree C, from which he can see the march of the
enemy, and give notice of the most essential circum¬
stances. The first of these is the seeing the advanced
guard ; the second is the approach of the corps, and
the third is the time when their front is advanced as
far as the ambuscade B ; for which the commanding of¬
ficer should instruct the observer what signals he is to
make from the top of the tree, to communicate the ne¬
cessary information without speaking, which may be
done by means of a small cord D, of a brown or green
colour, so as to be least perceptible. Let this cord be
placed as in the plan, so that no branch interrupt it,
with one end in the hand of the observer, and the other
in the commanding officer’s hand in the ambuscade B.
As soon as the advanced guard appears, the observer
must pull the cord, and the commanding officer cause
the party to mount and remain in deep silence. If by
a stratagem, which is practised for particular reasons,
the advanced guard is immediately followed by the
corps, which may be easily known by their being more
numerous than ordinary, and not followed by any other
corps, that the commander may not be deceived by the
enemy, the cord should be drawn a second time, and
a third time when their front is advanced as high as the
ambuscade. At that instant the party must rush out,
and furiously attack the flanks of their centre in the
following manner.
If the advanced guard E is formed only of an ordi¬
nary number, they should be allowed to pass ; and at
the approach of the principal part or convoy F, the
chief to be informed by the second pulling of the cord.
At the moment the head of the convoy shall be ad¬
vanced as high as B, the cord must be pulled the
third and last time 5 and at this signal the party must
rush out without being perceived, and suddenly attack
the centre on the flank, engaging only with their swords,
and making such a noise as to prevent the enemy from
hearing the orders of their officers. They must disarm
all whom their bravery shall throw in their way, taking
care not to scatter or pursue too far, unless it be certain
that they are so far from their army or parties, on ac¬
count of which they cannot be affected j for in either of
3
B.
Part
these cases they will not fail to run at the noise, and
disturb the retreat.
In all secx-et expeditions, great circumspection should'
be used, that the party be not seen or betrayed j as if
they be discovered by the advanced guard before the
blow be struck, the enterprise must be immediately
abandoned, and the party retire. When the guide, or
any one of the party deserts, and cannot be catched, a
retreat must immediately be thought of, or the ambus¬
cade must be placed somewhere else ; but to prevent
such a misfortune, the officers should be charged to exa¬
mine frequently whether they have all their men.
An ambuscade should never be formed for cutting off
the enemy’s retreat, as this will drive him to despair,
and make him rally and attack the party with desperate
resolution. There may be an exception to this, when
it is pretty certain that the whole party of the enemy
may be cut off or taken prisoners, either from the small¬
ness of their number, or from the peculiar situation of
the place of ambuscade.
Several ambuscades should not be formed at once,
except for the purpose of seizing foragers, in which case
they should be disposed so that the sentinels may see
from one to another. Then the first guard which sees
the foragers, should commence the attack, and can soon
be assisted by the rest of the party.
In all ambuscades, no sentries should be placed but
officers or non-commissioned officers. On downs, be¬
hind mountains, or in gullies, the sentries should lie with
their bellies on the ground, and their feet towards the
ambuscade, the body covered with a gray or green
cloak, according to the colour of the ground, with their
heads a little raised and wrapped in a handkerchief of
straw green colour, or white in time of snow, so as not
to be easily perceived. The numbers of sentinels can¬
not be determined, but they should be disposed so as to
watch on all sides of the ambuscade, and stop every one
who may inadvertently approach too near. The sentries
should give notice of what they discover by gestures, to
which all the officers should be very attentive. In coun¬
tries where there are no woods, vineyards, or hedges,
an ambuscade may be placed in a field of hemp or corn,
or some sort of grain, provided it be high enough to
cover the men, at least with the help of art. When
the stalk of the corn is not high enough, some of the in¬
fantry must be set to work with spades and pickaxes,
which they must have brought along with them, for the
purpose of digging holes in the field deep enough to
make up for the defective height of the corn.
An ambuscade often forms part of a stratagem for
bringing on an action with a party of the enemy which
would be superior, were it not for some advantage ot
this kind, as in the following case. See Plate DLIII*
fig. 1. Suppose the whole party to set out from A,
marching under the conduct of a trusty guide by cover¬
ed ways at a distance from the enemy. Being come to
the place C, which ought to be in the environs, and as
high as the field of battle, the infantry should be con¬
cealed out of the road far from the sight of passengers.
This must be the centre of correspondence with the
army, the rendezvous of the booty, and support the re¬
treat of all the cavalry, of which there should be as
Mill tar
Tactic
many detachments as there are attacks proposed to be
made. We shall suppose six of 100 men each,
W A R.
^ VI.
must go secretly by particular routes to their respective
posts, E, D, F, G, H, I. Neither trouble nor expence
should be spared to procure good guides. Each detach¬
ment should lie in ambush half a league, if necessary,
from the object of the attack BKKKK.
The noise of the musketry in the armies is to be the
signal for their irruption; and then bravery, intrepidity,
and courage will give wings to the people. The second
detachment D will glance imperceptibly between the
villages, and fall like thunder on the camp B ; and
while 80 attack all whom they meet, the other 20
should light their torches at the fires that are to be
found everywhere, and spread the flames rapidly to the
straw of the tents. As they cannot fail to have the
picquet of the camp soon at their heels, they must strike
their blow with all possible expedition, without stopping
to plunder, being content with the glory of having ex¬
cited a general alarm, capable of confounding the whole
army, and contributing to the gaining of a battle.
At the same time that the detachment D attacks the
camp B, the others, E, F, G, H, must with equal vio¬
lence attack the villages K, K, K, K, which they have
in front, doing the same the first did in camp, except
that they may seize as plunder every thing which they
can conveniently carry off", with which these villages
are commonly filled, seizing the best horses, hamstring¬
ing others with the stroke of a sword, and setting fire to
all the places which contain the enemy’s baggage. Each
detachment should cause some horsemen to advance be¬
yond the village, to observe the motion of the troops,
who will not fail to run to their assistance. As soon as
they perceive them, they must make their retreat as fast
as possible by the routes which the commanding officer
has preconcerted, and which are represented in the plate
by the coarse lines. The sixth detachment I, in ambush
on the side of the road leading from the camp, should
remain there, to seize all the enemy who think of saving
themselves by flight.
When the commander of a detachment finds himself
obliged to abandon a post, or that it is not w'orth de¬
fending, it becomes necessary for him to prepare for his
retreat. This is often a difficult and dangerous affair,
and requires much prudence as well as bravery on the
part both of officers and men. If possible, he should re¬
treat on that side which forms a communication with
the general basis or line of posts occupied by his party.
The following observations onlines of retreat, connected
with the lines of operation described in N° 22, will be
found of importance.
A retreat on a single line is a fault of the utmost
magnitude, for it is evident that if the army C (fig. 8.
Plate DXLVI.) retire from it towards B, along the
line AB, the enemy may send besides, two corps a, (1,
against the flanks of this army, which would separate it
at the point B, and in this case it would be surround¬
ed. Nor is this the only disadvantage, for all the coun¬
try situated to the right and left of the line AB, would
fall into the hands of the enemy; while, in a retreat, it
is always a rule to cover as much of the country as pos¬
sible.
A concentric retreat is of such a nature, that in an ex¬
tensive position they fall hack to one more confined, so
that the two lines of operation at the extremities AB,
(fig. 9.) unite at the object of retreat C, forming an
acute angle, or as at fig. 10. an obtuse angle; such a
retreat would have no better issue than the former. The
same disadvantages which result from retreats on asingle
line would likewise attend this. There is one circum-
stance which might induce a general to retreat in this
manner, and that is, with the view of covering any im¬
portant place, a capital, for example, by taking an ad¬
vantageous position, which is indicated by C, in the
figures; the important place required to be covered
would probably be at D. But nevertheless this measure
would be ineffectual if the enemy were at all versant in
the art of war, and operated on the flanks of the army
they were pursuing. The best method of covering, a
country, which is in our rear, is to proceed against the
flanks ©f the enemy which is advancing; and by this
intrepid and bold movement, to change our defensive
operations into those of an attack.
A retreat conducted in parallel lines, as the basis AB, 11
in four corps, X, 2, 3, 4, or the lines AC, EG, FH, BD,
is doubtless better than the concentric retreats which we
have just considered. In the first place, the country is
better covered by means of the parallel lines; secondly,
the enemy cannot so easily insult the flanks of the re¬
treating army, provided that this is in a condition to per¬
form the same manoeuvre with regard to them, and thus
obstruct their progress ; lastly, they would be afraid of
advancing with too much precipitation, from the moment
their attention is divided by the attempt which may be
made against them. But there might he something still
better attending it, viz. to retire in an eccentric direc¬
tion, as we shall show presently.
The excellence of parallel retreats is maintained from
the idea that they cover a country better, and likewise
stop the progress of an enemy, when opposed in a direct
line. Certainly this appears evident to the eye ; but
the sight is often the medium only of error. It is tbo
ignisfatuus which leads us into the mire, and the pre¬
sent instance is a proof of it. This opinion was not in¬
deed well founded among our predecessors, and still less
is it so among the moderns. We do not now arrest the
progress of the enemy, by presenting ourselves to their
strongest part, viz. their front; but, on the contrary, by
intercepting their flanks, which are the weakest parts ;
by harassing their rear ; by menacing their provisions,
and their communication with the sources of their vigour
and power. It follows from hence, that eccentric re¬
treats are the best. An army (fig. X2.) who retires
from a, b, c, <7, e, towards f, g, h, i, k, runs no risk of
seeing the enemy advance in the segment f, k ; for he
would, by such a movement, be in danger of being sur¬
rounded.
We may lay it down as a rule, that it is essentially
necessary, in all retreats, to divideinto different columns,
in order to divert the attention of the enemy ; and it
is fully demonstrated that there is not in war a more
important maxim. We might show that this method
of attracting the attention of the enemy to many differ¬
ent points at once is, properly speaking, exciting a de¬
gree of apprehension with regard to his flanks and rear.
But it naturally results from all that has been said rela¬
tive to the inutility of diverging offensive operations, as
well as those which are directed by a single line, or by
an acute angle, that eccentric retreats are of all others
the most preferable. Since concentric operations are
the most advantageous in attacking, eccentric ones must
necessarilypossess the saraeadvantages in defence; every
thing.
607
Military
Tactic*.
6o8 WAR. Part
Military thing should he in opposition, in two different kinds of see that copies of the order of battle he given to those
Tacties.j warfare, which are in their nature and interests contra-
that have a separate command. The proper officers
Militan
Tactic,
34
Of battles.
3S
Reasons for
hazarding
a battle.
36
dictory.
In conducting a retreat, as in all other field opera¬
tions, an army should assume, as the principal object, its
own magazines, and the safety of its lines of convoy,
rather than the army of the enemy ; *and it should never
take a position opposite the enemy, but rather on one
side of him..
We have hitherto considered military operations in
the field, as they are subservient, or preparatory to, that
most important consequence of war, a battle. We must
now examine what are the causes which should induce a
general to hazard or avoid a battle ; and if he determine
on a general action, what are the best methods of dis¬
posing the troops under his command.
At present, actions in the field are distinguished into
two kinds, according as they are more or less general.
When the whole of the adverse armies are engaged, it
is called a battle ; but where only a part of each is con¬
cerned, a combat. The latter of these, however despe¬
rate, does not in general involve such important conse¬
quences as the former ; but as in a general engagement,
the vanquished party usually lose the greater part of
their artillery-and baggage, and are compelled to retire
and leave the country behind them at the mercy of the
victors, a prudent general never hazards such losses
without important reasons.
When an army is superior to its opponents in number
or discipline j when discord prevails among the chiefs of
the adverse army ; when a neglect of the ordinary pre¬
cautions in marching, encamping, or other obvious du¬
ties, demonstrate their incapacity ; when it is necessary
to relieve a considerable town or post that is besieged
by the enemy ; when it is apprehended that the army
will be dispersed or ruined, without a general engage¬
ment ; when intelligence has been received that rein¬
forcements are approaching to the enemy, which will
render him superior ; when the enemy has received, in
some preceding action, a considerable check which he
has not yet recovered, or when the army whose general
is thus canvassing the advantages and disadvantages of
a battle, is in such a state, that every thing ought to be
hazarded for its relief, the commander is warranted in
giving battle to the enemy.
Reasons for On the contrary, when less is to be hoped for from a
avoiding a v;ctory than feared from a defeat j when the army is in-
J -.I •  I ...   ... j.- ?.i- .. .1. .
general
action.
ferior either in number, courage, or discipline, to the
enemy •, when it is in expectation of being reinforced by
a strong detachment of fresh troops; when the enemy
is so advantageously posted that it would be impossible
to bring him to an engagement on equal terms, or to
force his entrenchments ; or when there is a prospect,
by temporising and declining battle, of ruining the
army of the enemy by disease, famine, or desertion, it
would be wrong to place the fortune of the campaign
«<7 on the issue of a battle.
Prepara- When a general engagement has been resolved on,
tion for a j_|ie general is to devise the means of carrying it into
ualtle‘ execution, so as to have the strongest presumption of
success. He is to arrange, with the officers of his staff,
the manner in which the troops ai'e to be divided and
disposed, or what is called the order of battle 5 he should
assign to his several officers their respective posts, and
should take care that the troops under their command VT-
be properly armed and equipped, and that they are al¬
lowed time to rest and refresh themselves before the en¬
gagement. The heavy baggage, and every thing that
might encumber the operations of the troops, should be
removed, and placed at a distance under a proper guard.
A reserve should be formed near the park of artillery,
consisting of some of the bravest and best disciplined
troops, headed by the most experienced officers. -g
In time of action, the commander in chief should beCircwn.
so situated as to be able to issue his orders with the least*tances:
difficulty, and to observe as far as possible the operations J
of his troops, and more especially the effects of the first the acti.<
attack. Every other general officer must keep his own
station, to direct the charge of the troops, or to rally
and re-form those which have been routed and dispersed.
When the action becomes general, and is obstinately
contested, the commander-in-chief should direct the
principal efforts of his troops against that part of the
enemy’s line which makes the greatest resistance, and
should himself hasten to this spot, to animate his men
to greater activity and exertion by his presence and
exhortations.
The artillery of the army should accompany the first
line, and the remainder of the troops should follow the
movements of those before them, so as to preserve the
proper distance between the lines, and march with the
least possible disorder and confusion. If the first line
give way, the second should march up to its relief, and
either charge the enemy, or keep him employed till the
first line has time to rally and re-form. If, however, as
often happens, the other lines are struck with a panic on
observing the repulse of their predecessors, the reserve
should be brought up, and it is probable that their cou¬
rage and resolution will reanimate the scattered troops,
and turn the fortune of the day. 39
In forming the order of battle, regard must be paid Order 1 j
to the nature and situation of the place where the battle,)aUle-
is to be fought j to the number and quality of the troops
engaged, and to the mode of fighting which is most
likely to take place during the action, or to decide the
victory. There are two principal methods of forming
troops in order of battle, the column and the line. The
former of these was most in use among the ancients, has
been greatly recommended by Folard in his commen¬
taries on Polybius, and practised with the most brilliant
success by tbe French armies since their portentous re¬
volution. This order of battle is adapted chiefly to cases
where tbe activity of the troops can be relied on, and
where much firing with musketry or artillery, is not ex¬
pected to take place, and where of course the affair is to
he decided principally by the pike or the bayonet. F
is also well calculated for a body of infantry who are
to resist the attack of cavalry. It is obvious that from
the close arrangement of troops in column, this disposi¬
tion must expose them more to the fire of a line, aIi(1
must endanger their being flanked or surrounded by an
enemy whose front is more extended. 'I he relative a
vantages and disadvantages of the column and the line,
will be more readily perceived by attending to the to -
lowing principles.
From the order of battle as a basis are deduced many
instructive
Jtrt I.
I litary
dies.
4=>
P eiples
if irehin:
11 firing,
]( ced
iri the
jr ir of
)8tS.
late
I LVI.
- tj*
FiS:4.
Fij. 1
instructive principles relating to what are called tines of
marching and lines of Jiving, which constitute a con¬
siderable part of the elements of modern tactics.
There are as many lines of marching arising from the
p.order of battle, as there are soldiers in the first rank of
the line or column, and as the soldiers approach to¬
wards the enemy, these lines of marching, at least in
the infantry, produce lines of firing. It is the nature
and relative advantages of different lines of marching
and firing that we now propose to consider.
Let us suppose two lines of troops, A and B, fig. 13.
extended opposite to each other, of which A is consider¬
ably longer than B at each extremity, or, as it is term¬
ed, outflanks it. It is evident that B maybe surround¬
ed by A, as from the superior numbers of A, B may
be attacked in flank and rear. It is therefore evident
that when the numbers are unequal, and the contest is
to be decided by firing, the greater number must pre¬
vail, if both are arranged in lines.
Again, the line AB (fig. 14.) being attacked by the
line c d, the flank B cannot extend itself parallel to c d,
if this line advances always in front towards A. The
line attacked is surrounded, and even so pressed upon,
that they must all take flight towards A. If any troops
by chance should endeavour to form upon the line e f,
they would not have time ; taken in front and in flank
by the enemy’s fire, they could never resist such an at¬
tack. The cavalry would experience the same disad¬
vantages in a similar case. Horsemen attacked to the
right, to the left, and in front, could not defend them¬
selves ; the celerity of the horses, no doubt, would en¬
able them to deploy quicker than the infantry •, but,
by the same reasoning, the enemy’s cavalry, which is ad¬
vanced upon their flank, would likewise advance the
quicker from the point B, towards the opposite wing A,
which a corps of infantry could not possibly do. Thus
it would be equally difficult to form the line e f; every
thing would be overthrown, and they must retire in the
greatest disorder towards A. It is hence clear that
every effort should be made by an army in line of bat¬
tle, to turn the enemy’s flanks with its front.
Concentric lines of marching and firing well exe¬
cuted, are exceedingly important. Hence it is that a
fortress must yield when it is besieged, as the fire from
the fortress is eccentric, while that of the besiegers is
concentric. Hence, too, sorties from a garrison rarely
succeed, because they are eccentric operations.
When an army is much weaker than its opponent, if
the former be compelled to an action, it should throw
itself on the enemies flanks •, and to do this with effect,
the enemy’s front should be kept occupied, so as to
draw off his attention from his flanks. If the line were
long, he would have time to convey all that part oppo¬
site to the side attacked, as A (fig. 15.) into the line
cf before the attacking army e d could entirely over¬
throw and repulse the flank B, which would be the ob¬
ject of their efforts. In this case, things would again
be equal; for an engagement in front would take place,
the issue of which is always doubtful. If, however,
they occupy the line AB, by corps sent for that pur¬
pose, as g and h, while, with a greater force, they at¬
tack in flank, then it would be impossible for any part
of AB to tin ow themselves into the line e f before ha¬
ving beaten g A ; and the time would probably be too
short for this operation, if c c/ pushed in front in a vigor-
Vol. XX. Tart II.
WAR. 609
ous manner. From this it follows that the army AB, Military
though the stronger, can do nothing better at this time Tatties,
than quit the field of battle, as it will otherwise be sur- ' ^ ^
rounded. Now, the attacking army have nothing to
do but to effect an eccentric retreat 5 namely, to fall
back wdth the left wing upon i k, and with the right
upon l m, provided CD do not obstruct the passage
for in that case, the retreat of the right wing, or of that
part of the army nearest the flank B, would be on n,
in order to create in the enemy c a some solicitude for
his left flank d. It is by such eccentric retreats that
the pursuit of the enemy is prevented. They dare not
venture it, if they do not wish to be taken in flank
themselves, and to become in their turn exposed to an
escalade and a concentric fire, and consequently a ter¬
rible havoc. Eccentric retreats in tactics are equally
as advantageous as in strategy. The latter kind alarm
the enemy with regard to his lines of operation, and
consequently prevent him from advancing j the former
make him afraid of exposing his flanks and rear, and
hinder him from pursuing.
From these considerations it appears that it is no
great misfortune for an army to be attacked in its cen¬
tre, and divided. If the army be divided in two at the
centre, it will retire eccentrically on e and/ (fig. 16.). fig- ,
By this movement it will throw an obstacle in the way
of all farther progress on the part of the enemy, who
has divided in the middle the dotted line AB. It is
impossible for the enemy c d to advance ’ 1 front be¬
tween e and f ; they would take him in fla ik on both
sides j he must therefore advance in front towards e and
f, both at the same time. In this position eand f might
detach forces to the rear of c d, and operate at once on
its provisions and in its country. It would be sufficient
for that to send some corps from their flanks to the
points A, B. It is likewise possible for them to ad¬
vance entirely to the left and right, if they have any
magazines at g-and h, which nevertheless would not be
exposed by the marching of the flanks towards A and
B, and would always be sheltered from the enterprises
oi c d. A third combination likewise would be to at¬
tack immediately c d, which, from its position, would
be exposed on both its flanks. In this last case, c d
would have no other resource than to operate on that
part of the flanks c and which are opposite to the
points A, B, to compel e f to retreat, and replace its
front in the direction of A, B.
It does not require a great body of men to occupy
the front of the enemy, while the rest of the army at¬
tack the flanks. It is best done by means of a scattered
troop, or what the French call tirailleurs, consisting of
light infantry, which are usually instructed in the fol¬
lowing manner. The troop, formed into two ranks,
divides in such a manner that there may be a space be¬
tween the two, as indicated in fig. 17. The second Fig*17*
rank, placed behind the intervals left by the first, secures
its flanks. When they attack, the second rank, CD,
passing through the intervals of the first AB, advances
to the line EF, and fires. The great advantage arising
from this, is that of forming a more extensive front than
when they are wedged in elbow to elbow j secondly,
they keep up a more fatal fire with their musketry, be¬
cause each soldier, being unmolested by the one next to
him, aims better, and continues his firing without in¬
terruption ; thirdly, a less number of men is lost, because
t 4 H many
6io W A H. Part
Military many of the enemy’s balls fall in the intervals, and are wing might run dispersed towards and there make a Militr
Tactics, consequently harmless j but in the following method all little turn to the right at a certain signal, return quick- Tacti
w'    these advantages are united in a more eminent degree, ly, attack the left flank D, and give it a rolling fire
Here the dispersed soldiers do not move in right lines, from three sides, before L), in order to defend himself,
Fig. 18. but circularly as represented in fig. 18. When the could take the form of an axe {d'une hatche) 1) g.
first rank has fired, the men make a little turn to the But, in order for such an attack lo succeed, the enemy’s
left, and run to the place occupied by the second rank, cavalry must not be near. In case there be any to be
the men of which advance rapidly in front to the place
which the former had quitted, and fire, while the other
rank is charging. Thus, each rank alternately advan¬
cing and retiring in circles, a constant fire is kept up
on the enemy, with little hazard to the men. It must
be allowed, however, that this method will succeed on¬
ly when the enemy stand firm ; for if they fly, the for¬
mer method is to be preferred.
Jf the attacking army be forced to retire, the tiruil-
Fig. 19. leurs that succeed them should stop at N° 2. fig. 19.
instead of proceeding as far as N° I. 5 while those that
are already at N0 1. in retiring fall back farther than
N° 2. thus each rank successively falling farther and
farther bac k, contesting every inch of ground.
Lt may perhaps be maintained, that it is better in at¬
tack to adopt close order, because the lines of firing be¬
ing more approximate, they can keep a better fire •, but
it may be replii d, that if they are once on the flanks of
the enemy, and sufficiently near to use the musket, it is
then oflittle importance whether they attack with close
ranks, or en tirailleurs, because in either case the enemy
must lie beaten if they charge with vigour. In such a
position, it would be difficult to throw ona’s self in the
Fi«-.20. line ^*/ (%• 20<)> particularly if it he occupied in front,
as it ought to be, and it is necessary that the cavalry
should he near, in order to sustain this attack.
The retreats of the infantry intended to occupy the
Fig. 21. front AB (fig. 21.), need not he either eccentric or in
flank, the principal object being to direct the attention
of the army AB from Ins flanks, which it is intended to
attack j but these retrograde movements must be con¬
ducted directly upon l j\ If the retreat be serious, and
it be really intended to abandon the front AB, and to
prevent the pursuit by creating in the enemy a solici¬
tude for his flanks, then the retreat should he executed
eccentrically up^/z.
Suppose an armv collected in an oblique position, as
Fi 22 at ^8* 22, and suppose it is to make an attack on
another army AB, coming round upon its flank. This
manoeuvre has been recommended by Folard, and was
practised long ago by Epaminondas, and in modern
times by Frederick the Great. It is however generally
considered as inferior to the mode of attack illustrated
in fig. 15. and AB might easily avoid the danger by
moving along in line towards^ or taking the position
A g- Indeed AB is itself, by its right wing A, in
some degree enabled to act on the offensive against the
left wing of CD, by moving round in the columns h i.
The consequence of this mutual manoeuvring would he,
that CD takes AB on its flank B, while it is itself
taken by AB on its own flank C ; the two parts attack¬
ed will be probably beaten by the attacking army, and
after the combat they will both remain opposite to each
other, though a little obliquely with respect to their for¬
mer front.
It is not always necessary to re-form the ranks. Sup-
Fig- 23- pose AB (fig. 23.) is attacked by the line CD, the left
apprehended, the precaution to he adopted would be to
form into columns. If, therefore, attacks and retreats
take place in this manner, and, above all, if care has not
been taken to sustain and cover them with a numerous
cavalry, the greater part of the tactical evolutions of the
infantry are remUred useless. It is, however, indispen¬
sably necessary that the troops should always know how
to deploy from a column into aline of battle.
Captain Bosch, a Prussian officer, has discovered a
method of deploying, which appears to he by far the
easiest and the beot yet known. During the march, the
divisions proceeding on the line AB (fig. 24.) observe Fig, 24,
the necessary distances. As soon as the division 1 enters
into the line of direction AB, it is commanded to the
right or left, according to the side which they wish to
face } the following division arrives, without changing
its step, to the very place where the preceding one has
made its ijuart cle conversion, and performs a similar
one ; the third, the fourth, and all the rest follow the
example. Each division having thus traversed its dis¬
tance, reaches the line of direction, when that which
marches directly in front has already made room.
This method is a step further towards the perfection
of deploying, which is to advance in front, for the divi¬
sion 1 is obliged to make a quart de conversion to the
left, before presenting in front to the line, whilst, ac¬
cording to the method of Captain Rosclr, this line is
for me d merely by a halt-front. At the same time, a
conversion is a movement which always requires many
paces, because it is performed in the segment of a circle.
In the two methods of deploying represented at fig.
24. and 25. the divisions traverse the two smallest sides
of a right-angled triangle (see fig. 25.). Tire Prussianspjg j
have introduced a method, in which only the hypothe-
nuse is described : it is called the, adjutant's sttp. The
adjutants, who know from experience the length of the
front of their battalions, measure with the gallop of
their horses on the line of direction, the space necessary
for appearing in battle (fig. 26 ). Each battalion se-^jg, J
parates fiom the column, and marches by the nearest
road to where the adjutants stand, at the numbers
J, 2, 3, 4, as intermediate points on the line of direction
AB. As soon as the first division arrives at the ad¬
jutant, it immediately deploys according to the method
already described. If the officers who measure the
front do not make any great mistake, the march in front
must he exec uted much more quickly than by the pre¬
ceding method.
l.et us now examine the best method of throwing
hack a wing into a line, so that it may not he turned.
Suppose an oblique line at cd (fig. 27.) with a crotchet fig,
d e formed to prevent being taken by the flank d; and
at the same time, to have a line ready to repulse every
att ck which the enemv AB might attempt on the left
against tlm flank. Such is the first modification which
this kind of position offers to our examination. After
this line, en crochet, has dispersed every thing which op-
1
w
posed its progfess, it turns, till it arrive at the prolon¬
gation of the oblique front CD, and then takes the ene¬
my in flank.
At the battle of Lissa *, some battalions of grena¬
diers were placed at the extremity of the right wing of
the cavalry ; they overthrew the troops of Wh temburg,
and performed other essential services. But such a po¬
sition has this defect, that it offers a flank to the enemv,
which can be enfiladed by his cannon. This would
happen to c d (fig. 28.), as well as de, if the line AB
extended beyond, and turned the oblique front c d. It
would be possible, by means of a square battalion, as
d, e,f gt to cover the flank which is attacking in the
oblique order, but two sides of this square would be en¬
filaded by the cannon of the enemy. The defence of a
parallelogram is therefore much weaker than that of a
perfect square.
Fig. 29. represents what the Prussians call a cremail-
lie're, a form extremely complicated, and liable to he
enfiladed by the enemy. Another and still more com¬
plicated form of this order of battle is seen at fig. 30.
Figs. 31. and 32. represent the order of battle in a
square, a form which is well adapted both to strength
and convenience. When it is intended to reinforce the
square battalion against cavalry, the third rank separates
from the two others, and forms by itself a lesser square,
within that formed by the front and centre ranks.
When this is done, if the enemy’s cavalry should pene¬
trate into one of the angles of the first square, the inner
square forms a salient angle by conversions to the right
and left, as represented by the dotted lines fig. 32. so
as by a cross fire to drive the enemy back again.
Many have proposed to conduct retreats in various
square battalions ; but it is necessary that they should
be small squares, composed at the utmost of two or three
battalions j and it is requisite, that, during the march,
whether by angles or squares, they should observe be¬
tween each other such a position, that the fire of the
one flank should reach to the sides of the other in order
to protect it (fig. 33. N° 1, 2, 3.). This last battalion
3 reaches the front 1, which last performs the same
service to the rear of 3, and to the front of 2 j 2, on its
side, protects the rear both of 1 and 3. It would be dif¬
ficult in the field, for these different squares to preserve
such a compressed position, and they would be in danger
of wounding or killing each other by their cross firing.
Men well experienced in war have, however, preferred
retreats of infantry in square battalions, having the can¬
non in the centre or on the flanks, as represented in
fig. 34. In executing this movement, however, the di¬
stances are scarcely ever preserved, especially when it is
necessary for a wing to deploy by a conversion during a
retreat, see fig. 35. in order to prevent the pursuit of
the enemy. In every other respect these retreats being
eccentric, are founded on good principles. See N° 33.
When, after a discharge of musketry, an army has to
retire, this movement cannot be expected to be execut¬
ed in order. In this case a flight always takes place, for
otherwise there would be no reason for quitting the
field of battle. In this situation it is necessary to have
a line of cavalry behind the infantry, to sustain them j
and then it is not so had as is generally imagined, to fly
hastily into the midst of the cavalry. It is only neces¬
sary that this scattered infantry should reform immedi-
ately in the most convenient place, in a wood, or on an
A R.
61 r
elevation ; and if they return quickly to the charge, they Military
will display more courage than in falling back, step by Tactics,
step, and losing a number of men ; for in the first in- —y~—
stance it is a real and useful intrepidity, but in the se¬
cond it is nothing. If there he no cavalry to sustain
them in an open place, they must then remain united,
or otherwise be cut in pieces.
W hen it is possible to effect a regular retreat, the
best and easiest method is to make a half-turn to the
right with the whole line, and to march thus, progres¬
sively falling back *, by this means they will sooner
escape from the fire of the enemy than in any other
manner, and the order is much more easily kept, which is
of importance, and deserves to be properly appreciated.
There is not a more pitiable object than a square batta¬
lion surrounded by tirailleurs, (fig. 36.). All their Fig-36-
shot are concentric, and consequently eminently effec¬
tive, while, those of the squares axe eccentric, which
renders them almost nugatory. The ranks of this un¬
happy square would soon be thinned by a well directed
fire, which could not miss its aim •, and a battalion, in
this position, would find it impossible to escape destruc¬
tion.
The most celebrated modification of the oblique
front, is that made by Frederick the Gx-eat, viz the
oblique attack in rounds. Experience has not yet
proved what there is peculiarly excellent in this man¬
ner of attacking-, and Captain Bosch has shown that it
is not tenable in theory. He demonstrates that each
echellon would be received by the enemy with a supe¬
rior fire for the one c d (fig. 37.) if it approach the
line AB, within musket shot, would be canylit in its Fig. 37,
flank c ; which being turned, and exposed to a side fii-e,
would insensibly descx-ibe an arch in its real-, to have its
adversary in front. The division of the line AR, which
in this case would pour upon the flank c of the eehellon,
c d, such a fatal fire, would be in no way hindered by
the second ef, which is too far off to fire ; and, besides,
the first two divisions of the wing /"daie not fire, at least
not with safety, if the echellon were 300 paces distant,
for fear of reaching them in the flank c. Thus, the two
divisions of the line AB, which are opposite to the
echellon, cd, would continue their fire noon the fatal
rank c, without the least interruption. If they be not
more than 50 or 100 paces distant, these inconveniences
will not take place j but at the same time, the advan¬
tages which were expected to result from an attack en
echellon will be lost. These advantages are, that, by
dividing the front, only one paxt is liable to be beaten,
as the others would he neglected ; while on the con¬
trary, in an oblique line, without any interruption, the
disorder rapidly spreads through its whole extent. It
would be possible, in order to derive every advantage
fx-oni this manoeuvre, to augment considei'ably the fire of
the first echellon, as well as the one immediately subse¬
quent, by doubling their lines, and leaving the othexs
weaker. Hence it is evident, that this mode of attack
is eligible only when we are a-head of an enemy sti-ong-
er than ourselves j for if we have a superior force, it is
certain that the most energetic method would be to at¬
tack at once the adversax-y in front and both flanks.
There is scarcely an instance px-evious to the battle of
Marengo, in which a second line of infantry has renew¬
ed the combat, by taking the place of the first which
has been beaten. If the combat be continued with
4 H 2 bayonets,
612  w A
Military bayonets, it would be sufficient for a division of tbe line
Tactics. AB to make a conversion on the flank of the echdlon
 ' c d, while they are fighting in front, and overthrow it
betore e f 300 paces distant, or even the second line of
the echdlon, could come up to afford it any assistance.
Thus, according to all appearances, the line AB would
conquer all the ichellons successively, and this the more
easily as they would be taken in flank as soon as c is
obliged to fly.
The most useful, and in fact the only process for re¬
inforcing an attack, is to have a second line of cavalry
behind a first of infantry \ in case of bad success they se¬
cure and cover their retreat, and complete the disorder
of the enemy’s infantry, if they come to an engage¬
ment.
When the infantry is ranged en echiquier, a first line
when beaten, may retreat by files through the lines in
the rear, without creating any disorder in the second, on
account of the extensive spaces } but it is not the same
with the long phalanx in open order. The cavalry,
placed immediately behind the infantry, protects an at¬
tack much better than if there were between them a
second line of infantry 5 for in the first instance, there
would be no hindrance to their hastening to the succour
of the runaways, and receiving them in their bosom.
Hence there should be only two lines, one of infantry,
and one of cavalry 5 and this is the more important, be¬
cause the two lines of infantry cannot be useful, except
in as far as they are beyond the shot of the cannon ; it
is evident, therefore, that they should be considered ra¬
ther as a reserve of fresh troops than as a second line of
combatants. Hence, the superadded strength which
is supposed to be given to the echdlons, by double lines
of infantry, is quite illusory.
Cannons which fire concentrically, assist greatly the
efficacy of an attack *, but this measure may be employ¬
ed as well for right lines as for the echdlons : in an at¬
tack of the latter kind, the batteries should not be pla¬
ced before the division c d, but before c/, to enfilade
that part of the line AB, which would attempt to fall
back to make a conversion, in case it were attacked in
flank by c d.
It is impossible to take the enemy in flank by the di-
' agonal or side-step, executed during the march, if, pre¬
vious to commencing their march, they are not already
considerably by their wings •, for they would completely
frustrate that scheme, if they made directly with their
flanks a movement to the side. During the same time
they would pass over a more considerable extent of
ground than with an oblique step, because they move in
a direct line, and in front, and obliquely, both at the
same time, which would considerably shorten their di¬
stance ; and likewise because they march on one of the
sides and you on the hypothenuse, which is longer. It
is therefore impossible to succeed in stretching beyond
the wings of the enemy, while they are advancing in
front in the order of battle, if they know how to con¬
duct themselves.
There is, however, one advantage to be noticed,
which the Schellons possess over the uninterrupted ob¬
lique front, which is, nut exposing the flank to the ene¬
my advancing in front. The echdlons naturally possess
this advantage, while the oblique front cannot obtain
it without being much more extensive than the enemy’s
front } for the oblique line, formed into ichdlons,
R.
Parti
changes into a number of parallel lines by a conversion
Military
(fig. 3C.), and they may, by this movement, defend Tactics,
their flanks against the enemy. But still the best way —v——
is to attack him in his own flanks, whilst his front
amused with detached corps, and the columns should be
prepared for the principal attack out of sight of the
enemy, in the same manner as an admiral adopts at a
considerable distance, his measures for gaining the wind¬
ward of the enemy. No manoeuvres within cannon-
shot can possibly be attended with success, if the enemy
be skilful.
Much useful military instruction may be derived from r{
perusing the accounts of the most celebrated battles, de-markable
tailed by writers of ancient and modern history ; and battles,
we could here enumerate a long list of these engage¬
ments, many of which have been described in the hi¬
storical articles of this work. A few, however, must
suffice. Of ancient battles we may notice those of
Marathon * in 490 B. C.j Platsea, 479 ; LEucTRA*,*SeeM«!
3715 the Granicus *, 334 J Arbela *, 331; thearticles-
Thrasymene Lake t, 217*, CANN2E *, 216; Zama |SeeCar'
' those,
202’, Magnesia J, 1905 Nepheris, 147? Pharsalia*, jjo
48 ; and Philippi *, 42. Of modern battles, the most tSeeSi/rti
important are those of Hastings*, A. D. 1066 $ thellSecGai-
Indus||, 12215 Bannockburn §, 1314; Cressy *, i346'>fs'ee&ot.
PoiCTIERS*, 1356; AgINCOURT*, 14155 BoSWOl tli ,ian^ No
dliv.
14855 Flodden §, 1513 5 Pavia, 15255 Narvaff, i9z. and
17005 Blenheim*, 17045 Ramillies*, 17065 Pul-4°5-
tavaff, 1709; Malplaquet*, 17095 Fontenoy
17455 Prague and Colin ||||, 17575 Lissa or Leu-
then f]||, 17575 Minden, 17595 Freyburg, 1762 5 Je-fjSee Hii
mappe, 17925 Tirlemont, 17935 Fleurus, 17945 Lodi, mo, N°
17965 Zurich, 17995 Ulm, 18005 Marengo, 1800 5109>aild
Austerlitz, 1805 5 and Wagram, in 1809. ^SeeBr
Byway of illustrating the modern French tactics, ^ fj0
and more fully explaining what has been said on 1116414.
order of battle, we shall here give a detail of the battle il l See.
of Jemappes, in which Dumourier entirely defeated
General Clairfayt, by enticing him from a situation ^
where he was impregnable. Battled
In the beginning of November 1792, when Dumou-Jemappo
rier arrived with his army in the vicinity of Mons, he
found the Austrian general Clairfayt occupying a strong
position on the heights near the village of Jemappes,
where he had entrenched himself, and was defended by
nearly too pieces of cannon. The position of the Au¬
strians was extremely formidable. Their right extend¬
ed to the village of Jemappes, and formed a square with
their front and left, which stretched to the causeway of
Valenciennes. They were posted on a woody moun¬
tain, where they had erected, in an amphitheatre, three
tiers of redoubts. Their whole force amounted to about
16,000 infantry, and 3000 cavalry.
The army of Dumourier was much more numerous
than that of Clairfayt, but not so well supplied with ar¬
tillery. The elevation of the Austrian batteries, too,
gave them such an advantage, that the French cannon
could produce but little effect.
On the 5th of November, Dumourier had fully r6"
connoitred the Austrian camp, and, by way ol leint,
made an attack with his infantry on the village of Car-
rignon, while he kept up a brisk cannonade on their
left. Towards evening the French army encamped op¬
posite to Jemappes, with its left wing extending to
Hoorne, and its right to Fremery. As Dumourier re-
solved
W A R.
lit I.
I .al.y solved to make a decisive attack on the height of Je-
[” ics. mappes the next morning, he ordered his troops to aban-
' ““'don the village of Carrighon which was commanded by
the enemy’s cannon.
On the morning of the 6th, he ordered his artillery to
be advanced and disposed along the front of the line.
It was soon found, however, that little was to be done
with artillery, and that the great object was, to entice
the Austrian general from his strong position, and draw
him to the plain. For this purpose, at noon of the 6th,
the French infantry formed in columns, and advanced
with the greatest spirit and rapidity to the Austrian in-
trenchments. The lower tier of redoubts was instantly
carried ; but, as the centre of the French became en¬
dangered, and the Austrian cavalry appeared descend¬
ing from the heights, and preparing to enter the plain,
with an evident intention of flanking the French co¬
lumns, Dumourier despatched the duke of Orleans to
lead those columns against the second tier of redoubts,
while a detachment of chasseurs and hussars flew to
check the progress of the Austrian cavalry. Some
smart skirmishing between the cavalry on both sides now
ensued, and while this diversion was taking place, the
left division of the French army possessed themselves
of the village of Jemappes, while its centre obtained
entire possession of the second tier of redoubts. In the
mean time the whole of the Austrian cavalry had quit¬
ted the heights, and engaged the French on the plain
below Jemappes, This was the point to which Dumou¬
rier had wished to bring them, and now the superior
numbers and activity of the French quickly decided the
fortune of the day. The Austrians were routed at eve¬
ry point, and forced to abandon the field of battle, lea¬
ving 5000 of their dead, with the greater part of their
artillery. The loss of the French, however, was con¬
siderably greater, and is, on good authority, estimated
at 14,000 ; but this loss appeared trifling to Dumou¬
rier, as by this victory he acquired possession of the
whole of the Austrian Netherlands.
The positions of the French and Austrian forces in
this battle are represented in Plate DLIV. 1, The
centre of the Austrian army, commanded by Clairfayt.
2, A part of this army commanded by General Lilien.
3, Another part under the command of General Beau¬
lieu. 4, Redoubts on the heights of Jemappes. 5, Au¬
strian intrenchments. 6, French columns advancing to
attack the intrenchments. 7, A battery. 8, Columns
| of cavalry. 9, Columns attacking the eminences above
Mons. 10, Battery on the height of Fremery. 11,
Die wood of Fresnee. 12, The plain on which the
French and Austrian cavalry were engaged. 13, Au¬
strian detachment.
Fhe columns N° 9. were first engaged ; and N® 6.
having obtained some advantage, Dumourier ordered
the battery, N° 7. to be erected, by which the redoubts,
N° 4. were silenced. In the mean time the French ad¬
vanced against the intrenchments, 3, and attacked in
front. From the left of the French army, as far as the
centre, the cavalry fought hand to hand, in the plain,
12, with the Austrian horse, which was dreadfully cut
up in the wood of Du Fresnee, 11. The right of the
Austrians, being totally routed, gave way and fell back
on Mons. The superiority of the French in numbers is
evident from inspecting the columns in the plan.
After having dwelt so long on that part of military
tactics which relates to operations in the field, we must Military
be extremely brief with respect to the attack and de- Tactics.
fence of fortified towns. Indeed our principal object in ' 
this part will be to explain the nature of a siege, andof sieves
the various circumstances that may occur, both on the ^
part of the besiegers, and on that of the besieged, rather
than to lay down a system of instructions for either
party. With this view, we shall first enumerate the
principal instruments and engines employed in the at¬
tack or defence of a fortress, and explain the nature and
construction of the works constructed by the besiegers,
either for the purpose of making their approaches to the
place, or for undermining its walls or outworks. ^
In Plate DIA . are represented the principal instru-Instruments
ments employed in sieges. Fig. 1. is a fascine for the employed
construction of redoubts or temporary defence of a de-*n pjf^s‘
tachment. Figs. 2. 3. and 4. exhibit various views of DLV.
what are called gabions, or cylindrical cases of wicker Fig.
work, open at both ends, for sticking into the ground,
as seen at fig. 4. when they are filled with earth, and
fascines, &c. laid on them. Fig. 2. is a section of the
gabion ; fig. 3. shews its hollow inside, and fig. 4. is its
elevation. Fig. 5. and 6. represent bags for holding-
sand, the former empty, the latter full j and fig. 7. re¬
presents the manner in which they are usually disposed
for the protection of the men. Fig. 8. is a saucisson, or
very long close faggot, for laying over gabions. Fig. g.
is the outline of a blind, which is stuck into the earth
by the sharp stakes at its extremity, and hides the work¬
men from the besieged. Fig. 10. represents what is
called a chandelier, and fig. n. two of these with fas¬
cines piled up across them. Fig. 12. is a cheval de
frize ; fig. 13. 14. 15. exhibit various views of a mant¬
let, or moveable blind placed on two wheels, used both
to protect and conceal the workmen of the besiegers.,
Fig. 13. is a plan of the mantlet j fig. 14. a side view
of it, and fig. 15. a view of its front next the enemy.
Fig. 16. is a madrier or screen with two leaves, move¬
able on wheels j and fig. 17. represents a gate with
orgues or lattice work on one side, and a portcullis on
the other. Fig. 18. is a hook, and fig. 19. a fork used,
in sapping. Fig. 20 represents three caltrops or crows
feet, used to scatter over the ground, to prevent the ap¬
proach of cavalry, by laming their horses feet. For a
fuller explanation of these instruments, see the several
articles in the general alphabet. ^
When a town is about to be besieged, it is first Of invest
vested; that is, a considerable body of troops, usually ing,
cavalry, encamp in its neighbourhood, and take posses¬
sion of all the avenues till the army arrive, which is to
carry on the regular operations of the siege. 4(s
When the army has sat down before the place, its Qf lines of
first object is, to ascertain the lines or direction of tfie circumval-
works to be thrown up for the attack of the place. 1011*
These are called lines of circumvallation, and their di¬
rection is to be determined by the plan of the fortifica¬
tion about to be besieged. After ascertaining, in the
manner explained under Fortification, the number
of sides of which the polygon of the place consists, and
the length of each, as well as the radius of a circle to
be drawn round the place, concentric with its works,
the polygon of the circumvallation is easily described.
This being traced, the engineer takes on each of the
extremities of its sides the lines BD and BE, fig. 2i.Fig„ ar.
each of 15 fathoms, and from the points D and E,
takes
6r4
w a r;.
Military
Tactics.
Fig. 22.
Plate
DLVI.
fig. 1. 2. 3.
Fig. 4. 5.
47
Of the
trenches
and paral¬
lels.
Plate
DLVII.
lig. 2.
taken for the centre and distance of 25 fathoms, he de¬
scribes two arcs cutting each other at F, whence are
drawn the lines FD, FE, for the faces of the redans
of the line of cireumvallation j thus are formed the sa¬
lient parts EFD of this line, which serve to flank it.
The same operation is performed on every side of the
circumvallation, and then the principal line is traced.
The parapet within must be six or eight feet deep, and
without is made a ditch parallel to all its parts, three or
four fathoms in breadth. The parapet of the circum-
vaMation will be 74- feet high, and the depth of the
ditch iqual to the height of the parapet.
To make the profile of the circumvallation, let AB,
fig. 22. be a line level with the country, and CD the
scale of the profile. Let A be the side of the town,
and B that of the country ; take AE of six feet; from
the point E, raise the perpendicular EF. of three fret,
and draw the line AF, which will be the talus or slope
of the banquette.
Draw FG parallel to AB, three feet from F to G,
and the line FG will be the breadth of the banquette.
On the point G raise the perpendicular GH, on the line
FG, 44- feet. Draw from the point H, HK parallel
to AB ; make HK yf feet, HI, i^-foot; draw Gf,
which will be the inside of the parapet of circumvalla¬
tion.
From the point K, let fall on the line AB the per¬
pendicular KM; take KL if foot, and draw IL,
which will be the upper part of the parapet of the line
of circumvallation. Take MN equal to five feet, and
from the point N draw the perpendicular NO, and set
oflf yf feet from N to O. Draw OR parallel to AB,
making the distance equal to 18 feet from O to R; draw
LN, and produce it to P, and LP will be the scarp.
From the point R raise RS, perpendicular to OR, or
parallel to ON. Make QR= OP, and draw QS, which
produce beyond S, three feet to V ; then take SX equal
to six feet, and draw VX, and the profile of the cir¬
cumvallation is completed ; YQ being the counterscarp,
and VX the glacis.
At A and A (fig. 21.) are small half moons before
the gates of the circumvallation in the middle of the
curtains.
In Plate DLVI. at fig. I. is represented the manner
in which the lines of circumvallation were drawn at the
siege of Philipsburg in 1 734. In these lines regular
bastions were constructed, as seen in fig. 2.
Fig. 4. and 5. of the same plate represent another line
of circumvallation drawn round the city of Arras, when
it was besieged by the Spaniards in 1654. Before the
circumvallation were dug a great number of holes, two
feet in diameter, and 14 foot deep, in which were fa¬
stened stakes for obstructing the approach of cavalry.
While the lines of circumvallation, which are intend¬
ed to protect the besiegers from the enemy without, are
constructed, all materials necessary for the trenches are
got ready, and the figure and direction of these are de¬
termined. If the place be regularly fortified, and stand
on level ground, it is indifferent on which side the be¬
siegers commence their attack. Suppose C, fig. 2.
Plate DLVII. to he the place besieged, and A and B
two bastions to be attacked. T he besiegers begin with
indefinitely producing towards the field the capitals of
these two bastions ; in like manner the capital of the
hall moon opposite the curtain between these two ba-
1
stions is produced. Eight hundred fathoms are set off
from the salient angles D and E of the covert-way of
F and G. This done, the lines DH and DI are drawn,
each equal to 300 fathoms, and about the centre C with
the radius CH or Cl, is described an arch produced be¬
yond H and I, and on this arch HI is constructed the
first parallel. Then on the same lines DF, EG, are
taken the points M and N, each 140 fathoms distant
from H and I; and through these points M and N,
about the centre C, is described another arch, on which
is constructed the second parallel* This second arch
will cut the produced capital of the half-moon in the
point L, which is to be observed, in order to begin
from hence a trench which mav extend to the salient
angle of the covert-way before this half-moon. Lastly,
through the points O and P, the distance of 20 nr 25
fathoms from the angles D and E, a third arch is de¬
scribed from the centre C, on which the third parallel
is constructed. The first parallel is terminated bv pro¬
ducing the faces a b, a b, of the half-moons 1 and 2,
collateral to the bastions A and B ; but the parallel is
extended 15 or 20 fathoms beyond the intersection of
this prolongation. The second parallel will be less ex¬
tended than the first, by about 30 fathoms on each
side, and the third less than the second by the same
distance.
The trenches or approaches are now to be traced.
For this purpose, the engineer takes a long ruler, and
lays it on the point G, so that it may make with the
produced capital EG of the bastion B, an angle EGS,
whose side GS being produced, shall meet no part of
the covert-way, and shall be distant about 10 or 12 fa¬
thoms from the angles to which it approaches nearest.
GS is taken of any extent, and the ruler is put on the
point S ; so that it shall make with GS such an angle
GST, as that the side ST produced shall not fall on
any part of the covert-way, but be 10 or 12 fathoms
distant from the most salient parts. This side is termi¬
nated in T; and now the angle STI is made, whose side
TI should terminate at the point I, where it meets the
first parallel. The same operation being performed on
FH, the outline of the trenches is completed as far as
the first parallel.
Fig. I. of this plate illustrates the ipethod of con¬
structing what are called/Azew 0/ con n te wall a t ion. These
are drawn nearer the town than the lines of circumval¬
lation, but are constructed on the j same principles.
They are employed chiefly when the garrison of the
place is so strong as to disturb the operations of the be¬
sieging army by sallies.
In sieges where the garrison is strong, it is often ne¬
cessary to cut parts of trenches, as VV (fig. 2.) be¬
tween the second and third parallels, so as to communi¬
cate with the main trench. These paits of parallels
are denominated half parallels, or places of arms,
and are constructed in the following manner. Le^
ABCDFGMQ (fig. 1. Plate DLV1II.) be a part of
the trenches, and let AB be one of the sides opposite to
the enemy ; produce A B, so that BE shall be five or
six fathoms, and in EG take also five or six fathoms
from I to L, which will give the ends of the trench
BELT, the use of which is to cover the boyacc or branch
IOMG, whereby the enemy will not know the place
where it falls into the trench AB, and to make room
for withdrawing those who are in this part of the trench-
Pan
Midi
1
D
i
e
1.
rt I.
ilitary
ladies.
W A R.
late
VIII.
J.8
,ate
LIX.
I. 2.
Of 1)1
ties,,
es, and that the passage may be free at all the angles.
In like manner produce the side GM from M to N,
and the side IC from O to I', and this will give the
end of the trench MNOP, which will cover the branch
DCOQ. The same is to be done at all the angles of
the trench. The parapet of the trench being made to
cover it, ought to change sides alternately. If, for in¬
stance, AE, in the preceding figure, be towards the
place, it is evident that the side GN will be towards it
also, and likewise the side CD ; and therefore the para¬
pet of the trench is successively constructed from the
right side to the left, and from the left to the right.
Figs. 2, 3 4, of this plate represent profiles of the
regular trenches and the places of arms, and require
no particular explanation.
In tracing the trenches, it is of the greatest conse¬
quence to ascertain the distance of the extremity of the
line of direction to the top of the salient angle of the
covert-way. The following simple method of doing
this is given by Vauban, Let A (fig. 5.) be the ver¬
tex of the salient angle of the covert-way, and AB the
line of direction of the trench whose length is required.
At the point B, draw BC perpendicular to AB, to
which give any measure, and at the point C draw CD
perpendicular to BC. In CD take any point E, and in
the line of direction between it and the angle A place
a picquet G in the. line BC. Measure GC and CE,
and say as GC : BG :: CE : AB.
When in carrying on the trenches towards the town,
the workmen begin to be much annoyed by the fire ot
the besieged, recourse is had to what is called sapping,
which may be thus explained. Let ABC be the part
of the trenches advanced to A (fig. 6. Plate DLVFl I.),
so near the town as to render it impossible, without evi¬
dent danger, to work any longer at the approaches, un¬
less the men have some cover against the fire of the
place 5 and let the branch AD be traced by the engi¬
neer, not with a cord, as at the opening of the trench¬
es, but with some pickets, which he has taken care to
place in the direction this branch ought to have, to
serve as a guide to the workmen. A cut is made in the
parapet BA of the trenches, and then the men designed
to work by sap, who are therefore called sappers, will
move forward through the opening A successively, eight
in number. Fig. 7. of Plate DLV1II. and fig. 1. of
Plate DLIX. will illustrate the mode of operation. 1 he
first sapper rolls a mantlet before him, and places a ga¬
bion on the line AD, fig. 6. He then makes a small ex¬
cavation about six inches from the gabion, of about one
foot and a half in depth, and as much in breadth,
emptying the earth which he digs up into the gahion.
He then pushes forward bis mantlet, fixes another ga¬
bion, and continues his trench as long as be is able.
He is followed by a second, who widens the trench six
inches in breadth away from the gabion, and six in
depth. The rest follow this second, till the trench is
made three feet w'ide, and as many deep, and as soon as
the gabions are fiHed with earth, fascines or saucissons
ftre placed on their top, and the superfluous earth is
thrown over them, and on the opposite side, by way
cl parapet.
Cannon are made use of at a siege for two different
purposes ; the first to drive away the enemy from their
defences, and the second to dismount their guns. to
produce these two effects, the batteries should not be
6l5
Plate
DLX.
fig- I*
above the mean reach of cannon shot from the place j Military
that is, above 300 fathoms. Therefore there is no pcs- Tactics,
sibility of constructing them till the first parallel be ’ —y—“-1
formed } and as the distance of this first parallel from
the place is generally 300 fathoms, the batteries must
lie on this line, or beyond it, nearer the town. They
must always be placed, when the ground will permit,
on the produced faces of the works attacked. Let Z be
the centre of the place attacked (fig. 3. Plate DLIX.),
and the trenches as well as the parallels completed. To
find a proper position for erecting batteries, produce the
faces AD, AC, BE, BF, of the two bastions attacked,
till their prolongation cutsthe first parallel. Produce also
the two faces OM and OL of the half-moon MOL of
the front attacked, and the faces HG and IK of the
two collateral half-moons 1 and 2, to the first parallel,
and erect batteries on those produced faces, as is seen iu
P, Q, R, S, T, U, X, and Y. They are advanced be¬
yond the first parallel 40 or 50 fathoms j and are parted
from the trenches, that they may he used with greater
ease and convenience, and less trouble to the work-
rafn; . . 50
When the works of the besiegers approach the glacis, Gftra-
they are continued in a zig-zag direction, by short an-veises*
gular trenches, but from the foot of the glacis they are
continued in the following manner. Two sets of sap¬
pers, protected by their mantlets, make a sap on each
side of the ridge of the glacis, with a deeper ditch than
usual, and a parapet on each side. This is called a
double sap, and has across it traverses or hanks three fa¬
thoms thick (see Plate DLX. fig. 1.), with small pas¬
sages on one side (see fig. 4.) to preserve the communi¬
cation. These traverses are constructed so near to each
other, as to be a sufficient cover, by their elevation
and distance, against the fire of the place. In order
to guard against the eflect of grenades, on coming
within their reach, or within 14 or 15 fathoms of the
covert way, care must be taken to cover this trench
with blinds, or to cover the upper part of it. Fig. 1.
and 2. of Plate DLX. shew this direct trench. The
first exhibits the plan, and the second the profile, which
passes over one of the traverses. This being done, and
the third parallel finished in the manner supposed, they
advance from this parallel on the glacis to each of the
salient angles of the covert-way of the front attacked,
and begin with making two or three short turnings, as
marked on Plate DLX. fig. 6. along the ridge of the Fig. (T.
glacis, so as to occupy about one-! bird of it. These are
to he made as deep as is necessary, to be a shelter
against the fire of the covert-way ; afterwards they may
proceed directly along the ridge of the glacis by a deep
ditch, to the salient angle of the covert-way. M. Vau¬
ban observes, that if we follow directly the ridge of the
glacis, this trench is made without much danger j for
the palisade which is placed at the salient angle of the
covert-way, and the other two next it, do not present
directly to the ridge, but only opposite to the faces,
where at most there is only room for one or two fusi-
leers to see the head of the trenches, and who are easily
silenced by the fire of the third parallel, whic h ought
to he well served, and likewise by that of the ricochet.
On coming to the middle, or two-thirds of the glacis,
two new saps are made, b b, ibid, which embrace both
sides of the covert-way, to which thev are almost paral¬
lel, Their length is 18 or 20 fathoms, and about five
broad.
6i6
WAR.
Military
Tactics.
Fig. 5.
Plate
DLXI.
fig. T
51
Of batte¬
ries on the
covert-
way.
Plate
DLX.
Kg. 6.
broad. They are covered at the end with crochets and
winding traverses, which prevent the fire of the covert¬
way from enfilading them easily.
In this way is gradually effected a lodgement on the
covert-way, as is represented in fig. 5. where AAAA,
is the trench, with BBBB its traverses.
Plate DLXI. fig. 5. represents a profile of these
works, with three banquettes next the trench, by which
the parapet is raised, so that the soldiers may fire over
into the covert-way. This work is called by Vauban,
the cavalier of the trench.
When the besieged are entirely driven out of the co¬
vert-way, the next thing to be done is the erecting of
batteries, in order to ruin the defences ot the place, and
to make a breach. As it is necessary for the besiegers
to make themselves masters of the half-moon C, (Plate
DLX. fig. 6.) before they can come to the body of the
place, which is defended by part of the faces of the bas¬
tions A and B opposite to its ditch, they must begin with
erecting batteries on the covert-way opposite to these
parts. They are marked on the plan e e. Batteries
must also be erected to make a breach on the half-moon.
But, before they are erected, it will be proper to con¬
sider what part of the face of the half-moon is to be at¬
tacked, or what part of the half-moon is to be entered.
It must not be at its flanked angle, because an opening
towards the point would not afford a sufficient space to
make a lodgement able to withstand the enemy, and the
troops would be seen in their passage by the two faces
of the bastions by which its flanked angle is defended.
The most favourable passage is towards the third part of
its face, reckoning from its flanked angle, because by
battering at the same time the two faces near this part,
the whole point of the half-moon may be destroyed, and
a large opening made there easier than anywhere else.
Thus the batteries for making a breach in the half-moon
C will be placed in d and b, and will occupy almost
one-third of each of the faces of the half-moon from its
flanked angle. These batteries are each to consist of
four or five pieces of cannon. When the faces of the
bastions A and B are well enfiladed by ricochet batte¬
ries, there will be no farther occasion for the batteries
e, e, and when the half-moon is taken, the faces of the
bastions A and B may be destroyed, by using the batte¬
ries e/, t/, placing them in the situation of e,e. Batte¬
ries must also be erected to destroy the flanks of the de-
mibastions in the front of the attack j and it is evident
that they can be placed nowhere but at i, i, on the co¬
vert-way Besides these batteries, others are erected in
the re-entering places of arms of the covert-way, as in
k; and in k they serve to batter the tenaille when
there is one, the curtain, and the faces of the ba¬
stions. Sometimes they are of mortax-s for throwing
Pa
52
Descent
stones.
While the workmen are employed in erecting bat-
and passage teries on the covert-way, preparations are made for pas-
•yer the sing the ditch of the half-moon. Thisisoftenadiffi-
(ditch ofthecu|t anti dangerous undertaking, as this ditch is com-
a moon. mon|y very deep, is well defended, and either filled with
water, or in general capable of being so filled. The
descent into the ditch is commonly effected by subterra¬
neous passages or galleries, made like those of miners,
and erected in such a manner, that its opening into the
ditch may be opposite to the breach where it is intend¬
ed to make the assault. These galleries are sloping,
and in general there are several for the same passage. ^
The passage is made on each side of the faces of the Ta
half moon. See mm, fig. 6. Plate DLXI.
As the business of forming these galleries is liable to
be obstructed by mines from the besieged, the workmen
are pi'otected by a guard of grenadiers. At fig. 1. p
Plate DLXI. is seen a plan of the descent under ground, DJ
and of its opening into the dry ditch j and fig. 2. gives %
a profile of the same passage ; fig. 3. gives a per¬
spective view of the opening of this descent, seen from
the bottom of the glacis, and fig. 4. a similar view of
the opening of the same descent, seen from the top of
the breach.
At Plate DLXII. fig. 1. is seen the plan of the pas- p]
sage over a wet ditch in the open air j that is to say, DL
the gallery of which is an open sap. A is the opening ^ :
of it ; at B, towards its opening, are seen the blinds laid
on its upper part, to support the fascines with which it
is covered. On these blinds, at first, is laid a bed of
fascines, ranged according to the length of the gallery:
over this first bed a second is laid, whereon the fascines
are ranged according to the breadth of the gallery, as is
seen at B and C. D is the epaulement of fascines,
which covers the passage against the fire of the place
by which it is flanked. E is part of the bridge of fas¬
cines ; and F is an elevation also of fascines, intended
to cover the head of the work, and to secure it from
the immediate fire of the place. Fig. 2. x’epresents the
profile of this descent into the ditch. Fig. 3. gives its
opening seen in perspective from the country ; and fig.
4. its opening into the ditch, also in perspective, as it
appears from the top of the breach.
The following references will explain fig. 5. of Plate pij
DLXIL a, cavaliers of the trenches, b, batteries of
stone mortars, c, batteries to breach the half-moon be¬
fore the hornwork. d, batteries against the defence of
th:s half-moon, e, passages over the ditch before this
half -moon. /, lodgement in it. g, batteries against
the flanks of the hornwork. h, batteries to breach the
half bastions of the hornwork. i, batteries against its
curtain. /, lodgements in the half bastions, and in the
hornwork. m, passages over the ditch before the re¬
trenchments in the hornwork. n, lodgements in these
retrenchments. 0, batteries against the defences of the
collateral half-moon, jr?, batteries to breach those half¬
moons. y, passages over the ditch before these works.
r, lodgements in the same, s, batteries to breach the
redoubts of the half-moon, t, passages over the ditch
before the redoubts, a, lodgements in the redoubts.
x, bridge of fascines, y, batteries against the defences
ot the bastion A. batteries to bi'each this bastion.
B, passages over its ditch. C, lodgements in the bastion
A. D, lodgements on the border of the ditch before
the retrenchment of the bastion A. E, passages over
the ditch before this retrenchment.
There are places which, without any fore-ditch, have
lunettes opposite to the salient and re-entering angles of
the glacis, which are also enveloped by a second covert¬
way : sometimes they are vaulted and bomb-proof, as
at Luxemburg j and sometimes they have only a ditch,
a parapet, and covert-way. Those which are vaulted
and bomb-proof ax-e not easily taken, because the rico¬
chet firing and the bombs can do them no mischief. In
that case they must either be turned, or be taken by
mines. A work is said to be turned, when the besie¬
gers
Part I.
W
Military
Tactics.
Plate
DXLIU.
53
Principles
:o be ob-
crred in
ne attack
f fortified
gers get between that work and the place, and so cut
ofi’their communication. Sometimes the lunettes have
''communication under ground, and then there is scarcely
any other way of driving out the enemy but by mines.
This is tedious, but there is no other remedy. The
lunettes of the ditch are always defended by branches
of the covert-way, with which they have also a com¬
munication like those of the lunettes, A, A, Plate
DLXIII. fig. i. This plate, which represents .part of
Landau and its attacks in 1713, may serve to give an
idea of the manner in which a work is turned. The
advanced lunette B, as well as the work C, called a
tenaille, is turned ; that is, the trenches cut off the
communication betwixt them and the place.
We shall conclude this subject of the attack of for¬
tified places, with the following principles to be observ¬
ed by the besieging army.
The approaches ought to be made, without being
seen from the town, either directly, obliquely, or in
flank.
No more works should be made than are necessary
for approaching the place without being seen 5 that is,
the besiegers ought to carry on their approaches the
shortest way possible, consistently with being covered
against the enemy’s fire.
All the parts of the trenches should mutually support
each other, and those which are furthest advanced
ought not to be distant from those which are to defend
them above 120 or 130 fathoms.
The parallels or places of arms the most distant from
the town, ought to have a greater extent than those
which are nearest, that the besiegers may be able to
take the enemy in flank, should they resolve to attack
the nearest parallels.
The trench should he opened or begun as near as
possible to the place, without exposing the troops
too much, in order to accelerate and diminish the
operations of the siege.
There is no such thing as giving any exact rule in
regard to the distance which ought to be observed on
opening the trenches. On level ground, this distance
may be 800 or 900 fathoms ; but if there should be a
hollow way in the vicinity of the place, the besiegers
are to take advantage of it, and open the trenches near¬
er. In general, they are to regulate themselves accord¬
ing to the nature of the ground, more 01 less favourable
to the opening of the trenches. We shall suppose in
the present work, that the opening ought to be made
within 800 fathoms of the covert-way j the first parallel
within 300 fathoms, the second within 150, and the
third at the foot of the glacis.
Care must he taken to join the attacks, that they
may be able to support each other.
Never to advance a work unless it be well supported 5
and for this reason, in the interval between the second
and third places of arms, the besiegers should make, on
hotn sides ol the trenches, smaller places of arms, ex-
617
Military
Tactics.
A R.
tending 40 or 30 fathoms in length, parallel to the
others, and constructed in the same manner, which will
serve to lodge the soldiers who are to protect the works
designed to reach the third place of arms.
The batteries of cannon must he placed in the conti¬
nuations ol the laces of the pieces attacked, to silence
their fire, and that the approaches being protected, may
advance with greater safety and expedition.
C or this reason the besiegers should always embrace
the whole front attacked, to have as much space as is
requisite to plant the batteries on the produced faces of
the works attacked.
The attack must not be commenced with works that
lie close to each other, or with re-entrant angles, which
would expose the attack to the cross fire of the enemy. 54
Many circumstances respecting the defence of forti- General re-
fied towns have already been anticipated, or may be marks 0,1
collected from what has been said respecting the opera-tfefd?fcn^e
tions ot the besieging army. It is evident that the sue- towns,
cess or duration of the defence will depend in a great
measure on the nature and strength of I he works which >
form the fortification. Much, however, will also de¬
pend on.the number, resolution, and resources of the
garrison, and on the movements of the friendly army
by which the besiegers may be opposed. It is estimated
by M. Vauban, that the operations for a regular siege
of a well fortified town, will take up about 41 days,
before the place can be carried by assault. Hence is
deduced a computation of the quantity of provisions,
ammunition, and stores which ought to he collected
for maintaining the siege. The same celebrated engi¬
neer calculates that the garrison ought to consist of 600
times as many men as there are bastions in the fortifica¬
tion, allowing 600 men to each bastion. Besides the
necessary defence of the works by the cannon on the
ramparts, and the musketry of the soldiers, the garrison
must make occasional sallies j if weak, to disturb the
operations of the besiegers, and if very strong, to en¬
gage them in the field. As the siege advances, and the
attacking army approaches the glacis, mines should he
sprung, and subterraneous passages excavated, to de¬
stroy the enemy’s works, or cut off a part of their
men. _ 55
Towards supplying the unavoidable deficiencies in Reference
the above sketch of military tactics, we may refer ourt0 au.tkors
readers to Clairac’s Field Engineer, translated by Mul- tactic*!1*'?
ler 5 Le Cointe, Science des Postes Militaires, or the
English translation j Jeney’s work entitled Le Partisan,
also translated into English 5 O’Rourke’s Treatise on the
Art of War ; Essai General de Tactique ; Tielke on the
Art of War, and his Field Engineer ; Hundas’s Prin¬
ciples of Military Movements ; Landmann’s Elements of
Tactics; Maizeroy’s Systeme de Tactique; Archives
Militaires; Feuquiere’s Memoires ; Bl ind on Military
Discipline ; Military Instructions for Officers detached
in the Field; and the articles Battalion and Battle
in Rees’s Cyclopaedia.
PART II. NAVAL TACTICS.
BA naval tactics is understood the art of arranging
fleets or squadrons in such an order or disposition as may
Je niost convenient for attacking the enemy, defending
Vol. XX. Part II. f
themselves, or of retreating with the greatest advan¬
tage. Naval tactics are founded on those principles
which time and experience have enabled us to deduce
4 I from
iNavul from the improved state of modern naval warfare,
Tactics, ivhieli has occasioned, not only a difierence in the
1 mode of constructing and working ships, but even in
the total disposition and regulation of lleets and squa¬
drons.
In the present part we propose to lay down the gene¬
ral principles of naval tactics, and to describe as briefly
as is consistent with perspicuity, the most improved
systems which are now adopted in the French and Bri¬
tish navy. As we have elsewhere (see Navigation
and Seamanship) detailed the methods of working
single ships', as they are unconnected with military ope¬
rations, we shall presume that our readers are already
56 acquainted with these ordinary movements.
Ordinary Fleets are generally divided into three squadrons, the
division or iVar)j centre, and rear, each under the command ot a flag
fleets. officer. The admiral of the fleet, or chief in command,
leads the centre division, while the van is usually com¬
manded by a vice-admiral, and the rear by a rear-admi¬
ral. Each squadron is distinguished by the position of
the colours in the ships of which it is composed. Thus,
the ships of the centre squadron carry their pendants at
the main-top-gallant mast-head *, while those of the van
di vision have their pendants at the fore-top gallant mast¬
head, and those of the rear at the mizen-top-mast head.
Each squadron, as far as possible, consists of the same
number of ships, and as nearly as may be of the same
force. In large fleets, the squadrons are sometimes
again divided in a similar manner ; the van and rear of
the squadron being headed by rear-admirals, or senior
captains, called commodores. In the usual mode of
forming the lines, each commanding admiral arranges his
ship in the centre of his own squadron, and thus the
admiral of the fleet is in the centre of the line. W hen
no enemy is in sight, the sloops, stoic-ships, fire-ships,
and other small vessels, are dispersed to windward of the
fleet, that they may be more easily supported, and move
readily answer signals. The frigates lie to windward of
the van and rear of the convoy, thus keeping a good
look-out, and keeping the small vessels in their proper
station. W7hen sailing in three columns, the centre still
keeps in the middle, while the van and rear form the
starboard or the larboard column, according to circum¬
stances. These arrangements are called orders of sail¬
ing, and will be better understood from the following
^ definitions.
Definitions. The starboard line of bearing, is that line on which
the arranged ships of a fleet bear from each other, on a
close-hauled line, whatever course they may be steering,
so that when the ships haul their wind, or tack toge¬
ther, they mav he on a line close hauled upon the star¬
board tack. The larboard line of bearing is that line
on which the ships when hauling their wind, or tacking
together, may be formed on a line close hauled on the
larboard tack. The ships of a fleet are said to be 071 a
line abreast, when their keels are parallel to each other,
and their mainmasts lie in the same straight line.'Ships
are said to lie in a line on the how or quarter, when
they are arranged in a straight line, cutting their keels
obliquely in the same angle, so that reckoning from
any intermediate ship, the ships towards one extremity
of the line will he on the how of that ship, while those
towards the other extremity will be on her quarter.
W hen several ships in the same -line steer the same
course, while that course is different from the line of
sailing, they are said to sail checquerwisj*. Tan
W hen the ships of a fleet arranged in any of the or- v
ders of sailing, and on the same line, perform successive¬
ly the same manoeuvre, as each gets into the wake of
the ship that leads the van of the line or squadron, tack¬
ing or veering, bearing away or coming to the wind in
the same point of the wake of the leading ship, they are
said to mamzuvre in succession.
There are usually reckoned five orders of sailing, ex-Illusfr
elusive of the line of battle, the order of retreat, &c.°t’the
In the first order (sie Plate DLXIV. fig. 1. and 2.) 0IX*ers
the fleet is arranged on the starboard or larboard line ai1^
of bearing, all the ships steering the same course. In
these cases the fleet, by hauling the wind when in the
starboard line, as in fig. 1. will be ready to form tiiej.;^ T
line-on the starboard tack 5 and when ranged on the2l’
larboard line of bearing, as in fig. 2. it will, by tack¬
ing, he ready to form the line on the larboard tack.
N. B. The arrows annexed to the diagrams on the
plates, mark the direction of the wind, as in ordinary
charts.
This first order of sailing is now seldom employed,
except in passing through a narrow strait. In the second
order of sailing, the fleet steering any proper course, is
ranged in a line perpendicular to the direction of the
wind, as in fig. 3. This second order, besides being
equally defective with the former, is subject to the ad- t'-”
ditional disadvantage of rendering it extremely difficult
for the ships to tack, without each ship falling on board
that next a-stern.
In the third order of sailing, the whole fleet is close
hauled, and ranged on the two lines of bearing, so as to
form an angle of 12 points, having the admiral’s ship
(A fig. 4.) in the angular point, and the whole fleetpig.,
steering the same course. Thus, supposing, as in the
plate, the wind at north, the starboard division of the
fleet will bear Wr. N. W. of the admiral, and the lar¬
board E. N. E. This order in small fleets or squadrons,
is superior to either of the former 5 hut when the fleet
is numerous, the line will be too much extended.
In the fourth order, the fleet is divided into six or
more columns, and is thus more concentrated. The
commanders, ranged on the two lines of bearing, have
their squadrons astern of them on two lines parallel to
the direction of the wind *, the first ships of each column
being, with respect to the commander of the squadron,
the one on his starboard, and the other on his larboard
quarter. The distance between the columns should be
such that the fleet mav readily lie reduced to the third
order of sailing, and from that to the order of battle.
This order is adapted for fleets or convoys crossing the
ocean, and is represented in fig. 5. But as it requires p.
much time to reduce a fleet from this order to that of
battle, it is defective when in presence of an enemy.
In the fifth order, the fleet, close hauled, is arranged
in three columns parallel to each other ; the van com¬
monly forming the weather, and the rear the lee co¬
lumn. See fig. 6 Fig. 7. represents the same order, ^
except that each column is here subdivided into two,y,
with the ship hearing the commander of each squadron
in the centre of each subdivision.
In forming the order or line of battle, the ships of()r(j/of
the fleet are drawn up in a line nearly.close hauled,batt
standing
Part IT.
W A R.
60
Order of
reireat.
Fig. p.
61
Order of
convoy.
62
Method of
'orming the
irs order
)f sailinsf.
,
I 'ecund or.
I «of sail-
h.
Jiird or-
standing under easy sail, so that each ship may be at a
certain distance from the ship immediately a-head, as a
cable’s length, or half that distance. The fireships and
frigates a-head and astern, form a line parallel to the
former, and to the windward of it, if the enemy be to
the leeward 5 but to the leeward if the enemy be to
windward. This order is denoted by fig. 8. where the
lleet is sailing on the starboard tack, with the wind at
north.
When a fleet is compelled to retreat before a superior
force, it is usually arranged in an order, the reverse of
the third order of sailing j the divisions of the fleet be-
ino- ranged in the two lines of bearing, so as to form an
angle of 1350 or 12 points, the admiral’s ship being in
the angular point, and the frigates, transports, &c. in¬
cluded within the wings to leeward. See fig. 9. where
the fleet is sailing right before the wind. Though any
other direction may be taken, the two lines still form
the same angle.
The order'^of convoy is that in which the ships are
all in each others wake, steering in the same point of
the compass, and forming a right line. If the fleet is
numerous, it may be divided into three columns, which
are to be ranged parallel to each other, that of the ad¬
miral occupying the centre, and all steering the same
course.
Having thus described the ordinary positions of a
fleet, we must explain the manoeuvres by which they
are produced, and we shall begin with the orders of
sailing.
To form a fleet in the first order of sailing, supposing
the ships to be in no particular order, that ship which
is to lead on the proposed line of bearing for the order
of sailing, runs to leeward of the greater part ol the
fleet, and then hauls her wind under an easy sail. Each
of the other ships then proceeds to take the proper sta¬
tion, by chasing the ship, which is to be a-head of her,
and when in the wake of the leading ship, adjusts her
quantity of canvas so as to preserve the proper distance.
The ships thus arranged astern of each other, are in the
line of battle, and from this the first order of sailing is
formed, by each ship bearing away at the same time,
and all steering the proposed course.
In forming the second order of sailing, the leading
ship runs to leeward of so many ol the fleet as that each
ship may readily fetch her wake, and then steers a
course eight points from the wind, under an easy sail.
The line is formed by each ship in the same manner as
in the first order, except that before bearing away, the
line is perpendicular to the direction of the wind, or
each ship has the wind on her beam.
As, in the third order of sailing, the admiral’s ship
is in the centre ; to produce this position, the fleet being
formed in a line on one ot the lines of hearing, and the
ships steering in each others wake, ten points from the
wind, the leading or leewardmost ship first hauls her
wind. The second ship does the same as soon as she
gets into the wake of the former, and this is done by
bach ship till the admiral’s ships haul their wind, when
they reach the wake of the leading ship. At the same
time.that the admiral’s ship hauls her wind, the stern-
most half of .the fleet does the same. I he ships are
now in the third order of sailing, from which the fleet
can be formed in the line of battle on either tack.
To form the fourth order of sailing (see N° 58.)» the
619
Plate
DLXV.
fl"-. 1.
commanding admirals range themselves on the two lines Naval
of bearing, at a proper distance from each other, steer- Tactics,
ing the proposed course, and the ships of the several ' '
columns take each their respective places, parallel to r-
eacli other, and forming lines in the direction of tliejer
wind. 66
To form the fifth order, the three leading ships of hht-h oilier,
the divisions take their posts abreast and to leeward of
each other, keeping their wind under an easy sail; their
the ships of each squadron make sail, and take their
respective stations at the proper distance astern of their
leaders, while the commanders of each division, and
the corresponding ships of each, keep mutually abreast
of each other. 6j
In forming from the first order of sailing, if the ships To form
are running large on the tack that answers to the linctlle |‘ne*pt
of bearing on which they sail, and if the line is to be D<1
formed on the same tack, all the ships haul their wind
at once, or as quickly as possible after the next to
windward ; but if they be on the other tack, with re¬
spect to the line of bearing, they all haul their wind
and tack or veer together. If the line of battle is to be-
formed on the other line of bearing, the ship most to
leewards veers or tacks, and hauls her wind, while the
rest of the fleet veer or tack at the same time, and steer Fig- 10.
with the wind four points free, and each ship hauls her
wind as soon as she gets within the wake of the leader.
See fig. 10. Plate DLXIV. and fig. 1. Plate DLXV.
Suppose the fleet running before the wind in the se¬
cond order of sailing; to form the line from this posi¬
tion, all the ships haul up together on the proper tack,
presenting their heads eight points from the wind at the
line on which they are arranged ; the leading ship then
hauls her wind, immediately making sail, or shortening
sail, so as to close or open the order, and the same is
done successively by all the rest (see fig. 2.). fig. *.
In a fleet running large in the third order, the line
of battle is formed by the wing which is in the line of
bearing corresponding to the tack on which the line is
to be formed, and the ship at the angle, hauling their
wind together, while the ships of the other wing haul
up together eight points from the wind. Each ship
moving in this direction, till she reach the wake of the
other wing, when she hauls close up (see fig. 3.). Fig, 3.
In forming the line of battle on the same tack from
the fifth order of sailing (as the fourth is not calculated
for forming a line of battle), the centre brings to, so as
only to keep steerage way ; the weather column bears
away two points, and when it gets a head of the centre,
hauls its wind, while the ships of the lee column tack
together, and crowd sail to gain the wake of the centre,
when they retack together, and complete the line (see
fig. 4.) ; or, the weather column brings to, while the Fig,
centre and lee tack together, and bear away two points
free. When the ships of the centre column have gained
the wake of the van, they retack together, and bring
to ; and when those of the lee have gained the rear
line, they retack together, and all stand on ; or lastly,
the lee column brings to, the centre runs under easy
sail two points free, to get a-head of the rear squadron,
while the rear bears away under a press of sail two
points free, to get a-head of the centre division.
2. Suppose the weather and centre columns to inter¬
change. To form the line under these circumstances; the
centre stands on, while the weather column bears away 8
' 4 I 2 1 pointSj
620
W A VR.
Fiji. 6.
Fig. 7.
Plate
P-LXVI.
fig- x.
Fig. 2.
ris.
Fig. 4.
Fig. '•
points, and having reached the wake of the centre, which
now forms the van, hauls up ; the ships of the lee column
tack together, and run under a press of sail, within two
points free, so as just to gain the rear of the line when
they retack together (see fig. 5.), or the lee column
brings to, while the centre squadron bears away three
points under easy sail; and having reached the wake of
the van, hauls up, to form the centre division.
3. Suppose the centre and lee columns to interchange.
The lee column stands on close hauled under an easy
sail, the weather column bears away to points under a
press of sail, till it reach the head of the line, when it
hauls up, and the centre hears away eight points, and
when in the wake of the. lee, now the centre, hauls its
wind. (See fig. 6.).
4. If the weather and lee columns interchange j the
lee column stands on under a press of sail close hauled,
while the centre, under easy sail, bears away two points,
and when- it reaches the wake of the now van squadron,
hauls its wind, and the weather column bears away
eight points, hauling up when in the wake of the centre.
(See fig. 7.).
5. Suppose the centre column to form the van, and
the weather the rear division. Here the lee column
brings to, while the centre bears away two points,
forming the line a-head of the former, now the centre,
and the weather column veers away seven points on the
other tack, forming the rear squadron. (See fio-. 1.
Plate DLXVL).
6. io form the line so that the lee column may form
the van, and the centre the rear. 1 he lee column is to
stand on under a press of sail, while the weather bears
away three points under easy sail, and the centre bears
away eight points, the ships of each column hauling
their wind, when in the wake of the now van division.
(See fig. 2.).
7- It the line of battle is to be formed on the other
tack, so that the weather shall form the van division, as
in the first case, the shjps of the weather column first
tack successively, while those of the centre and lee
stand on, the former under easy sail, and the latter
shortening sail, the leading ships tacking when in the
wake of the now van, taking great care that the ships
of the centre and lee draw not too near to the sternmost
ships of the van, or to each other. (See fig. 3.).
8. To form the line on the other tack, when the
centre and weather columns interchange. The weather
column brings to, while the centre column stands on, till
the leading ship be fully able to clear the weather co¬
lumn, when the ships of the centre tack successively as
they Jeach the wake of the van. The lee column
stands on, tacking successively, as the ships get into the
wake of the van, under moderate sail. (See fig. 4.).
9. In funning the line on the other tack, when the
centie and lee interchange. I he centre brings to,
while the ships of the weather tack under shortened sail’
and the lee under a press of sail stands on, the leading
ship having gained the wake of the line, tacks, and is
followed in succession by her division. The centre co¬
lumn fills and stands on, when the first ship of that co¬
lumn, and the last of the lee, bear from each other in
a direction perpendicular to that of the wind. (See
fig- J-);^ V
10. Io form on this same tack, so that the weather
and lee may interchange. The weather and centre
3
Part
bring to, while the lee crowds sail, till it can pass a-head
ol the weather column, when the ships tack in succes¬
sion. As soon as the leading ship of the centre, and the
last of the lee bear.from each other in a line perpendicu¬
lar to the wind, the centre fills, and tacks in succession
when in the wake of tlie now van, and the ships of the
weather column do the same when their leading ship
and the last of the centre are under similar circum¬
stances. (See fig. 6.).
11. Suppose the centre is to form the van, and the
weather the rear, in forming the line on the other tack.
The weather brings to, while the other columns make
sail, till they can pass a-head of the former on the other
tack, when they tack successively. The weather co¬
lumn, when the others have passed it, fills, and tacks
Fig. 6.
to form the rear. (See fig. 7.).
Fig. 7.
12. Suppose now the lee column is to form the van.
The weather and centre bring to, while the lee crowds
sail, and tacks when it can pass a-head of the weather
column. When the last ship of the now van lias passed
to windward of the former weather column, the van
shortens sail, to give time for the other columns to form,
and the weather and centre fill at the same time, to gain
the wake of the van, when they tack in succession.
(See fig. 8.). Fig. ?.
We must now show how a fleet may be disposed in, f58
the principal orders of sailing from the line of battle 5 ^ ”rW
and here, as before, we have several varieties. ofsailim
1. To form the first order of sailing from the line of from th«
battle on the same tack. All the ships are to bearlineof
away together as many points as the admiral may direct,tjatlle’ •
keeping in the line of bearing for the proper tack. The
sternmost first bears away, and the others follow in
quick succession to prevent running foul of each other.
2. If they are to form on the other tack ; the lead¬
ing ship bears away four points to leeward, and the rest
follow in succession. The sternmost ship having bore
away, the whole haul up, and will he in bearing for the
line on the other tack. (See fig. 9.). Fig. 5.
3. To form the second order of sailing from the line
of battle, the whole fleet is to beiir away together 10
points, so that when the headmost ship, which first pres¬
ses sail, shall come abreast of the second ship, the second
ship adapts her sail to keep in this bearin<r, and so in
succession, each taking care to keep the preceding ship
in a line with herself, perpendicular to the direction of
the wind. The whole fleet will now be before the
wind. (See fig. 10.). Fig. ic.
4. To form the third order, the whole fleet is to bear
• away together ten points, the headmost half, including
the centre ship, carrying a degree of sail to preserve
their line of bearing, while each of the remaining ships
is successively to shorten sail, so as to form the other
line of bearing with respect to that on which they were
before arranged. (See fig. 1. Plate DLXVII.).
5. To change from the line of battle to the fifth or- ,
der on the same tack. Of this evolution there are se¬
veral varieties, hut we shall mention only two; first,
when the van is to form the weather, and the rear the
lee column, and the fleet to keep as much as possible to
windward.—In this case the van and centre tack to¬
gether, and run close hauled in bow and quarter line,
while the rear proceeds in its former course under easy
sail. When each ship of the centre is abreast of the
corresponding ship of the rear, the centre retacks,
* b while
Plan
L2
fig.
’art If.
W A R
621
Naval
Tactics.
' Plate
9LXV1L
h
aitceu.
■» line
.tie,
while the van stands on, till the centre and rear come
u>), when it also retacks, and all the columns regulate
their distances. (See fig. 2.). Secondly, when the van
is to form the lee, and the rear the weather column.—
The van bears away under easy sail, and goes at right
angles with the line a head, while the centre runs two
joints free, each shij) steering for that ship of the van
which is to be a-lneast of her when in column. The
distance must he determined by the leader of the van,
who is not to haul up with her division, till she and the
stemmost ship of the centre column are in a line at
right angles with the wind, when both stand on under
easy sail, while the rear crowds sail to pass to wind¬
ward of both. (See fig. 3.).
6. To form the fifth order of sailing from the line of
battle on the other tack—of which there are also seve¬
ral varieties j but wm shall confine ourselves to two : First,
when the van is to form the weather, and the rear the
lee column ; the van tacks in succession, while the lead¬
ing ship of the centre is to tack when the leader of the
van passes him exactly to windward, in which she is fol¬
lowed by her division, and the rear manoeuvres in the
same manner with respect to the centre. (See fig. 4 ).
Secondly, when the rear is to form the weather and the
van the lee column ; the van tacks in succession, and
when about, either shortens sail, or brings to, to allow
the other columns time to form. The centre and rear
then crowd sail, and tack in succession, the former tack¬
ing when its leader has the centre of the lee column in
a line at right angles with the wind, or when its centre
passes a-stern of the lee column. When the centre has
tacked,nt regulates its rate of sailing by the lee, and
both wait for the rear to pass to windward. The rear
tacks when the leader has the first ship of the lee in a
line at right angles with the wind, or when its centre
ship passes a-stern of the centre column. (See fig. 5.).
7. Fig. 6. represents the order of retreat formed
from the line of battle, the whole fleet going four
points free. This evolution is so seldom required in a
British fleet, that we need not dwell on it.
• There are various evolutions or manoeuvres perform¬
ed by a fleet when in line of battle, some of which we
must here describe.
Sometimes the fleet has to form the line on the other
tack, by tacking in succession. To do this, the leading
ship of the fleet tacks first, after making more sail, or
after the second has shortened sail, to increase the in¬
terval between them. When the first ship is about,
either the second makes more sail, or the third shortens
sail, and as soon as the second gets into the wake of the
leader, she tacks, putting down the helm just as she
opens the weather quarter of the first ship, already ou
the other tack. In the same manner, each of the other
ships tacks when in the wake of the leader j and the
ships already about must preserve their proper distances,
hy shortening sail, if necessary, till the whole fleet be
on the other tack. If a ship should miss stays, she must
immediately fill again on the same tack, and make sail
with all possible expedition, taking care not to fall to
leeward. Thus she will get a-head, and to windward
°l the following ships, which will successively perform
their evolutions in the wake of the ships that are already
on the other tack, standing on rather further than if the
ship a-head had not missed stays. (See fig. 7.).
But suppose the ships are not to tack in succession.
To form the line on the other tack, the whole fleet Naval
veers together ; the rear ship hauls her wind on the Tactics,
other tack, and stands on, while the rest go two points l— v""" *
free on the other tack, and haul up as they successively
gain the wake oj the leading ship. "(See fig. 8.). Fig. S.
If the line is to veer in succession, the van ship veers,
and stands four points free on the other tack, hauling
her wind when clear of the sternmost ship, and the rest
follow and haul up in succession. (See fig. 9.). Fig. <?.
Sometimes the fleet has to turn to windward while in
line of battle. The best way to do this, when there is
good sea-room, is for all the ships to tack together,
when the fleet will be in a line of battle on the one hoard,
and in bow and quarter line on the other. If, however,
the fleet be turning to wind wax d in a narrow channel,
it is best for the ships to tack in succession, as, were
they all to tack together, the van would be soon in with
the land on one side, while the stern ship, soon after the
fleet had retacked, would he too near the land on the
other side. 4
If the van and centre are to interchange j the van is
to bear away a little, and then bring to, while the centre
passess on to \vindward, edging a little, to get a-head of
the former van on the same line 5 the rear, coming on
under an easy sail, edges away likewise, to gain the
wake of the now centre squadron. (See fig. 10.). Ic>*
If the van and rear are to interchange ; the van and
centre are to bear away a little, and then bring to, so
that the van may bear away a little more to the lee¬
ward than the centre. The rear stands on to gain the
head of the line ; and when a-breast of the former van,
the centre fills, and both standing on, form a-head of the
now rear, by edging down till they are in a line with
it. (See fig. II.). Fig. ir.
If the centre and rear are to interchange ; the van
stands on under an easy sail, while the centre bears
atvay a little, and brings to, and the rear at the same
time carries a press of sail to pass the centre to wind¬
ward, and get into the wake of the van. The van and
centre then edge away to gain the line, with the now
rear squadron, which then fills. (See fig. 12.). Fig. 12.
Several evolutions are required while a fleet is in the 70
fifth order of sailing, and of these we shall notice someTo msuiam—
of the more important. fiftVordei
When the columns are to tack in succession, the ships 0f sailin°-.
of the lee must tack first, as they have most distance to
run, and when the leader of the centre comes a-breast
of the leader to leeward, or at right angles with the
close-hauled line on the other tack on which the leader
of the lee is now moving, she tacks and is followed suc¬
cessively by the ships of her division. The weather
column manoeuvres in the same manner, paying the same
regard to the centre. Here the weather column is still
to windward, and should the columns have closed too
much, or be too far asunder, the order may be recover¬
ed, either by the lee or windward column bearing
away, so as to make an angle equal to that proposed
between any column, and a line joining the leader of
that column, and the sternmost ship of the next. (See
%• Fig. ,3..
When all the columns are to tack together; the
sternmost ships put in stays together; and when in stays,
their seconds a-head put down their helms, and so on
through the whole fleet. .Each, column will then be in
bow and quarter line. (See fig. 14.).
Fig.MF-
When
W A R.
Par
Plate
I) LX VIII.
.fig. r.
Fig. 2.
F»g- 3-
Fig 4.
Wlini the columns are to veer in succession; the
leader of the lee column must steer four points free on
the other tack, followed by the ships of that division,
and when she is clear of the sternmost ship* of that di¬
vision, she hauls up. The same evolution is performed
by the centre and weather ships successively, standing
on till they tiring the point at which the lee column be¬
gan to'veer to bear in a right line to leeward of them.
They likewise successively spring their luffs when the
point at which the lee column hauled its wind, bears
right to leeward. (See tig. 15.).
Suppose the fleet, when in the fifth order of sailing is
to turn to windward •, let the ships be so arranged that
the leaders and corresponding ships may be in the direc¬
tion of the wind. The van ships must tack together,
which are followed in succession, each by the remain¬
ing ships of the division, when they reach the wake of
their leaders, or the same point when they tacked ; so
that there will always be three ships in stays at once, till
the whole fleet is on the other tack. The fleet then
stands on to any proposed distance, and retacks as be¬
fore. (See fig. 1. Plate DLXVIII.).
When the weather and centre columns interchange ;
the weather and lee lie to, or only keep steerage way.
The centre column tacks together, and forming a bow
and quarter line, goes close hauled to gain the wake of
the weather column ; it then tacks together, and stands
on, while the weather column bears away to its new
station in the centre, and the lee column fills. (See fig.
2.).
When the •weather and lee columns are to inter¬
change ; the centre column must bring to ; while the
lee stands on under a press of sail ; and when its stein¬
most ship can pass to windward of the van of the centre
column, that is, when the centre ship of the lee is in a
perpendicular line to the direction of the wind with the
van of the centre column, the lee column then tacks
together, and stands on close hauled till it comes in a
line with the centre column, when it goes large two
points to get into the situation which the weather co¬
lumn left ; and then veers together, hauling the wTind
for the other tack. At the beginning of the evolution
the weather column bears away together under little
Sail, and goes large six points on the other tack, to get
into the wake of the centre column ; it then hauls to
the former tack, going two points large, till it comes
abreast of the centre column, when it brings to, and
waits for the now weather column. (See fig. 3.)
Suppose the weather column is to pass to leeward ;
the weather column is to stand on under easy sail, while
the centre and lee tack together, carry ing a press of sail
till they reach the wake of the weather column, when
they retack, and crowd sail till they come up with it.
lire weather column^ when the others have gained its
wake, bears away two points, to gain its station to lee¬
ward, when it brings to, till the other columns, now the
weather and centre, come up. (See fig. 4.).
Suppose the lee column is to pass to windward. The
weather and centre columns bring to, while the lee co¬
lumn carries sail and tacks in succession as soon as the
leading ship can weather the headmost ship of the wea¬
ther column •, and when arrived on the line on which
the weather column is formed, it retacks in succession,
forms on the same line, and either brings to or stands
on under easy sail. If it brings to, the other two ce-
5
lumns hear away together two points, to put themselves ft
a breast of the column now to windward; but if the Ta
now weather column stood on under an easy sail, they
may bear awav only one point, to gain their proper sta¬
tions. (See tig. 5.). Fig.
It is of the greatest importance that each ship of a
fleet or squadron preserve her prop r station and di¬
stance with respect to the rest. These may be regu¬
lated in two ways, either by observation with the qua¬
drant, or by what is called the naval square. This
square is usually constructed in the following manner.
On some convenient place in the middle of the quar-F°ii>
ter-deck is described the square ABCD, fig. 6. having
the sides AD and BC parallel to the keel of the ship.na¥a
Through the centre G, the line EF is drawn parallel tos,quar
AD or BC, and the diagonals AC and BD are. drawn, tig.(
The angles EGD, EGC are bisected by the straight
lines GH, GI, and thus themaval square is completed.
Now the angles EGD, FGC are = 4 points each, be¬
ing eac!) half a right angle, therefore the angles EGD,
EGC, the complements of these angles, are each =12
points, and consequently the angles EGH, EGI are
each ~ 6 points, being each half of the last angles.
Now, if a ship be running close hauled on the star¬
board tack, in the direction FE, the direction of the
wind will be IG, and her close-hauled course on the
other tack will be GC ; but if she be running close
hauled on the larboard tack in the same direction, her
direction when close hauled on the star-board tack will
be GD.
Now, to apply the naval square to the keeping of
ships in their respective stations, suppose the fleet torm-
ed on the fifth order of sailing, close hauled, the cor¬
responding ships of the columns coinciding with the di¬
rection of the wind, in order to run to windward with
greater facility. The corresponding ships in the column
must be kept in the direction of GH, or GI, accord¬
ing to the direction of the wind and the tack they are
on, while all the ships of the same column must be in
the direction of EF. (See fig. 7.). Fig.
Again, suppose the ships arranged in three columns
on one of the lines of bearing, and close hauled on the
other tack. The ships of each column will be in the
direction of one of the diagonals, while the correspond¬
ing ships of the other columns will be in the direction
of the other diagonal. (See fig. 8.). Fig.
Sometimes the line of battle is disordered on the ;
wind’s shifting, and requires to be restored. 01 this
there are several cases, a few of which we shall notice. ^ c
I. When the wind comes forward less than 6 points.^ f
In this case the whole fleet except the leader brings to. wim
The leading ship, that the same distances between the
ships may be preserved on restoring the line, steers a
course as ad (fig. 9.), so as to be at right angles with Fig.
the middle point between the former and present direc¬
tion of the wind. His required course may be known
by adding half the number of points the wind has shift¬
ed to eight points, and applying this sum to the former
close-hauled course. When the Jeader has arrived at
the new close-hauled line with respect to the second
ship a-head, this ship immediately fills, and bears away
as many points as the leader ; and when both these have
reached the close-hauled line with respect to the third
ship, she also fills, and hears away ; and thus with the
rest in succession ; and when they have got into the
close-hauled
Part
Naval
Tactics.
Plate
OLXVJII.
Fig. io.
II. w
close-hauled line be with the sternmost ship, they all
haul their wind together, and the sternmost ship fills
and stands on close hauled.
This may be expeditiously performed, if the whole
fleet fall oft’ as soon as the wind shifts, the same number
of points, and the leader bear away eight points from
the middle between the former and present directions of
the wind, or when the wind shifts nearly six points, if
the leader bear away eight points from the present di¬
rection of the wind, and hauls her wind as soon as the
sternmost ship bears from her in the close-hauled line,
while the second ship bears away when she reaches the
wake of the leader, and hauls her wind when she has
again gained his wake. The third, fourth, &c. ships
bear away, and also haul their wind in succession, till
the sternmost and the whole line be formed again. (See
fig. 10.).
2. Suppose the wind comes forward less than six
points, and the order of battle is to be re-formed on
the other tack. In this case all the ships are to veer
round till their heads come to the requisite point with
respect to their former course, when the rear ship, now
become the van, hauls close by the wind, followed suc¬
cessively by the other ships. Should the wind come a-
head more than six points, but less than twelve, the fleet
is to manoeuvre as before, but if it shift exactly twelve
points a-head, the tack must be changed.
3. Lastly, suppose the wind to shift oft—if less than
two points, the leader hauls her wind, while the fleet
stands on as before, each successively hauling her wind
as she gains the wake of her leader. If the tack is to be
changed, the whole fleet tack together, and the stern¬
most ship, now the leader, hauls up, while the rest hear
down and haul up in succession.
Should the wind change 16 points, all the ships im¬
mediately brace about for the other tack, by which
means the fleet will be going four points large 5 then
the ships instantly tacking or veering together, the or¬
der of battle will be restored or formed again on the
same tack as before the wind changed.
It is inconsistent with the nature of our plan to be
more minute on the various evolutions of a fleet, when
not in action with the enemy. Onr nautical readers
will find abundant information of this kind in the usual
works on naval tactics, especially the Elements and
Practice of Rigging, Seamanship, 'Naval Tactics, &c.
of which the latest edition is in 4 vols 8vo.; and The
System of Naval Tactics, with coloured figures, both
published by Steel.
Having described and illustrated the principal evo¬
lutions which are performed by fleets or squadrons
under ordinary circumstances, we are prepared to con¬
sider the nature and consequences of a naval engage¬
ment.
In forming a fleet for battle, it is proper to consider
the size and number of the ships of which it is to con¬
sist, and the distance at which they are to he placed
With respect to each other. In the present system of
naval warfare, it is generally deemed of advantage to
have t! e ships that are to form the principal line as large
as possible ; for though large ships are not so easily and
expeditiously woiked as those of a smaller size, they
ar< most serviceable during the action, both as carrying
a greater weight of metal, and as being less exposed to
material injury, either from the enemy’s shot, or from.!
73
cum.
ices to
consi.
:4in
5lllw
for
A ft. 623
th e weather. In hoarding, too, a large ship must have Naval
greatly the superiority over a smaller, both from her Tactics,
greater height, and from the number of hands which v"'
she contains. With respect to the number of ships, it
is ol advantage that they he not too numerous, as if the
line he too extensive, the signals from the centre are
with difficulty observed.
In arranging a fleet in line of battle, it is proper to
regulate the distance so that the ships shall he sufficient¬
ly near to support eacli other, hut not so close as that
a disabled ship may not readily he got out of the line
without disturbing the rest of the fleet. 74
It has long been deemed a point of great consequence Advantage*
with the commander of a fleet to gain the weather gage, anc^ disad-
or to get to windward of the enemy, before comino: to v,anUseS °f
action. In deciding on the propriety of this, much will t]ier gage.
depend on the relative strength of each fleet, and on b
the state of the weather at the time. We shall state
the advantages and disadvantages of the weather gage,
as they are commonly laid down by writers on naval
tactics, though we may observe by the way, that if a
fleet he much superior to its opponent, it is seldom of
consequence whether it engages to windward or to lee¬
ward.
A fleet to windward of the enemy is thought to pos¬
sess the following advantages. It may approach the
leeward fleet at pleasure, and can of course accelerate or
delay the beginning of the engagement. If more nu¬
merous, it may send down a detachment on the rear of
the enemy, and thus throw him into confusion. It may
also readily send down fireships on the enemy’s fleet,
when thrown into confusion or disabled. It may hoard
at any time, and is scarcely incommoded by the smoke
of the enemy. The reverse of these circumstances, of
course, act against a leeward fleet.
The disadvantages of being to windward of the ene¬
my respect chiefly the circumstances attending a retreat,
should this be necessary. The windward fleet can sel¬
dom retire without passing through the enemy’s line \
and if in attempting to retreat, the windward ships tack
together, those of the leeward fleet may do the same,
rake the weather ships in stays, and follow them on the
other tack, having now the advantage of the wind. In
stormy weather, the windward ships can seldom open
their lower deck ports, and the lee guns are not easily
managed after firing. Again, any disabled ships can¬
not easily quit the line without disordering the rest of
the fleet, and exposing either that or themselves to he
raked by the enemy to leeward. A leeward fleet has
the advantages of serving their lower deck guns in all
weathers ; of being able to retreat at pleasure ; of draw¬
ing off without difficulty their disabled ships ; of form¬
ing with more readiness the order of retreat •, or of con¬
tinuing the action as long as convenient ; of having it
in their power, when superior in number, to double the
enemy, and of cannonading with great efl'ect the wind¬
ward ships as they bear down for the attack.
As an engagement between two adverse ships is in
some measure an epitome of an engagement between
two fleets,1;jve shall first briefly describe the former, as
it takes pfi&e under ordinary circumstances, and shall
then notice the usual manner of conducting a general
engagement.
A naval engagement may be divided into three stages, ,
the preparation, the action, and the repair..
Whets-a
Naval When an enemy’s ship heaves in sight, and it is thought
Tactics, advisable to bring her to an engagement, orders are first
i” 1 given to clear for action, which is begun by the boat-
Descrfptions'va*n an^ ma^es P’P'no UP ^ie hammocks, in order
of an en- to clear the space between decks, for the more easy ma-
gagement nagement of the guns, as well as to afford the men on
between tlie quarter-deck, &c. a better protection against the
two ships. enemy’s shot, the hammocks being stowed in the net-
Prepara- tings above the gunwale and bulwarks. After this,
tion, the boatswain’s mates go to work to secure the yards,
which is done by fastening them with strong chains or
ropes in addition to those by which they are suspended.
They likewise get j’eady such materials as may be ne¬
cessary for repairing the rigging, if it should be cut a-
way, or otherwise damaged by the enemy’s shot. In the
mean time the carpenter and his mates prepare shot
plugs and mauls, to stop any dangerous shot holes that
may be made in the hull near the surface of the water,
and provide the necessary iron work for refitting the
chain-pumps, if their machinery should be injured dur¬
ing the engagement j while the gunner and his mates,
and the quarter gunners, examine the guns, to see that
their charges are dry, and provide every thing that may
he required for supplying the great guns and small arms
'with ammunition. The master and master’s mates see
that the sails are properly trimmed, according to the
situation of the ship, and increase or reduce them as may
be found necessary 5 and the lieutenants visit the differ¬
ent decks, to see that all is clear, and to take care that
the inferior officers do their duty.
"When the hostile ships have approached within a pro¬
per distance of each other, the drums beat to arms ; the
boatswain and his mates pipe a!/ hands to quarters ! All
the men who are to manage the great guns repair im¬
mediately to their respective stations. The crows, hand¬
spikes, rammers, sponges, powder horns, matches, and
train tackles, are placed in order by the side of the
guns : the hatches are immediately closed, to prevent
sculkers from getting below j the marines are drawn up
on the quarter deck, &.c. the lashings of the guns are
cast loose, and the tompions withdrawn. The whole
artillery, above and below, is run out at the ports, and
^ levelled to the point-blank range, ready for firing.
The action. When these necessary preparations are completed,
and the officers and crew ready at their respective sta¬
tions, and when the two ships are sufficiently near each
other, in a proper relative situation for the shot to take
full effect, the action commences with a vigorous can¬
nonade from the great guns, accompanied by the whole
efforts of the swivels and small arms. The firing is sel¬
dom performed in voliies, as that would shake ihe ship
too much, but the guus are loaded and fired one after
another, with as much dispatch and as little confusion
as possible, care being taken to fire only when each gun
is properly directed to its object. During the firing,
the lieutenants traverse the decks, to see that the battle
is prosecuted with vivacity, and that the men do their
duty, while the midshipmen second their injunctions,
and give the necessary assistance where required, at the
guns committed to their charge. The youngest of these
inferior officers are generally employed to carry orders
from the captain. The gunners are all this time em¬
ployed in the magazines, filling cartridges, which are
carried along the decks in boxes by the boys of the
ship. When the action has continued so long, or has
produced such an effect, that one of the ships must yield N
or retreat, if the vanquished ship cannot get off, she Tu
acknowledges her inferiority by striking, or hauling
down her colours, when she is, as soon as possible, taken
possession of by the victor, the commander of which
sends a part of his own crew into the captured ship, and
brings away most of her officers and men on board his
own ship, as prisoners of war.
The engagement being concluded, they begin to re-Rejm
pair ; the guns are secured by their breechings and
tackles, with all convenient expedition. Whatever sails
have been rendered unserviceable are unbent, and the
wounded masts and yards struck upon deck, to be fished
or replaced by others. The standing rigging is knotted,
and the running rigging spliced where necessary. Pro¬
per sails are bent in the room of those which have been
displaced as useless. The carpenter and his mates are
employed in repairing the breaches made in the ship’s
hull, by shot plugs, pieces of plank, and sheet lead.
The gunner and his assistants are busied in replenishing
the allotted number of charged cartridges, to supply the
place of those which have been expended, and in refit¬
ting whatever furniture of the guns may have been
damaged by the action. J
A general engagement between two adverse fleets ofEnga,-
course involves a greater variety of circumstances, andmeHt-
requires greater judgment, and more comprehensive tweeri
skill in the commanding officer.
W hen the commander of a fleet has discovered an
enemy’s fleet, his principal object, if he be sufficiently '
strong, is to bring it to action as soon as possible. Every I
inferior consideration gives way to this important object,
and all necessary preparations are immediately made to
prepare for such an event. The state of the wind and
situation of the enemy will in general regulate his con¬
duct with regard to the disposition of his ships on that
occasion. To facilitate the execution of the admiral’s
orders, the whole fleet is disposed in three squadrons, and
each of these classed into three divisions, under the com¬
mand of difierent officers. Before the action begins,
the adverse fleets are drawn up in two lines, as formerly
described. As soon as the admiral displays the signal
for the line of battle, the several divisions separate from
the columns in which they were disposed in the usual
order in sailing, and every ship crowds sail to get into
its station in the wake of the next ahead; and a proper
distance from each other is regularly observed from the
van to the rear. The admiral, however, occasionally
contracts or extends his line, so as to regulate the length
of his line by that of his adversary. This is more par¬
ticularly necessary to prevent his being doubled, by
which his van and rear would be thrown into disorder.
W hen the hostile fleets approach each other, the courses
are commonly hauled upon the brails, and the top-gal¬
lant sails and stay sails furled. The movement of each
ship is regulated chiefly by the main and fore-top sails
and the jib : the mizen-top sail being reserved to hasten
or retard the course of the ship 5 and by filling or back¬
ing, hoisting or lowering it, to determine her velocity.
The signal for a general engagement is usually display¬
ed when the fleets are sufficiently near each other, to be
within the range of point-blank shot, so that the guns
may he levelled with some certainty of execution. Af¬
ter the battle has commenced, it is carried on much in
the same manner as between two ships, except that each
vessel
Part II. W
Naval vessel of tlie fleet, besides attending to ber own move-
Tadics. ments, lias to observe the signals made by the command-
U""V—' ing officer, and repeated by the frigates on the van and
rear. The chief object of the admiral is to keep his
line as complete as possible, by ordering ships from those
in reserve to supply the place of such as may have been
disabled, and to annoy the enemy as much as possible,
both by strengthening the feeble parts of his own line,
and, if circumstances admit of it, by sending down tire-
ships upon that of the enemy. When the engagement
draws near a close, either by the defeat of the enemy,
or by the disabled state of either fleet, signals are made
from the admiral to take possession of such of the ene¬
my’s ^liips as have struck, to tow his own disabled ships
into a place of security, and either to chase the remain¬
der of the enemy’s squadron, or, if that be impiacti-
* For par- cable* t0 ‘lraw off his own ships to be refitted. *
titular Such are the genera! incidents attending an engage-
Botish na- ment at' sea, modified of course by numerous circum-
s^ances? °f which a general description can convey no
tdl’sLms *tKa' ^ ^ere are’ fi°wever, various movements and evo-
iflhe Ad lutio08 connected with a naval engagement, which it
mmls, and will be necessary for us to notice.
ttaTad ^ liere th? weather-gage is deemed of sufficient im-
Vintary Por^ance> it is often an object with two fleets to dispute
\lmoin it with each other. When the enemy is to windward,
fiirtat and it is wished to gain the weather-gage of him, the
; Mam, fleet to leeward should avpid extending itself the
, 80 length of the enemy’s line, in order to oblige them to
jodis’ute edge down upon theirs, if they intend to attack them j
wTute ,v^‘c^ vvi^ ke a mean> if they still persist in doing so,
ithan ^osin£ the advantage of the wind. It is impossible for
\ itmj. 8 fleet to leeward to gain to windward, so long as the
enemy keep the wind, unless a change happens in their
favour j therefore all that a fleet to leeward can do
must be to wait with patience for such a change, of
■which they will undoubtedly avail themselves, as well
as of any inadvertency the enemy may commit in the
mean time. And as long as the fleet to leeward does
not extend its line the length of the enemy’s, it will he
impossible for the latter to bring them to action without
running the hazard, by bearing down, of losing the ad¬
vantage of the wind, which both fleets will be so desi¬
rous of preserving. That an admiral may take advan¬
tage of such shifts of wind as occasionally happen, he
must endavour to get his ships into such situations
where these shifts most frequently take place. It is well
known to experienced naval officers, that particular
winds reign most on certain coasts, or oft certain head¬
lands. Here, therefore, the admiral should await the
approach of the enemy j and though by this plan he
may sometimes be unsuccessful, he will more frequently
gain a material advantage. The disposition of project¬
ing headlands, and the setting of tides and currents,
often contribute materially towards gaining the wind of
the enemy. The fleet to windward should keep that to
coward as much as possible abreast of it 5 and thus un¬
css the wind changes considerably, they will preserve
the advantage they have gained. They should also force
bem to keep their wind, unless they think it prudent
not to engage, in which case it would be better to keep
!i altogether out of sight.
“tniy t’ Wl!en enemy appears desirous of avoiding an ac¬
tios, taere are various methods of attemptingto force him
° engage; as first, when he has the rveatber gage. In
XX. Part II. +
A R.
this case the lee fleet, which is desirous of bringing on
an engagement, must keep always on the same tack
with the enemy to windward, taking care to keep their
own ships so exactly abreast of the enemy, as to prevent
losing sight of them; and hence be reatiy to lake ad¬
vantage of the first favourable shift of wind to make the
attack. An alteration of the course mav be best at¬
tempted in the night. The fee fleet must have frigates
on the look-out, and these must continually give notice
by signal of the manoeuvres and course of the retreating
fleet to windward. Thus the weather fleet is always
exposed to pursuit, without being able to get off unsec n ;
lienee must sooner or later be compelled to an engage¬
ment, unless they can get into some friendly port, or
should be favoured by agale of wind sufficient to disperse
both fleets, and thus prevent the possibility of a gene¬
ral engagement.
Secondly, when the enemy is to leeward—If the lee
fleet keep close to the wind in the order of battle, the
fleet to windward is to stand on in the same manner till
it be abreast of the enemy, ship to ship, and at the same
time to bear away, and steer so as to bring their respec¬
tive opponents un the same point of the compass with
themselves. Thus the adverse fleets will be sufficiently
near each other to begin the action, by each ship’s pre¬
senting her bow to the ship abreast of her in the order
of sailing, which may be easily changed fur the order
of baitle, by all the ships hauling together close to the
wind, in the moment which precedes the action. If the
fleet to leeward appear inclined to engage, it may bring
to, to prevent losing time, and alter this they will fill
as soon as the action commences, because it is of ad¬
vantage to a lee line to be advancing a head. As the
lee fleet fills and stands in close by the wind, the
weather line should keep a-breast, before it hears away,
to come within the requisite distance, that the van ship
of the weather fleet may always keep to windward of
the leading ship of the lee line, and be guarded against
any shift of w’ind a-liead.
It the lee fleet bear away four points to move their or¬
der of battle on the other tack, and avoid theaction,filing
off in succession in the wake of the van ship, the wea¬
ther line, by bearing away all together eight points, can¬
not fail, as both fleets are supposed to sail equally, to
pass through the middle of their line, and force them to
fight with disadvantage, if their extent be double the
distance between the two fleets. If the extent of the
fleet be less than the above limitation, then the weather
fleet will divide the lee fleet more unequally; and if
the distance between the fleets be considerable, the wea¬
ther fleet will be able to break through the line. If
the lee fleet bear away four points all together, being of
equal extent with the fleet to windward, and their di¬
stance from each other equal to that of the length of
one of the lines ; should the weather fL et bear away at
the same time eight points, they will approach very near
the sternmost of the retreating fleet ; but they will not
have it in their power to cut off any part of that fleet,
even with an equality of sailing ; -,0 that the only ad¬
vantage gained by this manoeuvre will be an ability of
attacking the rear, and bringing it 10 action.
If the van ship and the rest of the weather fleet hau
a sufficient velocity to keep the centre sh.p of the lee
line on the same point of hearing , in that case, the lead¬
ing ship may break through the enemy’s line about the
4 ^ tiidille
62;
Naval
Tactics.
626
Naval middle ship of the centre division ; for, supposing the
Tactics, fleets in the order of battle, on the starboard tack, steer-
' v ' jijor east, with the wind at south-south-east, being at two
leagues distance from each other, both the lines being
four leagues in extent-, then the lee line bearing away
all together four points, will run north-east 5 while the
fleet to windward, bearing away all together eight
points, will steer north j the van ship ot which will
keep the centre division of the lee line in the point ot
bearing north-west. As she is supposed to be able to
continue in this position, it follows, that the van ot the
weather line must close the centre of the flying line to
leeward, after having run four leagues. '1 he time and
distance necessary to cut oft a retreating fleet may a -
^vays be known according to the last supposition. If
the lee fleet should get on the other tack, and lun large,
still in the order of battle, they will be sooner forced to
action by the weather fleet, who have only to bear
away eight or nine points on the same tack, or mn right
Si before the wind.
To avoid As in forcing a fleet to action, there are two princi-
eoming to pai cases |n wbich a fleet may avoid an action, where
action. circumstances are not sufficiently favourable-, first,when
the enemy is to windward, and secondly, when he is to
leeward. In the former case the lee fleet should lorm
the order of retreat, if the enemy are in view, and run
on the same tack as their leading ship 5 hut it he is still
out of sight, and they have received intelligence of his
approach, by their frigates on the look-out, they may
bear away large, without confining themselves to keep
the wind directly off, unless when in the order of re¬
treat. In the second case, it seldom happens that the
weather fleet can be forced to an engagement, because
it can always stand on that tack which increases its di¬
stance from the enemy } that is, by standing on one
tack while the enemy is on the other. 1 he windward
fleet must of course not keep too near the enemy, and
take all possible means of avoiding being abreast of
82 him.
Tu double Jt ;s often of advantage to double the enemy ; that is,
an enemy. tQ ^rjng a part 0f ^e fleet round upon bis van or rear
so as to place him between two fires. This manoeuvre
also resolves itself into two principal cases first, when
the enemy is to windward ; secondly, when he is to lee¬
ward. In the first case, the lee fleet that attempts to
double the enemy, should extend itself abreast of him,
so that its van or rear may extend beyond his line, in
order to overreach him, by tacking in succession, so that
the extended part of the line may get up to windward.
If this manoeuvre be properly executed, it will be im¬
possible for the ships of the weather line long to main¬
tain their stations, for no vessel closely attacked by two
others of eoual force can long resist.
It is of some consequence to determine whether the
attempt to double should be made on the van or the rear
of the enemy, as on the propriety of adopting the one
or the other of these measures, may in a great measure
depend the issue of the battle. In tlie present case, it
is most easy to double the van of the enemy, because if
they are engaged by the ships abreast of them, those
which are advanced ahead will be able, by making all
sail, to get in the perpendicular to the direction ot the
wind with the van of the enemy, and tack in succession
to gain the wind of them on the other hoard, tlius keep¬
ing them to leeward j and when they are come sufficient-
Pari
ly to windward, they are again to go about, in order to Na
keep the two headmost ships of the enemy’s line conti- Ta<
nually under their fire. If there be two or three ships
to tack in succession and gain the wind of the enemy,
they may edge down on the van of the water line at
pleasure, keeping themselves a little to the windward of
it j and as that van is already engaged by the other ships
abreast on the other side, she must necessarily be soon
disabled. If they bear away, they must drop upon the
line with which they are engaged to leeward, while the
ships to windward still continue to cannonade them. If
they attempt going about, in order to attack more close¬
ly the ships to windward, they will be raked, while in
stays, by their opponents to leeward and to windward,
who enfilading them with whole broadsides which they
cannot return, must complete their disorder. If they
make sail, in order to frustrate the design of the ships
inclined to double, those with which they are engaged
abreast to leeward have only to perform the same ma¬
noeuvre, and keep them under their fire 3 while the
others, after having harassed them as much as possible,
will do their best to perform the same manoeuvre on the
succeeding ships.
If any of the ships in the van of the weather line are
disabled in the masis or yards, they will drop astern,
and run foul of the next succeeding ship, and these again
on the next astern. Thus, the enemy’s order of battle
will be broken, while on the other hand the lee line is
preserved 3 and those ships which have gained the wind
of the enemy will, without engaging more ships than
they can manage, contribute to increase the confusion.
When the enemy is to leeward, and the weather fleet
attempts to double, the ships of the weather line must
expend their van beyond that of the enemy, and then
veer in order to bring the headmost ships of the lee line
between two fires. It must not, however, he concealed,
that it is much more dangerous to the ships engaged in
this service to attempt doubling a fleet to leeward, than,
one to windward, as if disabled, or separated too far
from their own fleet, they cannot so easily extricate
themselves, and rejoin the fleet.
When one fleet attempts to double another, this lat-To**
ter will of course do all in their power to avoid the im-bei:
pending danger 3 and this they will the more readilydotf*:<
do, according to their number, or their situation. If the
fleet thus threatened he to windward, one of the me¬
thods proposed to avoid being doubled, is to extend the
line towards the point threatened, so as to leave a great¬
er space between the ships 3 but in doing this, there is
a risk of having the line broken by the superior enemy.
Another method suggested is, for the flag ships of the
windward fleet to oppose themselves to those of the lee
line, which is supposed to render seveial of the enemy's
ships in the intervals of little use 3 but one great incon¬
venience of this manoeuvre is, that it leaves the van and
rear most exposed to the enemy’s fire; and that die rear
division in particular is in great danger of being doubled.
To remedy these defects, the largest ships should be
placed in the van and rear of each division, and the
fleet must regulate its sailing in such a manner that its
rear shall never be astern of the rear of the enemy.
When the enemy is to leeward, the weather fleet is to
keep astern of the enemy, so that the van of the wea¬
ther fleet, may be opposed to, and attack the enemy «
centre. Hence the enemy’s van will become useless tor
some
WAR.
Part II.
W A R.
627
Kaval
Tactics.
*5
la the case
#f single
ihips.
some time- 5 anti should it attempt to tack and double
on the weather fleet, much time will be lost in perform¬
ing that evolution j and it also runs the risk cf being se¬
parated by the calm which often happens in the course
of an engagement, occasioned by the discharge of the
guns. A considerable interval might also be left be¬
tween the centre and van, if necessary precautions be
84 taken to prevent the van from being cut off.
Of chasing. There are several circumstances of importance to be
, considered in the subject of chasing, i. e. when one ship
or fleet pursues another, called the chase, either to bring
her or them to action, or to oblige them to surrender.
When a single ship chases another, it is to be presum¬
ed in general, that one of them is the better sailor,
though this is not always the case, and still by proper
manoeuvring the chasing ship, or chaser, may gain on
the chase. In the following observations, however, we
shall suppose the chaser to sail faster than the chase.
The manoeuvres of the chaser will depend on her being
to windward or leeward of the chase.
When the chase is to windward, it is evident that as
soon as she perceives a strange ship which she takes for
an enemy, she will haul her wind, in order to prolong
the chase, as otherwise her retreat would soon be cut off.
The chaser then stands on also nearly close hauled, till
she has the chase on her beam ; she then tacks, and
stands on close hauled till the chase is again on her
beam, and then retacks. In this manner she continues
tacking every time she brings the chase perpenolicular to
her course on either board j and by thus manoeuvring, it
is certain that the chaser will, by the superiority only
of her sailing, join the other in the shortest time. For
since the chaser tacks always as soon as the chase is per¬
pendicular to her course, she is then at the shortest di¬
stance possible on that board ; and since the chaser is
supposed to be the fastest sailer, these shortest distances
will decrease every time the chaser tacks. It is there¬
fore of advantage to the chase to keep constantly on the
same course, without losing her time in going about, as
tacking cannot be so favourable to her as to her adver¬
sary, whose sailing is superior. If the captain of the
chaser should so little understand his profession as to
stand on a long way, and tack in the wake of the chase,
the best thing she can do is to heave in stays, and pass
to windward of him on the other tack, except she should
find herself likely gaining advantage by going large}
for if the chaser persists in tacking in the wake of the
other ship, the pursuit will be very much prolonged.
When the chase is to leeward, the chaser is to steer
that course by which she thinks she wrill gain most on
the chase. If, after having run a short time, the chase
is found to draw more aft, the chaser should then bear
away a little more} but if the chase draw a head, the
chaser should haul up a little, and thus the course may
be so regulated, that the chase may always bear on the
same point, and then the chaser will get up with the
chase in the shortest time possible} for if any other
course were steered, the chaser would be either too far
ahead or too far astern, and hence the pursuit would be
prolonged. The chase should run on that course which
will carry her directly from the chaser, and should con¬
sider which is her best trim with respect to the wind,
that she may move with the greatest possible rapidity
from the chaser} for some ships have more advantage in
going large,. others with tlm wiri 'right aft, and others Naval
when ciCoe hauled. Tactics.
Another method has been proposed for chasing a ship v——
to leeward, that is, by constantly steering directly for Cnrv^f
the chase : in this case, the tract described by the chaser pulllit.0
is called the line or curve of pursuit. To illustrate this, Plate
let A (fig. 11. Plate DLXVIII.) represent the chaser, M.XVJII.
and B the chase directly to leeward of her, and running II*
with less velocity than the pursuer, in the direction BC,
perpendicular to that of the wind. Now, to construct
this curve, let B Z> be the distance run by the chase in
any short interval of time} join A h and make A I
equal the distance run by the chaser in the same time.
Again, make b c, c d, d e, ef, &c. each equal to B & ;
join 1 c, and make 1, 2=A 1 } join 2 d, and make
2, 3 equal to A 1 } proceed in like manner till the two
distances carried forward meet as at C, and a curve
described through the points A, 1, 2, 3, &c. will repre¬
sent nearly the curve of pursuit; and the less the in¬
terval A 1 is taken, the more accurately will the curve
be formed. In this particular case, the length of the
distance BC may be found as follows, provided the di¬
stance AB and the proportional velocities of the two
ships be known.
Bet the velocity of the chase be denoted by a frac¬
tion, that of the chaser being unity. Multiply the gi¬
ven distance AB by this fraction, and divide the pro¬
duct by the complement of the square of the same frac¬
tion, and the quotient will be the distance run by the
chase B. Suppose AB, the distance of the chase di¬
rectly to leeward of the chaser, be taken at 12 miles,
and suppose the velocity of the chase three-fourths of
that of the chaser; what will be the distance run by
I 2 ^ ^ Q
the chase before she is overtaken ? Now 7 — — ~
T 3 - 1
16 1—3
9 X —= 20— miles; and since the velocity of the chaser
7 7
to that of the chase is as 4 to 3, hence the distance run
22 3
by the chaser will be =: 20-X-=27~ miles. As the
7 4 7
chaser alters her course at every point, and probably
sails better with the wind in one direction with icspect
to her course than when the wind is in another direc¬
tion, her velocity will be different at different points of
the course. Thus, suppose her to sail faster when the
wind is on the quarter, her velocity will constantly in¬
crease to a certain point, and will then diminish. Hence
in real practice the curve of pursuit will not he exactly
what is laid down in the above problem, and of course
the measure of BC will differ a little from what we have
there laid down. See Resistance of Fluids and Sea¬
manship. „
If the whole fleet is to give chase, the admiral will In the eata
make the proper signal, and then each ship will instant-fleels'
]y make all the sail possible. If the retreating fleet is
not much inferior to the other, a few of the fastest sail¬
ing vessels only are to be detached from the superior
fleet, in order to pick up any stragglers, or those ships
which may have fallen astern; and the remaining part
of the fleet will keep in the same line or order of sailing
as the retreating fleet, so that they may, if possible,
force them to action. But if the retreating fleet is much
inferior, the admiral of the superior fleet will make the
4 K. 2 signal
W A
Naval signal for a general chase, ai'.il then each ship will im-
Tactics. mediately crowd all the sail possible after the retreating
 / fleet •, or, if the chase be still less numerous, the admi¬
ral will detach one of the squadrons of his fleet, by
hoisting the proper signal for that purpose, and he will
follow with the remainder of the fleet. The squadron
that chases, should be very careful not to engage too
far in the chase, for fear of being overpowered j but at
the same time to endeavour to satisfy themselves with
regard to the object of their chase. They must pay
great attention to the admiral’s signals at all times j and
in order to prevent separation, they should collect them¬
selves before night, especially if there be any appearance
of foggy weather coming on, and endeavour to join the
fleet again. The ships are diligently to observe when
the admiral makes the signal to give over chase ; that
each regarding the admiral’s ship as a fixed point, is to
work back into her station, to form the order of line
again as quickly as the nature of the chase and the di¬
stance will permit.
When a fleet is obliged to run from an enemy who is
in sight, it is usual to draw up the ships in that form or
order, called the order of retreat ; and the admiral,
when hard pursued, without any probability of escaping,
ought, if practicable, to run his ships ashore, rather
than suft'er them to be taken afloat, and thereby give
additional strength to the enemy. In short, nothing
should be neglected that may contribute to the preser¬
vation of his fleet, or prevent any part of it from falling
into the hands of the conqueror.
We have now gone through the principal evolutions
of fleets and squadrons, nearly as they are described in
the Elements of rigging, seamanship, and naval tactics,
and other approved publications on similar subjects. We
have indeed omitted the method of forcing an enemv’s
line, and of avoiding being forced, because the former
will be readily understood from what we have to add on
the improved method of tactics of M. Grenier, and Mr
Clerk of Eld in.
Various defects have been observed in the tactics
usually employed at sea, especially in a line of battle,
and in the mode of bringing an enemy to action. The
usual order of battle first introduced by the duke of
York, afterwards James II. of England, is defective
from its length. Its great extent makes it difficult for
the admiral to judge what orders are proper to be issued,
to the ships stationed at the extremities, while his sig¬
nals, however distinctly made, are liable to be mistaken
by the commanders of these ships. Besides, the extre¬
mities of a long line, especially if it be to leeward, are
necessarily defenceless, as the enemy may throw himself
with a superior force on the van or rear, and cut either
of these off before it can be properly supported by the
other squadrons, discount de Grenier, who was, we be¬
lieve, one. of the first to notice these defects, propo¬
sed to remedy them by introducing a new order of
battle.
The leading principles of De Grenier’s tactics are
founded on the following considerations. It is evident
tho i of tac- that each ship of a fleet must at all times occupy the
tics, centre of a certain horizon. Jhis horizon De Grenier
DlAviIi two unequal parts, calling the greater the
li^,, direct and graduated space, and the less the indirect,
crossed, and ungraduated space. The reason of these ap¬
pellations is, that on the greater segment of the horizon-
88
T)efects of
the usual
line of
battle.
; s9
Principles
of tie Gre
B. Part
tal circle there are 20 different points, which may he j^a,
marked by degrees from one of the close-hauled lines to Ta
the other, and to which a ship may sail from the centre '~“-
by so many direct courses without tacking 5 whereas
from the other 12 points, including that from which the
wind blows, she cannot arrive but by steering cross
courses, which must necessarily delay her progress. Sup¬
pose now a fleet to leeward, so disposed that only a part
of it can fight with another equally numerous, and
ranged to windward in a single line, and let the lee
fleet be ranged on three sides of a lozenge a b, c d, ef
(fig. 12.). The squadron a b, which is most to wind¬
ward, being drawn up in line of battle, cannot be
fought but by an equal number AB, CD, EF. All
the rest of that fleet therefore must remain inactive, un¬
less the ships which are not engaged should try to pass
to leeward of the fleeted, cd, ef But should the
ships of the weather fleet, which are placed between B
and F, bear away as they appear in the figure between
C i and F i, the ships between A and B, which are
fighting to windward, cannot bear away with them.
Suppose now that the ships between C i and F i have
passed to leeward, the squadrons c d, ef, which are
ranged according to De Grenier’s system, and have not
yet been engaged, should come to windward and join
with their friends a b against that squadron of the ene¬
my AB which is still to windward and engaged j it is
almost impossible but that the squadron AB must be de¬
stroyed by so great a superiority, before it could receive
assistance from the ships to leeward between C i and
Yi. ' |
De Grenier proposes only three orders of sailing, one His iw
when a fleet is to pass a strait; a second when it steersofsa *'
in open sea, on the look-out for an enemy, or with a
view to avoid him ; and a third when on an extensive
cruise disposed so that it cannot be easily suprised or
broken. Of these three orders, only the second and
third differ from the usual orders of sailing. The former
of these is represented by fig. 1. Plate DLXIX. where p t(
the columns a b, c d, ef, are disposed on three sides of DI t
a regular lozenge, on the two close-hauled lines. The fig- i!
ships of the two divisions c d, ef, sometimes to wind-2>
ward (as in fig. 2.) and sometimes to leeward (as in
fig. 1.) of the third division ab, ai’e to be formed on
two parallels of one of the close-hauled lines in the
wakes of their respective headmost ships j while the
third division a 6 is to be ranged ahead or astern of the
others on the other close-hauled line, steering chequer¬
wise the same course as the other divisions.
When a 6 is to windward ai c d and ef (fig. 1.),
De Grenier calls that the windward primitive order of
sailing, and when to leeward (fig. 2.), the fleet is said
to be in tbe leeward primitive order of sailing. These
are the two principal positions in almost every case, and
with very little variety, may become the order of battle,
of chasing, See.
His third order is illustrated by fig. 3. where thedi-F'S '
visions a b and ef, are supposed at the distance of
about six leagues from each other 5 c d and ef resting
on the extremities of the base of a triangle STV, while
the centre ship of the division a b rests on its summit T}
none of the divisions could be cut off by an enemy, how¬
ever formidable, seen from its centre ship at the distance
of six leagues. For if, on the proper signal, the divi¬
sion a b should steer from T toward X, on the course
opposite
Part II.
Natal
Tactics.
W A R.
.9I,
His eraer
of battle.
Plate
DLXIX.
s. 4. and
5-
fi?. 6.
opposite to the close-hauletl line it steered before, and
the two divisions cd and ef steer from V and S to¬
wards X likewise, it is plain that each of these divisions
would have only three leagues to run to join the other
two, while the enemy which was first perceived at the
distance of six leagues, must run nine before he can
come up with the nearest of these squadrons.
To form De Grenier’s order of battle represented in
fig. 4. and 5. it will be sufficient for the ships of the
three divisions ranged in the windward primitive order
of sailing (see N° 90.) to heave in stays all together, and
get on the other tack on the opposite line of bearing
(fig. 4.) or for the ships in the leeward primitive order
at once to haul the wind on the same tack as they steer;
and they will find themselves in order of battle, fig. 5.
When the two columns c d and e f, are to leeward of
the third division a b, ranged in order of battle, this is
called the natural order of battle, and when c d and ef
are to windward of a b, this is the inverted order of bat¬
tle. The former of these is calculated for a fleet com¬
bating to leeward, and the latter for a fleet which must
fight to windward.
To explain the advantages of these dispositions, let us
suppose the line AB, CD, EF, fig. 6. to represent an
enemy’s fleet to windward in the usual order of battle,
on the close-hauled line, and on the starboard tack, and
let ab be one of the divisions of a fleet disposed accord¬
ing to the now natural order, on the starboard tack,
while the line c d, e f represent the other two divisions
standing on chequerwise on the same tack, but formed
on the opposite close-hauled line. When the enemy
conies to attack this latter fleet on a supposition that it
is inferior to their own, their divisions AB and EF, in
order to attack the ships a or b, must bear away. Now,
to prevent the attack, each of the divisions c d, e f,
must make the following evolutions according to their
respective situations, and the manoeuvres of the enemy.
1. The ships of the division a b are to slacken as much as
possible their headway, and form a very close line, till
the enemy makes a movement to attack the headmost or
sternmost ship of that division. 2. The ships of the di¬
vision c d are to make sail till they come under the se¬
cond or third ship of the rear of the line of battle a b,
when they will take the same sail as the ships of that di¬
vision, to preserve that position until the hostile ships
make their evolution to attack the rear ships of that di¬
vision. In this situation the ships of the division cd
will be able to observe the manoeuvres of the enemy, in
order to change tack, and form themselves in order of
battle on the opposite board as soon as the hostile ships
shall have run over a certain space*, because the ships of
the division cd, steering afterwards close hauled in the
wake of the sternmost ship of the division ah, will be
able to cover the rear ships of that division, and get the
Weather-gage of the hostile divisions which are bearing
away j rake their ships j run along side of them; double
their rear-guard, and put it between two fires, if those
hostile ships are following in the wake of each other ; di¬
vide it, if they bear away chequerwise; or gain to wind¬
ward, and put between two fires the enemy’s division
CD, while engaged with the division a b. 3. The di¬
vision e f may abandon their post, and run chequerwise
under a press of sail as soon as the enemy falls a-head of
that if the enemy’s division AB attempts to fall
°n ef, or on the van of a b, they may, by going about,
629
steer in order of battle close hauled on the opposite line, Xa-val
and cover the ship a, double the hostile division CD a- Tactics,
head, or divide AB which is running chequerwise on —v'"" 11 ’
the opposite tack.
Fig. 7. marks another method of manoeuvring by the Fig. 7.
divisions cd,ef, when the enemy’s ships are arranged
in a single line not well formed. Q2
Figs. 8. and 9. illustrate De Grenier’s method of ^I'e-
placing the admiral’s ship, and the frigates and trans-n.‘e^s'J10'
ports attached to a fleet. A, fig. 8. is the admiral rangin^The
placed a-head of the fleet, at a short distance from the admiral’s
headmost of the second division, and in the same direc-sbip, fti-
tion of the wind as the headmost shipof the first division; Sales and
ff are two frigates observing the same rule and position
with respect to the van ship of the third, and rear of the 9.
first division. When the fleet is in order of battle, as in
fig. 9. the admiral’s ship A is in the centre of the lo¬
zenge, and two of the frigates,^ on the fourth side of
the lozenge. The transports and store-ships, when the
fleet is in order of sailing or convoy, occupy the space cir¬
cumscribed by the lozenge, but in order of battle they
are disposed in a line opposite to that of the enemy.
Wre cannot enter on a more minute or satisfactory ac¬
count of this system ; for a full exposition of which we
must refer to the original work entitled DArt de Guerre
en Mer, ou Tactique Navale, &c. par M. le Viscompte
de Grenier, or the extracts from it contained in the
Elements and Practice of Rigging and Seamanship.
We must now turn our attention to the improvements Mr Clerk’s
in tactics suggested by our countryman Mr Clerk tactics,
improvements which have received the approbation of
several distinguished officers of the British navy, and to
hints derived from which we are in a great measure
indebted for some of the most signal victories which
have heaped additional honour ou the naval power of
Britain.
94
Before entering on an explanation of Mr Clerk’s tac-Mr Clerk’s
tics, we must briefly state bis objections to the usual ob^e.ctlons
method of bringing ships to action, by the weather ship
or fleet steering directly down upon the enemy. By attack,
doing this, the enemy 10 leeward often has an oppor¬
tunity of completely disabling the ships making the at¬
tack, as the former can use all their guns on one side,
while the latter can only use their bow chases. Sup- p]ate
pose B, fig. 10. Plate DLXIX. to represent a ship of DLXIX.
80 guns to windward, in sight of an enemy’s ship of 10.
equal force F, to leeward. Now, if B bears down di- an<* 1I*
rectly upon F, the latter, by lying to, as in fig. 11.
will present a broadside of 40 guns, all bearing for a
considerable time on B, while the latter coming down
headwise, can only bring the two light guns of her fore¬
castle to bear on F, not to mention that F, by lying
broadside to, Avill have her masts and rigging little ex¬
posed to the enemy’s shot, while B standing head on, is
exposed to be raked by every shot from F, and in par¬
ticular her rigging is in the utmost danger.
Instead of this objectionable mode of attack, Mr His
9S
; u.t,uc ui aimcn, mr His new
Clerk proposes that B having the wind, should run method,
down astern as in the dotted line at fig. 12. till she gets Fi8s- Ia*
into the course of F, near her wake, or in such a posi-aiu*
tion as will bring her parallel to F’s course, and within
a proper distance, when she can run up close along side
of F, and engage on equal terms; or, that she should
shoot a-head, then veer, and run down on the weather
bow of F, as in fig. 13. till she can force the chase to
bear
6^0
W A R.
Par-
96
Effects of
firing at
the hull or
rigging-.
Plate
DLXIX.
%• M-
hear away to leeward, keeping close by her, on equal
terms, taking care in both cases not to put it in the
power of F to bring her broadside to hear on her with¬
out retaliation.
Fig. 14. is employed by Mr Clerk to illustrate the
different procedure of a French and British man of war
in firing, the former at the rigging, and the latter at
the hull of the enemy, with their effects. Let F repre¬
sent a large ship desirous of avoiding a close engage¬
ment, hut lying to, to receive with advantage an ene-
tny’s ship B, of equal force. Suppose that F, by firing
at the rigging of B, may have carried away some of
the principal stays, several of the windward shrouds, a
fore-topmast, or other rigging of less consequence, with¬
out having wounded a single man} and suppose a second
ship consort to F, receiving an enemy’s ship like B, but
firing only at her hull, so as to kill 30 or 40 men, with¬
out damaging her rigging. Now, when F and her
consort wish to avoid a close engagement, it is evident
that that ship B, which has lost part of her rigging, is
much more disabled from coming to close action than
her consort whose rigging is entire, though she may
have lost a great number of her men.
By the scheme at fig. 15. it is intended to illustrate
of a line of t]ie impossibility of one ship being exposed to the fire of
not be ex¬
posed to
the fire of
many ho¬
stile ships
at once.
Pig-. 15.
97.
One ship
many ships at one time. Let I, H, F, H, I, represent
five ships in line of battle a-head, about a cable’s length,
or 240 yards asunder, and suppose the length of each
ship to be 40 yards, so that the whole space between
the head of one ship and the head of that next adjacent
equals 280 yards. Let the perpendicular line FK, ex¬
tending from the beam of F six cables lengths or 144°
yards, be divided into six equal parts. It is evident
that any ship stationed at E in the line FK, 720 yards
distant, cannot long be exposed to the fire of more than
the centre ship F of this squadron. For if vre suppose
that H and K a-head ami a-stern of F, can bring their
broadsides to bear on E j by putting themselves in posi¬
tions for that purpose, they will not only disorder their
own line, but one will leave her head and the other her
stern exposed to a raking fire from the opposite ships
BB in the enemy’s line. If B can suffer little from the
two ships H, H, at the distance of 720 yards, it is evi¬
dent that she will suffer still less from these ships as she
approaches nearer the enemy’s line. Again, if instead
of a cable’s length asunder, we suppose the ships I, F, I,
two cables length asunder, to bear on the ship B. It is
evident from the figure that in this case B will not be
more exposed to the fire of I and I at the distance of
1440 yards than she was to that of H and FI at half
that distance j and so in similar cases.
In explaining the principles on which we are to judge
the'brhin- ^ie a(ivantages or defects of different modes of bring¬
ing of ships ‘nS sh>Ps to action, Mr Clerk supposes a fleet of 10, 20,
*0 action is or more ships of 80 guns each, drawn up in line of bat-
fbunded. tie to leeward, as at F, fig. 16. and lying to with an
intention to avoid an action j while another fleet, as B,
of equal number and force, also drawn up in line of
battle, three or four miles to windward, wishes to make
an attack, and come to close quarters on equal terms.
The fleets being thus disposed, should the fleet at B at¬
tempt running down to attack the fleet at F, each ship
standing head on to the opposite ship in the leeward
line, it is to be expected, from what we have already
stated, that the attacking ships will be disabled, at least
. 9?
Principles
Sag. 17.
in their rigging, before they can come to close action ; \
but suppose that the commander of the weather fleet, Tsu
though his ships have been disabled in their rigging du-  
ring their course aaa to leeward, fig. 17. has made
them bring to at a great distance, but sufficiently near
to injure F. This latter fleet, which has been endea¬
vouring to avoid an action, will now bear away with
little injury to a new station, as G, and there remain
out of the reach of B’s shot, and this fleet must repair
its rigging before it can make another attack.
Again, suppose that the fleet B, instead of standing
head on, were to run down in an angular course, as at
fig. 18. It is plain that if any ship in this angular line^'g- 1
should be crippled, her defect in sailing will occasion a
confusion of several of the other ships in that line. It
may be said that the stoppage of one ship a-head will
not necessarily produce a stoppage of every ship a-stern
of her, because they may run to leeward of the disabled
ship 5 but we must observe that by this time the ships
a-head in the van A may be engaged, and consequently
not having much head way, are nearly stationary, so
that each ship a-stern, in attempting to hear down as at
D, D, must be confined to a certain course, and must
run the risk of being raked in coming down before the
wind, and consequently of being disabled before coming
up with the enemy.
Thirdly, the van of the fleet B having attained their
station at A, a-breast of the van of F, fig. 19. and ha-Fig.
ving begun the action, the van ships of F, with a view
to retreat, may throw in a broadside on the van of B,
and then bear away in succession, as at H, followed by
the rest of the fleet F, which, after exchanging broad¬
sides with the van of B, may draw up in a new line two
or three miles to leeward at 11, fig. 20.
Suppose again, for further illustration, thatB, fig. I. Pf >
Plate DLXX. represents a fleet putting before the wind, DI.!
each ship intending, when brought to at a determined '
distance at A, to take up her particular antagonists in
the line of the enemy F to leeward $ and let F be sup¬
posed at rest, without any motion a-head. It is easy to
conceive that while the alternate ships of F’s line, under
cover of the smoke, withdraw from battle to GGG, the
intermediate ships left behind them in the line will be
sufficient to amuse even the whole of B’s fleet, till the
ships G shall form a new line HH as a support from the
leeward. In such case B, after being disabled, and not
having foreseen the manoeuvre, will neither be able to
prevent the intermediate ships with which he is engaged
from bearing away to join their friends, nor, were he
able, would it be advisable to follow them, for the same
manoeuvre with equal success can again and again be
repeated.
To explain the relative motion of these two fleets, let
F, fig. 2. represent a fleet of 12 ships in line of battle,^,
a cable’s length asunder, and suppose the length of each
ship from the end of the jib-boom to the stern to be 36^
fathoms. The whole fleet will occupy a space of two
English miles j and if it he supposed to sail in the di¬
rection EG, at the rate of four knots an hour, it will
in an hour have moved to G, four miles from its former
position.
Now', let there be an opposite fleet B, also 12 ships,
situated four miles to windward, and let the point A be
a quarter of a mile right to windward of the point G.
Then, if B by bearing away in the direction BA, gam
the
Part II.
WAR.
631
99
S'<w mode
)f attack
from the
rati ward.
Naval the point A at the same time that the leeward fleet F
Tactics, has arrived at G, B will have moved nearly at the rate
1—r“—/ of 5^ miles an hour, and the angle contained between
the direction of its line of bearing and its present course
will be nearly four points.
Secondly, in fig. 3. if F, by carrying more sail, move
at the rate of six miles an hour, from F to G, then B,
with a more slanting course, will have more difficulty
in keeping the line a-breast while coming down to the
attack, owing to the additional obstruction which will
attend each succeeding ship in such a slanting course.
Again, if the leeward fleet shall lie up one point higher,
as FG, fig. 4. the rears of the two fleets will be removed
to a much greater distance, and the van A must be
sooner up with the enemy’s van, and of course so much
farther from support, while F bringing up his ships in
succession, may disable the van of A, and afterwards
bear away at pleasure with little injury, as atH. Now
B being supposed disabled, and having his rear D di¬
stracted, will be unable to prevent F from escaping.
From these considerations it appears that a fleet to
windward, by extending its line of battle with a view
to stop and attack the whole line of an enemy’s fleet to
leeward, must labour under considerable disadvantages,
and will scarcely succeed in the attempt.
On these principles Mr Clerk explains the reason
why, before the commencement of the present contest
between Britain and France, the French fleets so re¬
peatedly escaped from the British without any serious
defeat or loss, viz. by avoiding a general engagement,,
and disabling the Biitish van as it bore down to attack
them. He therefore recommends a different mode of
attack from the windward, which we shall proceed to
illustrate by proper diagrams.
^5. Let F (fig. 5.) represent a fleet in line of battle,
under easy sail, willing to avoid an action, but ready to
receive an attack in the usual way, from another fleet
B, three or four miles to windward, arranged in three
columns. How shall B make the attack on F, so as,
without aiming at the improbable advantage of taking
or destroying the greater part of this fleet, they may se¬
cure three or four of the sternmost ships ? Mr Clerk
advises, that a sufficient strength be detached to secure
these ships, while the admiral keeps aloof with the rest
of his fleet, disposed as in the figure, ready to make the
necessary observations and give the requisite support to
the detached ships. If F continues to avoid an action
by standing on in line, the detachment, coming into
the position BA, will secure the three ships at I ; and
if the headmost skips of F we?e to tack, and be follow¬
ed by the rest in succession as at fig. 6. not only the
three ships at I will be left at the mercy of the ships
detached from B, but two more, as G, will be exposed
to an attack from another squadron of B at G. If all
the ships of F tack together, as in fig. 7. the delay, and
probably the confusion, consequent on this manoeuvre,
■will still more endanger the sternmost ships, or will
bring on a general and close action. Again, if F at¬
tempts to haul oft, beginning with his sternmost ship G,
•S. wd and then runs to leeward, as at fig. 8. he will expose his
ships to a raking fire from B, and still endanger his
sternmost ships by getting too far to leeward for their
support *, or if the headmost ships at H, fig. 9. veer first,
to be followed by the rest astern, the danger would be
still greater. Thus it appears that in every assignable
In¬
case, a fleet to leeward, avoiding an attack from an Naval
equal or superior windward, as here advised, by pre- Tactics,
serving the line, will risk the loss of three or more of '“""v
their sternmost ships.
Now, let us suppose that F, while standing on a line Fig. 10. n.
on the larboard tack, when threatened with an attack I2‘
on his rear from B, veers and passes on opposite tacks
to leeward (see fig. 10.). The consequence of this
will be, that his headmost ships will be forced to lee¬
ward by B, and compelled to engage under disadvan¬
tageous circumstances, and the disadvantage to F will
be much the same, whether he again veers and resumes
his former position, as at G, fig. 11. or stands on be¬
fore the wind, as at P, fig. 12.
We have hitherto supposed that the wind has been Fig. 13.
fixed in one point 5 but let us suppose it to shift, and
let us inquire what will he the effect of such a circum-
stance on the two lines F and B. While the fleets are
in the former position, F in line, and B in four divi¬
sions, B, B, B, A, steering E, with the wind at N, fig,
13. let the wind shift to the west. The only conse¬
quence of this will be, that F will he thrown still far¬
ther to leeward, to its greater disadvantage. But let
the wind shift to E, so as to be a-head, as in figs. 14. Figs. 14.,
and 15. Still if the admiral of B manages properly, and 15.
and carefully watches the motions of F, this change
will produce no advantage to the latter. For B has
nothing to do but veer as the wind comes round, so as
to bring his ships to windward of the three sternmost
ships of F, and to leeward of the rest of his line, so as
to cut off the three sternmost ships.
If the wind should be supposed to veer from point to
point all round the compass, so that the fleet F, main¬
taining the weather-gage of B, shall make a circuit
round B to leeward; still if B act cautiously, F will lose
the three threatened ships.
Lastly, suppose the wind should instantly shift to a pjo-
point opposite to what it was at the commencement of
the attack, as from N. to S. Before it can be ascer¬
tained whether such a change will be to the advantage
or disadvantage of F, the relative situations of the two
fleets must he considered. Suppose that the van and
centre be separated at some distance from his rear, and
that in consequence this fleet shall have taken such a
position as is shown at fig. 16. Though in this case he Fig. 16.
will have got to windward, his three ships can never
be regained or preserved from tbe attack of B. The
most favourable situation for F would be when the fleets
were in the position denoted by fig. 13. as then he
could not only support his three ships with advantage,
but even threaten, and cut off a part of B’s detachment.
In attempting this, however, he incurs the risk of com¬
ing to a close engagement, which we have supposed him
te be sedulously avoiding. iCc
Besides this method of attack from the windward by From the
detachments from the main fleet, Mr Clerk shows how lecwarc*‘
a successful attack may be made by a fleet to leeward^
by its breaking the enemy’s line, and this either near
the rear, near the centre, or not far from the van, of
which cases the two former will be most likely to prove
successful. The enemy’s line can only be cut when
the two hostile fleets veer on opposite tacks. The most
simple method of effecting this is for the van ship of the
attacking squadron, instead of ranging parallel to that
of the enemy, and to leeward of him, to pass through
tlie
t.
623
Naval
Tactics.
* See
CL-rk's
E say on
Naval
Tactics,
se.ocd
jEaition.
101
Battle of
Trafalgar,
October
21st, 1S05.
W A
tlie first interval that oft'ers, followed by the rest of the
line, which is thus led across that of the enemy. In
consequence of this manoeuvre, the van of the leeward
fleet will be to windward of the enemy’s rear, and thus
the attacking squadron will have its line entire, while
that of its adversary is divided. Again, the ships of
the rear division, having their progress obstructed, will
probably crowd on each other, get into confusion, and
be driven to leeward. We cannot detail the different
cases mentioned by Mr Clerk j but for these and many
other valuable suggestions on the subject of naval tac¬
tics, we must refer to his useful and ingenious Essay *.
The above is a very faint and meagre outline of Mr
Clerk’s tactics, but it is all which our limits enable us
to give. It will afford general readers some idea of the
nature of the proposed improvements, and professional
men will naturally consult the original essay.
On these or similar principles is founded the method
of breaking through the enemy's line, and thus cutting
eff a part of his fleet, so successfullv adopted by the
British admirals in the great naval actions that have
distinguished the late and present wars with France. We
cannot better illustrate the principles above laid down,
than by giving a short detail of the last of these memo¬
rable engagements, the Battle of Trafalgar.
With this we shall conclude our sketch of naval tactics,
and our practical observations on the art of War.
After having been long blocked up in the harbour of
Cadiz, the combined French and Spanish fleet effected
their escape, while the British fleet, under the com¬
mand of Eord Nelson, was at a considerable distance.
On the 15th of October 1805, ^1e ships which had been
left to watch the motions of the enemy, communicated
to the commander in chief the agreeable intelligence,
that the combined fleet had put to sea, and was sailing
with light winds in a westerly direction. Lord Nelson
concluding that their destination must be the Mediter¬
ranean, immediately made all sail with his ships for the
entrance of the straits. Here he was informed by Cap¬
tain Blackwood, that the enemy had not yet passed the
straits.
On the 21 st of October, at daylight. Cape Trafal¬
gar bearing east by south about seven leagues distant,
the combined fleet was discovered about six or seven
miles to the eastward. The wind was about west, and
very light. As Lord Nelson had long expected to fall
in with the enemy’s fleet, he had concerted with his of¬
ficers the best and most expeditious measures for bring¬
ing them to a speedy and decisive action. As soon,
therefore, as they hove in sight, he immediately made
the signal for the British fleet to bear up in two co¬
lumns, as they formed in order of sailing. The com¬
bined fleet was drawn up in line of battle, with their
heads to the northward, and had formed the line with
great closeness and correctness. It consisted of 33 ships
of the line, 18 French, and 15 Spanish, under Admiral
Villeneuve, as commander in chief, who occupied the
centre in the Bucentaure, while the Spanish admiral,
Grayina, led the rear in the Prince of Asturias. The
British fl et consisted of 27 ships, including three sixty-
>ours. Lord Nelson headed the van in the Victory,
I
li.
Bar?i
having under him the Temeraire, Neptune, Conqueror,
Leviathan, Ajax, Orion, Agamemnon, Minotaur, Spar- Tuh
tiate, Britannia, Airica, with the Euryalus, Sirius,
Phoebe, and Naiad frigates, Pickle schooner, and En-
treprenante cutter j while the rear, consisting of the
lloyal Sovereign, Mars, Belleisle, Tonnant, Bellero-
phon, Colossus, Aclulle, Polyphemus, Revenge, Swift-
sure, Defence, Thunderer, Defiance, Prince, and
Dreadnought, was led by A ice-admiral Collingwood ia
the Royal Sovereign.
As the mode of attack adopted by the British was
unusual, the combined fleet was obliged to draw up
their line in a new manner. It formed a crescent, with
its convexity to leeward, so that in leading d -wn to
their centre, the rear division of the British had both
their van and rear abaft the beam. Before the action
commenced, every alternate ship was about a cable’s
length to windward of her second ahead and astern,
thus forming a kind of double line, and appearing,
when on their beam, to leave a small interval between
them without crowding their ships. The French and
Spaniards were not formed in separate divisions, but
intermixed without any apparent regard to order of na¬
tional squadrons. As the British commander had pre¬
viously communicated to his flag-officers and captains
his preconcerted mode of attack, few signals were ne¬
cessary, and none were made on approaching the ene¬
my, except to direct close order as the lines bore down.
The action commenced at noon, by the leading ships
of both columns breaking through the enemy’s line;
the Victory about the tenth ship from the van, and the
Royal Sovereign about the twelfth from the rear; the
succeeding ships breaking through in every part astern
of their leaders, and engaging the enemy at the very
muzzles of their guns. By this manoeuvre the van of
the enemy was unengaged, and thus the inferiority of
the British, in point of number, was of less consequence,
while the superior skill and bravery of British seamen
soon acquired a decided advantage. The conflict was
severe, as the enemy’s ships were fought with a gallan¬
try highly honourable to their commanders. The Bri¬
tish attack, however, was irresistible. About three
P. M. many of the enemy’s ships had struck their co¬
lours, and their line had given way. Ten ships of the
line, and the frigates, under Admiral Gravina, made
their escape, and stood to leeward towards Cadiz. The
five headmost ships of their van tacked, and standing
to the southward, to windward of the British line, were
brought to action, and the sternmost of them taken.
Nineteen ships of the line, with three flag-officers, in¬
cluding the commander in chief, remained in the hands
of the British. Never was there a victory more glori¬
ous or more decisive; never was the pre-eminence of
the British flag more triumphantly conspicuous.
The events subsequent to this memorable battle, and
the losses sustained on either side, having little connec¬
tion with the subject of the present article, need not be
here detailed. They are fresh in the memory of our
readers, and Britain still laments the loss of her immor¬
tal Nelson *sD&
son.
Man-of-WAZ
Plate DXLIV
WAR.
PLATE I)XLl
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WAR [ 633 ] WAR
War
Man-of-JFAR Bird. See Pelicakus, Ornitholo¬
gy Index.
ypmburton. W.iR-Cnj was formerly customary in the armies of
‘—'v most nations, when just upon the point of engaging.
Sometimes they were only tumultuous shouts, or horrid
yells, uttered with an intent to strike terror into their
adversaries j such as is now used by the Indians in Ame¬
rica, called the war-whoop.
WARBLES, a disease of horses. See Farriery In-
dex.
WrARBURTON, William, a learned English bi¬
shop, was descended from an ancient family in Cheshire,
and was the second son of George Warburton, an attor¬
ney at Newark in the county of Nottingham, was born
at Newark, December 24 1698. He was first put to
school there under a MrTwells, but had the chief part
of his education at Okeham in Rutlandshire, where he
continued till the beginning of the year 1714, and soon
after he was put out clerk to an eminent attorney of
Greak Markham in Nottinghamshire, where he conti¬
nued till the year 1719, when he returned to his family
at Newaik ; but whether he practised there or elsewhere
as an attorney, is not known.
He had always expressed a strong inclination to take
orders ; and the love of letters, which tended to retard,
rather than forward, his progress in the profession chosen
for him by his friends, growing every day stronger in
him, it was deemed expedient to give way to that in¬
clination. He therefore devoted himself to the studies
necessary to fit him for the church, and at length in
1723 he was ordained deacon, and priest in 1727.
In 1728 he was presented by Sir Robert Sutton to
the rectory of Brand-Broughton, in the diocese of Lin¬
coln, where he spent the greater part of his life, and
composed all the great works which will carry his fame
down to posterity. In the same year he was put upon
the king’s list of Masters of Aris, erected on his ma¬
jesty’s visit to the university of Cambridge. He had al¬
ready published some juvenile performances, which dis¬
played genius and reading, and attracted considerable
notice ; but it was not till the year 1736 that he may
be said to have emerged from the obscurity of a private
life into the notice of the world.—The first publication
which rendered him afterwards famous now appeared,
under the title of “ The Alliance between Church and
State ; or, the Necessity and Equity of an Established
Religion and a Test Law ; demonstrated from the Es¬
sence and End of Civil Society, upon the fundamental
Principles of the Law of Nature and Nations.” In
uiewo/dhis treatise, says Bishop Horsley *, the author “ hath
(W o/shown the general good policy of an establishment, and
Pnte- the necessity of a Test for its security, upon principles
,n ' which republicans themselves cannot easily deny. His
1.178-.work one °f the finest specimens that are to be found
Lice, perhaps in any language, of scientific reasoning applied
to a political suliject.”
At the close of the Alliance was announced the
scheme of the Divine Legation of Moses, in which he
had then made considerable progress. The first volume
of this work was published in January 1737 8, under
the title of “The Divine Legation of Moses demon¬
strated on the Principles of a religious Deist, from
the Omision of the Doctrine of a future State of Re¬
wards and Punishments in the Jewish Dispensation, in
six books, by William Warburton, M. A. author of
Vol. XX. Part II.
the Alliance between Church and Stateand met W*»-Wt«n,
with a reception which neither the subject, nor the man- 1—
ner in which it was treated, seemed to authorise. It
was, as the author afterwards observed, fallen upon in
so outrageous and brutal a manner as had been scarce
pardonable, bad it been “ The Divine Legation of Ma¬
homet.”—It produced several answers, and so mucli
abuse from the authors of “The Weekly Miscellany,”
that in less than two months he was constrained to de¬
fend himself, in “ A Vindication of the Author of the
Divine Legation of Moses, from the Aspersions of the
Country Clergyman’s Letter in the Weekly Miscellanv
of February 24. 1737-8, 8vo.”
Mr Warburton’s extraordinary merit had now at¬
tracted the notice of the heir apparent to the crown, iit
whose immediate service we find him in June 17:38,
when fie published “ Faith 'working by Charity to
Christian Edification, a Sermon, preached at the last
episcopal Visitation for Confirmation in the Diocese of
Lincoln ; with a Preface, showing the Reason of its
Publication; and a Postscript, occasioned by some Let¬
ters lately published in the Weekly Miscellany; by
William Warburton, M. A. Chaplain to his Royal
Highness the Prince of Wales.”
The “ Essay on Man” had now been published some
years *, and it is universally supposed, that the author
had, in the composition of it, adopted the philosophy of
Lord Bolingbroke, whom, on this occasion, he had fol¬
lowed as his guide, without understanding the tendency
of his principles. In xyjSj M. de Crousaz wrote some .
remarks on it, accusing the author of Spinozism and Na¬
turalism ; which falling into Mr Warburton’s hands, he
published a defence of the first epistle, and soon after of
the remaining three, in seven letters ; of which six were
printed in 1739, and the seventh in June 1740, under
the title of “A Vindication of Mr Pope’s Essay on
Man, by the author of the Divine Legation.” The
opinion which Mr Pope conceived of these defences, as
well as of their author, will be best seen in his letters.
In consequence, a firm friendship was established be¬
tween them, which continued with undiminished fervour
until the death of Mr Pope ; who, during the remainder
of his life, paid a deference and respect to his friend’s
judgment and abilities, which will be considered by
many as almost bordering on servility.
Towards the end of the year 1739, Mr Warburton
published a new and improved edition of the first vo¬
lume of the Divine Legation ; and in 1741, appeared
the second part, which completed the argument, though
not the entire plan of that work. “ A work, says
Bishop Hurd *, in all views of the most transcendant * Life 0f
merit, whether we consider the invention or the ex ecu- Warbution
tion. A plain simple argument, yet perfectly to
proving the divinity of the Mosaic law, and laying a/m
sure foundation for the support of Christianity, is there
drawn out to a great length by a chain of reasoning so
elegantly connected, that the reader is carried along it
with ease and pleasure j while the matter presented to
him is so striking for its own importance, so embellished
by a lively fancy, and illustrated from all quarters by
exquisite learning and the most ingenious disquisition,
that in the whole compass of modern or ancient theolo¬
gy, there is nothing equal or similar to this extraordi¬
nary performance.”
This is the panegyric of a man reflecting with ten-
4 L dent ess
✓
«
W A K
[ 63+ ]
WAR
* Life of
Pope.
Warburton. fTcrness on the memory of his friend and benefactor 5
l—v 1 but it approaches much nearer to the truth than the
censures of those, cabalistic critics, who, fastening upon
some weak part of the Divine Legation, or perhaps
never having looked into it, have ridiculously contended
that the author was far from being eminent as a scho¬
lar, and that his work is inimical to the cause ol Chri¬
stianity ! Putting partiality aside, there is in the Divine
Legation of Moses abundant evidence of the malignant
folly of this charge, as no man can read and understand
that work without being convinced that its author was
a Christian, not only sincere but zealous ; that lie was,
what Johnson calls him*, “ a man of vigorous faculties,
of a mind fervent and vehement, supplied, by unlimited
and incessant inquiry, with a wonderful extent and va¬
riety of knowledge,' which had neither depressed his
imagination nor clouded his perspicuity j and that to
every work, and this work in particular, he brought a
memory full fraught, with a fancy fertile of original
combinations, exerting at once the powers ol the scho¬
lar, the reasoner, and the wit.” But we think it must
be acknowledged, that his learning was too multifarious
to he always exact, and his inquiries, too eagerly pushed
to be always cautious. We have no hesitation, how¬
ever, to say, that to the divine this great work, with all
its imperfections, is, in our opinion, one of the most
valuable that is to he found in any language.
In the summer 1741, Mr Pope and Mr Warhurton,
in a country ramble, took Oxford in their way. J he
university was naturally pleased at the arrival of two
such strangers, and seemed desirous of enrolling their
names among their graduates. U he degree ot D. D.
was intended for the divine, and that ofLL. D. for
the poet: but intrigue and envy defeated this scheme ;
and the university lost the honour of decorating at the
same time the two greatest geniuses of the age, by the
fault of one or two of its members. Pope retired with
some indignation to Twickenham, where he consoled
himself and his friend with this sarcastic reflection—
“ We shall take our degree together in fame, whatever
we do at the university.”
The friendship of this eminent poet was of service to
Mr Warburton in more respects than that of increasing
his fame. He introduced and warmly recommended
him to most of his friends, and among others to Mr
Murray, afterwards earl of Mansfield, and Ralph Al¬
len, Esq. of Prior-park. In consequence of this intro¬
duction, we find Mr Warburton at Bath 17425 where
ke printed a sermon which had been preached at the
Abbey-church on the 24th of October, for the benefit
of Mr Allen’s favourite Charity, the General Hospital
or Infirmary. In this year also he printed a Disserta¬
tion on the origin of hooks of chivalry, at the end of
Jarvis’s Preface to a translation of Don Quixote, which
Mr Pope tells him, he had not got over two para¬
graphs of, before he cried out, Ant Erasmus, aut JJia-
bolus.
In 1742, Mr Warburton published “ A Critical and
Philosophical Commentary on Mr Pope’s Essay on Man,
in which is contained a Vindication of the said Essay
from the Misrepresentation of M. de Resnal, the French
Translator, and of M. de Crousaz, Professor of Philo¬
sophy and Mathematics in the Academy of Lausanne,
the Commentator.” It was at this period, when Mr
Warhurton had the entire confidence of Mr Pope, that
he advised him to complete the Dunciad, by changing
the hero, and adding to it a fourth book. This was u-
accordingly executed in 174^’ ^d published e-aily in
1743, with notes by our author 5 who, in consequence
of it, received his share of the abuse which Mr Cibber
liberally bestowed on both Mr Pope and his annotator.
In the latter end of the same year he published complete
editions of “ The Essay on Man,” and “ The Essay on
Criticism 5” and from the specimen which he there ex¬
hibited of his abilities, it may be presumed Mr Pope de¬
termined to commit the publication ol those noiks
which he should leave to Mr Warburton s care. At
Mr Pope’s desire, he, about this time, revised and cor¬
rected the “ Essay on Homer,” as it now stands in the
last edition ol that translation.
The publication of “ The Dnnciad” was the last ser¬
vice which our author rendered Mr 1 ope in his life time.
After a lingering and tedious illness, the event of which
had been long foreseen, this great poet died on the 3°*h
of Mav 1744 } and by his will, dated the I 2th of the
preceding December, bequeathed to Mr Vi arburton one
half of his library, and the propery of all such of Ins
works already printed as he had not otherwise disposed
of or alienated, and all the profits which should arise
from any edition to be printed after his death : but at
the same time directed that they should be published
without any future alterations.
“In 1744, Mr Warhurton turned his attention to
the several attacks which had been made on the “ Di¬
vine Legation,” and defended himself in a manner
which, if7 it did not prove him to be possessed of much
humility or diffidence, at least demonstrated, that he
knew how to wield the weapons of controversy with the
hand of a master. His first defence now appeared, un¬
der the title of “Remarks on several occasional Reflec¬
tions, in Answer to the Reverend Dr Middleton, Dr
Pocoeke, the Master of the Charter-house, Dr Richard
Grey, and others 5 serving to explain and justify divers-
Passages in the Divine Legation, objected to by those
learned Writers. To which is added, A general Re¬
view of the -Argument of the Divine Legation, as far
as it is yet advanced 5 wherein is considered the Rela¬
tion the several Parts bear to each other and the whole.
Together with an Appendix, in Answer to a late 1 ani-
phlet intitled, An Examination of Mr M ’s second
Proposition.” T. his was followed next year by
marks on several occasional Reflections, in Answer to
the Reverend Doctors Stebbing and Sykes 5 serving t»
explain and justify the Two Dissertations in the Divine
Legation, concerning the command to Abraham to
offer up his Son, and the Nature of the Jewish Xheo-
cracy, objected to by these learned Writers. Iart 1 *
and ’last.” Both these answers are couched m those
high terms of confident superiority, which marked al¬
most every performance that fell from his pen during
the remainder of his life. .
On the 5U1 of September 1745, the friendship e
tween him and Mr Allen was more closely cemented y
his marriage with Miss Tucker, who survived, and i»
now, if alive, Mrs Stafford Smith of Prior-park,
that important crisis our author preached and pub isi
three seasonable sermons: I. “ A faithful lor rai .
Popery, by which it is seen to be the Reverse of Rb -
tianity, as it is the Destruction of Morality, Pie y,a
Civil Liberty. Preached at St James’s, W est™"obJ
ai! 1
 y-
fiivburton,
W A R
t 635 ] WAR
October 1745.” 2. A Sermon occasioned by the pre¬
sent unnatural Rebellion, &c. Preached in Mr A\-
len’s Chapel at Prior park, near Bath, November 1745.”
“ The Nature of National Offences truly stated.—
Preached on the General Fast-day, Dec. 18. 1745-6.”
On account of the last of these sermons, he was again
involved iii a controversy with his former antagonist Dr
Stebbing, which occasioned “ An Apologetical Dedica¬
tion to the Reverend Dr Henry Stebbing, in Answer to
his Censure and Misrepresentations of the Sermon preach¬
ed on the General Fast, &c.
Notwithstanding his great connections, his acknow¬
ledged abilities, and his established reputation, a repu¬
tation founded on the durable basis of learning, and up¬
held by the decent and attentive performance of every
duty incident to his station *, yet we do not find that he
received any addition to the preferments given him in
1728 by Sir Robert Sutton (except the chaplainship to
the prince of Wales), until April 1746, when he was
unanimously called by the Society of Lincoln’s Inn to
be their preacher. In November he published “ A Ser¬
mon preached on the Thanksgiving appointed to be ob¬
served the 9th of October, for the Suppression of the
late unnatural Rebellion.” In 1747 appeared his edi¬
tion of Shakespeare and his Preface to Clarissa ; and in
the same year he published, 1. “ A Letter from an Au¬
thor to a Member of Parliament concerning Literary
Propertv.” 2. “ Preface to Mrs Cockburn’s Remarks
upon the Principles and Reasonings ol Dr Rutherford’s
Essay on the Nature and Obligations of Virtue, &c.”
3. “ Preface to a Critical Inquiry into the Opinions and
Practice of the ancient Philosophers, concerning the
Nature of a Future State, and their Method ol teach¬
ing by double Doctrine,” (by Mr lowne) I747> se*
corn! edition. In 174'8, a third edition of “ The Alli¬
ance between Church and State, corrected and enlar¬
ged.”
“ In 1749, a.very extraordinary attack was made on
the moral character of Mr Pope, from a quarter where
it could be least expected. An insignificant pamphlet,
under the name of A Patriot King, was that year pub¬
lished by Lord Bolingbroke, or by his direction, with
a preface to it, reflecting highly on Mr Pope’s honour.
The provocation was simply this: I he manuscript of
that trivial declamation had been intrusted to the care
of Mr Pope, with the charge (as it was pretended) that
only a certain number of copies should be printed. Mr
Pope, in his excessive admiration of his guide, philoso¬
pher, and friend, took that opportunity, for fear so in¬
valuable a treasure of patriot eloquence should be lost to
the public, to exceed his commission, and to run oft
more copies, which were found, after his death, in the
printer’s warehouse. This charge, however frivolous,
was aggravated beyond measure 5 and, notwithstanding
the proofs which Lord Bolingbroke, had received of
Pope’s devotion to him, envenomed with the utmost ma¬
lignity. Mr Warhurton thought it became him to vin¬
dicate his deceased friend and he did it so ellectually,
as not only to silence his accuser, but to cover him with
confusion
About this time the publication of Dr Middleton’s
Inquiry concerning the miraculous Powers of the Chris¬
tian church, gave rise to a controversy, which was ma¬
naged with great warmth and asperity on both sides, and
not much to the credit ol cither party. On this occa¬
sion Mr W arburton published an excellent performance, Warbiirtou.
written with a degree of candour and temper, which, it1 v  
is to be lamented, he did not always exercise. J he
title of it was “ Julian ; or a Discourse concerning the
Earthquake and fiery Eruption which defeated that
Emperor’s attempt to rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem,
1750.” A second edition of this discourse, “ with Ad¬
ditions,” appeared in 1751, in which year he gave the
public his edition of Mr Pope’s Works, with Notes, in
nine volumes 8vo.; and in the same year printed “An
Answer to a Letter to Dr Middleton, inserted in a
Pamphlet intitled, The Argument of the Divine Lega¬
tion fairly stated,” &c. j and “ An Account of the
Prophecies of Arise Evans, the Welsh Prophet in the
last Century,” annexed to the first volume of Dr Jor-
tin’s Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, which after¬
wards subjected him to much trouble.
In 1752, Mr Warburton published the first volume
of a course of sermons, preached at Lincoln’s Inn, in-
titled, “ The Principles of Natural and Revealed Reli¬
gion, occasionally opened and explained $” and this was
two years afterwards followed by a second. After the
public had been some time promised, it may, from the
alarm which was taken, be almost said threatened with,
the appearance of Lord Bolingbioke’s Works, they were
about this time printed. rlhe known abilities and infi¬
delity of tills nobleman bad created apprehensions in the
minds of many people, of the pernicious eflects of 1m
doctrines j and nothing but the appearance of his whole
force could have convinced his friends, how little there
was to be dreaded from arguments against religion so
weakly supported. Many answers were soon published,
hut none with more acuteness, solidity, and sprightli¬
ness, than “ A view of Lord Bolingbroke’s Philosophy,
in two Letters to a Friend, 1754;” the third and
fourth letters were published in I755> 'V1th another edi¬
tion of the two former ; and in the same year a smaller
edition of the whole j which, though it came info the
world without a name, was universally ascribed to Mr
Warburton, and afterwards publicly owned by him. To
some copies of this is prefixed an excellent complimen¬
tary epistle from the president Montesquieu, dated May
26. 1754-
At this advanced period of his life, that preferment
which his abilities might have claimed, and which had
hitherto been withheld, seemed to be approaching to¬
wards him. In September 1754, he was appointed one
of bis majesty’s chaplains in ordinary ; and in the next
year was presented to a prebend in the cathedral of
Durham. About this time the degree of Doctor of Di¬
vinity tvas conferred on him by Dr Herring, then arch¬
bishop of Canterbury. A new impression of the Di¬
vine Legation being now called tor, he printed a fourth
edition of the first part of it, corrected and enlarged, di¬
vided into two volumes, with a dedication to the earl or
Hardwicke. The same year appeared “ A Sermon
preached before his Grace Charles Duke of Marlbo¬
rough, President, and the Governors of the Hospital
for the Smallpox and for Inoculation, at the laiish-
church of St Andrew, Holhorn, April the 24th, r755*
And in 1756, Natural and Civil Events the Instru¬
ments of God’s Moral Government} a Sermon, preach¬
ed on the last public last-day, at Lincoln s Inn Clia-
pel.”
la 1757, Dr Warburton meeting with Mr Flume’s
4 L 2 tract,
WAR [ 636 ] W A R
W'U'Lui'ton ^ract> entitled, The Natural History of Religion, filled
^  ^ . the margin of the book, as well as some interleaved slips
of paper, with many severe and shrewd remarks on the
infidelity and naturalism of the author. These he put
into the hands of his friend i)r Hurd, who, making a
few alterations of the style, added a short introduction
and conclusion, and published them in a pamphlet, en¬
titled, “ Remarks on Mr David Hume’s Natural Hi¬
story of Religion, by a Gentleman of Cambridge, in a
Letter to the Reverend Dr Warburton.” This lively
attack upon Mr Hume gave him so much offence, that
he thought proper to vent his spleen on the supposed au¬
thor, in the posthumous discourse which he called his
Life; and thus to do greater honour to Dr Hurd than
to any other of his numerous antagonists.
Towards the end of the year J757, Dr Warburton
■was promoted to the deanery of Bristol j and in the be¬
ginning of the year 1760, he was, through Mr Allen’s
interest with Mr Pitt, afterwards earl of Chatham, ad¬
vanced to the bishopric of Gloucester. That great mi¬
nister is known to have declared, “ that nothing of a
private nature, since he had been in office, had given
him so much pleasure as bringing our author on the
bench.” There was, however, another minister, who
dreaded his promotion, and thought he saw a second
Atterbury in the new bishop of Gloucester 5 but War¬
burton, says Bishop Hurd, had neither talents nor incli¬
nation for parliamentary intrigue or parliamentary elo¬
quence : he had other instruments of fame in his hands,
and was infinitely above the vanity of being caught
* Dryden, “ With the fine notion of a busy man*.”
He was consecrated on the 20th of January 1760,
and on the 30th of the same month preached before the
house of lords. In the next year he printed “A Ra¬
tional Account of the Nature and End of the Sacra¬
ment of the Lord’s Supper.” In 1762, he published
“ The Doctrine of Grace j or the Office and Opera¬
tions of the Holy Spirit vindicated from the Insults of
Infidelity and the Abuses of Fanaticism,” 2 vols i2moj
and in the succeeding year drew upon himself much il¬
liberal abuse from some writers of the popular party, on
occasion of his complaint in the house of lords, on the
15th of November 1763, against Mr Wilkes, for put¬
ting his name to certain notes on the infamous “ Essay
on Woman.”
In 1765 he published a new edition of the second
part of the Divine Legation, in three volumes j and as
it had now received his last hand, he presented it to his
great friend Lord Mansfield, in a dedication which de¬
serves to be read by every person who esteems the well¬
being of society as a concern of any importance. It was
the appendix to this edition which produced the well-
known controversy between him and Dr Lowth, which
we have noticed elsewhere (see Lowth), as doing no
great honour, by the mode in which it was conducted,
to either party. In the next year he gave a new and
much improved edition of the Alliance between the
Church and State. This was followed, in 1767, by a
third volume of sermons, to which is added, his first
iriennial Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Glou¬
cester j which may be safely pronounced one of the most
valuable discourses of the kind that is to be found in
our own or any other language. With this publication
Ke closed his literary course y except that he made ap
effort towards publishing, and actually printed, the ninth WmV
and last book of the Divine Legation. This hook, with wlV
one or two occasional sermons, and some valuable direc- 1 r
tions for the study of theology, have been given to the
world in the splendid edition of his works in seven vo¬
lumes 4(0, by his friend and biographer the present bi¬
shop of Worcester. That prelate confesses, that the
ninth book of the Divine Legation displays little of that
vigour of mind and fertility of invention which appear
so conspicuous in the former volumes y but he adds, per¬
haps truly, that under all the disadvantages with which
it appears, it is the noblest effort which has hitherto
been made to give a rationale of Christianity.
While the bishop of Gloucester was thus exerting his
last strength in the cause of religion, he projected a me¬
thod by which he hoped to render it effectual service
after his death. He transferred 500I. to Lord Mans¬
field, Sir Eardley Wilmot, and Mr Cliarles Yorke, up¬
on trust, to found a lecture, in the form of a course of
sermons, to prove the truth of revealed religion in ge-'
neral, and of the Christian in particular, from the com¬
pletion of the prophecies in the Old and New Testa¬
ment, which relate to the ChrEtian church, especially
to the apostasy of Papal Rome. To this foundation we
owe the admirable Introductory Lectures of Hurd, and
the well adapted Continuation of Halifax and Bagot.
It is a melancholy reflection, that a life spent in the
constant pursuit of knowledge, frequently terminates in
the loss of those powers, the cultivation and improve¬
ment of which are attended to with too strict and una¬
bated a degree of ardour. This was the case with Dr
Warburtori; and it seems probable that this decline of
intellectual vigour was aggravated by the loss of his on¬
ly son, a promising young man, who died of a consump¬
tion but a short time before the bishop, who himself re¬
signed to fate in the year 1779, and in the 81st of his
age. A neat marble monument was erected to his me¬
mory in the cathedral of Gloucester.
WARD, Dr Seth, an English prelate, chiefly di¬
stinguished for his knowledge in mathematics and astro¬
nomy, was born at Buntingford in Hertfordshire, about
the year 16x7. He was admitted of Sidney college,
Cambridge, where he applied with great vigour to his
studies, particularly to the mathematics, and was chosen
fellow of his college. He was much involved in the
consequences of the civil war, but soon after the Resto¬
ration obtained the bishopric of Exeter j in 1667, ^ie
was translated to Salisbury y and in 1671 was made
chancellor of the order of the Garter; he was the first
Protestant bishop that enjoyed that honour, and he pro¬
cured it to be annexed to the see of Salisbury. Bishop
Ward was one of those unhappy persons who have the
misfortune to survive their senses, which happened in
consequence of a fever ill cured ; he lived to the Revo¬
lution, without knowing any thing of the matter, and
died in 1690. He was the author of several Latin
works iu mathematics and astronomy, which were
thought excellent in their day; hut their use has been
superseded by later discoveries and the Newtonian phi¬
losophy.
Ward, is variously used in our old books: a ward
in London is a district or division of the city, commit¬
ted to the special charge of one of the aldermen ; and
in London there are 26 wards, according to the num¬
ber of the mayor and aldermen, of which every one hap
WAR [fi37] WAR
Ward h‘s ward for his proper guard and jurisdiction. A fo-t.
|| rest is divided into wards j and a prison is called a ward.
Wardrobe. Lastly, the heir of the king’s tenant, that held in capite,
—W”—'1 was termed a ward during his nonage; hut this ward¬
ship is taken away by the statute 12 Car. II. c. 24.
IFarb-Holding, in Scots Law. See Law, N° clxv.
I. and clxvi. 3.
IFARD-Hook, or TFadd hook, in Gunnery, a rod or
staff, with an iron end turned serpeutwise, or like a
screw, to draw the wadding out of a gun when it is to
be unloaded.
WARDEN, or Guardian, one who has the charge
or keeping of any person, or thing, by office. Such is
the warden of the Fleet, the keeper of the Fleet pri¬
son ; who has the charge of the prisoners there, especi¬
ally such as are committed from the court of chancery
for contempt.
WARDHUYS, a port of Norwegian Lapland, 120
miles south-east of the North Cape. E. Long. 31. 12.
N. Lat. 70. 23.
WARDMOTE, in London, is a court so called,
which is kept in every ward of the city; answering to
the curiata comitia of Rome.
WARDROBE, a closet or little room adjoining to
a bedchamber, serving to dispose and keep a person’s
apparel in ; or for a servant to lodge in, to be at hand
to wait, &c.
Wardrobe, in a prince’s court, is an apartment
wherein his robes, wearing apparel, and other necessa¬
ries, are preserved under the care and direction of pro¬
per officers.
In Britain, the Master or Keeper of the Great JFtard~
robe was an officer of great antiquity and dignity.
High privileges and immunities were conferred on him
by King Henry VI. which were confirmed by his suc¬
cessors ; and King James I. not only enlarged them,
but ordained that this office should be a corporation or
body politic for ever.
It was the duty of this office to provide robes for the
coronations, marriages, and funerals of the royal fami¬
ly ; to furnish the court with hangings, cloths ot state,
carpets, beds, and other necessaries ; to furnish houses
for ambassadors at their first arrival ; cloths of state,
and other furniture, for the lord lieutenant ol Ireland,
'cation's and all his majesty’s ambassadors abroad ; to provide
!'otitical all robes for foreign knights of the garter, robes for the
|r5> knights of the garter at home ; robes and all other fur-
|,U' niture for the officers of the garter ; coats for kings,
I heralds, and pursuivants at arms ; robes for the lords of
the treasury, and chancellor of the exchequer, &c.; li¬
very for the lord chamberlain, grooms of his majesty’s
privy chamber, officer of his majesty’s robes ; for the
two chief justices, tor all the barons of the exchequer,
and several officers of these courts ; all liveries for his
majesty’s servants, as yeomen of the guard, and war¬
dens of the Tower, trumpeters, kettle drummers, and
fifes; the messengers, and all belonging to the stables,
as coachmen, footmen, httermen, postilions, and grooms,
&c. all the king’s coaches, chariots, harnesses, saddles,
bits, bridles, &c. the king’s watermen, game-keepers,
&c. also furniture for the royal yachts, and all rich em¬
broidered tilts, dnd other furniture for the barges.
Besides the master or keeper of the wardrobe, whoi
had a salaiy of 20001. there was his deputy, who had
ijfol. and a. comptroller and a patent clerk, each of
whom had a salary of 300I. Besides many other inle- ’Wardrote,
rior officers and servants, who were all sworn servants Wardship,
to the king. v
There was likewise a removing wardrobe, who had
its own set of officers, and standing wardrobe-keepers at
St James’s, Windsor Ca^le, Hampton Court, Kensing¬
ton, and Somerset House ; but the whole of the ward¬
robe establishment was abolished by act of parliament
in 1782, and the duty of it in future to be done by the
lord chamberlain.
WARDSHIP, in chivalry, one of the incidents of
tenure by knight-service. See Feodal System, Knight
Service, and Tenure. t
Up on the death of a tenant, if the heir was under the
age of 21, being a male, or 14, being a female, the
lord was intitled to the wardship of the heir, and was
called the guardian in chivalry. This wardship con¬
sisted in having the custody of the body and lands of
such heir, without any account of the profits, till the
age of 21 in males, and 16 in females. For the law
supposed the heir-male unable to perform knight-service-
till 21 ; but as for the female, she was supposed capable
at 14 to marry, and then her husband might perform
the service. The lord therefore had no wardship, if at
the death of the ancestor the heir-male was of the full
age of 21, or the heir-female of 14 : yet if she was then
under 14, and the lord once had her in ward, he might
keep her so till 16, by virtue of the statute of Westmin¬
ster, I. 3 Edw. I. c. 22. the two additional years being,
given by the legislature for.no other reason but merely
to benefit tbe lord.
This wardship, so far as it related to land, though it
was not nor. could be part of the law of feuds, so long
as they were arbitrary, temporary, or for life only ; yet
when they became hereditary, and did consequently of-^
ten descend upon infants, who by reason of their age
could neither perform nor stipulate lor the services of
the feud, does not seem upon feudal principles to have
been unreasonable. For the wardship of the land, or
custody of the feud, was retained by the lord, that he
might out of the profits thereof provide a fit person to
supply the infant’s services till he should be of age to
perform them himself. And if we consider a feud in its
original import, as a stipend,, fee, or reward for actual
service, it could not be thought hard that the lord should
withhold tbe stipend so long as the service was suspi-nd-
ed. Though undoubtedly to our English ancestors,
where such stipendarv donation was a. mere supposition
or figment, it carried abundance of hardship; and ac-
cordintrly it was relieved by the charter of Henry I.
which took this custody from the lord, and ordained
that the custody,, both of the land and the children,
should belong to the widow or next of kin. But this
noble immunity did not continue many years.
The wardship of the body was a consequence of the
wardship of the land ; for he who enjoyed the infant’s
estate was the properest person to educate and maintain
him in his infancy : and also in a political view, the
lord was most concerned to give his tenant a suitable
education, in order to qualify him tbe better to perform
those services which in his maturity he was bound to
render.
When the male heir arrived at the age of 21. or the
heir female at that of 16, they might sue out their li¬
very or ousterlemain i that is the delivery of their lands
out-
WAR [6
out of their guardian’s hands. For this they were obli¬
ged to pay a fine, namely, half-a-year’s profits of the
land •, though this seems expressly contrary to magna
charta. However, in consideration of their lands hav¬
ing been so long in ward, they were excused all reliefs,
and the king’s tenants also all primer seisins. In order
to ascertain the profits that arose to the crown by these
fruits of tenure, and to grant the heir his livery, the
itinerant justices, or justices in eyre, had it formerly in
charge to make inquisition concerning them by a jury
of the county, commonly called an inqvisitio post mor¬
tem ; which was.instituted to inquire (at the death of
any man of fortune) the value of his estate, the tenure
by which it was holden, and who, and of what age,
his heir was ; thereby to ascertain the relief and value
of the primer seisin, or the wardship and livery accru¬
ing to the king thereupon. A manner of proceeding
that came in process of time to be greatly abused, and
at length an intolerable grievance ; it being one of the
principal accusations against Empson and Dudley, the
wicked engines of Henry VII. that by colour of false
inquisitions they compelled many persons to sue out li-
xery from the crown, who by no means were tenants
thereunto. And afterwards a court of wards and live¬
ries was erected, for conducting the same inquiries in a
more solemn and legal manner.
When the heir thus came of full age, provided he
held a knight’s fee, he was to receive the order of
knighthood, and was compelled to take it upon him,
or else pay a fine to the king. For in those heroical
times no person was qualified for deeds of arms and chi¬
valry who had not received this order, which was con¬
ferred with much preparation and solemnity. We may
plainly discover the footsteps of a similar custom in what
Tacitus relates of the Germans, who, in order to qua¬
lify their young men to bear arms, presented them in a
full assembly with a shield and lance \ which ceremony
is supposed to have been the original of the feodal
knighthood. This prerogative, of compelling the vas¬
sals to be knighted, or to pay a fine, was expressly re¬
cognised in parliament by the statute de militibus,
i Edw. II. ; was exerted as an expedient for raising
money by many of our best princes, particularly by
Edw. VI. and Queen Elizabeth ; but this was the oc¬
casion of heavy murmurs when exerted by Charles I.;
among whose many misfortunes it was, that neither him¬
self nor his people seemed able to distinguish between
the arbitrary stretch and the legal exertion of preroga¬
tive. However, among the other concessions made by
that unhappy prince before the fatal recourse to arms,
he agreed to divest himself of this undoubted flower of
the crown ; and it was accordingly abolished by statute
36 Car. I. c. 20.
WARE, a town of Hertfordshire, with a market on
Tuesdays, and a fair on the last Tuesday in April, and
Tuesday before St Matthew’s day (Sept. 21.) for horses
and other cattle. It is a large, well frequented town,
seated on the river Lea, 21 miles north of London, and
contained 3369 inhabitants in 181 r. It carries on a
great trade in malt and corn, which they are continual¬
ly sending in large quantities to London. E. Long,
o. 3. N. Lat. 51. 50.
WARN, in Law, is to summon a person to appear
in a court of justice.
8 ]
WAR
WARNING of Tenants, in Scots Law. See Law, W;
I!
Warran 1
N° clxvii. 16.
WARP, in the manufactures, a name for the
threads, whether of silk, wool, linen, hemp, &c. that
are extended lengthwise on the weaver’s loom j and
across which the workman, by means of his shuttle, pas¬
ses the threads of the woof, to form a cloth, ribband,
fustian, or the like.
Warp, a small rope employed occasionally to remove
a ship from one place to another, in a port, road, or ri¬
ver. And hence,
To Warp, is to change the situation of a ship, by
pulling her from one part of a harbour, &c. to some
other, by means of warps, which are attached to buoys j
to anchors sunk in the bottom j or to certain stations
upon the shore, as posts, rings, trees, &c. The ship is
accordingly drawn forwards to those stations, either by
pulling on the warps by hand, or by the application of
some purchase, as a tackle, windlass, er capstern, upon
her deck.
When this operation is performed by the ship’s lesser
anchors, these machines, together with their warps, are
carried out in the boats alternately towards the place
where the ship is endeavouring to arrive : so that when
she is drawn up close to one anchor, the other is carried
out to a competent distance before her, and being sunk,
serves to fix the other warp, by which she is farther ad¬
vanced.
Warping is generally used when the sails are unbent,
or when they cannot be successfully employed, which
may either arise from the unfavourable state of the wind,
the opposition of the tide, or the narrow limits of the
channel.
WARRANDICE, in Scots Law. See Law, N°
cxliv. II.
WARRANT, is a power and charge to a constable
or other officer to apprehend a person accused of any
crime. It may be issued in extraordinary cases by the
privy council, or secretaries of state 5 but most com¬
monly it is issued by justices of the peace. This they
may do in any cases where they have a jurisdiction over
the offence, in order to compel the person accused to
appear before them *, for it would be absurd to give
them power to examine an offender, unless they had also
power to compel him to attend and submit to such exa¬
mination. And this extends to all treasons, felonies,
and breaches of the peace j and also to all such offences >0i jTi
as they have power to punish by statute. Before thep. 290.
granting of the warrant, it is fitting to examine upon
oath the party requiring it, as well as to ascertain that
there is a felony or other crime actually committed,
without which no warrant should be granted; as also to
prove the cause and probability of suspecting the party
against whom the warrant is prayed.
This warrant ought to be under the hand and seal of
the justice; should set forth the time and place ot mak-
and the cause for which it is made ; and should be
ing
directed to the constable or other peace officer, or it
may be to any private person by name. A general war¬
rant to apprehend all persons suspected, without naming
or particularly describing any person in special, is ille¬
gal and void for its uncertainty ; for it is the duty of the
magistrate, and ought not to be left to the officer, to
judge of the ground of suspicion. Also a warrant to ap-
4 prehend
WAR [ 639 ] WAR
. nrehen(1 all persons irmlty of such a crime, is no leiral
Warrant 1 1 , . J 1 • 1 , 0
|| warrant •, lor the point upon which its authority rests,
Warren, is a fact to he decided on a subsequent trial ; namely,
whether the person apprehended thereupon be guilty or
not guilty. When a warrant is received by the officer,
he is bound to execute it, so far as the jurisdiction ot
the magistrate and himself extends. A warrant from
anv of the justices of the court of king’s bench extends
over all the kingdom, and is tested or dated England:
but a warrant of a justice of the peace in one county,
must be backed, that is, signed, by a justice of another
county, before it can be executed there. And a war¬
rant for apprehending an English or a Scotch offender,
may be indorsed in the opposite kingdom, and the of*
fender carried back to that part of the united kingdom
in which the offence was committed.
WARRANTY, Warrantia, in Law, a promise,
or covenant by deed, made by the bargainer for him¬
self and his heirs, to warrant and secure the bargainee
and his heirs, against all men, fcr enjoying the thing
agreed on or granted between them.
WARREN,Sir Peter, an admiral, distinguished by
his virtue, learning, and undaunted courage, was descend¬
ed from an ancient family in Ireland, and received a
suitable education to qualify him for a command in the
royal navy, in which he served for several years with
great reputation \ but the transaction which placed his
great abilities in their full light, was the taking of
Louisbourg in the year 1745, when he was appointed
commodore of the British squadron sent on that service.
He joined the fleet of transports from Boston in Canso
bay on the 25th of April, having under his command
the Superb of 60, and the Launceston and Eitham of
40 guns he was afterwards joined by several other
men of war sent from England, and took possession of
Louisbourg on the 17th of June. The French, exasper¬
ated at this loss, were constantly on the watch tor*etake
it; and in 1747 fitted out a large fleet for that purpose,
and at the same time another squadron to prosecute their
success in the East Indies. These squadrons sailed at
the same time ; but the views of the French were ren¬
dered abortive by the gallant Admiral Anson and Sir
Peter Warren, who had been created rear-admiral, who
with a large fleet of ships fell in with the I* rencb, de¬
feated the whole fleet, and took the greatest part of the
men of war. This was the last service Sir Peter render¬
ed to his country as a commander in the British fleet ;
for a peace being concluded in the succeeding year, the
fleet was laid up in the several harbours.
He was now chosen one of the representatives in par¬
liament for Westminster ; and in the midst of his popu¬
larity he paid a visit to Ireland, his native country,
where he died of an inflammatory fever in i752> s‘n"
cerely lamented by all ranks of people ; and an elegant
monument of white marble was erected to his memory
in Westminster abbey.
Warren, is a franchise or place privileged by pre¬
scription or grant from the king, for the keeping of
beasts and fowls of the warren ; which are hares and
coneys, partridges,pheasants, and some add quails, wood¬
cocks, and water-fowl, &c. These hEmg fence natures,
every one had a natural right to kill as he could : but
upon the introduction of the forest laws at the Norman
conquest, these animals being looked upon as royal game,
and the sole property of our savage monarchs, this fran¬
chise of free-warren was invented to protect them, by
giving the grantee a sole and exclusive power of killing Warren
such game, so far as his warren extended, on condition [|
of his preventing other persons. A man therefore that Warwick..
has the franchise of warren, is in reality no more than ^
a royal game-keeper : but no man, not even a lord of a
manor, could by common law justify sporting on ano¬
ther’s soil, or even on his own, unless he had the liber¬
ty of free-warren. This franchise is almost fallen into
disregard since the new statutes for preserving the
game ; the name being now chiefly preserved in grounds
that are set apart for breeding hares and rabbits. There
are many instances of keen sportsmen in ancient times,
who have sold their estates, and reserved the free-war¬
ren, or right of killing game, to themselves : by which
means it comes to pass that a man and his heirs have
sometimes free-warren over another’s ground.
A warren may lie open ; and there is no necessity of
inclosing it as there is of a park. If any person offend
in a free warren, he is punishable by the common law,
and by statute 21 Edw. III. And if any one enter
wrongfully into any warren, and chase, take, or kill,,
any coneys without the consent of the owner, he shall
forfeit treble damage, and suffer three months impri¬
sonment, &c. by 22 and 23 Car. II. c. 25. When
coneys are on the soil of the party, he hath a property
in them by reason of the possession, and action lies for
killing them ; but if they run out of the warren and
eat up a neighbour’s corn, the owner of the land may
kill them, and no action will lie.
WARSAW, a large city, capital of the province of
Masovia, and of the ancient, as well as the revived king¬
dom of Poland. It is built partly in a plain, and partly
on a gentle ascent rising from the banks of the Vistula,
which is about as broad as the Thames at Westmin¬
ster, but very shallow in summer. This city and its
suburbs occupy a vast extent of ground, and contained
in 1797, 70,000 inhabitants, among whom is a great
number of foreigners. The whole has a melancholy
appearance, exhibiting the strong contrast of wealth
and poverty, luxury and distress. The streets are spa¬
cious, but ill paved ; the churches and public buildings,
and the palaces of the nobility are numerous and splen¬
did ; but the greatest part of the houses are mean and
ill constructed wooden hovels.—At the final division of
Poland in 1795, Warsaw fell to the share of Prussia,
but was ceded by her to Bonaparte at the peace of Til¬
sit 1807 i and on the overthrow of the French power,
was assigned to Russia, with the territory named the
duchy of Warsaw, which has since taken the name of
the kingdom of Poland. E. Long. 21. 6. N. Lat. 52.
14.
WARWICK, the capital of Warwickshire in Eng¬
land, and from which this county derives its name. It
is very ancient, and supposed by Camden to be the place
called by the Romans Prcesidium, where the Dalmatian
horse were posted. It stands on a rock of freestone, of
which all the public edifices in the town are built. At
the Norman invasion it was a considerable place ; and
had many burgesses, of whom 12 were obliged by their
tenure to accompany the king in his wars. It is sup¬
plied with water brought in pipes from springs half a
mile from the town, besides what it derives from the
wells within it made in the rock: and it is easily kept
clean, by being situated upon a declivity. Four streets,
from the four cardinal points of the compass, meet in the
centre of the town. The principal public buildings are
• St •
*
WAR
Warwick, St Mary’s, a very stately edifice, an Hospital, a town-
Warwick- House of freestone, three charity schools, and a noble
shire. bridge over the Avon. It has had several charters5 hut
" v is governed at present by a mayor, 12 brethren, 24 bur¬
gesses, &c. It contained 6497 inhabitants in 1811 ;
and gives title of earl to the family of the Greviiles.
W. Long. 1. 36. N. Lat. 52. 20.
WARWICKSHIRE, a county of England, 47
miles in length, by 30 in breadth. It is bounded at its
northern extremity by a point of Derbyshire ; on the
north-west by Staffordshire j on the north-east by Lei¬
cestershire j on the east by Northamptonshire j on the
south-west by Gloucestershire, and on the south-east by
Oxfordshire. It is situated partly in the diocese of
Litchfield and Coventry, and partly in that of Wor¬
cester; it contains four hundreds, and one liberty, one
city, 12 market towns, 158 parishes; sends six mem¬
bers to parliament, and the population in 1811 amounted
10228,735. The air is mild, pleasant, and healthy. The
river Avon divides the north part of it, or the Wood¬
lands, from the south, called the Feldon; and the soil of
both is rich and fertile. Its productions are corn, malt,
wood, wool, cheese, coal, iron, and limestone. The
chief rivers of this county are the Avon, Tame, and
Arrow. Warwick is the capital ; but Birmingham is
far superior to it in respect of trade and manufactures,
and even to any other town in England.
Birmingham, in this county, of which the account
given in the order of the alphabet is very deficient, is
one of the most remarkable towns in England, or per¬
haps in Europe, for the extent, variety, elegance, and
utility of its manufactures. This town was little dis-
stinguished previous to the reign of Charles II. but
since that period it continued to increase in extent and
importance. In the year 1700, the number of streets
in Birmingham was only 30 ; they are now nearly 250.
In the year 1779 there were only three houses on a par¬
ticular spot, which in 1791 contained 833.
Birmingham owes its prosperity and population to its
manufactures, which are in a great measuiethe conse¬
quence of its vicinity to coal, aided by the spirited and
industrious exertions of a few individuals. It has been
stated, and no doubt with great truth, that its prosperity
is in no small degree indebted to its exemption from the
restrictions of borough and corporate laws. To give
some notion of the progress and extent of the manufac¬
tures of this place, it may be mentioned that the late
Mr Taylor, who introducted gilt buttons, japanned,
gilt, and painted snuff boxes, with various articles of
manufacture in enamel, died in I775» at ^ie aSe ^4»
having amassed a fortune of 200,000!. In painting
snuft'-boxes at so low a rate as one farthing each, one man
could gain 3I. 10s. per week. The weekly produce of
Mr Taylor’s manufacture of buttons amounted to 800I.
beside many other valuable and curious productions.
The manufactory of Messrs Boultop and Watt,
which for its extent, variety, and importance, stands
unrivalled in Europe, has been already noticed under
the word Soho. The new coinage of copper, whic h is
so often deservedly admired, and the re-stamped dollars,
are the productions of the Soho manufactory. The
first coining mill was erected at Soho in 1783. It is
now so much improved, that eight machines driven by
the steam engine, are going on at the same time. Each
of those machines strikes from 70 to 84 pieces of the
5
WAS
size of a guinea per minute, and hence the whole eight Warwi'c •
machines work off in one hour between 30,000 and shire
40,000 coins. The different processes of the machinery 11,
are, 1. Rolling the masses of copper into sheets. 2. Roll-
ing them through cylindrical steel rollers. 3. Clipping i
the pieces of copper for the dye. 4. Shaking the coin
in bags. 5. Striking both sides of the coin, and then
milling it; after which it is displaced, and another is
introduced, to be subjected to the same operation. But
the most extraordinary contrivance of this ingenious
machinery is, that a precise account of every coin which
passes through it is regularly kept, so that it is impos¬
sible to practise fraud.
Beside the branches of industry already mentioned,
there are manufactories of guns, bayonets, and swords,
of sporting guns, of whips, of japan ware, of numerous
works in brass and steel, both for ornament and use,
and at one time of leather to a considerable extent.
Birmingham contains a museum of natural and arti¬
ficial curiosities, a handsome theatre, rebuilt since 1791,
several churches belonging to the establishment, various
dissenting meeting houses, and a number of charitable
establishments. By means of canals Birmingham has
the advantage of easy communication with almost every
part of the kingdom. See Warwickshire, Supple¬
ment.
WASH, among distillers, the fermentable liquor
used by malt distillers. See Brewery.
WASHING, in Painting, is when a design, drawn
with a pen or crayon, has some one colour laid over it
with a pencil, as Indian ink, bistre, or the like, to make
it appear the more natural, by adding the shadow of
prominences, apertures, &c. and by imitating the par¬
ticular matters whereof the thing is supposed to consist.
Thus a pale red is employed to imitate brick and
tile ; a pale Indian blue, to imitate water and slate ;
green, for trees and meadows; saffron or French berries,
for eold or brass ; and several colours for marbles.
Washing of Ores, the separation of the ores of me¬
tals, by means of water, from earths and stones, which
would otherwise render it difficult of fusion. See Ores,
Reduction of.
WASHINGTON, a city of North America, and
now the metropolis of the United States. It is seat¬
ed at the junction of the rivers Potomac and the East¬
ern Branch, extending about four miles up each, in¬
cluding a tract of territory scarcely to be exceeded, 111
point of convenience, salubrity, and beauty, by any in
the world. This territory, which is called Columbia,
lies partly in Virginia, and partly in Maryland, and
was ceded by those two states to the Republic ; it was
placed under the immediate government of Congress,
and established as the seat of government in the year
1800. It is divided into squares or grand divisions, by
streets running due north and south, and east and west,
which form the ground-work of the plan. However, from
the Capitol, the president’s house, and some of the im¬
portant areas in the city, run diagonal streets, from one
material object to another, which not only produce a va¬
riety of charming prospects, but remove theinsipid same¬
ness which renders some other great cities unpleasing.
The great leading streets are ail 160 feet wide, including
a pavement of 10feet, and a gravel walk of 30 feet plant¬
ed with trees on each side, which will leave 80 feet of
paved street for carriages. The vest of the streets are in
general
f 640 ]
*
WAS t 641 ] WAS
Wasliiii'r- general no feet wide, with a few only 90 feet, except
ton. North, South, and East Capitol Streets, which are 160
feet. The diagonal streets are named after the respec¬
tive states composing the Union, while those running
north and south are, from the Capitol eastward, nametl
East First Street, East Second Street, &c. The squares
or divisions of the city amount to 1150. The rectangu¬
lar squares generally contain from three to six acres,
and are divided into lots of from 40 to 80 feet in front,
and their depth from about 110 to 300 feet, according
to the size of the square. All the houses must he of
brick or stone. The Capitol (or house lor the le¬
gislative bodies) is situated upon the most beautiful
eminence in the city, about a mile from the Eastern
Branch, and not much more from the Potomac, com¬
manding a full view ot every part ot the city, as well
as a considerable extent of the country around. It is
not yet finished (1818), but is allowed to be a magni¬
ficent structure. Its front extends 650 feet in length,
with a colonnade of 260 feet. The height of the dome
is 1 50 feet. The president’s house stands upon a
rising ground, not tar from the banks of the Potomac,
possessing also a delightful prospect. By the Potomac,
vessels of considerable burden come out to Washington ;
and, by means ol short canals at the ialls, this river
with its branches is open for some hundred miles above
the town to boat navigation. Washington, however,
has not advanced so rapidly as was expected. In
1818, according to Mr Fearon, it contained only about
9000 inhabitants, or 15,000, including Georgetown.
The lines which have received the name ol streets, are
in general only marked by a slight trace, or by rows
of poplars; and altogether it presents the appearance
of straggling houses irregularly scattered over an open
field.
In 1814 Washington was taken by a British force
of 6^00 men ; who abandoned the town the following
day, after having set fire to the capitol, president’s
house, navy yard, and wooden-bridge over the river.
The loss sustained by the Americans in the buccaneer¬
ing expedition was estimated at 1,031,000 dollars.
IV aSHINGTON, George, the celebrated commander of
the American army, and the first president of the Uni¬
ted States, after their separation from the mother-coun¬
try, was born in the year .1732, in the parish of Wash¬
ington in Virginia. He was descended from an ancient
family in Cheshire, ol which a branch was established
in Virginia about the middle of the 17th century. Tit¬
tle is known concerning his education, or the early
years of his hie. Before he was 20 years of age, he
was appointed a major in the colonial militia, and had
then an opportunity of displaying those military and po¬
litical talents which have since rendered his name so ta-
mous throughout the world. In the disputes which
arose between the French and English officers, about
settling the limits of Canada and Touisiana, Major
Washington was employed by the governor ol S irginia
as a negotiator, and he succeeded in preventing a threat¬
ened invasion of the English frontiers by tbe French
and their Indian allies ; hut, in the following year,
when hostilities seemed inevitable, lie was appointed
lieutenant-colonel, and soon alter to the command of a
regiment raised by tbe colony for its own defence. In
1755, Colonel Washington served as a volunteer in the
unfortunate expedition ot General Braddotk, and in that
Vol. XX. Part. II. t
expedition, which was attended with great difficulty,
he exhibited so much calmness and intrepidity, that the
utmost confidence was reposed in his talents, and per¬
fect obedience paid to his commands by tbe whole ar-
mv. After having been employed in a different and
more successful expedition, to the river Ohio, the state
of his health required him, about the year I75^» t0 re‘
sign his military situation ; and in the sixteen following
years, during which period he married Mrs Custis, a
Virginian lady, of amiable character and respectable
connections, it would appear that he resided chiefly at
his beautiful seat of Mount Vernon, and was occupied
in the cultivation of his estate.
When the disaffection of the Americans to the British
government had become pretty general, and had at last
spread to the colony of Virginia, Colonel Washington
was appointed a delegate from that state to the congress
which met at Philadelphia on the 26th October i774>
and soon after he was appointed to the command of the
American army, which had assembled in the, provinces
of New England. The conduct of Washington during
the whole of the war, as well as during the period that
he presided in the government of the United States, lias
been so fully detailed in another part ot this work, that
it would be unnecessary repetition, even to give a ge¬
neral outline of it in this place. See America.
Washington resigned the presidency in 1796, after
having published a farewell address to his countrymen.
This address was remarkably distinguished for the sim¬
plicity and ingenuousness, moderation and sobriety, the
good sense, prudence and honesty, as well as sincere af¬
fection for his country and for mankind, which the au¬
thor of it had always exhibited; it seemed to be a perfect
picture of his whole life. From the time of his resigna¬
tion till the month of July 1798, he lived in retirement
at his seat of Mount Vernon. At this period, when the
unprincipled actors in the French revolution were carry¬
ing on their wicked machinations in every part of the
world to which their influence extended, the United
States resolved to arm by land and sea in their own de¬
fence. General Washington was called from bis re¬
tirement, and the command of the army was bestowed
upon him. This he accepted, because he considered, as
he himself expressed it, “every thing we hold dear and
sacred was seriously threatened, although he had flatter¬
ed himself that he had quitted for ever the boundless
field of public action, incessant trouble, and high respon¬
sibility, in which he had long acted so conspicuous a
part.” In this situation he continued during the remain¬
ing short period of his life. On Thursday the 12th of
December 1799, he was seized with an inflammation in
the throat, and was carried oft on Saturday the 14th of
the same month, in the 68th year of his age. In his
dying moments he displayed the same calmness, simpli¬
city, and regularity, which had uniformly marked his
conduct through life. He saw the approaches of death
without fear ; and he met them without parade. Even
the perfectly well ordered state of the minutest particu¬
lars of his private business bears the stamp ot that con¬
stant authority of prudence and practical reason over
bis actions which was always the most prominent feature
of his character. '
Washington is the name of many counties, towns,
and villages in the American states ; a circumstance
which affords a striking proof in what degree of esteem
4 M and
Washing¬
ton.
WAT [ 642 ] WAT
Washing- and veneration the name from which they are derived
ton was held by the inhabitants of the new world.
II WASP. Se' X7zspa, Entomology Index.
, ^ atcll‘ , WATCH, in the art of war, a number of men post¬
ed at any passage, or a company of the guards who go
on the patrole.
Watch, in the navy, the space of time wherein one
division of a ship’s crew remains upon deck, to perform
the necessary services, whilst the rest are relieved from
duty, either when the vessel is under sail or at anchor.
The length of the sea-watch is not equal in the ship¬
ping of different nations. Lt is always kept four hours
by our British seamen, if we except the dog-watch, be¬
tween four and eight in the evening, that contains two
reliefs, each of which are only two hours on deck. The
intent of this is to change the period of the night-watch
every 24 hours ; so that the party watching from eight
till 12 in one night, shall watch from midnight till four
in the morning on the succeeding one. In France the
duration of the watch is extremely different, being in
some places six hours, and in others seven or eight; and
in Turkey and Barbary it is usually five or six hours.
A ship’s company is usually classed into two parties ;
one of which is called the starboard and the other the
larboard watch. It is, however, occasionally separated
into three divisions, as in a road or in particular voyages.
In a ship of war the watch is generally commanded
by a lieutenant, and in merchant ships by one of the
mates j so that if there are four mates in the latter, there
are two in each watch 5 the first and third being in the
larboard, and the second and fourth in the starboard
watch : but in the navy, the officers who command the
watch usually divide themselves into three parties, in
order to lighten their duty.
Watch, is also used for a small portable movement,
or machine, for the measuring of time j having its mo¬
tion regulated hy a spiral spring.
Watches, strictly taken, are all such movements as
show the parts of time ; as clocks are such as publish it,
by striking on a bell, &c. But commonly the name
watch is appropriated to such as are carried in the
pocket ; and clock to the large movements, whether they
strike the hour or not. See Clock.
The invention of spring or pocket watches belongs to
the present age. It is true, we find mention made of a
watch presented to Charles V. in the history of that
prince : but this, in all probability, was no more than
a kind of clock to be set on a table, some resemblance
whereof we have still remaining in the ancient pieces
made before the year 1670. There-was also a story of
a watch having been discovered in Scotland belonging
to King Robert Bruce ; but this we believe has turned
out altogether apocryphal. The glory of this very use¬
ful invention lies between Dr Hooke and M. Huygens ;
but to which of them it properly belongs, has been
greatly disputed •, the English ascribing it to the former,
and the French, Dutch, &c. to the latter. Mr Derham
in his Artificial Clockmaker, says roundly, that Dr
Hooke was the inventor ; and adds, that he contrived
various ways of regulation. One way was with a load¬
stone : Another with a tender straight spring, one end
whereof played backwards and forwards with the ba¬
lance •, so that the balance was to the spring as the bob
to a pendulum, and the spring as the rod thereof: A
third method was with two balances, of which there
2
were divers sorts j some having a spiral spring to the ha- Watc v
lance for a regulator, and others without. But the way l——y—
that prevailed, and which continues in mode, rvas with
one balance, and one spring running round the upper
part of the verge thereof: Though this has a disadvan-
tage, ,„jich those with two springs, &c. were free from j
in that a sudden jerk, or confused shake, will alter its
vibrations, and put it in an unusual hurry.
The time of these inventions was about the year
1658 j as appears among other evidences, from an in¬
scription on one of the double balance watches presented
to King Charles II. viz. Rob. Hooke inven. 1658. T.
Tompion fecit, 1675. The invention presently got into
reputation, both at home and abroad j and two of them
were sent for by the dauphin of France. Soon after this
M. Huygens’s watch with a spiral spring got abroad,
and made a great noise in England, as if the longitude
could be found by it. It is certain, however, that his
invention was later than the year 1673, when his book
de Horol. Oscillat. wras published 5 wherein he has not
one word of this, though he has of several other contri¬
vances in the same way.
One of these the lord Brouncker sent for out of
France, where M. Huygens had got a patent for them.
This watch agreed with Dr Hooke’s in the application
of the spring to the balance } only M. Huygens’s had a
longer spiral spring, and the pulses and beats were much
slower. The balance, instead of turning quite round, as
Dr Hooke’s, turns several rounds every vibration.
Mr Dei ham suggests, that he has reason to doubt M.
Huygens’s fancy first was set to W'ork bv some intelli¬
gence he might have of Dr Hooke’s invention from Mr
Oldenburgh, or some other of his correspondents in Eng*
land 5 and this, notwithstanding Mr Oldenburgh’s at¬
tempt to vindicate himself in the Philosophical Iransac-
tions, appears to be the truth. Huygens invented divers
other kinds of watches, some of them without any string
or chain at all j which he called, particularly,
watches.
Striking JFatches are such as, besides the proper
watch-part for measuring of time, have a clock part fox-
striking the hours, &c.
Repeating JFatches, are such as by pulling a string,
&c. repeat the hour, quarter, or minute, at any time of
the day or night.— This repetition was the invention of
Mr Barlow, and first put in practice by him in larger
movements or clocks about the year 1676. The con¬
trivance immediately set the other artists to work, who
soon contrived divers ways of eflectmg the same. But
its application to pocket-watches was not known before
King James II.’s reign j when the ingenious inventor
above mentioned, having directed Mr Ihompson to
make a repeating watch, was soliciting a patent for
the same. The U.lk of a patent engaged Mr Quare
to resume the thoughts of a like contrivance, which
he had had in view some years before : he now ef¬
fected it ; and being pressed to endeavour to prevent
Mr Barlow’s patent, a watch of each kind was produced
before tbe king and council •, upon trial of which, the
preference was given to Mr Quare’s. Ihe difference
between them was, that Barlow’s was made to repeat
by pushing in two pieces on each side the watch-box
one of which repeated the hour, and the other the quar¬
ter : whereas Quare’s was made to repeat by a pin that
struck out near the pendant, which being thrust in (a*
now
WAT [ 643 ] W A T
Watch ilow ^ ^one hY tltftisting ia the pendant itself), re-
u—y—^ peated both the hour and quarter with the same thrust.
Of the Mechanism of a Watch, properly so called.
Watches, as well as clocks, are composed of wheels and
pinions, and a regulator to direct the quickness or slow¬
ness of the wheels, and of a spring which communicates
motion to the whole machine. But the regulator and
spring of a watch are vastly inferior to the weight and
Plate pendulum of a clock, neither of which can be employed
DLXXI. in watches. In place of a pendulum, therefore, we are
Fb. 1. obliged to use a balance (fig. 1.) to regulate the motion
t'ij. 2. of a watch j and a spring (fig. 2.) which serves in place
of a weight, to give motion to the wheels and balance.
The wheels of a watch, like those of a clock, are
placed in a frame formed of two plates and four pillars,
fig. 3. Fig. 3. represents the inside of a watch, after the plate
‘g- 4- (fig. 4.) is taken off. A is the barrel which contains the
spring (fig. 2.) j the chain is rolled about the barrel,
with one end of it fixed to the barrel A (fig. 5.), and
! ® the other to the fusee B.
When a watch is wound up, the chain which was up¬
on the barrel winds about the fusee, and by this means
the spring is stretched 3 for the interior end of the spring
is fixed by a hook to the immoveable axis, about which
the barrel revolves 3 the exterior end of the spring is
fixed to the inside of the barrel, which turns upon an
axis. It is therefore easy to perceive how the spring
extends itself, and how its elasticity forces the barrel to
turn round, and consequently obliges the chain which is
upon the fusee to unfold and turn the fusee 3 the motion
of the fusee is communicated to the wheel C (fig. 5.) ;
then, by means of the teeth, to the pinion c, which car¬
ries the wheel D 3 then to the piston d, which carries
the wheel E : then to the pinion e, which carries the
wheel F 3 then to the point f upon which is the ba¬
lance-wheel G, whose pivot runs in the pieces A called
the potance, and B called a. follower, which are fixed on
the plate fig. 4. This plate, of which only a part is
represented, is applied to that of fig. 3. in such a manner
that the pivots of the wheels enter into holes made in
the plate fig. 3. Thus the impressed force of the spring
is communicated to the wheels : and the pinion jTbeing
then connected to the wheel F, obliges it to turn (fig.
5.). This wheel acts upon the palettes of the verge,
1, 2, (fig. 1.), the axis of which carries the balance
HH, (fig. I.). The pivot I, in the end of the verge,
(enters into the hole c in the potance A (fig. 4O’
this figure the palettes are represented 3 but the balance
is on the other side of the plates, as may be seen
.5. in fig. 6. The pivot 3 of the balance enters into a hole
1.-. of the cock BC (fig. 7.), a perspective view of which
,5, is represented in fig. 8. Thus the balance turns be¬
tween the cock and the potance c (fig. 4 )) as *n a k*nd
of cage. The action of the balance wheel upon the
palettes 1, 2, (fig. 1.), is the same with what we have
described with regard to the same wheel in the clock 3
i.e. in a watch, the balance-wheel obliges the balance
to vibrate backwards and forwards like a pendulum.
At each vibration of the balance a palette allows a tooth
■of the balance-wheel to escape 3 so that the quickness
of the motion of the wheels is entirely determined by
the quickness of the vibrations of the balance 3 and these
vibrations of the balance and motion of the wheels are
produced by the action of the spring.
But the quickness or slowness of the vibrations of the
balance depend not solely upon the action of the great ^ atcil'
spring, but chiefly upon the action of the spring a, b, c,
called the spiral spring (fig. 9.), situated under the ba- Fig. 9.
lance H, and represented in perspective (fig. 6.). I be
exterior end of the spiral is fixed to the pin a, (fig. pO*
This pin is applied near the plate in a, (fig. 6.) 3 the
interior end of the spiral is fixed by a peg to the centre
of the balance. Hence if the balance is turned upon
itself, the plates remaining immoveable, the spring will
extend itself, and make the balance perform one revo¬
lution. Now, after the spiral is thus extended, if the
balance be left to itself, the elasticity of the spiral will
bring back the balance^ and in this manner the alter¬
nate vibrations of the balance are produced.
In fig. 5. all the wheels above described are repre¬
sented in such a manner, that you may easily perceive
at first sight how the motion is communicated from the
barrel to the balance.
In fig. 10. are represented the wheels under the dial- rig. IO,
plate by which the hands are moved. The pinion a is
adjusted to the force of the prolonged pivot of the wheel
D (fig. 5.), and is called a cannon pinion. This wheel
revolves in an hour. The end of the axis of the pinion
a, upon which the minute-hand is fixed, is square 3 the
pinion (fig. 10.) is indented into the wheel b, which is
carried by the pinion a. Fig. 11. is a wheel fixed upon Fig. it.
a barrel, "into the cavity of which the pinion a enters,
and upon which it turns freely. This wheel revolves in
12 hours, and carries along with it the hour-hand, lor
a full account of the principles upon which watches and
all time-keepers are constructed, we must refer our read¬
ers to a short treatise, entitled Thoughts on the Means
of improving Watches, by Thomas Mudge.
WaTCH-Glasses, in a ship, are glasses employed to
measure the period of the watch, or to divide it into any
number of equal parts, as hours, half-hours, &c. so that
the several stations therein may be regularly kept and
relieved, as at the helm, pump, look-out, &c.
Wa TCH- Work. There is one part of the movements
of clocks and watches of which we have yet given no
particular account. This is the method of applying the
maintaining power of the wheels to the regulator of the
motions, so as not to injure its power of regulation.
This part of the construction is called Scapement, and
falls to be described under the present article, to which
we have referred from Scapement. r
The motions of a clock or watch are regulated by Objects
a pendulum or balance, without which check the wheels
impelled by the weight in the clock, or spring in the niL 1
watch, would run round with a rapidly accelerating mo¬
tion, till this should be rendered uniform by friction,
and the resistance of the air. If, however, a pendulum
or balance be put in the way of this motion, in such a
manner that only one tooth of a wheel can pass, the re¬
volution of the wheels will depend on the vibration of
the pendulum or balance.
We cannot here enter on an historical account of the
improvements that have been made on the regulating
powers of clocks and watches, nor can we detail the
principles on which their action depends. It will be
sufficient here to notice the most simple construction of
scapements, and then to describe two or three of the
most improved constructions that have been applied to
time-keepers.
We know that the motion of a pendulum or balance
4 M 2 i«
Watch.
2
Best ordi¬
nary scape-
men t for
clocks.
Fig. 12.
3
"Vibrations
of pendu¬
lums are
isochron¬
ous.
WAT. [ 644 ]
WAT
is alternate, while the pressure of the wheels is con¬
stantly exerted in the same direction. Hence it is evi¬
dent that some means must be employed to accommo¬
date t hese different motions to each other. Now, when
a tooth of the wheel has given the pendulum or balance
a motion in one direction, it must quit it, that the pen¬
dulum or balance may receive an impulsion in the op¬
posite direction. This escape of the tooth has given
rise to the term scapemcnt.
The ordinary scapement is extremely simple, and
may be thus illustrated. Let .vy,fig. 12. Plate DLXXI.
represent a horizontal axis, to which the pendulum p is
attached by a slender rod. This axis has two leaves
c and d, one near each end, and not in the same plane,
hut so that when the pendulum hangs perpendicularly
at rest, c spreads a few degrees to the right, and d as
much to the left. These are called the pallets. Let
a f b represent a wheel, turning on a perpendicular axis
co in the order a f e b. The teeth of this wheel are
in the form of those of a saw, leaning forward in the
direction of the rim’s motion. This wheel is usually
called the crown-wheel, or in watches the balance-wheel.
See Clock and Watch. It generally contains an odd
number of teeth. In the figure the pendulum is repre¬
sented at the extremity of its excursion towards the right,
the tooth a having just escaped from the pallet c, and b
having just dropt on d. Now it is evident that while
the pendulum is moving to the left, in the arch the
tooth b still presses on the pallet d, and thus accelerates
the pendulum, both in its descent along/?/?, and its as¬
cent up hg, and that when d, by turning round the
axis xy, raises its point above the plane of the wheel,
the tooth b escapes from it, and i drops on c, now near¬
ly perpendicular. Thus c is pressed to the right, and
the motion of the pendulum along g-/? is accelerated.
Again, while the pendulum hangs perpendicularly in
the line x h, the tooth b, by pressing on d, -will force
the pendulum to the left, in proportion to its lightness,
and if it be not too heavy, will force it so far from the
perpendicular, that b will escape, and i will catch on c,
and force the pendulum back to p, when the same mo¬
tion will he repeated. This effect will be more remark¬
able, if the rod of the pendulum be continued through
x J/, and have a ball q on the other end, to balance/?.
When b escapes from d, the halls are moving with a
certain velocity and momentum, and in this condition
the balance is checked when i catches on c. It is not,
however, instantly stopped, but continues to move a
little to the left, and i is forced a little backward by the
pallet c. It cannot make its escape over the top of the
tooth as all the momentum of the balance was gene¬
rated by the force of b, and i is of equal power. Le-
sides, when i catches on c, and the motion of c to the
left continues, the lower point of c is applied to the
face of which now acts on the balance by a long lever,
soon stops its motion in that direction, and continuing
to press on c, urges the balance in the opposite direction.
It is easy to see that the motion of the wheel here must
he hobbling and unequal, which has given to this scape-
ment the name of the recoiling scapement.
In considering the utility of the following improved
scapement for clocks, we must keep in mind the fol¬
lowing proposition, which, after the above illustration,
scarcely requires any direct proof. It is, that the natu-
xal vibrations of a pendulum are isochronousyov va'e, per-
3
formed in equal times. The great object of the scapement Wauj
is to preserve this isochronous motion of the pendulum.
As the defect of the recoiling scapement was long
apparent, several ingenious artists attempted to substi-Cunim'li
tute in its place a scapement that should produce a more for cl^
regular and uniform motion. Of these, the scapement
contrived by Mr Gumming appears to be one of the
most ingenious in its construction, and most perfect in
its operation. The following construction is similar to
that of Mr Gumming, but rendered rather less complex |
for the purpose of shortening the description:
Let ABC, fig. 13. represent a portion of the swing pig. I^,
wheel, of which O is the centre, and A one of the
teeth j Z is the centre of the crutch, pallets, and pendu¬
lum. The crutch is represented of the form of the let¬
ter A, having in the circular cross piece a slit ik, also
circular, Z being the centre. The arm ZF forms the
first detent, and the tooth A is represented as locked on
it at F. D is the first pallet on the end of the arm Z d
moveable round tbe same centre with the detents, but
independent of them. The arm de to which the pallet
L) is attached, lies wholly behind the arm ZF of the
detent, being fixed to a round piece of brass e fg, hav¬
ing pivots turning concentric with the axis of the pen¬
dulum. To the same piece of brass is fixed the horizon¬
tal arm e H, carrying to its extremity the hall H, of
such size, that the action of the tooth A on the pallet
D is just able to raise it up to the position here drawn.
ZPp represents the fork, or pendulum rod, behind
both detent and pallet. A pin p projects forward, coming
through the slit i k, without touching either margin of
it. Attached to the fork is the arm m n, of such length
that, when the pendulum rod is perpendicular, the an¬
gular distance of n q from the rod e y H is just equal to
the angular distance of the left side of the pin p from
the left end i of the slit i k.
Now, the natural position of the pallet D is at re¬
presented by the dotted lines, resting on the back of the
detent F. It is naturally brought into this position by
its own weight, and still more by the weight of the ball
II. The pallet U, being set on the foreside of the arm
at Z, comes into the same plane with the detent F and
the swing-wheel, though here represented in a different
position. The tooth G of the wheel is supposed to have
escaped from Bie second pallet, on which the tooth A
immediately seizes the pallet I), situated at forces it
out, and then rests on the detent F, the pallet 13 lean¬
ing on the tip of the tooth. After the escape of C, the
pendulum, moving down the arch of semivibration, is
represented as having attained the vertical position.
Proceeding still to the left, the pin/? reaches the extre¬
mity /of the slit ik; and, at the same instant, the arm
n touches the rod e II in q. The pendulum proceeding
a hairsbreadth further, withdraws the detent F from the
tooth, which now even pushes oft’ the detent, by acting
on the inclining face of it. The wheel being now un¬
locked, the tooth following C on the other side acts on
its pallet, pushes it off, and rests on its detent, which
has been rapidly brought into a proper position by the
action of A on the inclining face of F. By a similar
action of C on its detent at the moment of escape, F
was brought into a position proper for the wheels being
locked by the tooth A. As the pendulum still goes on,
the ball H, and pallet connected with it, are carried by
the arm m n, and before the pin p again reaches the
WAT [6
WitK'h- eI,(J t'16 s'*t> whicli had been suddenly withdrawn hy
v  the action of A on F, the pendulum comes to rest. It
now returns towards the right, loaded with the ball H
on the left, and thus the motion lost during the last vi¬
bration is restored. When the pin p, by its motion to
the right, reaches the end k of ik, the wheel on the
right side is unlocked, and at the same instant the weight
H being raised from the pendulum by the action ef a
tooth like B on the pallet D, ceases to act.
In this scapement, both pallets and detents are de¬
tached from the pendulum, except in the moment of un¬
locking the wheel, so that, except during this short in¬
terval, the pendulum may be said to be free during its
whole vibration, and of course its motion must be more
equable and undisturbed.
jl percents The constructing of a proper scapement for watches
watches, requires peculiar delicacy, owing to the small size of the
machine, from which the error of-j-i^of an inch has as
much eftect as the error of a whole inch in a common
clock. From the necessary lightness of the balance, too,
it is extremely difficult to accumulate a sufficient quan¬
tity of regulating power. This can be done only by
- giving the balance a great velocity, which is effected by
concentrating as much as possible of its weight in the
rim, and making its vibrations very wide. The balance
rim of a tolerable w'atcli should pass through at least ten
' g inches in every second.
[ rations Tn considering the most proper scapements forwatches,
E . ba- we may assume the following principle, viz. that the
[ care oscillations of a balance urged by its spring, and undi-
| l^0' sturbed by extraneous forces, are isochronous.
y In ordinary pocket watches, the common recoiling
1 kordi- scapement of clocks is still employed, and answers the
| ' sc&pe common purposes of a watch tolerably well, so that, if
i rfosr properly executed, a good ordinary watch will keep time
T' within a minute in the day. These watches, however,
are subject to great variation in their rate of going, from
any change in the power of the wheels.
The following is considered as the best construction
of the common watch scapement, and is represented by
fig. 14. as it appears when looking straight down on the
end of the balance arbor. C marks the centre of the
balance and verge ; CA represents the upper pallet, or
that next the balance, and CB the lower pallet; F and
1) are two teeth of the crown wheel, moving from left
to right; E, G, are two teetli in the lower part, moving
from right to left. The tooth D appears as having just
escaped from the point of CA, and the tooth E as
having just come in contact with CB. In practice, the
scapement should not he quite so close, as by a small in¬
equality of the teeth, 1) might be kept from escaping at
all. The following are thought the best proportions :
The distance between the front of the teeth (that is, of
G, F, E, D), and the axis C of the balance, is ^ of FA,
the distance between the points of the teeth. The
length CA, CB of the pallets s of the same degrees,
and the front DH or FK of the teeth makes an angle
of 50 with the axis of the crown wheel. Tire sloping
side of the tooth must he of an epicycloidal form, suited
to the relative motion of the tooth and pallet.
It appears from these proportions, that by the action
of the tooth D, the pallet A can throw out till it reach
a, 1200 from CL, the line of the crown-wheel axis. To
this if we add BCAnpj0, we shall have LC 0=120°.
Again, B will throw out as far on the other side.
.5 ] WAT
Now, if from 240°, the sum of the extent of vibration Watch.
of both pallets, we take 93° the angle of the pallets, -v '
the remainder 145° will express the greatest vibration
which the balance can make, without striking the front
of the teeth. From several causes, however, this mea¬
sure is too great, and 1 20° is reckoned a sufficient vi¬
bration in the best ordinary scapement. g
01 the improvements on the scapements of watclies, Graham’s
one ol the most important is that by Mr George Graham, horizontal
which we shall proceed to describe. I)E, fig. 15. re-p.a^naej^‘j
presents part of the rim of the balance wheel ; A and °
C, two of its teeth with their faces he formed into
planes, inclined to the circumference of the wheel in an
angle of about 150, so that the length he of the face
may he nearly quadruple of its height eni. Let a cir¬
cular arch ABC be described round the centre of the
wheel, and through the middle of the faces of the teeth.
The axis of the balance will pass through some point B
of this arch, and the mean circumference of the teeth
may he said to pass through the centre of tlie verge. On
this axis is fixed a portion of a thin hollow cylinder hcd,
made of hard tempered steel, or of some hard and tough
stone, such as ruby or sapphire. By this construction
the portion of the cylinder occupies 2io° of the circum¬
ference. The edge b, to which the tooth approaches
from without, is rounded off on both angles. The
other edge d is formed into a plane, inclined to the ra¬
dius about 30°. Now, suppose the wheel pressed for¬
ward in the direction AC, the point b of the tooth,
touching the rounded edge, will push it outwards, turn¬
ing round the balance in the direction bed. The
heel e of the tooth will escape from this edge when it is
in the position /?, and e is in the position f. The point b
of the tooth will now be at d, but the edge of the cy¬
linder will be at i. The tooth therefore rests in the in¬
side of the cylinder, while the balance continues its vi¬
bration a little way, in consequence of the impulse it
lias received from the action of the inclined plane.
When this vibration is ended, by the opposition of the
balance spring, the balance will return, and the tooth
now in the position B, rubbing on the inside of the cy¬
linder, the balance comes back into its natural posi¬
tion bed, with an accelerated motion by the action of
its spring, and would of itself vibrate as far as the other
side. It is, however, assisted again by the tooth, which
presses on the edge d, pushes it aside till it attain the po¬
sition k, when the tooth entirely escapes from the cylin¬
der. At this instant the other edge of the cylinder,,
having attained the position /, is in the way of the next
tooth, which is now in the position A, while the balance
continues its vibration, the tooth resting and rubbing on
the outside of the cylinder. When this vibration is finish¬
ed, the balance, bv the action of the spring, resumes its
first motion, and as soon as the balance gets into its na¬
tural position, the tooth begins to act on the edge b,
pushes it aside, escapes from it, and drops as before in
the inside of the cylinder. In this construction the arch-
of action or scapement is 30°=: twice the angle which
the face of a tooth makes with the circumference.
It is necessary to explain how the cylinder is connect¬
ed with the verge, so as to make such a great revolu¬
tion round the tooth of the wheel. The triangular tooth-
ebm is placed on the top of a little pillar fixed into;
the end of the piece of brass mb formed in the rim of
the wheel. Thus the plane of the wedge tooth is pa ¬
rallel!
WAT
1 646 ]
WAT
Watch.
Ijepaute’s
improve¬
ment.
>ig. 18.
and to.
rallel to the plane of the wheel, but at a small distance
1 above it. The verge is represented at fig. 16. and con¬
sists of a long hollow cylinder of cast steel, having a
great portion of the metal cut out. If spread out flat,
this cylinder would assume the form of fig. 17.; and it
we conceive this flat piece rolled up till the edges GIT
and G' IT' unite, we shall have the exact form. The
part acted on by the point of the tooth is denoted by
the dotted line b </, and the part D, I, F, E serves to
connect the two ends.
This scapement of Mr Graham is called a horizon¬
tal scapement, because the balance is parallel to the
other wheels.
Another scapement of a superior construction was
contrived by M. Lepaute of Paris, and is of such a sin¬
gular form as to render it extremely difficult to illustrate
it by a figure. The representations at fig. .18. and 19.
will, however, give general readers some idea of its
mode of action, and a skilful artist will easily see how
the several parts may be adapted to each other. ABC
fig. 18. represents part of the rim of the balance wheel,
having the pins 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, &c. projecting from its
faces l the pins 1, 3, 5, being on the side next the eye,
and the pins 2 and 4 on the opposite side. D is the
centre of the balance and verge* and the small circle
round D represents its thickness. But the verge in this
place is crooked, that the rim of the wheel may not be
intercepted by it. To it is attached a piece of hard
tempered steel abed, of which the part a b c a con¬
cave arch of a circle, having D for its centre. It wants
about 30° of a semicircle. The rest c d is also an arch
of a circle having the rame radius with the balance-
wheel. In the natural position of the balance, a line
drawn from D, through the middle of the face c is a
tangent to the circumference of the wheel. But if the
balance be turned round till the point d of the horn
come to d', and the point c come to 2 in the circumfe-
retice in which the pins are placed, the pin pressing on
the beginning of the horn or pallet, pushes it aside, slides
along it, and escapes at d, having generated a certain
velocity in the balance. Let another pallet similar to
that now described be placed on the other side of the
•wheel, but in a contrary position, with the acting face
of the pallet turned away from the centre of the wheel.
Let it be so placed at E, that the moment the pin x on
the upper side of the wheel escapes from the pallet c d,
the pin 4 on the lower side of the wheel falls on the end
of the circular arch ef g of the other pallet. Now', if the
pallets be connected by equal pulleys G and F on the
axis of each, and a thread round both so that they shall
turn one way *, the balance on the axis I) having received
an impulse from the pin 1, will continue its motion from
A towards i, and will carry the other pallet with a si¬
milar motion round the centre E from h to k. The pin 4
will therefore rest in the concave arch g f e ns the pallet
turns round. When the force of the balance is spent, the
pallet cd returns towards its first position. The pallet
g h turns with it, and when the point of the first has ar¬
rived at d, the beginning^- of the other arrives at the pin
4 ; and, proceeding farther, this pin escapes from the
concave arch e f g, and slides along the pallet g h, push¬
ing it aside, and of course urging the pallet round the
centre E, and the balance on the axis D round at the
same time, and in the same direction. The pin 4 escapes
"from the palletA, when h arrives at 3 j but while the
. pin 4 is sliding along the yielding pallet gh, the pin 3 -y.
is moving in the circumference BI)A ; and the instant 
that the pin 4 escapes from h at 3, the pin 3 arrives at
2, where the beginning c of the concave arch c b is ready
to receive it. It therefore rests on this arch, while the
balance continues its motion, and this may continue till
the point b of the arch comes to 2. The balance now
stops, its force being spent, and then returns •, and the
pin 3 escapes from the circle at r, slides along the yield¬
ing pallet c d, and when it escapes at I, another pin on
the lower side of the wheel arrives at 4, and finds the
arch gfe ready to receive it. And thus the vibration
of the balance will be continued.
From the above description we may deduce the pro¬
per dimensions of the parts of the pallet. Thus, the
length of the pallet c d or g h, must be equal to the in¬
terval between two succeeding pins, and the distance of
the centres DE, must be double of that interval. The
radius II e or Eg-, may be as small as wre choose. The
concave arches c b a and gfe, must be continued so far
as to allow a pin to rest on them during the whole ex¬
cursion of the balance. The angle of scapement, in
which the balance remains under the influence of the
wheels, is obtained by drawing the lines D c and D d,
and we shall find that this angle <? T) <:/ is here about 30°,
though it may be made either greater or less than this.
Fig. 10. explains how the two pallets may be com-^ 11
bined on one verge. KL is the verge with a pivot at
each end. It is bent like a crank MNO, to admit the
balance wheel between its branches. BC represents this
wheel, seen edgewise, with its pin alternately on differ¬
ent sides. The pallets are also represented by 6c Jam!
hgf, sized tothe insideofthebranchesof thecrank, front¬
ing each other. The positionof their acting faces may be
seen in the preceding figure, on the verge 13, where the
pallet g h is represented by the dotted line 2 z7, as situat¬
ed behind the pallet c d. The remote pallet 2 i is so
placed, that when the point d of the near pallet is quit¬
ted by a pin 1 on the upper side of the wheel, the angle
formed by the face and the arch of rest of the other pal¬
let is just ready to receive the next pin 2, which lies on
the lower side of the rim. It is plain that the action
here will be the same as if the pallets were on separate
axes. The pin 1 escapes from z/, and the pin 2 is receiv¬
ed on the arch of rest, and locks the wheel, while the
balance continues in motion. When the balance returns,
2 gets off the arch of rest, pushes aside the pallet 21, e-
scapes from it when z’ gets to I, and then the point c is
ready to receive the pin 3, &c. The vibrations may be
increased by givinga sufficient impulse through the angle
of scapement, but they cannot exceed a certain quantity,
otherwise N, the top of the crank, would strike the rim
of the wheel. The vibrations may be easily increased
to 1800, by placing the pins at the very edge cf the
wheel j and by placing them at the points of long teeth,
so that the crank may get in between them, the vibra¬
tions may be carried to a much greater extent.
'The construction just described is exceedingly inge¬
nious j and if the machinery be well executed, this scape¬
ment will excel the horizontal scapement of Graham,
both as it has but two acting faces to form, and as it ad¬
mits of making the circle of rest extremely small, with¬
out lessening the acting face of the pallet. The con¬
struction is, however, very delicate and difficult, and
must require a very nice workman.
An
WATCH WORK.
PLATE DLYX//
L tg. J3.
Tltf. 14.
It'. V'/ vr/// r
WAT [ 647 ] WAT
■Watch exce^ent scapement of much more easy construc-
U tion, is that commonly called Duplaie's scapement, and
Water, with this we shall conclude our account of watch-work.
-—fig. 20. represents the essential parts somewhat magni-
'? ,s fied. AD a portion of the balance-wheel, having teeth
..capenient./i h, g, at the circumference. These teeth are for pro-
Fij, 20. ducing the rest of the wheel, while the balance is ma¬
king excursions beyond the scapement. This is effected
by an agate cylinder spg, on the-verge. This cylinder
has a notch 0. When the cylinder turns round in the
direction opg, the notch easily passes the tooth 13 which
is resting on the cylinder surface j but when it returns in
the direction bpo, the tooth 13 gets into the notch and
follows it, pressing on one side of it till the notch comes
into the position 0. The tooth being then in the posi¬
tion h, escapes from the notch, and another tooth drops
on the convex surface of the cylinder at B. The ba¬
lance-wheel is also furnished with a set of flat-sided pins,
standing upright on its rim represented by a D. There
is likewise fixed on the verge a larger cylinder GFC
above the smaller one 0 p q, with its lower surface clear
of the wheel, and having a pallet C, of sapphire, firmly
indented into it, and projecting so far as to keep clear
of the pins on the wheel. The position of this cylinder,
with respect to the smaller one below it, is such that
the tooth b being escaped from the notch, the pallet C
has just past the pin a, which was at A while 13 rested
on the small cvlinder j but it moved from A to a, while
13 moved to b. The wheel being now at liberty, the
pin a exerts its pressure on the pallet C in the most di¬
rect manner, and gives it a strong impulsion, following
and accelerating it till another tooth stops on the little
cylinder. The angle of scapement depends partly on the
projection of the pallet, and partly on the diameter of
the small cylinder, and the advance of the tooth 13 into
the notch. Independent of the action on the small cy¬
linder, the angle of scapement would be the whole arch
of the large cylinder between C and k. But o stops be¬
fore it be clear of the pallet, and the arch of impulsion
is shortened by all the space described by the pin while
a tooth moves from B to 6. It stops at d.
For an account of other scapements we must refer our
readers to the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences at
Paris for 1748, Cummin’s Elements of Clock and
Watch-work, a French work entitled Machines approu-
vees par VAcademic des Sciences, and Young’s Lectures
on Natural Philosophy, vol. i. p. ipfl* ant^ Flate 16$
vol. ii. p. 193.
WATCHING, in Medicine, is when the patient
cannot sleep. In fevers it is a dangerous symptom, and
if long continued ends in a delirium.
WATER, a well known fluid, diffused through the
atmosphere, and over the surface of the globe, and
abounding in a certain proportion in animals, vegetables,
and minerals.
The uses of wTater are so universally known, that it
Would be superfluous to enumerate them in this article.
It is essential to animal and vegetable life*, it makes
easy the intercourse between the most distant regions of
the world ; and it is one of the most useful powers in
the mechanic arts. It is often found combined with
various substances, and is then frequently beneficial in
curing or alleviating diseases.
Those properties of water which fit it for answering
Mechanical purposes are explained in other articles of
.
this work (see Hydrodynamics, Pneumatics, N° 3, Water.
Resistance, and Rivers) 5 and for the discovery of' v—
the composition of water, see Chemistry Index.
Mineral Waters. For the method of analysing them,
see also Chemistry Index.
Under the title of Mineral Waters, we have given
an analysis of the most remarkable waters in Europe.
Holy Water, which is made use of in the church of1
Rome, as also by the Greeks, and by the other Chris¬
tians of the East of all denominations, is water with a
mixture of salt, blessed by a priest according to a set
form of benediction. It is used in the blessing of per¬
sons, things, and places j and is likewise considered as
a ceremony to excite pious thoughts in the minds of the
faithful.
The priests, in blessing it, first, in the name of God,
commands the devils not to hurt the persons who shall
be sprinkled with it, nor to abuse the things, nor dis¬
quiet the places, which shall likewise be so sprinkled.
He then prays that health, safety, and the favour of
heaven, may be enjoyed by such persons, and by those
who shall use such things, or dwell in such places. Vest¬
ments, vessels, and other such things that are set apart
for divine service, are sprinkled with it. It is sometimes
sprinkled on cattle, with an intention to free or pre¬
serve them from diabolical enchantments ; and in some
spiritual books there are prayers to be said on such oc¬
casions, by which the safety of such animals, as being a
temporal blessing to the possessors, is begged of God,
whose providential care is extended to all his creatures.
The hope which Catholics entertain of obtaining such
good effects from the devout use of holy water, is
grounded on the promise made' to believers by Christ
(St Mark xvi; 17.), and on the general efficacy of the
prayers of the church; the petition of which prayers
God is often pleased to grant; though sometimes, in his
Providence, he sees it not expedient to do so. That
such effects have been produced by holy water in a re¬
markable manner, has been asserted by many authors of
no small weight; as, namely, by St Epiphanius, Haer.
30th; St Hierom, in the Life of St Hilarion ; Theo-
doret Hist. Eccl. lib. v. cap. 21.; Palladius, Hist. Laus.\ ■>
Bede, lib. v. cap. 4.
As a ceremony (says the Catholic), water brings to
our remembrance our baptism ; in which, by water, we
were cleansed from original sin. It also puts us in mind
of that purity of conscience which we ought to endea¬
vour always to have, but especially when we are going
to worship our God. The salt, which is put into the
water to preserve it from corrupting, is also a figure of
divine grace, which preserves our souls from the corrup¬
tion of sin ; and is likewise an emblem of that wisdom
and discretion which ought to season every action that a
Christian does, and every word that he says. It is wont
to be blessed and sprinkled in churches on Sundays, in
the beginning of the solemn office. It is kept in vessels
at the doors of the same churches, that it may be taken
by the faithful as they enter in. It is also often kept
in private houses and chambers.
Putrid Water, is that which has acquired an offen¬
sive smell and taste by the putrescence of animal or ve¬
getable substances contained in it. It is in the highest
degree pernicious to the human frame, and capable of
bringing on mortal diseases even by its smell. It is not
always from the apparent muddiness of waters that w&
can.
WAT [ 648 ] WAT
Water, can judge of tlieir disposition to putrefy 5 some which
 are seemingly very pure, being more apt to become pu¬
trid than others which appear much more mixed with
heterogeneous matters. Under the article Animalcule,
N° 33, is mentioned a species of insects which have the
property of making water stink to an incredible degree,
though their bulk in proportion to the fluid which sur¬
rounds them is less than that of one to a million. Other
substances no doubt there are which have the same pro¬
perty ; and hence almost all water which is confined
from the air is apt to become otlensive, even though
kept in glass or stoneware vessels. Indeed it is a common
observation, that water keeps much longer sweet in
glass vessels, or in those of earthen or stoneware than in
those of wood, where it is exceedingly apt to putrefy.
Hence, as ships can only be supplied with water kept in
wooden casks, sailors are extremely liable to those dis¬
eases which arise from putrid water*, and the discovery
of a method by which water could easily be prevented
from becoming putrid at sea would be exceedingly va¬
luable. This may indeed be done by quicklime j for
when water is impregnated with it, all putrescent mat¬
ters are either totally destroyed, or altered in such a
manner as never to be capable of undergoing the putre¬
factive fermentation again. Hut a continued use of lime-
water could not fail of being pernicious, and it is there¬
fore necessary to throw down the lime*, after which the
water will have all the purity necessary for preserving it
free from putrefaction. This can only be done by means
of fixed air } and mere exposure in broad shallow vessels
to the atmosphere would do it without anything else, only
taking care to break the crust which formed upon it.
Two methods, however, have been thought of for doing
this with more expedition. The one, invented by Dr
Alston, is, by throwing into the water impregnated with
lime a quantity of magnesia. The lime attracts fixed
air more powerfully than magnesia ; in consequence of
which the latter parts with it to the lime: and thus be¬
coming insoluble, falls along with the caustic magnesia
to the bottom, and thus leaves the water perfectly pure.
Another method is that of Mr Henry, who proposes to
throw down the lime by means of an effervescing mix¬
ture of oil of vitriol and chalk put down to the bottom
of the water cask. His apparatus for this purpose is as
simple as it can well be made, though is is hardly pro¬
bable that sailors will give themselves the trouble of
using it*, and Dr Alston’s scheme would seem better
calculated for them, were it not for the ex pence of the
magnesia ; which indeed is the only objection made to
it by Mr Henry. Putrid water may be restored and
made potable by a process of the same kind.
Of late it has been discovered that charcoal possesses
many unexpected properties, and, among others, that of
preserving water from corruption, and of purifying it af¬
ter it has been corrupted. Mr Lowitz, whose experi¬
ments on charcoal have been published in Crell’s Che¬
mical Journal, has turned his attention to this subject in
a memoir read to the Economical Society at Pcters-
burnh. He found that the effect of charcoal was ren¬
dered much more speedy by using along with it some
sulphuric acid. One ounce and a half of charcoal in
powder, and 24 drops of concentrated sulphuric acid
(oil of vitriol), are sufficient to purify three pints and a
half of corrupted water, and do not communicate to it
any sensible acidity. This small quantity of acid renders
it unnecessary to use more than a third part of the char¬
coal powder which would otherwise be wanted *, and the
less of that powder is employed, the less is the quantity
of water lost by the operation, which, in sea-voyages, is
an object worthy of consideration. In proportion to the
quantity of acid made use of, the quantity of charcoal
may be diminished or augmented. All acids produce
nearly the same effects : neutral salts also, particularly
nitre and sea-salt, may be used, but sulphuric acid is pre¬
ferable to any of these ; water which is purified by
means of this acid and charcoal will keep a longer time
than that which is purified by charcoal alone. When
we mean to purify any given quantity of cbrrupted wa¬
ter, we should begin by adding to it as much powder of
charcoal as is necessary to deprive it entirely of its bad
smell. To ascertain whether that quantity of powdered
charcoal was sufficient to effect the clarification of the
said water, a small quantity of it maybe passed through
a linen bag, two or three inches long $ if the water,
thus filtrated, still has a turbid appearance, a fresh quan¬
tity of powdered charcoal must be added, till it is be¬
come perfectly clear : the whole of the water may then
be passed through a filtering hag, the size of which
should he proportioned to the quantity of water. If
sulphuric acid, or any other, can he procured, a small
quantity of it should be added to the water, before the
clmrcoal powder.
The cleaning of the casks in which water is to be
kept in sea-voyages should never be neglected : they
should be well washed with hot water and sand, or with
any other substance capable of removing the mucilagi¬
nous particles, and afterwards a quantity of charcoal
dust should be employed, which will entirely deprive
them of the musty or putrid smell they may have con¬
tracted.—The charcoal used for purifying water should
be well burnt, and afterwards beat into a fine powder.
Sca-Water. See Sea-JFater.
IPATER-Carts, carriages constructed for the purpose
of watering the roads for several miles round London ;
a precaution absolutely necessary near the metropolis,
where, from such a vast daily influx of carriages and
horses, the dust would otherwise become quite insufler-
able in hot dry weather. Pumps are placed at proper
distances to supply these carts.
Ifrater-Ordeal. See Ordeal.
Water, among jewellers, is properly the colour or
lustre of diamonds and pearls. 'l ire term, though less
properly, is sometimes used for the hue or colour of
other stones.
WATER-Bellows. See Machines for blowing Air in¬
to Furnaces.
JFaTER-Colours, in Fainting, are such colours as are
only diluted and mixed up with gum-water, in contra¬
distinction to oil-colours. See Colour-Making.
WATER Gang, a channel cut to drain a place by car¬
rying off a stream of water.
Water-Hen. See Parra, Ornithology Index.
WATER-Lines of a Ship, certain horizontal lines sup¬
posed to be drawn about the outside of a ship’s bottom,
close to the surface of the water in which she floats.
They are accordingly higher or lower upon the bottom,
in proportion to the depth of the column of water re¬
quired to float her.
Water-Logged, the state of a ship when, by receiving
a great quantity of water into the hold, by leaking, Le¬
slie
WAT [ 649 ] WAT
ater she has become heavy and inactive upon the sea, so as
^ged to yield without resistance to the efforts of every wave
11 rushing over her decks. As, in this dangerous situa-
tion, the centre of gravity is no longer fixed, but fluc-
■ tuating from place to place, the stability of the ship is
utterly lost : she is therefore almost totally deprived of
the use of her sails, which would operate to overset her,
or press the head under water. Hence there is no re¬
source for the crew, except to free her by the pumps,
or to abandon her by the boats as soon as possible.
Tf^ATER-Sail, a small sail spread occasionally under
the lower studding-sail, or driver boom, in a fair wind
and smooth sea.
Water-Ouzel. See Turdus, Ornithologt Index.
WATER-Spout, an extraordinary meteor, consisting of
a large mass of water collected into a sort of column,
and moved with rapidity along the surface of the sea.
The best account of the water-spout which we have
met with is in the Phil. Trans. Abridged, vol. iii. as
observed by Mr Joseph Harris, May 21. I732i about
sunset, lat. 3 2° 30' N. *, long. 90 E. from Cape Florida.
“ When first we saw the spout (says he), it was whole
and entire, and much of the shape and proportion of a
speaking trumpet", the small end being downwards, and
reaching to the sea, and the big end terminated in a
black thick cloud. The spout itself was very black,
and the more so the higher up. It seemed to be exact¬
ly perpendicular to the horizon, and its sides perfectly
smooth, without the least ruggedness. Where it fell
the spray of the sea rose to a considerable height, which
made somewhat the appearance of a great smoke. From
the first time we saw it, it continued whole about a mi¬
nute, and till it was quite dissipated about three minutes.
It began to waste from below, and so gradually up,
while the upper part remained entire, without any vi¬
sible alteration, till at last it ended in the black cloud
above j upon which there seemed to fall a very heavy
rain in that neighbourhood.—There was but little wind,
and the sky elsewhere was pretty serene.”
Water-spouts have by some been supposed to be mere¬
ly electrical in their origin *, particularly by Signior
Eeccaria, who supported his opinion by some experi¬
ments. But if we attend to the successive phenomena
necessary to constitute a complete water-spout through
their various stages, we shall be convinced, that re¬
course must be had to some other principle in order to
obtain a complete solution.
Hr Franklin, in his Physical and Meteorological Ob¬
servations, supposes a water-spout and a whirlwind to
proceed from the same cause j their only difference be¬
ing, that the latter passes over the land, and the former
over the water. This opinion is corroborated by M.
de la Pryme, in the Philosophical Transactions, where
he describes two spouts observed at different times in
Yorkshire, whose appearances in the air were exactly
like those of the spouts at sea, and their effects the
same as those of real whirlwinds.
A fluid moving from all points horizontally towards
a centre, must at that centre either mount or descend.
If a hole be opened in the middle of the bottom of a
tub filled with water, the water will flow from all sides
to the centre, and there descend in a whirl : but air
flowing on or near the surface of land or water, from all
sides towards a centre, must at that centre ascend 5 be¬
cause the land or water will hinder its descent.
Vck.. XX. Part II.
The doctor, in proceeding to explain his conceptions, Water
begs to be allowed two or three positions, as a founda- Spout,
tion for his hypothesis. 1. That the lower region of air
is often more heated, and so more rarefied, than the up¬
per, and by consequence specifically lighter. The cold¬
ness of the upper region is manifested by the hail, which
falls from it in warm weather. 2. That heated air may
be very moist, and yet the moisture so equally diffused
and rarefied as not to be visible till colder air mixes
with it ; at which time it condenses and becomes visi¬
ble. Thus our breath, although invisible in summer,
becomes visible in winter.
These circumstances being granted, he presupposes a
tract of land or sea, of about 60 miles in extent, un¬
sheltered by clouds and unrefreshed by the wind, during
a summer’s day, or perhaps for several days without in*
termission, till it becomes violently heated, together
with the lower region of the air in contact with it 5 so
that the latter becomes specifically lighter than the su¬
perincumbent higher region of the atmosphere, wherein
the clouds are usually floated : he supposes also that the
air surrounding this tract has not been so much heated
during those days, and therefore remains heavier. The
consequence of this, he conceives, should be, that the
heated lighted air should ascend, and the heavier de¬
scend •, and as this rising cannot operate throughout the
whole tract at once, because that would leave too ex-'
tensive a vacuum, the rising will begin precisely in that
column which happens to be lightest or most rarefied ;
and the warm air will flow horizontally from all parts
of this column, where the several currents meeting, and
joining to rise, a whirl is naturally formed, in the same
manner as a whirl is formed in a tub of water, by the
descending fluid receding from all sides of the tub to¬
wards the hole in the centre.
And as the several currents arrive at this central
rising column with a considerable degree of horizontal
motion, they cannot suddenly. change it to a vertical
motion : therefore as they gradually, in approaching
the whirl, decline from right to curve or circular lines,
so, having joined the whirl, they ascend by a spiral mo¬
tion -, in the same manner as the water descends spirally
through the hole in the tub before mentioned.
Lastly, as the lower air nearest the surface is more
rarefied by the heat of the sun, it is more impressed by
the current of the surrounding cold and heavy air which
is to assume its place, and consequently its motion to¬
wards the whirl is swiftest, and so the force of the
lower part of the whirl strongest, and the centrifugal
force of its particles greatest. Hence the vacuum which
incloses the axis of the whirl should be greatest near the
earth or sea, and diminish gradually as it approaches
the region of the clouds, till it ends in a point.
This circle is of various diameters, sometimes very
large.
If the vacuum passes over water, the water may rise
in a body or column therein to the height of about 32
feet. The whirl of air may be as invisible as the air
itself, though reaching in reality from the water to the
region of cool air, in which our low summer thunder¬
clouds commonly float •, but it will soon become visible
at its extremities. The agitation of the water under
the whirling of the circle, and the swelling and rising
of the water in the commencement of the vacuum, ren¬
der it visible below. It is perceived above by the
f 4 N warm
W A T
[ 650 ]
WAT
warm air being brought up to the cooler region, where
its moisture begins to be condensed by the cold into
thick vapour, and is then first discovered at the highest
part, which being now cooled condenses what rises be¬
hind it, and this latter acts in the same manner on the
succeeding body j where, by the contact of the vapours,
the cold operates faster in a right line downwards, than
the vapours themselves can climb in a spiral line up¬
wards: they climb however 5 and as by continual ad¬
dition they grow denser, and by consequence increase
their centrifugal force, and being risen above the con¬
centrating currents that compose the whirl, they fly olf,
and form a cloud.
It seems easy to conceive, how by this successive con¬
densation from above, the spoilt appears to drop or de¬
scend from the cloud, although the materials of which
it is composed are all the while ascending. The con¬
densation of the moisture contained in so great a quan¬
tity of warm air as may be supposed to rise in a short
time in this prodigiously rapid whirl, is perhaps sufficient
to form a great extent of cloud ; and the friction of the
whirling air on the sides of the column may detach
great quantities of its water, disperse them into drops,
and carry them up in the spiral whirl mixed with the
air. The heavier drops may indeed fly off, and fall in¬
to a shower about the spout j but much of it will be
broken into vapour, and yet remain visible.
As the whirl weakens, the tube may apparently se-'
parate in the middle j the column of water subsiding,
the superior condensed part drawing up to the cloud.
The tube or whirl of air may nevertheless remain en¬
tire, the middle only becoming invisible, as not contain¬
ing any visible matter.
Dr Lindsay, however, in several letters published in
the Gentleman’s Magazine, has controverted this theory
of Dr Franklin, and endeavoured to prove that water¬
spouts and whirlwinds are distinct phenomena ; and that
the water which forms the water-spout, does not a-
scend from the sea, as Dr Franklin supposes, but de¬
scends from the atmosphere. Our limits do not permit
us to insert his arguments here, but they may be seen
in the Gentleman’s Magazine, volume li. p. 559, 6icj
vol. liii. p. 1025 ^ andvol.lv. p. 594. We cannot
avoid observing, however, that he treats Dr Franklin
with a degree of asperity to which he is by no means
entitled, and that his arguments, even if conclusive,
prove nothing more than that some water spouts cer¬
tainly descend ; which Dr Franklin hardly ever ven¬
tured to deny. There are some very valuable disserta¬
tions on this subject by Professor AVilcke of Upsal.
Water
works.
WATER-WORKS.
UNDER this name may be comprehended almost
every hydraulic structure or contrivance ; such
as canals, conduits, locks, mills, water engines, &c.
But they may be conveniently arranged under two
general heads, 1st, Works which have for their object
the conducting, raising, or otherwise managing, of wa¬
ter j and, 2dly, Works which derive their efficacy
from the impulse or other action of water. The first
class comprehends the methods of simply conducting
water in aqueducts or in pipes for the supply of do¬
mestic consumption or the working of machinery : It
comprehends also the methods of procuring the sup¬
plies necessary for these purposes, by means of pumps,
water, or fire engines. It also comprehends the sub¬
sequent management of the water thus conducted,
whether in order to make the proper distribution of it
according to the demand, or to employ it for the pur¬
pose of navigation, by lockage, or other contrivances.
—And in the prosecution of these things many subor¬
dinate problems will occur, in which practice will de¬
rive great advantages from a scientific acquaintance
with the subject. The second class of water-works is
of much greater variety, comprehending almost every
kind of hydraulic machine 5 and would of itself fill
volumes. Many of these have already occurred in va¬
rious articles of this Dictionary. In describing or treat¬
ing them, we have tacitly referred the discussion of
their general principles, in which they all resemble
each other, to some article where they could be taken
in a connected body, susceptible of general scientific
discussion, independent of the circumstances which of
necessity introduced the particular modifications requir¬
ed by the uses to which the structures were to be ap¬
plied. That part of the present article, therefore,
which embraces these common principles, will chielly
relate to the theory of water mills, or rather of water
wheels ; because, when the necessary motion is given to
the axvs of the water wheel, this may be set to the per¬
formance of any task whatever.
CLASS I.
1.
Of the Conducting of Water.
This is undoubtedly a business of great importance,
and makes a principal part of the practice of the civil
engineer : It is also a business so imperfectly understood,
that we believe that very few engineers can venture to
say, with tolerable precision, what will be the quantity
of water which his work will convey, or what plan and
dimensions of conduit will convey the quantity which
may be proposed. For proof oi this we shall only refer
our readers to the facts mentioned in the article Ri¬
vers, N° 27, &c.
In that article we have given a sort of history of the
progress of our knowledge in hydraulics, a branch of
mechanical philosophy which seems to have been entire¬
ly unknown to the ancients. Even xirchimedes, the
author of almost all that we know in hydrostatics, seems
to have been entirely ignorant of any principles by
which he could determine the motion of water. I he
mechanical science of the ancients seems to have reach¬
ed no farther than the doctrine of equilibrium among
bodies at rest. Guglielmini first ventured to consider
the motion of water in open canals and in rivers. Its
motion in pipes had been partially considered i" ^ e"
WATER
UVater- taclied scraps by others, but not so as to make a body
works, of doctrine. Sir Isaac Newton first endeavoured to
—V—'render hydraulics susceptible of mathematical demon¬
stration : But his fundamental proposition has not yet
been freed from very serious objections ; nor h ive the
attempts of his successors such as the Bernoullts, Euler,
D’Alembert, and others, been much more successful :
so that hydraulics may still be considered as very im¬
perfect, and the general conclusions which we are ac¬
customed to receive as fundamental propositions are not
much better than matters of observation, little supported
by principle, and therefore requiring the most scrupu¬
lous caution in the application of them to any hitherto
untried case. When experiments are multiplied so as
to include as great a variety of cases as possible ; and
when these are cleared of extraneous circumstances, and
properly arranged, we must receive the conclusions
drawn from them as the general laws of hydraulics.
The experiments of the abbe Bossut, narrated in bis Hy-
drodijnamique, are of the greatest value, having been
made in the cases of most general frequency, and being
made with great care. The greatest service, however,
has been done by the chevalier Buat, who saw the
folly of attempting to deduce an accurate theory from
any principles that we have as yet learned, and the ne¬
cessity of adhering to such a theory as could be deduced
from experiment alone, independent of any more gene¬
ral principles. Such a theory must he a ju«t one, if the
experiments are really general, unaffected bv the parti¬
cular circumstances of the case, and il the classes ol ex¬
periment are sufficiently comprehensive to include all
the cases which occur in the most important practical
questions.. Some principle was necessary, however, lor
connecting these experiments. I he sufficiency of this
principle was not easily ascertained. Mr Buat s way
of establishing this was'judicious. If the principle is ill-
founded, the results of its combination in cases of actual
experiments must be irregular*, but if experiments,
seemingly very unlike, and in a vast variety of dissimilar
cases, give a train of results which is extremely regular
and consistent, we may presume that the principle, which
in this manner harmonizes and reconciles things so un¬
like, is founded in the nature of things and if this
principle be such as is agreeable to our clearest nations
of the internal mechanism oi the motions of fluids, our
presumption approaches to conviction.
Proceeding in this way, the chevalier Buat has col¬
lected a prodigious number of facts, comprehending al¬
most every case of the motion of fluids. He first classed
them according to their resemblance in some one parti¬
cular, and observed the differences which accompanied
their differences 'mother circumstances*, and by consider¬
ing what could produce these differences, he obtained
WORK S.
6^1
general niles, deduced from fact, by whicb these dif¬
ferences could be made to fall into a regular series. Pie
then arranged all the experiments under some other
circumstances of resemblance, and pursued the same me¬
thod ; and by following this out, he has produced a ge¬
neral proposition, which applies to the whole of this
numerous list of experiments with a precision far exceed-
in<r our utmost hopes. This proposition is contained in
N° 99. of tlie article Rivers, and is there offered as
one of the most valuable results of modern science.
We must, however, observe, that of this list of ex¬
periments there is a very large class, which is not di¬
rect, but requires a good deal of reflection to enable us
to draw a confident conclusion } and this is in cases
which are very frequent and important, viz where the
declivity is exceedingly small, as in open canals and
rivers. The experiments were of the following forms :
Two large cisterns were made to communicate with
each other by means of a pipe. The stivtae-s of the
water in these cisterns were made to diifi r omy by a
small fraction of an inch : and it is supposed that the
motion in the communicating pipe will be the same as
in a very long pipe, or an open canal having this very
minute declivity. We have no difficulty in admitting
the conclusion , but we have seen it contest? d, and it is
by no means intuitive. We h id entertained hopes that
this important case would have been determined hy direct
experiments, which the writer of this article was com¬
missioned to make by the Board for Encouraging Im¬
provements and Manufactures in Scotland : But the in¬
firm state of his health was always an effectual bar to
the accomplishment of this desirable object. This, how¬
ever need not occasion any hesitation in the adoption
of M. Beat’s general proposition, because the experi¬
ments which we are now criticising fill in precisely with
the general train of the rest, and show no general de¬
viation which would indicate a fallacy in principle.
We apprehend it to he quite unnecessary to add much
to what has been already delivered on the motion of wa¬
ters in an open canal. Their general progressive mo¬
tion, and consequently the quantity delivered bv an
aqueduct of any slope and dimension, are suffice nry dei
termined ; and all that is wa-ted is ihe tables which
we promised in N° 65. of the article Rivers, by which
anv person who understands common arithmetic may,
in five minutes time or less, compute the quantity of
water which will be delivered by the aqueduct, canal,
conduit, or pipe ; for the theorem in N° 59. of this ar¬
ticle applies to tin m all without distinction. We there¬
fore take this opportunity of inserting these tallies,
which have been computed on purpose for this work
with great labour.
Water¬
works.
/
4 N 2
Tabl$
6S2 w a t e R-W o r k s.
Table I. Logarithms of the Values of the Numerator of the Fraction ^ ^ ^ for every Value of the Hydraulic
—L-yA-f-1,6
mean Depth d : Also the Value of 0,3 ( \/ <1—0,1).
d.
0,1
,2
°>3
o,4
o,S
0,6
0,8
0,9
1,0
1.1
1.2
I>3
r»4
r>5
r,6
1,8
r>9
2,0
2.1
2.2
2>3
2>4
2.5
2.6
2.7
2.8
2,9
3,0
3.1
3, '2
3.3
3.4
3.5
3.6
3.7
3.8
3.9
4,o.
4, x
4.2
4.3
4.4
4.5
4.6
4.7
4.8
Lo?. or
307 (fd—o,i.
)(Vd-
1.82208
2.02786
2-I3753
2.21343
2.27040
2.31618
2-35441
2.28719
2.41588
2.44138
2.46431
2 46518
2.50426
2.52185
2.538x8
2-55345
2.56769
2.58112
2.59381
2.60580
2.61713
2.62803
2.63839
2 64827
2.65772
2.6668 r
2.67556
2.68395
2.69207
2.69989
2.70743
2.71472
2.72181
2.72866
2-7353r
2.74178
2.74805
2.7^417
2.76009
2.76589
2-77I53
2.77704
2.78240
2.78765
2.79277
2.79779
2 80269
2.80747
0,1
x
"—
0,06
0,1
°,T3
0,16
0,18
0,2
0,22
0,24
0,25
0,27
0,28
°,3
0,3!
0,32
°,34
o,35
o,36
o,37
0,38
o,39
0,4
0,41
0,42
o,44
o,45
o,45
0,46
o,47
0,48
o,49
o,5
0,5!
0,52
o,53
o,53
o,54
o,55
0,56
o, 56
o,57
0,58
o,59
o,59
0,6
0,6
0,61
0,62
0,63
4,9
5,o
5.1
5.2
5.3
5.4
5.5
5.6
5.7
5.8
5.9
6,0
6.1
6.2
6.3
6.4
6.5
6.6
6.7
6.8
6.9
7,o
7.1
7.2
7.3
7.4
7.5
7.6
7.7
7.8
Z’9
8,0
8
8.2
8.3
8.4
8.5
8.6
8.7
8.8
8,9
9,o
9 A
9.2
9.3
9.4
9.5
9.6
0,3
Log. of
,,07 (3/ d—3,1) ( f d—o,0
2.81216
2.81674
2.82125
2.82567
2.83000
2.83222
2.83840
2.84248
2.84648
2.85043
2-85431
2.85812
2.86185
2.86554
2.86916
2.87271
2.87622
2.87966
2.88306
2.88641
2.88971
2.89296
2.89614
2.89930
2.90241
2.90549
2.90851
2-91150
2.91445
2-9I734
2.92022
2.92305
2.92584
2.92860
2-93133
2-93403
2.93670
2-93933
2.94192
2-94449
2.94703
2 94954
2.95202
2 95447
2.95690
2.95930
2.96x67
2.96402
0,63
0,63
0,65
0,65
0,66
0,67
0,67
0,68
0,68
0,69
0,69
o,7
o,7
0,71
0,72
o,73
o,73
o,74
o,75
o,75
0,76
0,76
o,77
o,77
0,78
0,78
o,79
o,79
0,8
0,8
0,81
0,82
0,82
0,83
0,83
0,84
0,84
0,85
0,85
0,86
0,86
0,87
0,87
0,88
0,88
0,89
0,89
0,9
d.
9.8
9.9
10
11
12
l3
r4
J5
16
*7
18
r9
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
3°
31
32
33
34
35
S6
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
Log. of
307 {V d
D,t.
) (
2.96634
2.96865
2.97093
5.973x9
2.99454
3.01401
3.03189
3-°4843
3-06383
3.07820
3.09170
3.10441
3.1x644
3-j2783
3-13867
3.14899
3-t5885
3.16828
3-I7734
3.18601
3 I9438
3.20243
3.21020
3.21770
3-22495
3.23196
3-23877
3-24537
3-25176
3-25799
3.26404
3.26993
3.27566
3.28125
3.28669
3.29201
3.29720
3.30227
3.30722
3-31207
3.31681
3-32145
3-32599
3-33°43
3-3348o
3-33908
3-34327
0,3
x
r-o,0
0,9
0,91
0,91
0,92
0,97
1,01
1,05
1,09
MS
I,I7.
1,21
1,24
1,28
L34
1,38
I, 41
M4
M7
J, 5
T,53
1,56
1,58
1,61
1,64
1,67
1,69
1,72
I>74
I,77
i,79
1,82
1,84
1,87
1,89
1,91
I,93
L95
1,98
2,00
2,03
2,05
2,07
2,09
2,11
2,13
2,15
d.
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
7°
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
°,3
Log. of
307 ( v'rf—0,1) ( f'd-—3,1)
3-34738
3-35143
3-35539
3-35928
3-36312
3.36687
3-37057
3-37421
3-37778
3-38130
3-38477
3-38817
3-39 r58
3-39483
3-39809
2.40120
3.40446
3-40758
3-4iq65
3-41369
3.41667
3.41962
3-42253
3-42540
3.42823
3-43I03
3-4338o
3-43653
3-43923
3.44189
3-44452
3.44712
3.44968
2.45222
3-45473
3-45721
3-45965
3.46208
3.46448
3.46685
3.46920
SAHS*
3-4738i
3.47608
3-47833
3.48056
3.48277
2,17
2,19
2,21
2,23
2,25
2,27
2,3
2,31
2,33
2,35
2,37
2,39
2.41
2.42
2,44
2,46
2.48
2.49
2,51
2,53
2,55
2.57
2.58
2,60
2.62
2.63
2,65
2,67
2,69
2,7
2,72
2.74
2.75
2.77
2.78
2.79
2,81
2,83
2.85
2.86
2.88
2.89
2>95
2.93
2.94
2.95
2,97
Table
W A T E It - W O R K S.
653
Table II. Logarithms of the Values of the Denominator of the Fraction 0,T) far evcry Value of the Slopes.
sj i
t,6
3.1
3.2
3.5
4.6
4.7
4.8
I',2
>3
Log. ot
—L \/ s-4-1,0
9-71784
9.74210
9.76388
9.78376
9.80202
9.81882
9.83461
9.84930
9.86314
9.87622
9.888 57/
990031
9.92267
9 93247
9.94231
9-95173
9.96085
9.96942
9.97818
9.98632
9.99427
0.00200
0.00945
0.01669
0.02373
0.03064
0.03733
0.04383
0.05015
0.05638
0.06245
0.06839
0.07412
0.07898
0.08533
0.09081
0.09615
0.10131
0.10644
o.n 147
0.11635
o.12108
0.12595
0.13061
°-I35I9
c.13970
o. 14410
0.14844
0.15274
0.15697
0.16113
0.16522
0.16927
°-I7322
0.17713
0.18099
0.18477
Q.18854
0.19229
0.19584
0.19886
0.20298
Log. of
-y/ s —L.\/s-|-i,<,
7.3
7.4
7.5
7.6
7.7
7.8
7.9
8,0
8.1
8.2
8.3
8.4
8
v>
8.6
8.7
8.8
8,9
9,0
9.1
9.2
9.3
9.4
9.5
9.6
9
9.8
9.9
10,
21
22
29
3°
31
32
33
34
.35
36
>37
38
39
40
42
43
44
0.20651
0.20997
0,21336
0.21674
0.22109
0-22335
0.22663
0.22982
0.23297
0.23611
0.23923
0.24229
0.24532
0.24832
0.25128
0.25422
0.25709
0.25996
0.26281
0.26560
0.26839
0.27116
0.27387
0.27656
0.27921
0.25186
0.28450
0.28709
0.31170
0.33425
0.35488
0.37420
0.39235
0.40926
0.42521
0.44028
0-45439
0.46776
0.48044
0.49262
0-50433
o-51548
0.52621
o. C36 c6
0.54654
0.55606
0.56526
0-57415
0.58263
0.59095
0.59901
0.60692
0.61448
c.62180
0.62900
o-63599
0.64276
o-64933
0-65571
0.66200
0.66811
0.67413
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
9r
92
93
94
95
98
99
100
120
J3
140
*5°
160
v/'
Log. of
; — L \/«4-,
O.67997
O.68574
O.69135
O.69688
O.70226
O.70749
0.7126 C
O.71767
O.72263
O.72746
O.73223
0.73695
0-74155
0.74601
0.75043
0.75481
0.75906
0.76328
0.76745
0.77151
0.78276
0-77945
0-78333
c.78718
0.79092
0.76463
0.79824
0.80182
0.80536
0.80882
0.81231
0.81571
0.81908
0.82236
0.82562
o 82885
0.83 206
0.83525
0-83835
0.84142
0.84442
0.84739
0.85034
0.8 9327
0.85618
0.85908
0.86189
0.86463
0.86741
0.87017
0.87286
0.87552
0.87818
0.88076
0.88338
0.88593
0.91014
0.93212
0.95236
0.97109
0.98843
1.00466
170
180
190
200
2X0
220
23O
24O
25O
2(30
27
280
290
3°0
3IC
320
33°
340
35°
360
370
380
390
400
410
420
43°
44!
450
460
170
480
490
300
5x0
5
53°
540
55°
560
57°
380
390
600
610
620
63c
640
650
660
670
680
690
700
710
720
730
740
750
760
770
780
790
Log. of
? —L \A+1 /J
1.01983
1.03410
1.047 51
1.06026
1.07237
1.08390
1.09489
1.10542
1 1r553
1.12323
I-I3453
I-I4345
1.15204
1.1603 5
1.16838
1.17612
j-i8363
1.19092
1.19803
1.20490
1.21158
1.21806
1.22435
1.23048
x.23647
1.24232
1.24805
1.25360
1.23903
1.26433
1.26951
1.27461
1.27957
1.28445
1.28923
1.29391
1.29851
1.30300
1.30740
1.31172
1-31597
1-32015
1.32426
1-3 283°
1.33226
1.33614
1-33997
1-34373
1-34743
1.35 xoS
1.35468
3-35823
1.36170
1-365i3
1.36851
i-37i85
3-3 7513
i-37839
3-3 8157
i-3837i
1.38782
1.39089
3-3 93 91
800
810
820
83°
840
850
860
870
880
890
900
910
920
930
94°
950
960
970
980
99°
1000
v/7.
Log. of
— L \/s-j-1 ,t
1300
1400
x 500
1600
1700
i 800
1 900
2000
2 200
23OO
24OO
25OO
2600
27OO
2800
29OO
3000
3 xoo
3200
3300
3400
3500
3600
3700
3800
3900
4000
4100
4200
4300
4400
4500
4600
4700
4800
4900
5000
5100
1.39690
1.39985
1.40277
1.40 564
1.40678
1.41128
1.41408
1.41683
3-41953
1.42220
1.42487
1.42746
3-43°o5
1.43263
3-43515
j.43464
1.44011
3-44254
1.44498
M4737
3-44976
1.47223
1.49269
1.51148
1.52885
3-54497
1.56014
1.57416
1.58747
1.60004
1.61195
1.62325
1.63403
i.64432
1.65414
1.66358
1.67261
1.68133
1.68971
1.69780
1-70558
3-7'3I3
1.72042
1.72750
3-73435
1.74099
1.74746
3-75373
1.75984
1.76 578
3-77159
3 • 77725
1.78277
1.78814
3-79339
1.77851
1.80352
1.80875
1.81321
1.81790
1.82249
1.82699
5200
5300
5400
5500
5600
57oo
5800
5900
6000
6100
6200
6300
6400
6500
6600
6700
6800
6900
7000
710
7200
7300
7400
7500
7600
770
7800
7900
8000
8100
8200
8300
8400
8500
8600
8700
8800
8900
900c
9100
9200
9300
940c
95oo
9600
970c
9800
9900
10000
Log. of
\f~s— L^A+i,*,
rxooo
12000
13000
14000
15000
1600
17000
1800
[9000
20000
2X000
22000
23OOO
24OOO
I.83142
3-83575
1.84002
1.84421
3-84833
3-85237
1.85634
1.86022
1.86404
1.86778
1.87146
1-87507
1.87863
1.88213
1.8851;8
1.88898
1.89233
1.89564
1.89891
1.90214
1.90532
1.90845
!.9x154
1.9x458
3-91757
1.92052
1.92344
1.92632
1.92916
1.93197
3-93475
1-93749
1.94020
1.94287
3-94553
1.94811
1.9 5069
3-95324
3-95576
1.95826
1.96073
1.96317
3-96559
1.96797
3-97°33
1.97267
1.97497
1.97726
1.97952
2.00099
2.02056
2.03855
2.05518
2.07065
2.08512
2.09869
2.11148
2.12357
2vi3503
2.14594
2.15633
2.16624
2.17573
Table.
WATER-
Table I. consists of three columns.—Column i. en¬
titled d, contains the hydraulic mean depths of any con¬
duit in inches. This is set down for every 10th of an
inch in the first 10 inches, that the answers may be
more accurately obtained for pipes, the mean depth of
which seldom exceeds three or four inches. The column
is continued to too inches, which is fully equal to the
hydraulic mean depth of any canal.
Column 2. contains the logarithms of the values of
multiplied by 307 , that is, the logarithm of
307 ( v/ d—o. 1)
the numerator of the fraction
N°
Remains 1.30939, the logarithm of 20.385 inches.
4. In column 3. of Table I. opposite to d=i.2 and
i/=l.3 are 0.3 and 0.31, of which the mean is 0.305
inches, the correction for viscidity.
5. Therefore the velocity in inches per second is
20.385—0.305, or 20.c8.
6. To obtain the Scotch pints per minute (each con¬
taining 103.4 cubic inches), multiply the velocity by
j6o, and this product by 5% and this’ by 0.7854 (the
WORKS.
area of a circle whose diameter is 1), and divide by
103.4. Or> by logarithms,
Add the log. of 20.08 - - 1.30276
log. of 60" - - I-778i5
log. of 51 or 25 - - 1.39794
log. of 0.7854 - - 9.89509
-y/ 6' I • 6
65. of the article Rivers.
Column 3. contains the product of the values of
V7-o.. multiplied by 0.3.
Table II. consists of two columns.—Column I. en¬
titled s, contains the denominator of the fraction ex¬
pressing the slope or declivity of any pipe or canal j
that is, the quotient of its length divided by the eleva¬
tion of one extremity above the other. Thus, if a canal
of one mile in length be three feet higher at one end
than the other, then s is   , —1760.
3
Column 2. contains the logarithms of the denomina¬
tors of the above-mentioned fraction, or of the different
values of the quantity */ 1.6.
These quantities were computed true to the third
decimal place. Notwithstanding this, the last figure
in about a dozen of the first logarithms of each table is
not absolutely certain to the nearest unit. But this can¬
not produce an error of 1 in 100,000.
Examples of the Use of these Tables.
Example 1. Water is brought into the city of Edin¬
burgh in several mains. One of these is a pipe of five
inches diameter. The length of the pipe is 14.637
feet j and the reservoir at Comiston is 44 feet higher
than the reservoir into which it delivers the water on
the Castle Hill. Quenj, The number of Scotch pints
which this pipe should deliver in a minute ?
1. We have r/=-, =1.25 inches. The logarithm
4
corresponding to this r/, being nearly the mean be¬
tween the logarithms corresponding to 1.2 and 1.3 is
2.49472.
2. We have g—or 332.7. The logarithm
corresponding to this in Table II. is had by taking pro¬
portional parts for the difference between the logarithms
for $=330 and ^=340, and is 1.18533.
3. From 2.49472
Take 1.18533
Subtract the log. of 103.4
Remains the log. of 228.8 pints
Example 2. The canal mentioned
:2.427 feet, or 29.124 inches. The logarithm
50
20.6
corresponding to this in Table I. is 3.21113, and the
correction for viscidity from the third coAimn of the
same Table is 1.58.
2. The slope is one-third of a foot in a mile, or one
foot in three miles. Therefore s is 15.840. The loga¬
rithm corresponding to this is 2.08280.
3. From 3.21113
Subtract 2.08280
Remains 1.12833:=^. of 13 438 inches.
Subtract for viscidity 1.58
Velocity per second - 11.858
This velocity is considerably smaller than what was
observed by Mr Watt, x'ind indeed we observe, that
in the very small declivities ot rivers and canals, the for¬
mula is a little difierent. We have made several com¬
parisons with a formula which is essentially the same with
Boat’s, and comes nearer in these cases. Instead of ta¬
king the hyperbolic logarithm of -y/s-f- 1.6, multiply
its common logarithm by 2f, or multiply it by 9, and
divide the product by 4; and this process is vastly easier
than taking the hyperbolic logarithm.
We have not, however, presumed to calculate tables
on the authority of our own observations, thinking too
respectfully of this gentleman’s labours and observations.
But this subject will, ere long, he fully established on a
series of observations on canals of various dimensions a nd
declivities, made by several eminent engineers during the
execution of them. Fortunately Mr Buat’s formula is
chiefly founded on observations on small canals; and is
therefore most accurate in such works where if is most
necessary, viz. in mill courses, and other derivations for
working machinery.
We now proceed to take no'rce of a few circum¬
stances which deserve attention, in the construction of
canals, in addition to those delivered in the article
Rivers.
When a canal or aqueduct is brought off from a bason
4-37394
2.01451
2-35943
in the article
Rivers, N° 63. was 18 feet broad at the surface, and
7 feet at the bottom. It was 4 feet deep, and had a
declivity of 4 inches in a mile. Query, The mean \e-
locity ?
1. The slant side of the canal, corresponding to 4 feet
deep and 5^ projection, is 6.8 feet ; therefore tire border
touched by the water is 6.8-{-7-j-6 8, =20.6. The
. 184-7
area is 4X , =50 square feet. Therefore d~
W A T E K
Water- or ^rger stream, it ought always to he widened at the
wtiks. entry, if it is intended for drawing off a continued
—y—^ stream of water : For such a canal has a slope, without
which it can have no current. Suppose it filled to a
dead level to the farther end : Take away the bar, and
the water immediately begins to flow off at that end.
But it is some time before any motion is perceived at
the head of the canal, during all which time the motion
of the water is augmenting in every part of the canal ;
consequently the slope is increasing in every part, this
being the sole cause of its stream. When the water at
the entry begins to move, the slope is scarcely sensible
there ; but it sensibly steepens every moment with the
increase of velocity, which at last attains its maximum
relative to the slope and dimensions of the whole canal ;
and this regulates the depth of water in every point
down the stream. When all has attained a state of per¬
manency, the slope, at the entry remains much greater
than in any other part of the canal \ for this slope must
be such as will produce a velocity sufficient for supply¬
ing its TRAIN.
And it must be remembered, that the velocity which
must be produced greatly exceeds the mean velocity cor¬
responding to the train of the canal. Suppose that this
is 25 inches. There must be a velocity of 30 inches at
the surface, as appears by the Table in the article Rl-
VERS, N° 80. This must be produced by a real fall at
the entry.
In every other part the slope is sufficient, if it merely
serves to give the water (already in motion) force
enough for overcoming the friction and other resistances.
But at the entry the water is stagnant, if in a bason, or
it is moving past laterally, if the aqueduct is derived
from a river ; and, having no velocity whatever in the
direction of the canal, it must derive it from its slope.
The water therefore which has acquired a permanent
form in such an aqueduct, must necessarily take that
form which exactly performs the offices requisite in its
Ate different portions. The surface remains horizontal in
^ ‘Xtll. t]le bason, as to KC (fig. I.), till it comes near the en-
'11 try of the canal AB, and there it acquires the form of
an undulated curveCDE; and then the surface acquires
an uniform slope EF, in the lower part of the canal,
where the water is in train.
If this is a drain, the discharge is much less than
might be produced by the same bed if this sudden slope
could be avoided. If it is to be navigated, having only
a very gentle slope in its whole length, this sudden slope
is a very great imperfection, both by diminishing the
depth of water, which might otherwise be obtained along
the canal, and by rendering the passage of boats into
the bason very difficult, and the coming out very ha¬
zardous.
All this may be avoided, and the velocity at the en¬
try may be kept equal to that which forms the train of
the canal, by the simple piocess of enlarging the entry.
Suppose that the water could accelerate along the slopes
of the canal, as a heavv body would do on a finely po¬
lished plane. If we now make the width of the entry
in its different parts inversely proportional to the fic¬
titious velocities in those parts, it is plain that the slope
of the surface will be made parallel to that of the canal
which is in train. This will require a form somewhat
like a bell or speaking trumpet, as may easily be shown
hy a mathematical discussion. It would, however, be
WORKS. 655
so much evasated at the bason as to occupy much room, Watcr-
and it would be very expensive to make such an exca- works,
vation. But we may, at a very moderate expence of v
money and room, make the increase of velocity at the
entry almost insensible. This should always be done,
and it is not all expence : for if it be not done, the wa¬
ter will undermine the banks on each side, because it is
moving very swiftly, and will make an excavation for
itself, leaving all the mud in the canal below. YVe
may observe this enlargement at the entry of all naturaf
derivations from a bason or lake. It is a very instruc¬
tive experiment, to fill up this enlargement, continuing
the parallel sides of the drain quite to the side of the
lake. YY'e shall immediately observe the water grow
shallower in the drain, and its performance will diminish.
Supposing the ditch carried on with parallel sides quite
to the side of the bason, if we build two walls or dykes
from the extremities of those sides, bending outwards
with a proper curvature (and this will often be less cost¬
ly than widening the drain), the discharge will be great¬
ly increased. YY^e have seen instances where it w7as
nearly doubled.
The enlargement at the mouths of rivers is generally
owing to the same cause. The tide of flood up the ri¬
ver produces a superficial slope opposite to that of the
river, and this widens the mouth. This is most re¬
markable when the tides are high, and the river has lit¬
tle slope.
After this great fall at the entry of the canal, in
which all the filaments are much accelerated, and the
inferior ones most of all, things take a contrary turn.
The water, by rubbing on the bottom and the sides, is
retarded ; and therefore the section must, from being
shallow, become a little deeper, and the surface will be
convex for some distance till all comes into train. When
this is established, the filaments nearest the bottom and
side are moving slowest, and the surface (in the middle
especially) retains the greatest velocity, gliding over the
rest. The velocity in the canal, and the depth of the
section, adjust themselves in such a manner that the dif¬
ference between the surface of the bason and the surface
of the uniform section of the canal corresponds exactly
to the velocity. Thus, if this be observed to be two
feet in a second, the difl’erence of height will be j^ths
of an inch.
All the practical questions that are of considerable
importance respecting the motion of water in aqueducts,
may be easily, though not elegantly, solved by means of
the tables.
But it is to be remembered, that these tables relate
only to uniform motion, that is, to water that is in train,
and where the velocity suffers no change by lengthening
the conduit, provided the slope remain the same. It is
much more difficult to determine what will be the velo¬
city, &c. in a canal of which nothing is given but the
form, and slope, and depth of the entry, without saying
how deep the water runs in it. And it is here that the
common doctrines of hvdraulics are most in fault, and
unable to teach us how deep the water will run in a ca¬
nal, though the depth of the bason at the entry be per¬
fectly known. Between the part of the canal which
is in train and the bason, there is an interval where the
water is in a state of acceleration, and is afterwards re¬
tarded.
The determination of the motions in this interval is
exceedingly
6s6 WATER-
exceedingly difficult, even in a rectangular canal. It was
one great aim of M. Buat’s experiments to ascertain
this by measuring accurately the depth of the water.
But he found that when the slope was but a very few
inches in the whole length of his canal, it was not in
train for want of greater length ; and when the slope
was still less, the small fractions of an inch, by which
he was to judge of the variations of depth, could not be
measured with sufficient accuracy. It would be a most
desirable point to determine the length of a canal, whose
slope and other dimensions are given, which will bring
it into train 5 and what is the ratio which will then ob¬
tain between the depth at the entry and the depth which
will be maintained. Till this be done, the engineer
cannot ascertain by a direct process what quantity of
water will be drawn off from a reservoir by a given
canal. But as yet this is out of our reach. Experi¬
ments, however, are in view which will promote the in¬
vestigation.
But this and similar questions are of such import¬
ance, that we cannot be said to have improved hydrau¬
lics, unless we can give a tolerably precise answer.
This we can do by a sort of retrograde process, pro¬
ceeding on the principles of uniform motion establish¬
ed by the Chevalier Buat. We may suppose a train
maintained in the canal, and then examine whether this
train can be produced by any fall that is possible at the
entry. If it can, we may be certain that it is so pro¬
duced, and our problem is solved.
We shall now point out the methods of answering
some chief questions of this kind.
Quest. 1. Given the slope s and the breadth w of a
canal, and the height H of the surface of the water in
the bason above the bottom of the entry ; to find the
depth /i and velocity V of the stream, and the quantity
of water Q which is discharged ?
The chief difficulty is to find the depth of the stream
where it is in train. For this end, we may simplify the
hydraulic theorem of uniform motion in N° 59. of the
article River j making > where g is the
y o
velocity (in inches) acquired in a second by fall¬
ing, d is the hydraulic mean depth, and S stands for
V S—L ^/S-f-i.6. N is a number to be fixed by ex¬
periment (see River, N° 53.) depending on the con¬
traction or obstruction sustained at the entry of the
canal, and it may in most common cases he taken =244 j
so that v^N g may be somewhat less that 307. To
find it, we may begin by taking for our depth of stream
a quantity h, somewhat smaller than H the height of
the surface of the bason above the bottom of the canal.
With this depth, and the known width w of the canal,
we can find the hydraulic depth d (See Rivers, N° 48).
Then with d and the slope find V by the Table :
make this V—. This gives
This value of N g is sufficiently exact; for a small er¬
ror of depth hardly afiects the hydraulic mean depth.
After this preparation, the expression of the mean
/
?i> h
WORKS.
height which will produce this velocity is ^ ^ ( W ^ ~\
2GSVw + 2/J
Now this is the slope at the entry of the canal which
produces the velocity that is afterwards maintained
against the obstructions by the slope of the canal. It
is therefore rrH—h. Hence we deduce
h=
-(w(7lfs+ 1 )-2H)
,/8H» + (»(A| + .)-2h)‘
If there be no contraction at the entry, g—G and
9 _ 1
2 G 2"
Having thus obtained the depth A of the stream, we
obtain the quantity of water by combining this with the
width w and the velocity V.
But as this was but an approximation, it is necessary
to examine whether the velocity V be possible. This is
very easy. It must be produced by the fall H—h. We
shall have no occasion for any correction of our first
assumption, if A has not been extravagantly erroneous,
because a small mistake in h produces almost the same
variation in d. The test of accuracy, however, is, that
//, together with the height which will produce the ve¬
locity V, must make up the whole height II. Assum¬
ing h too small, leaves H—h too great, and will give a
small velocity V, which requires a small value of II—h.
The error of H—h therefore is always greater than
the error we have committed in our first assumption.
Therefore when this error of H—h is but a trifle, such
as one-fourth of an inch, we may rest satisfied with our
answer.
Perhaps the easiest process maybe the following:
Suppose the whole stream in train to have the depth H.
The velocity V obtained for this depth and slope by the
Table requires a certain productive height u. Make
y/H-f-w : H —H : h, and h will be exceedingly near
the truth. The reason is obvious.
Quest. 2. Given the discharge (or quantity to be fur¬
nished in a second) Q, the height H of the bason above
the bottom of the canal, and the slope 5 to find the di¬
mensions of the canal?
Let x and y be the depth and mean width. It is
Q
velocity in the canal will be vA N g  W-\-2/l
■ .'**■
v/ S
Thf
plain that the equation —— \/ 2 G ^H—x will give
xy
a value of y in terms of x. Compare this with the
Q ^ N g
value of y obtained from the equation
 — . This will give an equation containing
y + zx * H
only x and known quantities. But it will be very com¬
plicated, and we must have recourse to an approxima¬
tion. This will be best understood in the iorm ot an
example.
Suppose the depth at the entry to he 18 inches, and
the slope toVs-* 1200 cubic feet of water per mi¬
nute be the quantity of water to be drawn oil, for work¬
ing machinery or any other purpose ", and let the canal
be
WATER
be supposed of tbe best form, recommended in N° 69.
of the article River, where the base of the sloping side
is four-thirds of the height.
. V*
The slightest consideration will show us that if 
. . 744
be taken for the height producing the velocity, it can¬
not exceed 3 inches, nor be less than 1. Suppose it
— 2, and therefore the depth of the stream in the canal
to be 16 inches j find the mean width of the canal by
Q
the equation w=.  in which Q
*(^-o,(3-22_0.3)
is 20 cubic feet (the 60th part of 1200), is —
28.153,^v^1000,—I00° + I«6, and /?=i6. This
gives wz=^.^2 feet. The section w—7.36 feet, and
V—32.6 inches. This requires a fall of 1.52 inches
instead of 2 inches. Take this from 18, and there re¬
mains 16.48, which we shall find not to differ one-tenth
of an inch from the exact depth which the water will
acquire and maintain. We may therefore be satisfied
with assuming 5.36 feet as the mean width, and 3.53
feet for the width at the bottom.
This approximation proceeds on this consideration,
that when the width diminishes by a small quantity, and
in the same proportion that the depth increases, the hy¬
draulic mean depth remains the same, and therefore the
velocity also remains, and the quantity discharged chan¬
ges in the exact proportion of the section. Any minute
error which may result from this supposition, may be
corrected by increasing the fall producing the velocity,
in the proportion of the first hydraulic mean depth to
the mean depth corresponding to the new dimensions
found for the canal. It will now become 1.53, and V
will be 32.72, and the depth tvill be 16.47. The
quantity discharged being divided by V, will give the
section —7.335 feet, from which, and the new depth,
we obtain 5.344 for the width.
This and the foregoing are the most common ques¬
tions proposed to an engineer. We asserted with some
confidence that few of the profession are able to answer
them with tolerable precision. We cannot offend the
professional gentlemen by this, when we inform them
that the Academy of Sciences at Paris were occupied
during several months with an examination of a plan
proposed by M. Parcieux, for bringing the waters of
the Yvette into Paris 5 and after the most mature con¬
sideration, gave in a report of the quantity of water
which M. De Parcieux’s aqueduct would yield, and
that their report has been found erroneous in the pro¬
portion of at least 2 to 5 : For the waters have been
brought in, and exceed the report in this proportion.
Indeed long after the giving in the report, M. Perro-
net, the most celebrated engineer in France, affirmed
that the dimensions proposed were much greater than
were necessary, and said that an aqueduct of 5-J feet
\yide, and 34- deep with a slope of 15 inches in a thou-
*and fathoms, would have a velocity of 12 or 13 inches
per second, which would bring in all the water furnish¬
ed by the proposed sources. The great diminution of
expence occasioned by the alteration encouraged the
community to undertake the work. It was accordingly
begun, and a part executed. The water was found to
run with a velocity of near 19 inches when it was 3^
feet deep. M. Perronet founded his computation on
Vol. XX. Part II. * 1
-WORKS.
his own experience alone, acknowledging that he had
no theory to instruct him. The work was carried no
farther, it being found that the city could be supplied
at a much smaller expence by steam engines erected by
Boulton and Watt. But the facts which occurred in
the partial execution of the aqueduct are very valuable.
If M. Per ronet’s aqueduct be examined by our general
formula, # will be found an<l (/—18.72, from
which we deduce the velocity —18-|, agreeing with the
observation with astonishing precision.
The experiments at Turin by Michaelotti on canals
were very numerous, but complicated with many cii-
cumstances which would render the discussion too long
lor this place. When cleared of these circumstances,
which we have done with scrupulous care, they are also
abundantly conformable to our theory of the uniform
motion of running waters. But to return to our sub-
ject :
Should it be required to bring off at once from the
bason a mill-course, having a determined velocity for
driving an undershot wheel, the problem becomes easier,
because the velocity and slope combined determine the
hydraulic mean depth at once j and the depth of the
stream will be had by means of the height which must
be taken for the whole depth at the entry, in order to
produce the required velocity.
In like manner, having given the quantity to be
discharged, and the velocity and the depth at the en¬
try, we can find the other dimensions of the channel 5
and the mean depth being found, we can determine tbe
slope.
When the slope of a canal is very small, so that tbe
depth of the uniform stream differs but a little from that
at the entry, the quantity discharged is but small. But
a great velocity, requiring a great fall at the entry,
produces a great diminution of depth, and therefore it
may not compensate for this diminution, and the quan¬
tity discharged may be smaller. Improbable as this
may appear, it is not demonstrably false ; and hence we
may see the propriety of the following
Question 3. Given the depth II at the entry of a
rectangular canal, and also its width w ; required the
slope, depth, and velocity which will produce the great¬
est possible discharge f
Let x be the unknown depth of the stream. H—x
is the productive fall, and the velocity is ^2 G
H—x. This multiplied by ru x will give the quan¬
tity discharged. Therefore w x 2 G ^/ll—a? must
be made a maximum. The common process for this
will give the equation, 2H—3 a:, or x~\H. The mean
velocity will be ^ 2 G, H; the section will be
y w H, and the discharge =ry 2 Qi w H Hj and
d~ ——7-77. With these data the slope is easily had
by the formula for uniform motion.
Water¬
works;.
If the canal is of the trapezoidal form, the investiga¬
tion is more troublesome, and requires the resolution of
a cubic equation.
It may appear strange that increasing the slope of a
canal beyond the quantity determined by this problem
can diminish the quantity of water conveyed. But one
of these two things must happen ; either the motion will
not acquire uniformity in such a canal for want of
4 O length,
6;8
WATER- W O R K S.
lengtli, or tbe discharge must diminish. Supposing,
however, that it could augment, we can judge how far
this can go. Let us take the extreme case by making
tiie canal vertical. In this case it becomes a simple
weir or wasteboard. Now the discharge of a waste-
  ? 3.
hoard is -f^/ 2 G u’ (A2 — The maximum de¬
termined by tiie preceding problem is to that of the
wasteboard of the same dimensions as II: II 2 —
(i H)i or as HVlH : Hv/H_|lVlH, = 5773:
6465, nearly = 9 : 10.
Having given the dimensions and slope of a canal,
we can discover the relation between its expenditure and
the time : or we can tell how much it will sink the sur¬
face of a pond in 24 hours, and the gradual pi ogress of
this effect ; and this might he made the subject of a
particular problem. But it is complicated and difliciilt.
In cases where this is an interesting object, we may
solve tlie question with sufficient accuracy, hy calculat¬
ing the expenditure at the beginning, supposing the ha-
son kept full. Then from the known area of the pond,
we can tell in what time this expenditure will sink an
inch *, do the same on the supposition that the water is
one-third lower, and that it is two-thirds lower (noti¬
cing the contraction of the surface of the pond occasion¬
ed bv this abstraction of its waters). Thus we shall ob¬
tain three rates of diminution, from which we can ea¬
sily deduce the desired relation between the expenditure
and the time.
Aqueducts derived from a bason or river are com¬
monly furnished with a sluice at the entry. This changes
exceedingly the state of things. The slope of the
canal may be precisely such as will maintain the mean
velocity of the water which passes under the sluice j in
which case the depth of the stream is equal to that of
the sluice, and the velocity is produced at once by the
head of water above it. But if the slope is less than
this, the velocity of the issuing water is diminished, and
the water must rise in the canal. This must check the
efflux at the sluice, and the water will he as it were
stagnant above what comes through below it. It is ex¬
tremely difficult to determine at what precise slope the
water will begin to check the efflux. The contraction
at the lower edge of the board hinders the water from
attaining at once the whole depth which it acquires af¬
terwards, when its velocity diminishes by the obstruc¬
tions. While the regorging which these obstructions
occasion does not reach back to the sluice, the efflux is
not affected by it.—Even when it does reach to the
sluice, there will be a less depth immediately behind it
than farther down the canal, where it is in train ; be¬
cause the swift moving water which is next the bottom
drags with it the regorged water which lies on it: but
the canal must be rapid to make this difference of depth
sensible. In ordinary canals, with moderate slopes and
velocities, the velocity at the sluice may be safely taken
as if it were that which corresponds to the difference of
depths above and below the sluice, where both were in
1 ain.
Let therefore H he the depth above the sluice, and h
the depth in the canal. Let e be the elevation of the
sluice above the sole, and let b be iis breadth. The
discharge will be ebuJW—h*J2 G for the sluice, and
w h
w
\ w -f 2 A
for the canal. I hose must
r
the same. This gives the equation e A II
7 A' / w h . .
— wn ;—  containing the solution of
V -J- 2 A 0
all the questions which can be proposed. The only un¬
certainty is in the quantity G, which expresses the velo¬
city competent to the passage of the water through the
orifice, circumstanced as it is, namely, subjected to con¬
traction. This may be regulated by a proper form gi¬
ven to the entry into this orifice. The contraction may
be. almost annihilated by making the masonry of a cy¬
cloidal form on both sides, and also at the lower edge
ot the sluice-board, so as to give the orifice a form re¬
sembling fig. 5. I), in the article Rivers. If the sluice
is thin in the lace of a bason, the contraction will reduce
' 2 G to 296. It the sluice be as wide as the canal, 2 G
will be nearly 500.
Question 4. Given the head of water in the bason II,
the breadth A, and the elevation e of the sluice, and the
breadth iv and slope s of the canal, to find the depth A
of the stream, the velocity, and the discharge ^
w e must (as in Question 2.) make a first supposition
for A, in order to find the proper value of d. Then the
equation e b H—A2 G — w h -■-——gives A =
Ce2 b
* s /
G r2 // s II
G
kir>* N g dj
■v/ s
a*T\*
if thi
«o2 ‘ V to* N g- r/
lue shall differ considerably from the one which we as¬
sumed in order to begin the computation, make use of
it for obtaining a new value of d, and repeat the opera¬
tion. We shall rarely be obliged to perform a third
operation.
The following is of frequent use :
Question 5. Given the dimensions and the slope, with
the velocity and discharge of a river in its ordinary
state, required the area or section of the sluice which
will raise the waters to a certain height, still allowing
the same quantity of water to pass through ? Such an
operation may render the rivers navigable for small craft
or rafts above the sluice.
The problem is reduced to the determination of the
size of orifice which will discharge this water with a ve¬
locity competent to the height to which the river is to.
be raised ; only we most take into consideration the ve¬
locity of the water above the sluice, considering it as
produced by a fall 3vhich makes a part of the height,
productive of the whole velocity at the sluice. There¬
fore H, in our investigation,, must consist of the height
to which vve mean to raise the waters, and the height
which will produce the velocity with which the waters
approach the sluice : A, or the depth of the stream, is.
the ordinary depth of the x-iver. Then (using the for-
tv Ay/N g d  __
^iGs (11 _ A)'’ "v
Q
mer symbols) we have e b —
>/:
2 G (H-A) / .
If the area of the sluice is known, and we tvotild.
learn the height to which it will raise the river, we have
Q* ’ . ,
H—A— ^ for the expression of the rise of the.
zG^b2
WATER
Wiitfi'-
Iworks.
r-V—'
Water aljove its ordinary level. But from this we must
take the height which would produce the velocity of
the river j so that if the sluice were as wide as the river,
and were raised to the ordinary surface of the water,
—G which expresses the height that produces the
velocity under the sluice, must he equal to the depth of
the river, and H—h will be =ro.
The performance of aqueduct drains is a very import¬
ant thing, and merits our attention in this place. While
the art of managing waters, and of conducting them so
as to answer our demands, renders us very important
service bv embellishing our habitations, or promoting
our commercial intercourse, the art of draining creates
as it were new riches, fertilizing tracts of bog or marsh,
which was not only useless, but hurtful by its unwhole¬
some exhalations, and converting them into rich pas¬
tures and gay meadows. A wild country, occupied by
marshes which are inaccessible to herds or flocks, and
serve only for the haunts of water-fowls, or the retreat
of a few poor fishermen, when once it is freed from the
waters in which it is drowned, opens its lap to receive
the most precious seeds, is soon clothed in the richest
garb, gives life and abundance to numerous herds, and
never fails to become the delight of the industrious cul¬
tivator wrho has enfranchised it, and is attached to it by
the labour which it cost him. In return, it procures
him abundance, and supplies him with the means of
daily augmenting its fertility. No species of agricul¬
ture exhibits such long-continued and progressive im¬
provement. New families flock to the spot, and there
multiply; and there nature seems the more eager to re¬
pay their labours, in proportion as she has been obliged,
against her will, to keep her treasures locked up for a
longer time, chilled by the waters. The countries
newly inhabited by the human race, as is a great part
of America, especially to the southward, are still co¬
vered to a great extent with marshes and lakes *, and
they would long remain in this condition, if population,
daily making new advances, did not increase industry,
by multiplying the cultivating hands, at the same time
that it increases their wants. The Author of this beau¬
tiful world has at the beginning formed the great mas¬
ses of mountain, has scooped out the dales and sloping
hills, has traced out the courses, and even formed the
beds of the rivers: but he has left to man the care of
making his place of abode, and the field which must
feed him, dry and comfortable. For this task is not be¬
yond his powers, as the others are. Nay, by having
this given to him in charge, he is richly repaid for his
labour by the very state in which he finds those coun¬
tries into which he penetrates for the first time. Being
covex-ed with lakers and forests, the juices of the soil are
kept for him as it were in reserve. The air, the burn¬
ing heat of the sun, and the continual washing of rains,
would have combined to expend and dissipate their ve¬
getative powers, had the fields been exposed in the same
degree to their action as the inhabited and cultivated
countries, the most fertile moulds of which are long
since lodged in the bottom of the ocean. All this would
have been completely lost through the whole extent of
South America, had it not been protected by the fo¬
rests which man must cut down, by the rank herbage
which he must burn, and by the marsh and bog which
-WORK S. 659
he must destroy by draining. Let not ungrateful man Water-
complain of this. It is his duty to take on himself the works,
task of opening up treasures, preserved on purpose lor '' ‘
him with so much judgment and care. If he has dis¬
cernment and sensibility, he will even thank the Author
of all good, who has thus husbanded them for his use.
He will co-operate with his beneficent views, and will
be careful not to proceed by wantonly snatching at pre¬
sent any partial good, and bv picking out what is most
easily got at, regardless of him who is to come after¬
wards to uncover and extract the remaining riches of
the ground. A wise administration of such a country
will think it their duty to leave a just share of this inhe¬
ritance to their descendants, who are entitled to expect
it as the last legatees. National plans of cultivation
should be formed on this principle, that the steps taken
by the present cultivators for realizing part of the riches
of the infant country shall not obstruct the works which
will afterwards he necessary for also obtaining the re¬
mainder. This is carefully attended to in Holland and
in China. No man is allowed to conduct the drains, by
which he recovers a piece of marsh, in such a way as t»
render it much more difficult for a neighbour, or even
for his own successor, to drain another piece, although
it may at present he quite inaccessible. There remain
in the middle of the most cultivated countries many
marshes, which industry has not yet attempted to drain,
and where the legislature has not been at pains to pre¬
vent many little abuses which have produced elevations
in the beds of rivers, and rendered the complete drain¬
ing of some spots impossible. Administration should
attend to such things, because their consequences are
great. The sciences and arts, by which alone these '
difficult and costly jobs can he performed, should he pro¬
tected, encouraged, and cherished. It is only from
science that we can obtain principles to direct these
arts. The problem of draining canals is one of the
most important, and yet has hardly ever occupied the
attention of the hydraulic speculatist. We apprehend
that M. Buat’s theory will throw great light on it j
and regret that the very limited condition of our pre¬
sent work will hardly afford room for a slight sketch of
what may be done on the subject. We shall, however,
attempt it by a general problem, which will involve
most of the chief circumstances which occur in works
of that kind.
Quest. 6. Let the hollow ground A (fig. 2.) he in¬
undated by rains or springs, and have no outlet but the
canal AB, by which it discharges its water into the
neighbouring river BCDE, and that its surface is near¬
ly on a level with that of the river at D. It can only
drain when the river sinks in the droughts of summer j
and even if it could then drain completely, the putrid
marsh would only be an infecting neighbour. It may
be proposed to drain it by one or more canals ; and it is
required to determine their lengths and other dimen¬
sions, so as to produce the best effects ?
It is evident that there are many circumstances to
determine the choice, and many conditions to be attend¬
ed to.
If the canals AC, AD, AG, are respectively equal
to the proportions BC, BD, BE, of the river, and have
the same slopes, they will have the same discharge 5 but
they are not for this reason equivalent. The long ca¬
nal AE may drain the marsh completely, while the short
4 O 2 nae
66o
WATER-WORKS.
one AC will only do it in part 5 because the difference
of level between A and C is but inconsiderable. Also
the freshes of the river may totally obstruct the opera¬
tion of AC, while the canal AE cannot be hurt by
them, E being so much lower than C. Therefore the
canal must be carried so far down the river, that no
freshes there shall ever raise the waters in the canal so
high as to reduce the slope in the upper part of it to
such a level that the current shall not be sufficient to
carry off the ordinary produce of water in the marsh.
Still the problem is indeterminate, admitting many
solutions. This requisite discharge may be accomplished
by a short but wide canal, or by a longer and narrower.
Let us first see what solution can be made, so as to ac¬
complish our purpose in the most economical manner,
that is, by means of the smallest equation.—We shall
give the solution in the form of an example.
Suppose that the daily produce of rains and springs
raises the water if inch on an area of a square league,
which gives about 120,000 cubic fathoms of water.
Let the bottom of the bason be three feet below the sur¬
face of the freshes in the river at B in winter. Also,
that the slope of the river is 2 inches in xoo fathoms, or
Ttfwodth, and that the canal is to be 6 feet deep.
The canal being supposed nearly parallel to the river,
it must be at least 1800 fathoms long before it can be
admitted into the river, otherwise the bottom of the bog
will be lower than the mouth of the canal } and even
then a hundred or two more fathoms added to this will
give it so little slope, that an immense breadth will be
necessary to make the discharge with so small a velocity.
On the other band, if the slope of the canal be made
equal to that of the river, an extravagant length will be
necessary before its admission into the river, and many
obstacles may then intervene. And even then it must
have.a breadth of 13 feet, as may easily be calculated
by the general hydraulic theorem. By receding from
each of these extremes, we shall diminish the expence
of excavation. Therefore,
Let x and y be the breadth and length, and h the
depth (6 feet), of the canal. Let q be the depth of
the bog below the surface of the river, opposite to the
the river. We must make h x y a minimum, or
xy-f-yx—a.
The general formula gives the velocity
Vrr
sfng ( \/d—0,1)
-°,3(V'^—0,1). This would
\/ s—L^/sff-1,6
give x and y; but the logarithmic term renders it very
complicated. We may make use of the simple form
making ng nearly 2y b. This will be
V—-
vs
and — —q is the difference of height for the canal.
This quantity being divided by y, gives the value of
X ~
Therefore the equation for the canal be-
r x-\-2 h a
comes ^/N o- x -\-2 h ^ . Elence we deduce
y
N g- y h?x9 3 Nff q b3 X* X
•/——  —D* (a-+2/i)andy3: D (j?+2/i)
'-D’)
N g h* x3 ^ ' /nV
  D* 0+2 h) J
If we substitute
these values in the equation y x xy—o, and reduce
it, we obtain finally,
N g b3 x3 0 7
6 - 3 ^=8 7i.
a D3
. D
obtain #“392 inches, or 32 feet 8 inches, and —, or
V—18,36 inches. Now putting these values in the
exact formula for the velocity, xve obtain the slope of
the canal, which is ttx+t? nearly 0,62, inches in 100
fathoms.
Let / be the length of the canal in fathoms. As the
river has 2 inches fall in 100 fathoms, the whole fall is
2 / , , . r 1 1 • °>62 ^
-, and that of the canal is
The difference of
bason, D the discharge in a second, and — the slope of
100' 100
these two must be 3 feet, which is the difference between
the river and the entry of the canal. We have there¬
fore ( -—^ I — 16 inches. Hence 1=2604 fa-
V 1°° /
thorns 5 and this multiplied by the section of the canal
gives 14177 cubic fathoms of earth to be removed.
This may surely be done, in most cases, for eight shil¬
lings each cubic fathom, which does not amount to 6000I,
a very moderate sum for completely draining of nine
square miles of country.
In order to judge of the importance of this problem,
we have added two other canals, one longer and the
other shorter, having their widths and slopes so adjusted
as to ensure the same performance.
Slope. Length. Excavation.
sufficiently exact for all cases which do not deviate far
from this, because the velocities are very nearly in the
subduplicate ratio of the slopes.
To introduce these data into the equation, recollect
X) Ji cc
that —; d=—: T. As to S, recollect that
Width.
Feet.
42
32t
21
Yelocity.
Inches.
14.28
18.36
28.57
15547
14177
I5833
h x’ x 2/1
the canal being supposed of nearly equal length with
the river, — will express the whole difference of height,
T IT‘TITS' 2 2 21
TY'BfR'T 2604
TtVt" 7381
We have considered this important problem in its
most simple state. If the bason is far from the liver,so
that the drains are not nearly parallel to it, and there¬
fore have less slope attainable in their course, it is more
difficult. Perhaps the best method is to try two very
extreme cases and a middle one, and then a lourth, nearer
to that extreme which diflers least from the middle one i.j
the
Wat«r •
works
If we resolve this equation by making N g—(296)*, or
87616 inches ) h = 72, — rr-jVoq, and 1)=5I8400>
the quantity of excavation. This will point out on
which side the minimum of excavation lies, and also the
law by which it diminishes and afterwards increases.
Then draw a line, on which set oft' from one end the
lengths of the canals. At each length erect an or¬
dinate representing the excavation j and draw a regular
curve through the extremities of the ordinates. From
that point of the curve which is nearest to the base line,
draw another ordinate to the base. This will point out
the best length of the canal with sufficient accuracy. The
length will determine the slope, and this will give the
width, by means of the general theorem. N. B. These
draining canals must always come off'from the bason with
evasated entries. This will prevent the loss of much
fall at the entry.
Two canals may sometimes be necessary. In this case
expence may frequently be saved, by making one canal
flow into the other. This, however, must be at such a
distance from the bason, that the swell produced in the
other by this addition may not reach back to the imme¬
diate neighbourhood of the bason, otherwise it would
impede the performance of both. For this purpose, re¬
course must be had to Problem III. in N° 104. of the
article River. We must here observe, that in this re¬
spect canals differ exceedingly from rivers 5 rivers eit-
large their beds, so as always to convey every increase
of waters; but a canal may be gorged through its
whole length, and will then greatly diminish its dis¬
charge. In order that the lower extremity of a canal
may convey the waters of an equal canal admitted into
it, their junction must be so far from the bason that
the swell occasioned by raising its waters nearly 4 more
(viz,, in the subduplicate ratio of 1 to 2) may not reach
back to the bason.
This observation points out another method of econo¬
my. Instead of one wide canal, we may make a narrower
one of the whole length, and another narrow one reach¬
ing part of the way, and communicating with the long
canal at a proper distance from the bason. But the
lower extremity will now be too shallow to convey the
waters of both. Therefore raise its banks by using the
earth taken from its bed, which must at any rate be dis¬
posed of. Thus the waters will be conveyed, and the
expence, even of the lower part of the long canal, will
scarcely be increased.
These observations must suffice for an account of the
management of open canals-, and we proceed to the con¬
sideration of the conduct of water in pipes.
This is much more simple and regular, and the ge¬
neral theorem requires very trilling modifications for
adapting it to the cases or questions that occur in the
practice of the civil engineer. Pipes are always made
round, and therefore d is always -Jffi of the diameter.
The velocity of water in a pipe which is in train, is
■WATER-WORKS. v
Let L be the length, and h the fall which would pro¬
duce the velocity with which the water enters the pipe,
and actually flows in it, after overcoming all obstruc¬
tions. tThis may be expressed in terms of the velocity
V*
o, 1
307 (V d—o,\)
o'—-L^y/5-f-1,6
) {—307
V \A—1
by G denoting the acceleration of gravity, cor¬
responding to the manner of entry. When no methods
are adopted for facilitating the entry of the water, by a
bell-shaped funnel or otherwise, 2 G may be assumed
as ~ 500 inches, or 42 feet, according as we measure
the velocity in inches or feet. The slope is -, =
-o,3(\A/—o,) or = (v^
—0,3).
II—
Z1
2G, which must be put into the general formula.
Th is would make it very complicated. We may simpli¬
fy it by the consideration that the velocity is very small
in comparison of that arising from the height H :
consequently h is very small. Also, in the same pipe,
the resistances are nearly in the duplicate ratio of the ve¬
locities when these are small, and when they differ little
among themselves. Therefore make b = —, taking
h by guess, a very little less than H. Then compute
the mean velocity v corresponding to these data, or take
it from the table.
If h-\ be = H, we have found
‘ 2 G
the mean velocity V zz v.
proportion :
v* „ V* V*
If not, make the following
ig
this, //-j- —77 : v'
1 G
^ II
= H
which is the same with
;* II
2 G*
V2, and V2 is r=
h-\-
2 G>
2G h -j- v1 —
2 G
2GH
u* + 2 G/z
y/.9 L*,/ .9 -{- 1, 6
The chief questions are the following :
Quest. 1. Given the height II of the reservoir above
the place of delivery, and the diameter and length of
the pip'c, to find the quantity of water discharged in a
second..
66;
If the pipe has any bendings, they must be calculated
for in the manner mentioned in the article RlVEK, N°
1 ox ; and the head of water necessary for overcoming.
V*
this additional resistance being called—, the last pro¬
portion must be changed for
Quest. 2. Given the height of the reservoir, the
length of the pipe, and the quantity of water which is
to be drawn off in a second ; to find the diameter of the
pipe which will draw it off?
Let d be considered as = |th of the diameter, and let
1 : c represent the ratio of the diameter of a circle to its
circumference. The section of the pipe is 4 c d1. Let
Q .
the quantity of water per second be Q j then ^ is
the mean velocity. Divide the length of the pipe by
the height of the reservoir above the place of delivery,
diminished by a very small quantity, and call the quo¬
tient S. Consider this as the slope of the conduit j the
general formula now becomes
307Cv/^~0^1) —0,3 (v^ d 0,1), or
t'd' y/ s—L^/^-f-1,06 ^
6.62
WATER-WORKS.
LV7u/rf o,0 _0)3 ( W_0)I); We may
neglect the last term in every case of civil practice, and
also the small quantity o,r. This gives the very simple
formula,
Q _ 3°7 Vd
^cd1 -v/S
from which we readily deduce
d—
Qv/S
QVS
3858
4C X3C7
Th is process gives the diameter somewhat too small.
But we easily rectify this error by computing the quan¬
tity delivered by the pipe, which will differ a little
from the quantity proposed. Then observing, by this
equation, that two pipes having the same length and
the same slope give quantities of water, of which the
squares are nearly as the fifth powers of the diameter,
we form a new diameter in this proportion, which will
be almost perfectly exact.
It may be observed that the height assumed for deter¬
mining the slope in these two questions will seldom dif¬
fer more than an inch or two from the whole height of
the reservoir above the place of delivery j for in conduits
of a few hundred feet long, the velocity seldom exceeds
four feet per second, which requires only a head of three
inches.
As no inconvenience worth minding results from
making the pipes a tenth of an inch or so wider than is
barely sufficient, and as this generally is more than the
error arising from even a very erroneous assumption of
h, the answer first obtained may be augmented by one
or two-tenths of an inch, and then we may be confident
(hat our conduit will draw off the intended quantity of
water.
We presume that every person who assumes the name
of engineer knows how to reduce the quantity of water
measured in gallons, pints, or other denominations, to
cubic inches, and can calculate the gallons, &c. furnish¬
ed by a pipe of known diameter, moving with a veloci¬
ty that is measured in inches per second. We farther
suppose that all care is taken in the construction of the
conduit, to avoid obstructions occasioned by lumps of
solder hanging in the inside of the pipes; and, particu¬
larly, that all the cocks and plugs by the way have
waterways equal to the section of the pipe. Underta¬
kers are most tempted to fail here, by making the cocks
too small, because large cocks are very costly. Bui the
employer should be scrupulously attentive to this ; be¬
cause a simple contraction of this kind may be the
throwing away of many hundred pounds in a wide pipe,
which yields no more water than can pass through the
small cock.
The chief obstructions arise from the deposition of
sand or mud in the lower parts of pipes, or the collec¬
tion of air in the upper parts of their bendings. The
velocity being always very moderate, such depositions of
heavy matters are unavoidable. The utmost care should
therefore be taken to have the water freed from all such
things at its entry by proper filtration ; and there ought
to be cleansing plugs at the lower parts of the bendings,
or rather a very little way beyond them. When these
yie opened, the water issues with greater velocity, and
carries the depositions with it.
It is much more difficult to get rid of the air which
5
chokes the pipes by lodging in their upper parts. This ^Vatcf>
is sometimes taken in along with the water at the re- works,
servoir, when the entry of the pipe is too near the sur- u""' v —
lace. This should be carefully avoided, and it costs no
trouble to do so. If the entry of the pipe is two feet
under the surface, no air can ever get in Floats should
be placed above the entries, having lids hanging from
them, which will shut the pipe before the water run*
too low.
But air is also disengaged from spring-water by mere¬
ly passing along the pipe. When pipes are supplied by
an engine, air is very often drawn in by the pumps in a
disengaged state. It is also disengaged from its state of
chemical union, when the pumps have a suction-pipe of
10 or 12 feet, which is very common. In whatever
way it is introduced, it collects in all the upper part of
bendings, and chokes the passage, so that sometimes not
a drop of water is delivered. Our cocks should be
placed there, which should be opened frequently by
persons who have this in charge. Desaguliers describes
a contrivance to be placed on all such eminences, which
does this of itself. It is a pipe with a cock, terminat¬
ing in a small cistern. The key of the cock has a hol¬
low ball of copper at the end of a lever. When there
is no air in the main pipe, water comes out by this dis¬
charger, fills the cistern, raises the ball, and thus shuts
the cock. But when the bend of the main contains
air, it rises into the cistern, and occupies the upper part
ot it. Thus the floating ball falls down, the cock opens
and lets out the air, and the cistern again filling with
water, the ball rises, and the cock is again shut.
A very neat contrivance for this purpose was invent¬
ed by the late Professor Russel of Edinburgh. The cy¬
lindrical pipe BCDE (fig. 3.), at the upper end of aFjg<3>
bending of the main, is screwed on, the upper end of
which is a flat plate perforated with a small hole F.
This pipe contains a hollow copper cylinder G, to the
upper part of which is fastened a piece of soft leather
II. \\ hen there is air in the pipe, it comes out by the
hole A, and occupies the discharger, and then escapes
through the hole F. The water follows, and, rising in
the discharger, lifts up the hollow cylinder G, causing
the leather II to apply itself to the plate CD, and shut
the hole. Thus the air is discharged without the small¬
est loss of water.
It is of the most material consequence that there be
no contraction in any part of a conduit. This is evi¬
dent ; but it is also prudent to avoid all unnecessary en¬
largements. For when the conduit is full of water
moving along it, the velocity in every section is inverse¬
ly proportional to the area of the section: it is therefore
diminished wherever the pipe is enlarged ; but it must
again be increased where the pipe contracts. This can¬
not be without expending force in the acceleration.
This consumes part of the impelling power, whether
this be a head of water, or the force of an engine. See
what is said on this subject in the article Pumps, N° 83,
&c. Nothing is gained by any enlargement; and every
contraction, by requiring an augmentation of velocity,
employs a part of the impelling force precisely equal to
the weight of a column of water whose base is the con¬
tracted pa-sage, and whose height is the fall which
would produce a velocity equal to this augmentation.
This point seems to have been quite overlooked by en¬
gineers of the first eminence, and lias in many instances
greatly
1
W A T E R
Water- greatly (limlnislied tlie performance of their best works.
works. It is no less detrimental in open canals; because at
r'V-—' every contraction a small fall is required for restoring
the velocity lost, in the enlargement of the canal, by
which the general slope and velocity are diminished.
Another point which must be attended to in the con¬
ducting of water is, that the motion should not be sul>-
sultory, but continuous. When the water is to he driven
along a main by the strokes of a reciprocating engine,
it should be forced into an aii-box, the spring of which
may preserve it in motion along the whole subsequent
main. If the water is brought to rest at every succes¬
sive stroke of the piston, the whole mass must again be
put jn motion through the whole length of the main.
This requires the same useless expenditure of power as
to communicate this motion to as much dead matter;
and this is over and above the force which may be ne¬
cessary for raising the water to a certain height ; which
is the only circumstance that enters into the calculation
of the power of the pump-engine.
An air-box removes this imperfection, because it
keeps up the motion during the returning stroke of the
piston. The compression of the air by the active stroke
of the piston must be such as to continue the impulse in
opposition to the contrary pressure of the water (if it is
to be raised to some height), and in opposition to the
iriction or other resistances which arise from the motion
that the water really acquires. Indeed a very consider¬
able force is employed here also in changing the motion
of the water, which is forced out of the capacious air-
box into the narrow pipe; and when this change of mo¬
tion is not judiciously managed, the expenditure of
power may he as great as if all were brought to rest,
and again put in motion. It may even be greater,
by causing the water to move in the opposite direction
to its former motion. Of such consequence is it to have
all these circumstances scientifically considered. It is
in such particulars, unheeded by the ordinary herd of
engineers or pump-makers, that the superiority of an
intelligent practitioner is to he seen.
Another material point in the conduct of water in
pipes is the distribution of it to the different persons
who have occasion for it. This is rarely done from the
rising main, ft is usual to send the whole into a cistern,
from which it is afterwards conducted to diflerent places
in separate pipes. Till the discovery of the general
theorem bv the chevalier Buat, this has been done with
I great inaccuracy. Engineers think that the difierent
purchasers from water-works receive in proportion to
their respective bargains when they give them pipes
whose areas are proportional to these payments. But
we now see, that when these pipes are of any consider¬
able length, the waters of a larger pipe run with a
greater velocity than those of a smaller pipe having the
same slope. A pipe of two inches diameter will give
much more water than four pipes of one inch diameter;
it will *give as much as five and a half such pipes, or
more ; because the squares of the discharges are very
nearly as the fifth powers off the diameters. This point
ought therefore to be carefully considered in the bar¬
gains made with the proprietors of water-works, and
the payments made in this proportion. Perhaps the
most unexceptionable method wuuld be to make a dou¬
ble distribution. Let the water he first let off in its
proper proportions into a second series of small cisterns,
-WORKS. 66s
and let each have a pipe which will convey the whole Water-
water that is discharged into it. The first distribution works.
may be mude entirely by pipes of one inch in diame-"v *
ter ; this would leave nothing to the calculation of the
distributor, for every man would pay in proportion to
the number of such pipes which run into his own cis¬
tern.
J n many cases, however, water is distributed by pipes
derived from a main. And here another circumstance
comes into action. When water is passing along a pipe/
its pressure on the sides of the pipe is diminished by its
velocity ; and if a pipe is now derived from it, the
quantity drawn.off is also diminished in the subdupii-
cate ratio of the pressures. If the pressure is reduced
to one-fourth, one-ninth, one-sixteenth, &c. the dis¬
charge from the lateral pipe is reduced to one-hali, one-
third, one-fourth, &c.
It is therefore of great importance to determine, what
this diminution of pressure is which arises from the mo¬
tion along the main.
It is plain, that if the water suffered no resistance la¬
the main, its velocity would be that with which it en¬
tered, and it would pass along without exerting any
pressure. If the pipe were shut at the end, the pressure
on the sides would be the full pressure of the head of
water. It the head of water remain the same, and the
end of the tube be contracted, but not stopped entirely,
the velocity in the pipe is diminished. If we would
have the velocity in the pipe with this contracted mouth
augmented to what it was before the contraction was
made, we must employ the pressure of a piston, or of a
head of water. This is propagated through the fluid,
and thus a pressure is immediately excited on the sides
of the pipe. New obstructions of any kind, arising
from friction or any other cause, produce a diminution
of velocity in the pipe. But when the natural velocity
is checked, the particles react on what obstructs their
motion ; and this action is uniformly propagated through
a perfect fluid in every direction. The resistance there¬
fore which we thus ascribe to friction, produces the
same lateral pressure, which a contraction of the ori¬
fice, which equally diminishes the velocity in the pipe,
would do. Indeed this is demonstrable from any di¬
stinct notions that we can form of these obstructions.
They proceed from the want of perfect smoothness,
which obliges the particles next the sides to move in
undulated lines. This excites transverse forces in the
same manner as any constrained curvilineal motion. A
particle in its undulated path tends to escape from it,
and acts on the lateral particles in the same manner that
it would do if moving singly in a capillary tube having
the same undulations ; it would press on the concave
side of every such undulation. Thus a pressure is ex¬
erted among the particles, which is propagated to the
sides of the pipe; or the diminution of velocity may
arise from a viscidity or want of perfect fluidity. This
obliges the particle immediately pressed to drag along
with it another particle which is withheld by adhe¬
sion to the sides. This requires additional pressure
from a piston, or an additional head of water; and
this pressure also is propagated to the sides of the
pipe.
Hence it should follow, that the pressure which water
in motion exerts on the sides of its conduit is equal to.
that which is competent to the head of water which .
impels. -
654 ' WATER-
Water- impels it into the pipe, diminished by the head of water
works, competent to the actual velocity with which it moves
*  along the pipe. Let H represent the head of water
which impels it into the entry of the pipe, and h the
♦ head which would produce the actual velocity 5 then
II—A is the column which wojjld produce the pressure
exerted on its sides.
This is abundantly verified by very simple experi¬
ments. Let an upright pipe he inserted into the side of
the main-pipe. When the water runs out by the mouth
of the main, it will rise in this branch till the weight
of the column balances the pressure that supports it j
and if we then ascertain the velocity of the issuing wa¬
ter by means of the quantity discharged, and compute
the head or height necessary for producing this veloci¬
ty, and subtract this from the height of water above ihe
entry of the main, we shall find the height in the branch
precisely equal to their difference. Our readers may
see this byexamining the experiments related byGravcs-
ande, and still better by consulting the experiments
narrated by Bossut, § 558. which are detailed with
great minuteness ; the results corresponded accurately
with this proposition. The experiments indeed were
not heights of water supported by this pressure, hut
water expelled by it through the same orifice. Indeed
the truth of the proposition appears in every way we
can consider the motion of water. And as it is of the
first importance in the practice of conducting water (for
reasons which will presently appear), it merits a parti¬
cular attention. When an inclined tube is in train,
the accelerating power of the water (or its weight dimi¬
nished in the proportion of the length of the oblique co¬
lumn to its vertical height, or its weight multiplied by
the fraction —, which expresses the slope), is in equili-
s
brio with the obstructions 5 and therefore it exerts no
pressure on the pipe but what arises from its weight
alone. Any part of it would continue to slide down
the inclined plane with a constant velocity, though de¬
tached from what follows it. It therefore derives no
pressure from the head of water which impelled it into
the pipe. The same must be said of a horizontal pipe
infinitely smooth, or opposing no resistance. The water
would move in this pipe with the full velocity due to
the head of water which impels it into the entry. But
when the pipe opposes an obstruction, the head of water
is greater than that which would impel it into the pipe
with the velocity that it actually has in it 5 and this ad¬
ditional pressure is propagated along the pipe, where it
is balanced by the actual resistance, and therefore ex¬
cites a quaqua versvm pressure on the pipe. In short,
whatever part of the head of water in the reservoir, or
of the pressure which impels it along the tube, is not
employed in producing velocity, is employed in acting
against some obstruction, and excites (by the reaction
of this obstruction) an equal pressure on the tube. The
rule therefore is general, hut is subject to some modi¬
fications which deserve our attention.
In the simply inclined pipe BC (fig. 4.) the pressure
on any point S is equal to that of the head AB of water
which impels the water into the pipe, wanting or ra/Ws
that of the head of water which would communicate to
it the velocity with which it actually moves. This we
shall call x, and consider it as the weight of a column
W O R K S.
of water whose length also is at. In like manner Tl Wateiv
may be the column AB, which impels the water into woiks,
the pipe, and would commnnicate a certain velocity;  v—-
and h may represent the column which would commu¬
nicate the actual velocity. V* e have therefore .rrr
H—h.
In the pipe HIKL, the pressure at the point I is
AH—A—10, —H—h—10 ; and the pressure at K
is H—/z-f-PK.
And in the pipe DEFG, the pressure on E is = AR
—h—EM, —II—h—EM ; and the pressure at E is
H—/r-f-FN.
YV e must carefully distinguish this pressure on any
square inch of the pipe from the obstruction or resistance
which that inch actually exerts, and which is part of the
cause of this pressure. The pressure is (by the laws of
hydrostatics) the same with that exerted on the water
by a square inch of the piston or forcing head of water.
This must balance the united obstructions of the whole
pipe, in as far as they are not balanced by the relative
weight of the water in an enclosed pipe. M hatever be
the inclination of a pipe, and the velocity of the water
in it, there is a certain part of this resistance which may
not he balanced by the tendency which the water has
to slide along it, provided the pipe be long enough ; or
if the pipe is too short, the tendency down the pipe may
more than balance all the resistances that obtain below.
In the first case, this overplus must be balanced by an
additional head ol water; and in the latter case the pipe
is not in train, and the water will accelerate. There is
something in the mechanism of these motions which
makes a certain length of pipe necessary for bringing it
into train ; a certain portion of the surface which acts
in concert in obstructing the motion. We do not com¬
pletely understand this circumstance, but we can torm
a pretty distinct notion of its mode of acting. I he film
of water contiguous to the pipe is withheld by the ob¬
struction, but glides along ; the film immediately with¬
in this is withheld by the outer film, but glides through
it: and thus all the concentric films glide within those
around them, somewhat like the sliding tubes of a spy¬
glass, when we draw it out by taking hold of the end
of the innermost. Thus the second film passes beyond
the first or outermost, and becomes the outermost, and
rubs along the tube. The third does the same in its
turn ; and thus the central filaments come at last to the
outside, and all sustain theirgreatest possible obstruction.
When this is accomplished, the pipe is in train. Tins
requires a certain length, which we cannot determine
by theory. W7e see, however, that pipes of greater dia¬
meter must require a greater length, and this in a pro¬
portion which is probably that of the number of fil<i-
ments, or the square of the diameter. Buat found this
supposition agree well enough with his experiments. A
pipe of one inch in diameter sustained no change of ve¬
locity by gradually shortening it till he reduced it to six
feet, and then it discharged a little more water. A pipe
of two inches diameter gave a sensible augmentation of
velocity when shortened to 25 feet. He therefore says,
that the square of the diameter in inches, multiplied by
72, will express (in inches) the length necessary for
putting any pipe in train.
The resistance exerted by a square inch of the pipe
makes but a small part of the pressure which the whole
resistances
3
W ATER-WORKS.
Wnttr- resistances occasion to be exerted there before they can
wolks. , rrn • d
—^— be overcome. 1 lie resistance may be represented by
when d is the hydraulic depth (one-fourth of the dia¬
meter), and s the length of a column whose vertical
height is one inch, and it is the relative weight of a
column of water whose base is a square inch, and height
is d. For the resistance of any length s of pipe which
is in train, is equal to the tendency of the water to slide
down (being balanced by it) that is, is equal to the
weight of this column multiplied by The magni¬
tude of this column is had by multiplying its length by
its section. The section is the product of the border h
or circumference, multiplied by the mean depth'd, or it
is b d. This multiplied by the length, is b ds; and this
multiplied by the slope — is b d, the relative weight of
the column whose length is s. The relative weight of
one inch is therefore —; and this is in equilibrio with
the resistance of a ring of the pipe one inch broad.
This, when unfolded, is a parallelogram b inches in
length. One inch of this therefore is —, the relative
s
weight of a column of water having d for its height and
a square inch for its base. Suppose the pipe four inches
in diameter, and the slope ~ 253, the resistance is one
grain ; for an inch of w'ater weighs 253 grains.
This knowledge of the pressure of water in motion is
of great importance. In the management of rivers and
canals it instructs us concerning the damages which they
produce in their beds by tearing up the soil j it informs
us of the strength which we must give to the banks:
but it is of more consequence in the management of close
conduits. By this we must regulate the strength of our
pipes j by this also we must ascertain the quantities of
water which may be drawn ofl’ by lateral branches from
any main conduit.
With respect to the first of these objects, where se¬
curity is our sole concern, it is proper to consider the
pressure in the most unfavourable circumstances, viz.
when the end of the main is shut. This case is not
unfrequerit. Nay, when the water is in motion, its ve-
I locity in a conduit seldom exceeds a very few feet in a
second. Fight feet per second requires only one foot
of water to produce it. We should therefore estimate
the strain on all conduits by the whole height of the re¬
servoir.
In order to adjust the strength of a pipe to the strain,
we may conceive it as consisting of two half cylinders
of insuperable strength, joined along the two seams,
where the strength is the same with the ordinary
strength of the materials of which it is made. The in¬
side pressure tends to burst the pipe by tearing open
these seams ; and each of these two seams is equal to the
weight of a column of water whose height is the depth
of the seam below the surface of the reservoir, and
whose base is an inch broad and a diameter of the pipe
in length. This follows from the common principles of
hydrostatics.
Suppose the pipe to be of lead, one ifoot in diameter
and 100 feet under the surface of the reservoir. Water
Vol. XX. Fart IL
665
weighs 624 pounds per foot. The base of our column tVater-
is therefore xSrth of a foot, and the tendency to burst woiks.
the pipe is 100 X 62^ x =521 pounds'   '
nearly. 'Iherefore an inch of one seam is strained by
260^ pounds. A rod of lead one inch square is pulled
asunder by 860 pounds, (see Strength of Materials,
N8 40.). Therefore if the thickness of the seam is
inches, or one-third of an inch, it will just with¬
stand this strain. But we must make it much stronger
than this, especially if the pipe leads from an engine
which sends the water along it by starts. Belidor and
Desaguliers have given tables of the thickness and
weights of pipes which experience has found sufficient
for the different materials and depths. Desaguliers says,
that a leaden pipe of three-fourths of an inch in thick¬
ness is strong enough for a height of 140 feet and dia¬
meter of seven inches. From this we may calculate all
others. Belidor says, that a leaden pipe 12 inches dia¬
meter and 60 feet deep should be half an inch thick ;
but these things will be more properly computed by
means of the list given in N°40 of the article Strength
of Materials.
The application which w'e are most anxious to make
of the knowledge of the pressure of moving waters is
the derivation from a main conduit by lateral branches.
This occurs very frequently in the distribution of wa¬
ters among the inhabitants of towns; and it is so im¬
perfectly understood by the greatest part of those who
take the name of engineers, that individuals have no se¬
curity that they shall get even one half of the water
they bargain and pay for; yet this may be as accurate¬
ly ascertained as any other problem in hydraulics by
means of our general theorem. The case therefore
merits our particular attention.
It appears to be determined already, when we have
ascertained the pressures by which the water is impelled
into these lateral pipes, especially after we have said
that the experiments of Bossut on the actual discharges
from a lateral pipe fully confirm the theoretical doctrine.
But much remains to be considered. We have seen that
there is a vast difference between the discharge made
through a hole, or even through a short pipe, and the
discharge from the far end of a pipe derived from a
main conduit. And even when this has been ascer¬
tained by our new- theory, the discharge thus modified
will be found considerably different from the real state
of things : For when water is flowing along a main
with a known velocity, and therefore exerting a known
pressure on the circle which we propose for the entry of
a branch, if we insert a branch there water will go along
it: but this will generally make a considerable change
in the motion along the main, and therefore in the pres¬
sure which is to expel the water. It also makes a con¬
siderable change in the whole quantity which passes
along the anterior part of the main, and a still greater
change on what moves along that part of it which lies
beyond the branch : it therefore affects the quantity ne¬
cessary for the whole supply, the force that is required
for propelling it, and the quantity delivered by other
branches. This part therefore of the management of
water in conduits is of considerable importance and in¬
tricacy. We can propose in this place nothing more
than a solution of such leading questions as involve the
chief circumstances, recommending to our readers the
perusal of original works on this subject. M. Bossut’s
f 4 P experiments
666
WATEB-WORKS.
experiments are fully competent to the establishment of
the fundamental principle. The hole through which
the lateral discharges were made was but a few feet
from the reservoir. The pipe was successively length¬
ened, by which the resistances were increased, and the
velocity diminished. But this did not affect the lateral
discharges, except by affecting the pressures ; and the
discharges from the end of the main were supposed to
he the same as when the lateral pipe was not inserted.
Although this was not strictly true, the difference was
insensible, because the lateral pipe had but about the
13th part of the area of the main.
Suppose that the discharge from the reservoir remains
the same after the derivation of this branch, then the
motion of the water all the way to the insertion of the
branch is the same as before j but, beyond this, the dis¬
charge is diminished by all that is discharged by the
branch, with the head x equivalent to the pressure on
the side. The discharge by the lower end ot the main
being diminished, the velocity and resistance in it are
also diminished. Therefore the difierence between x
and the head employed to overcome the friction in
this second case, would be a needless or inefficient
part of the whole load at the entry, which is impossible *,
for every force produces an effect, or it is destroyed by
some reaction. The effect of the forcing head of water
is to produce the greatest discharge corresponding to
the obstructions \ and thus the discharge from the re¬
servoir, or the supply to the main, must be augmented
by the insertion of the branch, if the forcing head of
water remains the same. A greater portion therefore
of the forcing head was employed in producing a great¬
er discharge at the entry of the main, and the remain¬
der, less then x, produced the pressure on the sides.
Th is head w7as the one competent to the obstructions re¬
sulting from the velocity beyond the insertion of the
branch ; and this velocity, diminished by the discharge
already made, was less than that at the entry, and even
than that of the main without a branch. This will ap¬
pear more distinctly by putting the case into the form
of an equation. Therefore let II—x be the height due
to the velocity at the entry, of which the effect obtains
only horizontally. The head x is the only one which
acts on the sides of the tube, tending to produce the
discharge hy the branch, at the same time that it must
overcome the obstructions beyond the branch. If the
orifice did not exist, and if the force producing the ve¬
locity on a short tube be represented by 2 G, and the
section of the main be A, the supply at the entry of the
main would be A. J 2 G JW —x; and if the orifice
had no influence on the value of x, the discharge by the
orifice would be D
, D being its discharge by
means of the head H, when the end of the main is shut 'r
for the discharges are in the subduplicate ratio of the
heads of water by which they are expelled ; and there¬
for .y/ H : y/v—D : D**/^). But wTe have seen
that x must diminish ; and we know that the obstruc¬
tions are nearly as the square roots of the velocities,
when these do not differ much among themselves.
Therefore calling y the pressure or head which balances
the resistances of the main without a. branch, while x
is the head necessary for the main with a branch, we
• • • • x(XJ
may institute this proportion, y : II—y—x— —
and this 4th term will express the head producing the velo¬
city in the main beyond the branch (as H—y would have
done in a main without a branch). This velocity beyond
■ . » J f XX TJ ^
the branch will be^/2 Gj y--an(^ ^^sc^arg*
at the end will be A 2 gJX-^——. If to this we
add the discharge of the branch, the sum will be the
whole discharge, and therefore the whole supply. There¬
fore we have the following equation, A J2 G J H—y
— A>/iGnJ— — + D */-Yj. From this we de-
y H
duce the value of x
2GHA*
- =yTH=7 D-y • Thlsva-
2 + 2GA'
lue of x being substituted in the equation of the discharge
J of the branch, which waszzzD/*/—, will give the dis¬
charges required, and they will differ so much the more
from the discharges calculated according to the simple
theory, as the velocity in the main is greater. By the
simple theory, rve mean the supposition that the lateral
discharges are such as would be produced by the head
II—/$, where II is the height of the reservoir, and h
the head due to the actual velocity in the main.
And thus it appears that the proportion of the dis¬
charge by a lateral pipe from a main that is shut at the
far end, and the discharge from a main that is open,
depends not only on the pressures, but also on the size
of the lateral pipe, and its distance from the reservoir.
When it is large, it greatly alters the train of the main,
under the same head, by altering the discharge at its
extremity, and the velocity in it beyond the branch j
and if it be near the reservoir, it greatly alters the train,
because the diminished velocity takes place through a
greater extent, and there is a greater diminution of the
resistances.
When the branch is taken off at a considerable dis¬
tance from the reservoir, the problem becomes more
complicated, and the head x is resolved into two parts j
one of which balances the resistance in the first part of
the main, and the other balances the resistances beyond
the lateral pipe, with a velocity diminished by the
discharge from the branch.—A branch at the end of
the main produces very little change in the train of the
pipe.
When the lateral discharge is great, the train may
be so altered, that the remaining part of the main will
not run full, and then the branch will not yield the same
quantity. The velocity in a very long horizontal tube
may be so small (by a small head of water and great
obstructions in a very long tube) that it will just run
full. An orifice made in its upper side will yield no¬
thing; and yet a small tube inserted into it will carry a
column almost as high as the reservoir. So that we
cannot judge in all cases of the pressures by the dis¬
charges, and vice versa.
Water
works.
If
WATER-
If there be an inclined tube, having a head greater
than what is competent to the velocity, we may bring
it into train by an opening on its upper side near the
reservoir. This will yield some water, and the velocity
will diminish in the tube till it is in train. If we should
now enlarge the hole, it will yield no more water than
before.
And thus we have pointed out the chief circumstances
which affect these lateral discharges. The discharges
are afterwards modified by the conduits in which they
are conveyed to their places of destination. These be¬
ing generally of small dimensions, for the sake of eco¬
nomy, the velocity is much diminished. But, at the
same time, it approaches nearer to that which the same
conduit would bring directly from the reservoir, because
its small velocity will produce a less change in the train
of the main conduit.
We should now treat of jets of water, which still
make an ornament in the magnificent pleasure grounds
of the wealthy. Some of these are ihdeed grand ob¬
jects, such as the two at Peterhoff in Russia, which spout
about 6o feet high a column of nine inches diameter,
which falls again, and shakes the ground with its blow.
Even a spout of an inch or two inches diameter, lancing
to the height of 150 feet, is a gay object, and greatly
enlivens a pleasure ground; especially when the changes
of a gentle breeze bend the jet to one side. But we
have no room left for treating this subject, which is of
«ome nicety; and must conclude this article with a very
short account of the management of water as an active
power for impelling machinery.
II. Of Machinery driven by Water.
This is a very comprehensive article, including almost
every possible species of mill. It is no less important,
and it is therefore matter of regret, that we cannot enter
into the detail which it deserves. The mere description
of the immense variety of mills which are in general use,
would fill volumes, and a scientific description of their
principles and maxims of construction would almost
form a complete body of mechanical science. But this
is far beyond the limits of a work like ours. Many of
these machines have been already described under their
proper names, or under the articles which give an ac¬
count of their manufactures; and for others we must re¬
fer our readers to the original works, where they are de¬
scribed in minute detail. The great academical collec¬
tion Ties Arts et Metiers, published in Paris in many
folio volumes, contains a description of the peculiar ma-
lills ; and the volumes of the Emy-
?, which particularly relate to the me-
y contain many more. All that we
can do in this place is, to consider the chief circum¬
stances that are common to all water-mills, and from
which all must derive their efficacy. These circum¬
stances are to be found in the manner of employing wa¬
ter as an acting power, and most of them are compre¬
hended in the construction of water-wheels. When we
have explained the principles and the maxims of con¬
struction of a water-wheel, every reader conversant in
mechanics knows, that the axis of this wheel may be
employed to transmit the force impressed on it to any
species of machinery. Therefore nothing subsequent to
this can with propriety be considered as water-works.
chinery of many n
clopedie Methodiqiu
chanip arts, alread
WORKS.
Water-wheels are of two kinds, distinguished by the
manner in which water is made an impelling power,
viz. by its weight, or by its impulse. This requires a
very different form and manner of adaptation; and this
forms an ostensible distinction, sufficiently obvious to
give a name to each class. When water is made to act
by its weight, it is delivered from the spout as high on
the wheel as possible, that it may continue long to press
it down : but when it is made to strike the wheel, it is
delivered as low as possible, that it may have previously
acquired a great velocity. And thus the wheels are
said to be OVERSHOT or UNDERSHOT.
Of Overshot Wheels.
This is nothing but a frame of open buckets, so dis¬
posed round the rim of a wheel as to receive the water
delivered from a spout; so that one side of the wheel is
loaded with water, while the other is empty. The con¬
sequence must be, that the loaded side must descend.
By this motion the water runs out of the lower buckets,
while the empty buckets of the rising side of the wheel
come under the spout in their turn, and are filled with
water.
If it were possible to construct the buckets in such a
manner as to remain completely filled with water till
they come to the very bottom of the wheel, the pressure
with which the water urges the wheel round its axis
would be the same as if the extremity of the horizontal
radius were continually loaded with a quantity of water-
sufficient to fill a square pipe, whose section is equal to
that of the bucket, and wdrose length is the diameter of
the wheel. For let the buckets BD and EF (fig. 5.) Fig. 5.
be compared together, the arches DB and EF are equal.
The mechanical energy of the water contained in the
bucket EF, or the pressure with which its weight urges
the wheel, is the same as if all this water were hung 011
that point T of the horizontal arm CF, where it is cut
by the vertical or plumb-line BT. This is plain from
the most elementary principles of mechanics. There¬
fore the effect of the bucket BD is to that of the bucket
EF as CT to CF or CB. Draw the horizontal lines
PB bb, QD dd. It is plain, that if BD is taken very
small, so that it may be considered as a straight line,
BD : BOzrCB : BP, and EF : b d—CY : CT, and
EF X CT=:& g?xCF. Therefore if the prism of water,
whose vertical section is bbdd, were hung on at F,its
force to urge the wheel round would be the same as that
of the water lying in the bucket BD. The same may
be said of every bucket ; and the effective pressure of
the whole ring of water AyHKFI, in its natural situa¬
tion, is the same with the pillar of water a hh a hung
on at F. And the effect of any portion BF of this ring
is the same with that of the corresponding portion b Ffb
of the vertical pillar. We do not take into account
the small difierence which arises from the depth B or Fy
because we may suppose the circle described through
the centres of gravity of the buckets. And in the far¬
ther prosecution of this subject, we shall take similar
liberties, with the view of simplifying the subject, and
saving time to the reader.
But such a state of the wheel is impossible. The
bucket at the very top of the wheel may be completely
filled with water; but when it comes into the oblique
position BD, a part of the water must run over the
outer edge 3, and the bucket will only retain the quan-
4P2 tity
668
WA T E R - W O R K S.
Wfiter-
works.
Fig. 6.
Fiff- 7*
tity ZBD } ; and if the buckets are formed by parti¬
tions directed to the axis of the wheel, the whole‘water
must lie ran out by the time that they descend to the
level of the axis. To prevent this many contrivances
have been adopted. The wheel has been surrounded
with a hoop or sweep, consisting of a circular board,
which comes almost into contact with the rim of the
wheel, and terminates at H, where the water is allowed
to run oil’. But unless the work is executed with un¬
common accuracy, the wheel made exactly round, and
the sweep exactly fitting it, a great quantity of water
escapes between them ; and there is at very sensible ob¬
struction to the motion of such a wheel, from something
like friction between the water and the sweep. Frost
also effectually stops the motion of such a wheel. Sweeps
have therefore been generally laid aside, although there
are situations where they might be used with good
effect.
Mill-wrights have turned their whole attention to the
giving a form to the buckets which shall enable them
to retain the water along a great portion of the circum¬
ference of the wheel. It would be endless to describe
all these contrivances ; and we shall therefore content
ourselves with one or two of the most approved. The
intelligent reader will readily see that many of the cir¬
cumstances which concur in producing the ultimate ef¬
fect (such as the facility with which the water is re¬
ceived into the buckets, the place which it is to occupy
during the progress of the bucket from the top to the
bottom of the wheel, the readiness with which they are
evacuated, or the chance that the water has of being
dragged beyond the bottom of the wheel by its adhesion,
&c. &c.) are such as do not admit of precise calculation
on reasoning about their merits j and that this or that
form can seldom be evidently demonstrated to he the
very best possible. But, at the same time, he will see
the general reasons of preference, and his attention will
be directed to circumstances which must be attended
to, in order to have a good bucketed wheel.
Fi'f. 6. is the outline of a wheel having 40 buckets.
The ring of hoard contained between the concentric
circles'QDS and PAR, making the ends of the buckets,
is called the Shrouding, in the language of the art,
and QP is called the depth of shrouding. The inner
circle PAR is called the Sole of the wheel, and usually
consists of boards nailed to strong wooden rings of com¬
pass timber of considerable scantling, firmly united with
the Arms or radii. The partitions, which determine
the form of the buckets, consist of three different planes
or hoards AB, BC, CD, which are variously named by
different artists. We have heard them named the Start
or Shoulder, the Arm, and the Wrest (probably for
wrist, on account of a resemblance of the whole line to
the human arm) •, B is also called the Elbow. Fig. 7.
represents a small portion of the same bucketing on a
larger scale, that the proportions of the parts may be
more distinctly seen. AG, the sole of one bucket, is
made about £th more than the depth GH of the shroud¬
ing. The start AB is J- of AJ. The pi ane BC is so
inclined to AB that it would pass through H ; but it is
made to terminate in C, in such a manner that FC is
|.ths of GH or AI. Then CD is so placed that HD
is about £th of IH.
By this construction, it follows that the area FARC
is very nearly equal to DABC j so that the water
which will fill the space FABC will all be contained
in the bucket when it shall come into such a position
that AD is a horizontal line ; and the line AB will
then make an angle of nearly 350 with the vertical, or
the bucket will be 350 from the perpendicular. If the
bucket descend so much lower that one half of the water
runs out, the line AB will make an angle of 250, or
240 nearly, with the vertical. Therefore the wheel,
filled to the degree now mentioned will begin to lose
water at about £th of the diameter from the bottom, and
half of the water will be discharged from the lowest
bucket, about -^th of the diameter farther down. These
situations of the discharging bucket are marked at T
and V in fig. 6. Had a greater proportion of the buc¬
kets been filled with water when they were under the
spout, the discharge would have begun at a greater
height from the bottom, and we should lose a greater
portion of the whole fall of water. The loss by the
present construction is less than y^th (supposing the wa¬
ter to he delivered into the wheel at the very top), and
may be estimated at about h ; for the loss is the
versed sine of the angle whic h the radius of the bucket
makes with the vertical. The versed sine of 330 is
nearly £th of the radius (being 0.18085), or y^th of
the diameter. It is evident, that if only 4. of this wa¬
ter were supplied to each bucket as it passes the spout,
it would have been retained for io° more of a revo¬
lution, and the loss of fall would have been only about
y'-j-tll.
These observations serve to show, in general, that an
advantage is gained by having the buckets so capacious
that the quantity of water which each can receive as it
passes the spout may not nearly fill it. This mav be ac¬
complished by making them of a sufficient length, that
is, by making the wheel sufficiently broad between the
two shroudings. Economy is the only objection to this
practice, and it is generally very ill placed. When the
work to he performed by the wheel is great, the addi¬
tion of power gained by a greater breadth will soon
compensate for the additional expence.
The third plane CD is not very frequent; and mill¬
wrights generally content themselves with continuing
the board all the way from the elbow B to the outer
edge of the wheel at H ; and AB is generally no more
than one-third of the depth AI. But CD is a very evi¬
dent improvement, causing the wheel to retain a very
sensible addition to the water. Some indeed make this
addition more considerable, by bringing BC more out¬
ward, so as to meet the rim of the wheel at H, for in¬
stance, and making HD coincide with the rim. But this
makes the entry of the water somewhat more difficult
during the very short time that the opening of the
bucket passes the spout. To facilitate this as much as
possible, the water should get a direction from the spout,
such as will send it into the buckets in the most per¬
fect manner. This may be obtained by delivering water
through an aperture that is divided by thin plates of
board or metal, placed in the proper position, as we
have represented in fig. 6. The form of bucket last
mentioned, having the wrest concentric with the rrm, is
unfavourable to the ready admission of the water; where¬
as an oblique wrest conducts the water which has missed
one bucket into the next below.
The mechanical consideration of this subject also shows
us, that a deep shrouding, in order to make a capacious
t-uv. - li_a ws i: bucket*
WATER-WORKS.
Water- bucket, is not a good method : it does not make the
works, backets retain their water any longer; and it diminishes
—the efl’ective fall of water: for the water received at the
top of the wheel immediately falls to the bottom of the
bucket, and thus shortens the fictitious pillar of water,
which we showed to be the measure of the effective or
useful pressure on the wheel: and this concurs with our
former reasons for recommending as great a breadth of
the wheel, and length of buckets, as economical consi¬
derations will permit.
A bucket wheel was some time ago executed by Mr
Robert Burns, at the cotton mills of Houston, Burns, and
Co. at Cartside in Renfrewshire, of a construction en¬
tirely new, but founded on a good principle, which is
; S. susceptible of great extension. It is represented in fig. 8.
The bucket consists of a start AB, an arm BC, and a
wrest CD, concentric with the rim. But the bucket is
also divided by a partition LM, concentric with the sole
and rim, and so placed as to make the inner and outer
portions of nearly equal capacity. It is evident, with¬
out any farther reasoning about it, that this partition
will enable the bucket to retain its water much longer.
When they are filled one-third, they retain the whole
water at i8° from the bottom ; and they retain one half
at 11°. They do not admit the water quite so freely as
buckets of the common construction ; but by means of
the contrivance mentioned a little ago for the spout (al¬
so the invention of Mr Burns, and furnished with a rack-
work, which raised or depressed it as the supply of water
varied, so as at all times to employ the whole fall of
the water), it is found, that a slow-moving wheel al¬
lows one-half of the water to get into the inner buckets,
especially if the partition do not altogether reach the ra¬
dius drawn through the lip D of the outer bucket.
This is a very great improvement of the bucket
wheel; and when the wheel is made of a liberal breadth,
so that the water may be very shallow in the buckets, it
seems to carry the performance as far as it can go. Mr
Burns made the first trial on a wheel of 24 feet diame¬
ter ; and its performance is manifestly superior to that of
the wheel which it replaced, and which was a very good
one. It has also another valuable property : When the
supply of water is very scanty, a proper adjustment of
the apparatus in the spout will direct almost the whole
of the water into the outer buckets; which, by placing
it at a greater distance from the axis, makes a very sen¬
sible addition to its mechanical energy.
We said that this principle is susceptible of consider¬
able extension ; and it is evident that two partitions will
increase the effect, and that it will increase with the
number of partitions : so that when the practice now be¬
gun, of making water-wheels of iron, shall become ge¬
neral, and therefore very thin partitions are used, their
number may be greatly increased without any inconve¬
nience : and it is obvious, that this series of partitions
must greatly contribute to the stiffness and general firm¬
ness of the whole wheel.
There frequently occurs a difficulty in the making of
bucket wheels, when the half-taught mill-wright at¬
tempts to retain the water a long time in the buckets.
The water gets into them with a difficulty which he can¬
not account for, and spills all about, even when the buc¬
kets are not moving awav from the spout. Hus arises
from the air, which must find its way out to admit the
water, but is obstructed, by the entering water,,and oc-
669
casions a great spluttering at the entry. This may be en- tyTater-
tirely prevented by making the spout considerably nar- works,
rower than the wheel. This will leave room at the two v—
ends of the buckets for the escape of the air. This ob¬
struction is vastly greater than one would imagine ; for
the water drags along with it a great quantity of air,
as is evident in the Water-blast described by many au¬
thors.
There is another and very serious obstruction to the
motion of an overshot or bucketed wheel. When it
moves in back water, it is not only resisted by the wa¬
ter, when it moves more slowly than (he wheel, which
is very frequently the case, but it lifts a great deal in
the rising buckets. In some particular states of back
water, the descending bucket fills itself completely with
water; and, in other cases, it contains a very consider¬
able quantity, and air of common density; while in
some rarer cases it contains less water, with air in a con¬
densed state. In the first case, the rising bucket must
come up filled with water, which it cannot drop till its
mouth get out of the water. In the second case, part
of the water goes out before this ; but the air rarefies,,
and therefore there is still some water dragged or lifted
up by the wheel, by suction as it is usually called. In
the last case there is no such back load on the rising side
of the wheel, but (which is as detrimental to its per¬
formance) the descending side is employed in condens¬
ing air ; and although this air aids the ascent of the ris¬
ing side, it does not aid it so much as it impedes the de¬
scending side, being (by the form of the bucket), nearer
to the vertical line drawn through the axis.
All this may be completely prevented by a few holes
made in the start of each bucket. Air being at least
8oo times rarer than water, will escape through a hole
almost 30 times faster with the same pressure. Very mo¬
derate holes will therefore suffice for this purpose : and
the small quantity of water which these holes discharge
during the descent of (he buckets, produces a loss whicji
is altogether insignificant. The water which runs out
of one runs into another, so that there is only the loss of
one fiucket. We have seen a wheel of only 14 feet dia¬
meter working in nearly three feet of back water.
laboured prodigiously, and brought up a great load of
water, which fell from it in abrupt dashes, which ren¬
dered the motion very hobbling. ^Vhen three holes of
an inch diameter were made in each bucket (12 feet
long), the wheel laboured no more, there was no more
plunging of water from its rising side, and its power on
the machinery was increased more that one-fourth*
These practical observations may contain information
that is new even to several experienced milj-wrights.
To persons less informed they cannot fail of being use¬
ful. We now proceed to consider the action of water
thus lying in the buckets of a wheel ; and to ascertain
its energy as it may be modified by different circum¬
stances of fall, velocity, &c.
With respect to variations in the fall, there can b#
little room for discussion. Since the active pressure 12
measured by the pillar of water reaching from the hori¬
zontal plane where it is delivered on the wheel, to th^
horizontal plane where it is spilled by the wheel, it is
evident that it must be proportional to this pillar, and
therefore we must deliver it as high and retain it as long
as possible.
£his maxim obliges us,, in the first place, to use a
wheel
670 WATEH-WOHKS.
Water- wheel whose diameter is equal to the whole fall. We
works, shall not gain any thing by employing a larger wheel ;
' ■"-v ' for although we should gain by using only that part of
the circumference where the weight will act more per¬
pendicularly to the radius, wre shall lose more by the ne¬
cessity of discharging the water at a greater height from
the bottom : For we must suppose the buckets of both
the wheels equally well constructed 5 in which case, the
heights above the bottom, where they will discharge the
water, will increase in the proportion of the diameter of
the wheel. Now, that we shall lose more by this than
we gain by the more direct application of the weight, is
plain, without any further reasoning, by taking the ex¬
treme case, and supposing our wheel enlarged" to such a
size, that the useless part below is equal to our whole
fall. In this case the water will be spilled from the
buckets as soon as it is delivered into them. All inter¬
mediate cases, therefore, partake of the imperfection of
this.
When our fall is exceedingly great, a wheel of an
equal diameter becomes enormously big and expensive,
and is of itself an unmanageable load. We have seen
wheels of 58 feet diameter, however, which worked ex¬
tremely well ; but they are of very difficult construc¬
tion, and extremely apt to warp and go out of shape by
their weight. In cases like this, where we are unwil¬
ling to lose any part of the force of a small stream, the
best form of a bucket wheel is an inverted chain pump.
Instead of employing a chain pump of the best construc¬
ts tion, ABCDEA (fig. 9 ) to raise water through the
upright pipe CB, by means of a force applied to the
upper wheel A, let the water be delivered from a spout
F, into the upper part of a pipe BC, and it will press
down the plugs in the lower and narrower bored part of
it with the full weight of the column, and escape at the
dead level of C. This weight will urge round the wheel
A without any defalcation j and this is the most power¬
ful manner that any fall of water whatever can be ap¬
plied, and exceeds the most perfect overshot wheel. But
though it excels all chains of buckets in economy and in
effect, it has all the other imperfections of this kind of
machinery. Though the chain of plugs be of great
strength, it has so much motion in its joints that it needs
frequent repairs ; and when it breaks, it is generally in
the neighbourhood of A, on the loaded side, and all
comes down with a great crash. There is also a loss of
power by the immersion of so many plugs and chains in
the water; for there can be no doubt but that if the
plugs were big enough and light enough, they w&uld
buoy and even draw up the plugs in the narrow part at
C. They must therefore diminish, in all other cases, the
force with which this plug is pressed down.
The velocity of an overshot wheel is a matter of very
great nicety j and authors, both speculative and practi¬
cal, have entertained different, nay opposite, opinions
on the subject, Mr Belidor, whom the engineers of
Europe have long been accustomed to regard as sacred
authority, maintains, that there is a certain velocity re¬
lated to that obtainable by the whole fall, which will
procure to an overshot wheel the greatest performance.
Desaguliers, Smeaton, Lambert, De Parcieux, and
others, maintain, that there is no such relation, and that
the performance of an overshot wheel will be the greater,
J it moves more slowly by an increase of its load of
work. Belidor maintains, that the active power of wa-
3
ter lying in a bucket wheel of any diameter is equal to ^rater_
that of the impulse of the same water on the floats of an works."
undershot wheel, when the water issues from a sluice in'—v~—
the bottom ot the dam. The other writers whom we
have named assert, that the energy of an undershot
wheel is hut one half of that of an overshot, actuated by
the same quantity of water falling from the same height.
To a manufacturing country like ours, which derives
astonishing superiority, by which it more than compen¬
sates for the impediments of heavy taxes and luxurious
living, chiefly from its machinery, in which it leaves all
Europe far behind, the decision of this question, in such
a manner as shall leave no doubt or misconception in
the mind even of an unlettered artist, must be consider¬
ed as a material service: and we think that this is easily
attainable.
When any machine moves uniformly, the accelerating
force or pressure actually exerted on the impelled point
of the machine is in equilibrio with all the resistances
which are exerted at the working point, with those aris¬
ing from friction, and those that are excited in different
parts of the machine by their mutual actions. This is
an incontestable truth ; and though little attended to by
the mechanicians, is the foundation of all practical
knowledge of machines. Therefore, when an overshot
wheel moves uniformly, with any velocity whatever, the
water is acting with its whole weight: for gravity would
accelerate its descent, if not completely balanced by
some reaction } and in this balance gravity and the re¬
acting part of the machine exert equal and opposite pres¬
sures, and thus produce the uniform motion of the ma¬
chine. We are thus particular on this point, because
we observe mechanicians of the first name employing a
mode ol reasoning on the question now before us which
is specious, and appears to prove the conclusion which
they draw ; but is nevertheless contrary to true mecha¬
nical principles. They assert, that the slower a heavy
body is descending (suppose in a scale suspended from an
axis in pemtrocheii), the rnore does it press on the scale,
and the more does it urge the machine round : and
therefore the slower an overshot wheel turns, the greater
is the force with which the water urges it round, and
the more work will be done. It is very true that the
machine is more forcibly impelled, and that more work
is done; but this is not because a pound of water presses
more strongly, but because there is more water pressing
on the wheel ; for the spout supplies at the same rate,
and each bucket receives more water as it passes by it.
Let us therefore examine this point by the unque¬
stionable principles of mechanics.
Let the overshot wheel A JW (fig. 5.) receive thepj^ j,
water from a spout at the very top of the wheel ; and
in order that the wheel may not be retarded by drag¬
ging into motion the wrater simply laid into the upper¬
most bucket at A, let it he received at B, with the ve¬
locity (directed in a tangent to the wheel) acquired by
the head of water AP. This velocity, therefore, must
be equal to that of the rim of the wheel. Let this be
t/, or let the wdieel and the water move over v inches
in a second. Let the buckets be of such dimensions,
that all the water which each receives as it passes the
spout is retained till it comes to the position R, where it
is discharged at once. It is plain that, in place of the
separate quantities of water lying in each bucket, W6
may substitute a continued ring of water, equal to their
sum,
W A T E R - W O K K S. 671
Water- sum> an^ uniformly distributed in the space BERg//3.
woiits. This constitutes a ring of uniform thickness. Let the
—-y——area of its cros^, section /3 B and F /be called a. We
have already demonstrated, that the mechanical energy
with which this water on the circumference of the wheel
urges it round, is the same with what would be exerted
by the pillar brrb pressing on For acting by the
lever CF. The weight of this pillar may be expressed
by or oxBSj and if we call the radius CF of
the wheel R, the momentum or mechanical energy of
this weight will be represented by aX FS X R.
Now, let us suppose that this wheel is employed to
raise a weight W, which is suspended by a rope wound
round the axis of the wheel. Let r be the radius of
this axle. Then Wx^ is the momentum of the work.
Let the weight rise with the velocity u when the rim
of the wheel turns with the velocity t’, that is, let it rise
u inches in a second.
Since a perfect equilibrium obtains between the power
and the work when the motion is uniform, we must have
W X r—a X PS X R* But it is evident that R : r~v : u.
Therefore W X u—a X v X PS.
Now the performance of the machine is undoubtedly
measured by the weight and the height to which it is
raised in a second, or by W X u. Therefore the ma¬
chine is in its best possible state when r/X^xPS is a
maximum. But it is plain that ay^v is an invariable
quantity j for it is the cubic inches of water which the
spout supplies in a second. If the wheel moves fast,
little water lies in each bucket, and a is small. When
v is small, a is great, for the opposite reason ; but ayv
remains the same. Therefore we must make PS a maxi¬
mum, that is, we must deliver the water as high up as
possible. But this diminishes AP, and this diminishes
the velocity of the wheel : and as this has no limit, the
proposition is demonstrated j and an overshot wheel does
the more work as it moves slowest.
Convincing as this discussion must he to any mecha¬
nician, we are anxious to impress the same maxim on
the minds of practical men, unaccustomed to mathema¬
tical reasoning of any kind. We therefore beg indul¬
gence for adding a popular view of the question, which
requires no such investigation.
We may reason in this way : Suppose a wheel having
30 buckets, and that six cubic feet of water are deliver¬
ed in a second on the top of a wheel, and discharged
without any loss by the way at a certain height from
the bottom of the wheel. Let this be the case, what¬
ever is the rate of the wheel’s motion 5 the buckets be¬
ing of a sufficient capacity to hold all the water which
falls into them. Let this wheel be employed to raise a
weight of any kind, suppose water in a chain ol 30
buckets, to the same height, and with the same velo¬
city. Suppose, farther, that when the load on the
risinsr side of the machine is one hall of that on the
wheel, the wheel makes four turns in a minute, or one
turn in 15 seconds. During this time 90 cubic feet of
Water have flowed into the 30 buckets, and each has
received three cubic feet. Then each of the rising
buckets contains i-f-feetj and 45 cubic feet are deli¬
vered into the upper cistern during one turn of the
wheel, and 180 cubic feet in one minute.
Now, suppose the machine so loaded, by making the
rising buckets more capacious, that it makes only two
turns in a minute, or one turn in 30 seconds. Then
.
each descending bucket must contain six cubic feet of Water-
water. If each bucket of the rising side contained three works,
cubic feet, the motion of the machine would be the ^’" v
same as before. This is a point which no mechanician
will contiovert. When two pounds are suspended to
one end of a string which passes over the pulley, and
one pound to the other end, the descent of the two
pounds will be the same with that of a four pound
weight, which is employed in the same manner to draw
up two pounds. Our machine would therefore continue
to make four turns in the minute, and would deliver 90
cubic feet during each turn, and 360 in a minute. But,
by supposition, it is making but two turns in a minute :
this must proceed from a greater load than three cubi«
feet of water in each rising bucket. The machine
must therefore be raising more than 90 feet of water du¬
ring one turn of the wheel, and more than 180 in the
minute.
Thus it appears, that if the machine be turning twice
as slow as before, there is more than twice the former
quantity in the rising buckets, and more will be raised
in a minute by the same expenditure of power. In
like manner, if the machine go three times as slow,
there must be more titan three times the former quantity
of water in the rising buckets, and more work will be
done.
But we may go farther, and assert, that the wore we
retard the machine, by loading it with more work of a
similar kind, the greater will be its performance. This
does not immediately appear from the present discussion:
But let us call the first quantity of water in the rising
bucket A; the water raised by four turns in a minute
will be 4X30X^,3=120 A. The quantity in this
bucket, when the machine goes twice as slow, has been
shown to be greater than 2 A (call it 2 A-j-u?) ) the
water raised by two turns in a minute will be 2 X 30
X 2A-(-«:= x 20 A-j-6oAr. Now, let the machine go
four times as slow, making but one turn in a minute,
the rising bucket must now contain more than twice
2 A -j-.r, or more than 4 A -j- 2^; call it 4 A -f- 2 .r -j-y.
The work done by one turn in a minute will now be
30 + 4 A-f- 2 a"-}-y = 120 A-{-6o.v-}-3oy.
By such an induction of the work, done with any
rates of motion we choose, it is evident that the per¬
formance of the machine increases with every diminu¬
tion of its velocity that is produced by the mere addition
ol' a similar load of work or that it does the more work
the slower it goes.
We have supposed the machine to be in its state of
permanent uniform motion. If we consider it only in
the’beginning of its motion, the result is still more in
favour of slow motion : For, at the first action ef the.
moving power, the inertia of the machine itself con¬
sumes part of it, and it acquires its permanent speed by
degrees ; during which, the resistances arising from the
work, friction, &c. increase, till they exactly balance
the pressure of the water j and after this the machine
accelerates no more. Now the greater the power and
the resistance arising from the work are, in proportion
to the inertia of the machine, the sooner will all arrive
at its state of permanent velocity.
There is another circumstance which impairs the per¬
formance of an overshot wheel moving with a great ve¬
locity, viz. the effects of the centrifugal force on the.
water
W A T E R-W O R K S.
672
Water- water in Hie buckets. Our mill-wrights know well
»vorks. enough, that too great velocity will throw the water
' v 1 1 out of the buckets; but few, if any, know exactly the
diminution of power produced by this cause. The fol¬
lowing very simple construction will determine this :
Fiff. i®. Let AOB (6g. 10.) be an overshot wheel, of which
AB is the upright diameter, and C is the centre.
Make CF the length of a pendulum, which will make
two vibrations during one turn of the wheel. Draw
FE to the elbow of any of the buckets. The water in
this bucket, instead of having its surface horizontal, as
NO, will have it in the direction nO perpendicular to
FE very nearly.
For the time of falling along half of FC is to that of
two vibrations of this pendulum, or to the time of a re¬
volution of the wheel, as the radius of a circle is to its
circumference : and it is well known that the time of
moving along half of AC, by the uniform action of the
centrifugal force, is to that of a revolution as the radius
of a circle to its circumference. Therefore the time of
describing one half of AC by the centrifugal force, is
equal to the time of describing one half of FC by gra¬
vity. These spaces, being similarly described in equal
times, are proportional to the accelerating forces.
Therefore 4 EC : 4- AC, or FC : AC — gravity : cen¬
trifugal force. Complete the parallelogram FCEK.
A particle at E is urged by its weight in the direction
•KE, with a force which may be expressed by FC or
K.E ; and it is urged by the centrifugal force in the
direction CE, with a force AC or CE. By their
combined action it is urged in the direction FE.
Therefore, as the surface of standing water is always
at right angles to the action of gravity, that is, to the
plumb-line, so the surface of the water in the revolving
bucket is perpendicular to the action of the combined
force FE.
Let NEO be the position of the bucket, which just
holds all the water which it received as it passed the
spout when not affected by the centrifugal force j and
let NDO be its position when it would be empty. Let
the vertical lines through D and E cut the circle de¬
scribed round C with the radius CF in the points H
and I. Draw HC, IC, cutting the circle AOB in L
and M. Make the arch d' 2 equal to AL, and the
arch e' < equal to AM : Then C ? and C s will be the
positions ot the bucket on the revolving wheel, corre¬
sponding to CDO and CEO on the wheel at rest. Wa¬
ter will begin to run put at », and it will be all gone at
3.—The demonstration is evident.
The force which now urges the wheel is still the
weight really in the buckets : For though the water be
urged in the direction with the force FE, one of its
constituents, CE, has no tendency to impel the wheel j
and KE is the only impelling force.
It is but of late years that mills have been construct¬
ed or attended to with that accuracy and scientific skill
which are necessary for deducing confidential conclusions
from any experiments that can be made with them ; and
it is therefore no matter of wonder that the opinions of
mill-wrights have been so different on this subject. There
is a natural wish to see a machine moving briskly, it has
the appearance ot activity : but a very slow motion al¬
ways looks as if the machine were overloaded. For this
reason mill-wrights have always yielded slowly, and
with some reluctance, to the repeated advices of the
mathematicians : but they have yielded ; and we see tyatrf
them adopting maxims of construction more agreeable to works,
sound theory ; making their wheels of great breadth,
and loading them with a great deal of work. Mr Euler
says, that the performance of the best mill cannot ex¬
ceed that of the worst above ^th : but we have seen a
stream of water completely expended in driving a small
flax mill, which now drives a cotton mill of 4000
spindles, with all its carding, roving, and drawing ma¬
chinery, besides the lathes and other engines of the
smith and carpenters workshops, exerting a force not
less than ten times what sufficed for the flax mill.
The above discussion only demonstrates in general the
advantage of slow motion j but does not point out in
any degree the relation between the rate of motion and
the work performed, nor even the principles on which
it depends. Yet this is a subject fit for a mathematical
investigation 5 and we would prosecute it in this place,
if it were necessary for the improvement of practical
mechanics. But we have seen that there is not, in the
nature of things, a maximum of performance attached
to any particular rate of motion which should therefore
be preferred. For this reason we omit this discussion of
mere speculative curiosity. It is very intricate : For
we must not now express the pressure on the wheel by a
constant pillar of water incumbent on the extremity of
the horizontal arm, as we did before when we supposed
the buckets completely filled ; nor by a smaller constant
pillar, corresponding to a smaller but equal quantity ly¬
ing in every bucket. Each different velocity puts a
different quantity of water into the bucket as it passes
the spout ;• and this occasions a difference in the plac«
where the discharge is begun and completed. This cir¬
cumstance is some obstacle to the advantages of verv
slow motions, because it brings on the discharge sooner.
All this may indeed be expressed by a simple equation
of easy management; but the whole process of the me¬
chanical discussion is both intricate and tedious, and the
results are so much diversified by the forms of the buc¬
kets, that they do not afford any rule of sufficient gene¬
rality to reward our trouble. The curious reader may
see a very full investigation of this subject in two disser¬
tations by Elvius in the Swedish Transactions, and in the
Hydrodynamiqae of Piofessor Karstner of Gottingen ;
who has abridged these Dissertations of Elvius, and
considerably improved the whole investigation, and has
added some comparisons of his deductions with the actual
performance of some great works. These comparisons,
however, are not very satisfactory. There is also a
valuable paper on this subject by Mr Lambert, in the
Memoirs of the Academy of Berlin for the year 1775*
From these dissertations, and from the Ihjdrodynamique
of the abbe Bossut, the reader will get all that theory
can teach of the relation between the pressures of the
power and work on the machine and the rates of its
motion. The practical reader may rest with confidence
on the simple demonstration we have given, that th#
performance is improved by diminishing the velocity.
All we have to do, therefore, is to load the machine,
and thus to diminish its speed, unless other physical cir¬
cumstances throw obstacles in the way : but there are
such obstacles. In all machines there are little inequa¬
lities of action that are unavoidable. In the action of a
wheel and pinion, though made with the utmost judge¬
ment and care, there are such inequalities. These in¬
crease
WATER
Water- crease by the change's of form occasioned by the wearing
works of the machine—much greater irregularities arise from
"v  the subsultory motions of cranks, stampers, and other
parts which mov* unequally or reciprocally. A ma¬
chine may be so loaded as just to be in equilibrio with
its work, in the favourable position of its parts. When
this changes into one less favourable, the machine may
stop ; if not, it at least staggers, hobbles, or works un¬
equally. The rubbing parts bear long on each other,
with enormous pressures, and cut deep, and increase fric¬
tion. Such slow motions must therefore be avoided.
A little more velocity enables the machine to get over
those increased resistances by its inertia, or the great
quantity of motion inherent iu it. Great machines pos¬
sess this advantage in a superior degree, and will there¬
fore work steadily with a smaller velocity. These
circumstances are hardly susceptible of mathematical
discussion, and our best reliance is on well-directed ex¬
perience.
For this purpose, the reader will do well to peruse
with care the excellent paper by Mr Smeaton in the
Philosophical Transactions for 1759. This dissertation
contains a numerous list of experiments, most judici¬
ously contrived by him, and executed with the accu¬
racy and attention to the most important circumstances,
which is to be observed in all that gentleman’s perfor¬
mances.
It is true, these experiments were made with small
models j and we must not, without great caution, trans¬
fer the results of such experiments to large works. But
we may safely transfer the laws of variation which re¬
sult from a variation of circumstances, although we must
not adopt the absolute quantities of the variations them¬
selves. Mr Smeaton was fully aware of the limitations
to which conclusions drawn from experiments on models
are subject, and has made the applications with his usual
sagacity.
His general inference is, that, in smaller works, the
rim of the overshot-wheel should not have a greater ve¬
locity than three feet in a second *, but that larger mills
may be allowed a greater velocity than this. When
every thing is executed in the best manner, he says that
the work performed will amount to fully two-thirds of
the power expended j that is, that three cubic feet of
water descending from •ny height will raise two to the
same height.
It is not very easy to compare these deductions with
observations on large works; because there are few cases
where we have good measures of the resistances opposed
by the work performed by the machine. Mills employ¬
ed for pumping water afford the best opportunities. But
the inertia of their working gear diminishes their useful
performance very sensibly ; because their great beams,
pump-rods, &c. have a reciprocating motion, which
must be destroyed, and produced anew in every stroke.
We have examined some machines of this kind which
are esteemed good ones ; and we find few of them whose
performance exceeds one half of the power expended.
By comparing other mills with these, we get the best
information of their resistances. The comparison with
mills worked by Watt and Boulton’s steam-engines is
perhaps a better measure ot the resistances opposed by
different kinds of work, because their power is very
distinctly known. We have been informed by one of
the most eminent engineers, that a ton and a half of
Voe. XX. Part 11.
1
•WORKS. 673
water per minute falling one foot will grind and dress Water-
one bushel of wheat per hour. This is equivalent tu 9 "'oiks,
tons falling 10 feet. “■”~v
If an overshot-wheel opposed no resistance, and only
one bucket were filled, the wheel would acquire the ve¬
locity due to a fall through the whole height. But
tvhen it is in this state of accelerated motion, if another
bucket of water is delivered into it, its motion must be
checked at the first, by the necessity of dragging forward
this water. If the buckets fill in succession as they
pass the spout, the velocity acquired by an unresisting
wheel is but half of that which one bucket would give.
In all cases, therefore, the velocity is diminished by the
inertia of the entering water when it is simply laid into
the upper buckets. The performance will therefore be
improved by delivering the water on the wheel with
that velocity with which the wheel is really moving.
And as we cannot give the direction of a tangent to the
wheel, the velocity with which it is delivered on the
wheel must be so much greater than the intended veloci¬
ty of the rim, that it shall be precisely equal to it when
it is estimated in the direction of the tangent. Three or
four inches of fall are sufficient for this purpose ; and it
should never be neglected, for it has a very sensible in ¬
fluence on the performance. But it is highly improper
to give it more than this, with the view of impelling
the wheel by its stroke. For even although it were
proper to employ part of the fall in this way (which we
shall presently see to be very improper), we cannot pro¬
cure this impulse ; because the water falls among other
water, or it strikes the boards of the wheel with such
obliquity that it cannot produce anv such effect.
It is a much debated question among mill-Wrights,
Whether the diameter of the wheel should be such as
that the water will be delivered at the top of the wheel ?
or larger, so that the water is received at some distance
from the top, where it will act more perpendicularly to
the arm ? We apprehend that the observations formerly
made will decide in favour of the first practice. The
space below, where the water is discharged from the
wheel, being proportional to the diameter of the wheel,
there is an undoubted loss of fall attending a large wheel;
and this is not compensated by delivering the water atur
greater distance from the perpendicular. Wc should
therefore recommend the use of the whole descending
side, and make the diameter of the wheel no greater
than the fall, till it is so much reduced that the centri¬
fugal force begins to produce a sensible effect. Since
the rim can hardly have a smaller velocity than thrte
feet per second, it is evident that a small wheel must
revolve more rapidly. This made it proper to insert
the determination that we have given, of the loss of
power produced by the centrifugal force. But even
with this in view, we should employ much smaller wheels
than are generally done on small falls. Indeed the loss
of water at the bottom may be diminished, by nicely
fitting the arch which surrounds the wheel, so as not to
allow the water to escape by the sides or bottom. While
this improvement remains in good order, and the wheel
entire,it produces a very sensible effect; but the passage
widens continually by the wearing of the wheel. A
bit of a stick or stone falling in about the wheel tears off
part of the shrouding or bucket, and frosty weather fre¬
quently binds all fast. It therefore seldom answers ex¬
pectations. • We have nothing to add on this case
4 Q to
674
WATER-
Water¬
works.
Fi"T. li.
to what we have already extracted from Mr Smeaton’s
Dissertation on the Subject of Breast or half Overshot
Wheels. .
There is another form of wheel by which water is
made to act on a machine by its weight, which merits
consideration. This is known in this country by the
name of Barker's mill, and has been described by Desa-
guliers, vol. ii. p. 460. It consists of an upright pipe
or trunk (fig. 11.), communicating with two hori-
z.ontal branches BC, B c, which have a hole C c near
their ends, opening in opposite directions, at right angles
to their lengths. Suppose water to be poured in at the
top from the spout F, it will run out by the holes C
and c with the velocity corresponding to the depth of
these holes under the surface. The consequence of this
must be, that the arms will be pressed backwards ; for
there is no solid surface at the hole C, on which the
lateral pressure of the water can be exerted, while it acts
with its full force on the opposite side of the arm. This
unbalanced pressure is equal to the weight of a column
having the orifice for its base, and twice the depth under
the surface of the water in the trunk for its height.
This measure of the height may seem odd, because if
the orifice were shut, the pressure on it is the weight
of a column reaching from the surface. But when it is
open, the water issues with nearly the velocity acquired
bv falling from the surface, and the quantity of motion
produced is that of a column of twice this length, mov¬
ing with this velocity. This is actually produced by
the pressure of the fluid, and must therefore be accom¬
panied by an equal reaction.
Now suppose this apparatus set on the pivot E, and
to have a spindle AD above the trunk, furnished with
a cylindrical bobbin D, having a rope wound round it,
and passing over a pulley G. A weight W may be
suspended there, which may balance this backward pres¬
sure. If the weight be too small for this purpose, the
retrograde motion of the arms will wind up the cord,
and raise the weight ; and thus we obtain an acting
machine, employing the pressure of the water, and ap¬
plicable to any purpose. A runner millstone may be
put on the top of the spindle ; and we should then pro¬
duce a flour mill of the utmost simplicity, having neither
wheel nor pinion, and subject to hardly any wear. It
is somewhat surprising, that although this was invented
at the beginning of this century, and appears to have
such advantage in point of simplicity, it has not come
into use. So little has Dr Desaguliers’s account been
attended to (although it is mentioned by him as an ex¬
cellent machine, and as highly instructive to the hy-
draulist), that the same invention was again brought
forward by a German professor (Segner) as his own,
and has been honoured by a series of elaborate disquisi¬
tions concerning its theory and performance by Euler
and by John Bernoulli. Euler’s Dissertations are to be
found in the Memoirs of the Academy of Berlin, 1751,
&.c. and in the iSov. Comment. Petropol, tom. vi. Ber¬
noulli’s are at the end of his Hydraulics. Both these
authors agree in saying, that this machine excels all
other methods ol employing the force of water. Simple
as it appears, its true theory, and the best form of con¬
struction, are most abstruse and delicate subjects ; and it
is not easy to give such an account of its principles as
vill be understood bv an ordinary reader.
We see, in general, that the machine must press back-
J
WORKS.
wards j and little investigation suffices for understanding Water-
the intensity of this pressure, when the machine is at rest, works
But when it is allowed to run backwards, withdrawing
itself from the pressure, the intensity of it is diminished 5
and if no other circumstances intervened, it might not
he difficult to say what particular pressure corresponded
to any rate of motion. Accordingly, Desaguliers, pre¬
suming on the simplicity of the machine, affirms the
pressure to be the weight of a column, which would
produce a velocity of efflux equal to the difference of the
velocity of the fluid and of the machine ; and hence he
deduces, that its performance will be the greatest pos¬
sible, when its retrograde velocity is one-third of the
velocity acquired by falling from the surface, in which
ease, it will raise ^-ths of the water expended to the
same height, which is double of the performance of a
mill acted on by the impulse of water.
But this is a very imperfect account of the operation.
When the machine (constructed exactly as we have
described) moves round, the water which issues descends
in the vertical trunk, and then, moving along the hori¬
zontal arms, partakes of this circular motion. This ex¬
cites a centrifugal force, which is exerted against the
ends of the arms by the intervention of the fluid. Hie
whole fluid is subjected to this pressure (increasing for
every section across the arm in the proportion ol its di¬
stance from the axis), and every particle is pressed with
the accumulated centrifugal forces of all the sections
that are nearer to the axis. Every section therefore
sustains an actual pressure proportional to the square of
its distance from the axis. This increases the velocity
of efflux, and this increases the velocity of revolution j
and this mutual co-operation would seem to terminate in
an infinite velocity of both motions. But, on the other
hand, this circular motion must be given anew to every
particle of water as it enters the horizontal arm. This
can he done only by the motion already in the arm, and
at its expence. Thus there must be a velocity which
cannot be overpassed even by an unloaded machine.
But it is also plain, that by making the horizontal arm
very capacious, the motion of the water from the axis to
the jet may be made very slow, and much of this dimi¬
nution of circular motion prevented. Accordingly,
Euler has recommended a form by which this is done
in the most eminent degree. His machine consists of
a hollow conoidal ring, of which fig. 12. is a section. Fig-I2s
The part AH h o is a sort of funnel bason, which re¬
ceives the water from the spout F ; not in the direction
pointing towards the axis, but in the direction, and with
the precise velocity, of its motion. ri his prevents any
retardation by dragging forward the water. The water
then passes down between the outer conoid AC c a and
the inner conoid HG g h along spiral channels formed
by partitions soldered to both conoids. The curves of
these channels are determined by a theory which aims at
the annihilation of all unnecessary and improper motions
of the water, but which is too abstruse to find a place
here. The water thus conducted arrives at the bottom
CG, c g. On the outer circumference ol this bottom
are arranged a number of spouts (one for each channel),
which are all directed one way in tangents to the cir¬
cumference.
Adopting the common theory of the reaction of fluids,
this should be a very powerful machine, and should raise
-A-ths of the water expended. But if we admit the re-
' action
W A T E n
^ater. action to lie equal to tlie force of the issuing fluid (and
works, we do not see how this can be refused), the machine
*—must be nearly twice as powerful. We therefore repeat
our wonder, that it has not been brought into use. But
it appears that no trial has been made even of a model j
so that we have no experiments to encourage an engineer
to repeat the trial. Even the late author, Professor
Segner, has not related any thing of this kind in his
Excrcitationes Hydfaitlhce, where he particularly de¬
scribes the machine. This remissness probably has pro¬
ceeded from fixing the attention on Euler’s improved
construction. It is plain that this must be a most cum¬
brous mass, even in a small size requiring a prodigious
vessel, and carrying an unwieldy load. If we examine
the theory which recommends this construction, we find
that the advantages, though real and sensible, bear but
a small proportion to the whole performance of the sim¬
ple machine as invented by Dr Barker. It is therefore
to be regretted, that engineers have not attempted to
realize the first project. We beg leave to recommend
it, with an additional argument taken from an addition
made to it by Mr Mathon de la Cour, in Kozier’s
Journal de Physique, January and August 1775. This
t 13. gentleman brings down a large pipe FEU (fig. 13.)
from a reservoir, bends it upward at H, and introduces
it into two horizontal arms, DA, DB, which have an
upright spindle DK, carrying a millstone in the style
of Dr Barker’s mill. The ingenious mechanician will
have no difficulty of contriving a method of joining these
pipes, so as to permit a free circular motion without
losing much water. The operation of the machine in
this form is evident. The water, pressed by the column
EG, flows out at the holes A and B, and the unba¬
lanced pressure on the opposite sides of the arms forces
them round. The compendiousness and other advan¬
tages of this construction are more striking, allowing us
to make use of the greatest fall without any increase of
the size of the machine, It undoubtedly enables us to
employ a stream of water too scanty to be employed in
any other form. The author gives the dimensions of an
engine which he had seen at Bourg Argental. AB is
92 inches, and its diameter 3 inches 5 the diameter of
each orifice is ; EG is 21 feet; the pipe D was fit¬
ted into C by grinding ; and the internal diameter of
D is 2 inches.
When the machine was performing no work, or was
unloaded, and emitted water by one. hole only, it made
115 turns in a minute. This gives a velocity of 46 feet
per second for the hole. This is a curious tact : lor
the water would issue from this hole at rest with the ve¬
locity of 37^-. This great velocity (which was much
less than the velocity with which the water actually
quitted the pipe) was undoubtedly produced by the pro¬
digious centrifugal force, which was nearly 17 times the
weight of the water in the orifice.
The empty machine weighed 80 pounds, and its
weight was half-supported by the upper pressure ot the
water, so that the friction of the pivots was much di-
iflinished. It is a pity that the author has given no ac¬
count of any work done by the machine. Indeed it was
only working ventilators for a large hall. His theory
by no means embraces all its principles, nor is it well-
founded.
We think that the free motion round the neck of the
feeding-pipe without any loss oi water or any consider-
- V/ O It E S, 675
able friction, may be obtained in the following manner : Water-
AB (fig. 14.) represents a portion of the revolving hori- works,
zontal pipe, and CE e c part of the feeding pipe. The ——y~—
neck ol the first is turned truly cylindrical, so as to turn
easily, but without shake, in the collar C c of the feed-
ing-pipe, and each has a shoulder which may support the
other. That the friction of this joint may not he great,
and the pipes destroy each other by wearing, the hori¬
zontal pipe has an iron spindle EF, fixed exactly in the
axis of the joint, and resting with its pivot F in a step
ol hard steel, fixed to the iron bar GH, which goes
across the feeding-pipe, and is firmly supported in it.
This pipe is made bell-shaped, widening below. A col¬
lar or hose of thin leather is fitted to the inside of this
pipe, and is represented (in section) by LKjVI mkl.
This is kept in its place by means of a metal or wooden
ring N n, thin at the upper edge, and taper-shaped.
This is drawn in above the leather, and stretches it, and
causes it to apply to the side of the pipe all around.
There can be no leakage at this joint, because the wa¬
ter will press the leather to the smooth metal pipe ; nor
can there be any sensible friction, because the water gets
at the edge of the leather, and the whole unbalanced
pressure is at the small crevice, between the two metal
shoulders. These shoulders need not touch, so that the
friction must be insensible. We imagine that this me¬
thod of tightening a turning joint may be used with
gieat advantage in many cases.
We have only further to observe on this engine, that
any imperfectiou by which the passage of the water is
diminished or obstructed produces a saving of water,
which is in exact proportion to the diminution ofeflect.
The only inaccuracy that is not thus compensated is
when the jets are not at right angles to the arms.
We repeat our wishes, that engineers would endea¬
vour to bring this machine into use, seeing many situa¬
tions where it may be employed to great advantage.
Suppose, for instance, a small supply of water from a
great height applied in this manner to a centrifugal
pump, or to a hair belt passing over a pulley, and dip¬
ping in the water of a deep well. This would be a
hydraulic machine exceeding all others in simplicity
and durability, though inferior in eflect to some other
constructions.
2. Of Undershot Wheels.
All wheels go by this name where the motion of the
water is quicker than that ojf the partitions or boards of
the wheel, and it therefore impels them. These are
called the float boards, or floats, of an undershot wheel.
The water, running in a mill-row, with a velocity de¬
rived from a head of water, or from a declivity of chan¬
nel, strikes on these floats, and occasions, by its deflec¬
tions sidewise and upwards, a pressure on the floats suffi¬
cient for impelling the wheel.
There are few points of practical mechanics that
have been more considered than the action of water on
the floats of a wheel; hardly a book of mechanics being
silent on the subject. But the generality of them, at
least such as are intelligible to persons who are not very
much conversant in dynamical and mathematical discus¬
sion, have hardly done any thing more than n pied the
earliest deductions from the simple tin ory c f the resist¬
ance of fluids. The consequence has been, that our
practical knowledge is very imperfect j and it is still
4 Q 2 chiefly
WATER
chiefly from experience that we must learn the perform¬
ance of undershot wheels. Unfortunately this stops
their improvement j because those who have the only
opportunities of making the experiments are not suffi¬
ciently acquainted with the principles of hydraulics,
and are apt to ascribe differences in their perform¬
ance to trilling nostrums in their construction, or in the
manner of applying the impulse of the wrater.
We have said so much on the imperfection of our
theories of the impulse of fluids in the article Resist¬
ance of Fluids, that we need not repeat here the de¬
fects of the common explanations of the motions of un¬
dershot wheels. The part of this theory of the impulse
of fluids which agrees best with observation is, that the
impulse is in the duplicate proportion of the velocity with
which the water strikes the float. That is, if v be the
velocity of the stream, and u the velocity of the float,
we shall have F, the impulse on the float when held fast
to its impulse f on the float moving- with the velocity u,
  V M*
as v* to v—w2, andy==F X —^—•
This is the pressure acting on the float, and urging
the wheel round its axis. The wheel must yield to this
motion, if the resistance of the work does not exert a
superior pressure on the float in the opposite direction.
By yielding, the float withdraws from the impulse, and
this is therefore diminished. The wheel accelerates, the
resistances increase, and the impulses diminish, till they
become an exact balance for the, resistances. The mo¬
tion now remains uniform, and the momentum of im¬
pulse is equal to that of resistance. The performance of
the mill therefore is determined by this; and, whatever
be the construction of the mill, its performance is best
when the momentum of impulse is greatest. This is
had by multiplying the pressure on the float by its ve¬
locity. Therefore the* momentum will be expressed by
F X But since F and t?* are constant quan-
v1
titles, the momentum will be proportional to uXv—zi3.
Let x represent the relative velocity. Then v—x will
be =m, and the momentum will be proportional to v—x
X#*, and will be a maximum when v—x X is a
maximum, or when vx1—a’J is a maximum. This will
be discovered by making its fluxion =?o. That is,
2v x x—3 x3 XZX.O,
and 2v x—3 x3—o
or 2 v—3 x—o
and 2 u~3 x, and x~\ v ; and therefore v—x, or
u, =jV. That is, the velocity of the float must be
one-third of the velocity of the stream. It only remains
to say what is the absolute pressure on the float thus cir¬
cumstanced. Let the velocity v be supposed to arise
from the pressure of a head of water h- The common
theory teaches that the impulse on a given surface S at
rest is equal to the weight of a column AS; put this in
place of F, and ^ v3 in place of v—u3 and v for u.
This gives us S h x A v for the momentum. Now the
power expended is SAo, or the column SA moving with
the velocity v. Therefore the greatest performance of
an undershot wheel, is equivalent to raising Vt of the
•wafer that drives it to the same height.
Bu' tins is too small an estimation; for the pressure
exerted on a plane surface, situated as the float of a mill-
-WORKS.
wheel, is considerably greater that) the weight of the
column 'S A. This is nearly the pressure on a surface
wholly immersed in the fluid. But when a small vein
strikes a larger plane, so as to be deflected on all sides
in a thin sheet, the impulse is almost double of this.
This is in some measure the case in a mill wheel. When
the stream strikes it, it is heaped up along its face, and
falls back again—and during this motion it is acting
with a hydrostatic pressure on it. When the wheel dips
into an open river, this accumulation is less remarkable,
because much escapes laterally. But in a mill course
it may be considerable.
We have considered only the action on one float, hut
several generally act at once. The impulse on most of
them must be oblique, and is therefore less than when
the same stream impinges perpendicularly ; and this di¬
minution of impulse is, by the common theory, in the
proportion of the sine of the obliquity. For this reason
it is maintained, that the impulse of the whole stream
on the lowest floatboard, which is perpendicular to the
stream, is equal to the sum of the impulses made on all
the floats which then dip into the water ; or that the
impulse on any oblique float is precisely equal to the
impulse which that part of the stream would have made
on the lowest floatboard had it not been interrupted.
Therefore it has been recommended to make such a
number of floatboards, that when one of them is at the
bottom of the wheel, and perpendicular to the stream,
the next in succession should be just entering into the
water. But since the impulse on a float by no means
annihilates all the motion of the water, and it bends
round it and hits the one behind with its remaining
force, there must he some advantage gained by employ¬
ing a greater number of floats than this rule will per¬
mit. This is abundantly confirmed by the experiments
of Smeaton and Bossut. Mr Bossut formed three or
four suppositions of the number of floats, and calculated
the impulse on each; according to the observations made
in a course of experiments made by the Academy of
Sciences, and inserted by us in the article Resistance
of Fluids; and when he summed them up, and compa¬
red the results with his experiments, be found the agree¬
ment very satisfactory. He deduces a general rule,
that if the velocity of the wheel is one-third of that of
the stream, and if 72 degrees of the circumference are
immersed in the stream, the wheel should have 36 floats.
Each will dip one-fifth of the radius. The velocity be¬
ing still supposed the same, there should be more or fewer
floats according as the arch is less or greater than 72
degrees.
Such is the theory, and such are the circumstances
which it leaves undetermined. The accumulation of the
water on a floatboard, and the force with which it may
still strike another, are too intricate to be assigned with,
any tolerable precision : For such reasons we must ac¬
knowledge that the theory of undershot wheels is still
very imperfect, and that recourse must be had to expe¬
rience for their improvement. We therefore strongly
recommend the perusal of Mr Smeaton’s experiments on
undershot wheels, contained in the same dissertation with
those we have quoted on overshot wheels. We have
only to observe, that to an ordinary reader the experi¬
ments will appear too much in favour of undershot wheels.
His aim is partly to establish a theory, which will state
the relation between their performance and the velocity
of,
WATER-
Tater- of t!ie stream, anti partly to state the relation between
ork'. the power expended and the work done. The velocity
in his experiments is always considerably below that
which a body would acquire by falling from the surface
of the head of water ; or it is the velocity acquired by
a shorter fall. Therefore if we estimate the power ex¬
panded by the quantity of water multiplied by this di¬
minished fall, we shall make it too small $ and the dif¬
ference in some cases is very great: yet, even with these
concessions, it appears that the utmost performance of
an undershot wheel does not surpass the raising one-third
of the expended water to the place from which it came.
It is therefore far inferior to an overshot wheel expend¬
ing the same power; and Mr Belidor has led engineers
into very mistaken maxims of construction, by saying
that overshot wheels should be given up, even in the
case of great falls, and that we should always bring on
the water from a sluice in the very bottom of the dam,
and bring it to the wheel with as great a velocity as
possible. Mr Smeaton also says, that the maximum
takes place when the velocity of the wheel is two-fifths
of that of the stream, instead of two-sixths according to
the theory ; and this agrees with the experiments of
Bossut. But he measured the velocity by means of the
quantity of water which run past. This must give a
velocity somewhat too small ; as will appear by attend¬
ing to Boat’s ©bservations on the superficial, the mean,
and the bottom velocities.
The rest of his observations are most judicious, and
well adapted to the instruction of practitioners. We
have only to add to them the observations of ])es Par-
cieux and Bossnt, who have evinced, by very good ex¬
periments, that there is a very sensible advantage gained
by inclining the floatboards to the radius of the wheel
about 20 degrees, so that the lowest floatboard shall not
be perpendicular, but have its point turned up the stream
about 20 degrees. This inclination causes the water to
heap up along the floathoard, and act by its weight.
The floats should therefore he made much broader than
the vein of water interrupted by them is deep.
Some engineers, observing the great superiority of
•vershot wheels above undershot wheels driven by the
same ex pence of power, have proposed to bring the wa¬
ter home to the bottom of the wheel on an even bot¬
tom, and to make the floatboard no deeper than the a-
perture of the sluice, which would permit the water to
run out. The wheel is to be fitted with a close sole and
sides, exactly fitted to the end of this trough, so that if
the wheel is at rest, the water may he dammed up by
the sole and floatboard. It will therefore press forward
the floathoard with the whole force of the head of water.
But this cannot answer; for if we suppose no floatboards,
the water will flow out at the bottom, propelled in the
manner those persons suppose ; and it will be supplied
from behind, the water coming slowly from all parts of
the trough to the hole below the wheel. But now add
the floats, and suppose the wheel in motion with the ve¬
locity that is expected. The other floats must drag in¬
to motion all the water which lies between them, giv¬
ing to the greatest part of it a motion vastly greater
than it would have taken in consequence of the pres»ure
of the water behind it; and the water out of the reach
of the floats will remain still, which it would not have
done independent of the floatboards above it, because it
would have contributed to the expence of the bole. The
WORK 9. 677
motion therefore which the wheel will acquire by this Water,
construction must he so different from what is expected, works,
that we can hardly sav what it will be. ' * ' *'
We are therefore persuaded that the best way of de¬
livering the water on an undershot wheel in a close mill-
course is, to let it slide down a very smooth channel,
without touching the wheel till near the bottom, where
the wheel should be exactly fitted to the course ; or, to
make the floats exceedingly broader than the depth of
the vein of water which glides down the course, and
allow it to be partly intercepted by the first floats, and
heap up along them, acting by its weight, after its im¬
pulse has been expended. If the bottom of the course be
an arch of a circle described with a radius much greater
than that of the wheel, the water which slides down will
be thus gradually intercepted by the floats.
Attempts have been made to construct water-wheels
which receive the impulse obliquely, like the sails of a
common wind-mill. This would, in many situations,
be a very great acquisition. A very slow but deep ri¬
ver could in this manner be made to drive our mills;
and although much power is lost by the obliquity of the
impulse, the remainder may he very great. It is to be
regretted, that these attempts have not been more zea¬
lously prosecuted ; for we have no doubt of their suc¬
cess in a very serviceable degree. Engineers have been
deterred, because when such wheels are plunged in an
open stream, their lateral motion is too much impeded
by the motion of the stream. We have seen one, how¬
ever, which was very powerful: It was a long cylin¬
drical frame, having a plate standing out from it about
a foot broad, and surrounding it with a very oblique
spiral like a cork-screw. This was plunged about one-
fourth of its diameter (which was about 12 feet), hav¬
ing its axis in the direction of the stream. By the work
which it was performing, it seemed more powerful than
a common wheel which occupied the same bi'tadlh of
the river. Its length was not less than 20 feet : it
might have been twice as much, which would have
doubled its power, without occupying more of the wa¬
ter-way. Perhaps such a spiral, continued to the very
axis, and moving in a hollow canal wholly filled by the
stream, might be a very advantageous way of employ¬
ing a deep and slow stream.
But mills with oblique floats are most useful for em¬
ploying small streams, which can be delivered from a
spout with a great velocity. Mr Bossut has considered
these with due attention, and ascertained the best modes
of construction. There are two which have nearly e-
qual performances: I. The vanes being placed like those
of a wind-mill, round (he rim of a horizontal or vertical
wheel, and being made much broader than the vein of
water which is to strike them, let the spout be so di¬
rected that the vein may strike them perpendicularly.
By this measure it will be spread about on the vane in
a thin sheet, and exert a pressure nearly equal to twice
the weight of a column whose base is the orifice of the
spout, and whose height is the fall producing the velocity..
Mills of this kind are much in use in the south of
Europe. The wheel is horizontal, and the vertical axis
carries the millstone ; so that the m+11 is of the utmost-
simplicity : and this is its chief recommendation ; for
its power is greatly inferior to that of a wheel construct¬
ed in the usual manner.
2, The vanes may be arranged round the rim of the
wbcfek.
6;8 WATER
Water- wheel, not like the sails of a wind-mill,, but in planes
works, inclined to the radii, hut parallel to the axis, or to the
planes passing through the axis. They may either
stand on a sole, like the oblique floats recommended by
De Parcieux, as above mentioned: or they may stand
on.the side of the rim, not pointing to the axis, but
aside, from it.
This disposition will admit the spout to be more con¬
veniently disposed either for a horizontal or a vertical
wheel.
We shall conclude this article by describing a con-
, trivance of Mr Burns, the inventor of the double buc¬
keted wheel, for fixing the arms of a water-wheel. It
is well known to mill-wrights that the method of fixing
them by making them to pass through the axle, weak¬
ens it exceedingly, and by lodging water in the joint,
soon causes it to rot and fail. They have, therefore^ of
late years put cast-iron flanches on the axis, to which
each arm is bolted: or the flanches are so fashioned as
to form boxes, serving as mortises to receive the ends
of the arms. These answer the purpose completely,
but are very expensive *, and it is found that arms of
fir bolted into flanches of iron, are ant to work loose.
Mr Burns has made wooden flanches of a very curious
construction, which are equally firm, and cost much
less than the ironones.
This flanch consists of eight pieces, four of which
f'o- I5* compose the ring represented in fig. 15. meeting in the
joints aby a b, a b, a b, directed to the centre O. The
other four are covered by these, and their joints are re¬
presented by the dotted lines ce/3, «/3, <a/3, cc,3. These
two rings break joint in such a manner that an arm MN
is contained between the two nearest joints a' b' of the
one, and u! /S' of the other. The tenon formed on the
one end of the arm A, &c. is of a particular shape :
one side, GF, is directed to the centre O ; the other
side, BCDE, has a small shoulder BC j then a long
side CD directed to the centre O j and then a third part
DE parallel to GF, or rather diverging a little from it,
so as to make up at E the thickness of the shoulder BC ,
that is, a line from B to E would be parallel to CD. This
side of the tenon fits exactly to the corresponding side of
the mortise j but the mortise is wider on the other side,
leaving a space GFK h a little narrower at FK than at
G h. These tenons and mortises are made extremely
true to the square ; the pieces are put round the axle,
with a few blocks or wedges of soft wood put between
them and the axle, leaving the space empty opposite to
the place of each arm, and firmly bolted together by
bolts between the arm-mortises. The arms are then put
ip, and each is pressed home to the side CDE, and a
wedge HF of hard wood is then put into the empty part
of the mortise and driven home. When it comes tbiough
the flanch and touches the axle, the part which has come
through is cut oft with a thin chisel, and the wedge is
driven better home. The spaces under the ends of the
arms are now filled with wedges, which are driven home
from opposite sides, till the circle of the arms stands
quite perpendicular on the axle, and all is fast. It needs
no hoops to keep it together, for the wedging it up
round the axle makes the two half rings draw close on
the arms, and it cannot start at its own joints till it
ci u.-dies the arms. Hoops, however, can do no harm,
when all is once wedged up, but it wquld be improper
to jput them on before this be done.
W O R K S.
A very curious hydraulic machine was erected at Water
Zurich by H. Andreas Wirtz, a tinplate worker of works,
that place* The invention shows him to be a person of —“■Y'-
very uncommon mechanical knowledge and sagacity.
As it is a machine which operates on a principle wide¬
ly different from all other hydraulic machines, and is
really excellent in its kind, we presume that our read¬
ers will not he displeased with some account of it.
Fig. 16. is a sketch of the section of the machine, as fig. 16.
it was first erected by Wirtz at a dyehouse in Limmat,
in the suburbs or vicinity of Zurich. It consists of a
hollow cylinder, like a very large grindstone, turning
on a horizontal axis, and partly plunged in a cistern of
water. The axis is hollow at one end, and communi¬
cates with a perpendicular pipe CBZ', part of which is
hid by the cylinder. This cylinder or drum is formed
into a spiral canal by a plate coiled up within it like
the main-spring of a watch in its box ; only the spires
are at a distance from each other, so as to form a con¬
duit for the water of uniform width. This spiral parti¬
tion is well joined to the two ends of a cylinder, and
no water escapes between them. The outermost turn
of the spiral begins to widen about three-fourths of a
circumference from the end, and this gradual enlarge¬
ment continues from Q to S nearly a semicircle : this
part may be called the Horn. It then widens sudden¬
ly, forming a Scoop or shovel SS'. The cylinder is
supported so as to dip several inches into the water,
whose surface is represented by VV'.
When this cylinder is turned round its axis in the
direction ABEO, as expressed by the two darts, the
scoop SS' dips at V',‘and takes up a certain quantity
of water before it emerges again at V. This quantity
is sufficient to fill the taper part SQ, which we have
called the Horn ; and this is nearly equal in capacity
to the outermost uniform spiral round.
After the scoop has emerged, the water passes along
the spiral by the motion of it round the axis, and drives
the air before it into the rising-pipe, where it escapes.—
In the mean time, air comes in at the mouth of the
scoop; and when the scoop again dips into the water,
it again takes in some. Thus there is now apart filled
with water and a part filled with air. Continuing this
motion, we shall receive a second round of water and
another of air. The water in any turn of the spiral
will have its two ends on a level ; and the air between
the successive columns of water will be in its natural
state; for since the passage into the rising-pipe or Main
is open, there is nothing to force the water and air into
any other position. But since the spires gradually dimi¬
nish in their length, it is plain that the column of water
will gradually occupy more and more of the circumfe¬
rence of each. 'At last it will occupy a complete turn
of some spiral that is near the centre ; and when sent
farther in, by the continuance of the motion, some of
it will run back over the top of the succeeding spiral.
Thus it will run over at K 4 into the right-hand side
of the third spiral. Therefore it will push the water of
this spire backwards, and raise its other end, so that
it also will run over backwards before the next turn be
completed. And this change of disposition will at last
reach the first, or outermost spiral, and some water will
run over into the horn and scoop, and finally into the
cistern. •' 1 ■■■-:-
But as soon as water gets into the rising-pipe, and
rises
WATER -WORKS. 679-
ater- rises a little in it, it stops the escape of the air when the the main; then bring a pipe straight from L to the Water-
Ji'k*- next scoop of water is taken in. Here are now two co- centre C. The reason of all this is very evident. works.
'■> lumns of water acting against each other by hydrostatic But when the main is very high, this construction v
pressure and the intervening column ot air. 'ihey must will require a very great diameter of the drum, or many
compress the air between them, and the water and air turns of a very narrow pipe. In such cases it will he.
columns will now be unequal. This will have a gene- much better to make the spiral in the form of a cork-
ral tendency to keep the whole water back, and cause screw, as in fig. 17. instead of this flat form like a riS- I7*
it to be higher on the left or rising side ot each spire watch-spring. The pipe which forms the spiral may he
than on the right descending side, 'i he excess ot height lapped round the frustum of a cone, whose greatest dia-
will be just such as produces the compression of the air meter is to the least (which is next to the rising-pipe)
between that and the preceding column of water. This in the same proportion that we assigned to CB and CL.
will go on increasing as the water mounts in the rising- By this construction the water will stand in every round
pipe; for the a;r next to the rising-pipe is compressed at so as to have its upper and lower surfaces tangents to
its inner end with the weight of the whole column in the top and bottom of the spiral, and the water columns
the mam. It must be as much compressed at its outer will occupy the whole ascending side of the machine,
end. This must be done by the water column without while the air occupies the descending side,
it; and this column exerts this pressure partly by reason This form is vastly preferable to the flat: it will allow
that its outer end is higher than its inner end, and part- us to employ many turns of a large pipe, and therefore
ly by the transmission of the pressure on its outer end produce a great efevation of a large quantity of water,
by air, which is similarly compressed from without. The same thing will be still better done by lapping
And thus it will happen that each column of water, be- the pipe on a cylinder, and making it taper to the end,
ing higher at its outer than at its inner end, compresses in such a proportion that the contents of each round
the air on the water column beyond or within it, which may be the same as when it is lapped round the cone,
transmits this pressure to the air beyond it, adding to it It will raise the water to a greater height (but with an
the pressure arising from its own want of level at the increase of the impelling power) by the same number of
ends. T. here fore the greatest compression, viz,, that of turns, because the vertical or pressing height of each
the air next the main, is produced by the sum of all the column is greater.
transmitted pressures; and these are the sum of all the Nay, the same thing may he done in a more simple
differences between the elevation of the inner ends of manner, by lapping a pipe of uniform bore round a cy-
the water columns above their outer ends: and the finder. But this will require more turns, because the
height to which the water will rise in the main will be water columns will have less differences between the
| just equal to this sum. ' heights of their two ends. It requires a very minute
Draw the horizontal lines K/K1, K/Jv 2, K'K3, &c. investigation to show the progress of the columns of air
and 7n n, m n, m ji, &c. Suppose the left-hand spaces and water in this construction, and the various changes
to be filled with water, and the right-hand spaces to be of their arrangement, before one is attained which will
filled with air. There is a certain gradation of com- continue during the working of the machine,
j pression which will keep things in this position. The We have chosen for the description of the machine
spaces evidently decrease in arithmetical progression; so that construction which made its principle and manner
do the hydrostatic heights and pressures of the water co- of working most evident, namely, which contained the
lumns. If. therefore the air be dense in the same pro- same material quantity of air in each turn of the spiral,
J gression, all will be in hydrostatical equilibrium. Now more and more compressed as it approaches to the rising-
this is evidently producible by the mere motion of the pipe. We should otherwise have been obliged to iu-
machine ; for since the density and compression in each vestigate in great detail the gradual progress of the wa-
air column is supposed inversely as the bulk of the co- ter, and the frequent changes of its arrangement, be-
lumn, the absolute quantity of air is the same in all ; fore we could see that one arrangement would be pro-
therefore the column first taken in will pass gradually duced which would remain constant during the working
inwards, and the increasing compression will cause it to of the machine. But this is not the best construction,
occupy precisely the whole right-hand side of every We see that, in order to raise water to the height of a
spire. The gradual diminution of the water columns column of 34 feet, which balances the atmosphere, the
"ill be produced during the motion by the water run- air in the last spire is compressed into half its bulk; and
ning over backwards at the top, from spire to spire, and the quantity of water delivered into the main at each
at last coming out by the scoop. turn is hut half of what was received into the first spire.
It is evident that this disposition of the air and water the rest flowing back from spire to spire, and being dis¬
will raise the water to the greatest height, because the charged at the spout.
hydrostatic height of each water column is the greatest But it may be constructed so as that the quantity of
possible, viz. the diameter of the spire. This disposi- water in each spire may be the same that was received
tion may be obtained in the following manner: Take into the first; by which means a greater quantity (dou-
CL to CB as the density of the external air to its den- ble in the instance now given) will be delivered into the
sity in the last column next the rising-pipe or main ; main, and raised to the same height by very nearly the
that is, make CL to CB as 33 feet (the height of the same force.—This may he done hj another proportion
column of water which balances the atmosphere), to of the capacity of the spires, whether by a change of
the sum of 33 feet and the height of the rising-pipe, their caliber or of their diameter*. Suppose the bore to
Then divide BL into such a number of turns, that the he the same, the diameter must be made such that the
sum of their diameters shall be equal to the height of constant column of water, and the column of air, com¬
pressed 1
68o
WATER-WORKS.
Water- pressed to the proper tlegree, may occupy the whole
works, circumference. Let A be the column of water which
 v -■balances the atmosphere, and h the height to which the
water is to he raised. Let A be to A-f-/j as I to m.
It is plain that m will represent the density of the air
in the last spire, if its natural density be I, because it is
pressed by the column A-}-A, while the common air is
pressed by A. Let x represent the constant water co¬
lumn, and therefore nearly equal to the air column in
the first spire. The whole circumference of the last
spire must be I + A iri order to hold the water I, and
f m
the air compressed into the space —or 7—7—7.
r vi A-\-/i
The circumference of the first spire is 1 -|-1 or 2. Let
J) and d be the diameters of the first and last spires j
we have 2 : i-f-— — ^ : or 2m : i~D : d.
m
Therefore if a pipe of uniform bore be lapped round a
cone, of which D and d are the end diameters, the spi¬
rals will be very nearly such as will answer the purpose.
It will not be quite exact, for the intermediate spirals
will be somewhat too large. The conoidal frustum
should be formed by the revolution of a curve of the lo¬
garithmic kind. But the error is very trifling.
With such a spiral, the full quantity of water which
was confined in the first spiral will find room in the last,
and will be sent into the main at every turn. This is a
very great advantage, especially when the water is to
be much raised. The saving of power by this change of
construction is always in proportion of the greatest com¬
pression of the air.
The great difficulty in the construction of any of these
forms is in determining the form and position of the
horn and the scoop $ and on this greatly depends the
performance »f the machine. The following instruc¬
tions will make it pretty easy.
rig 18 ABEO (fig. 18.) represent the first or outer-
*>* ' most round of the spiral, of which the axis is C. Sup¬
pose it immerged up to the axis in the water VV', we
have seen that the machine is most effective when the
surfaces IvB and O « of the water columns are distant
the whole diameter BO of the spiral. Therefore let the
pipe be first supposed of equal caliber to the very mouth
£ c, which we suppose to be just about to dip into the
water. The surface O n is kept there, in opposition to
the pressure of the water column BAO, by the com¬
pressed air contained in the quadrant OE, and in the
quadrant which lies behind EB. And this compression
is supported by the columns behind, between this spire
and the rising pipe. But the air in the outermost qua¬
drant EB is in its natural state, communicating as yet
with the external air. When, however, the mouth
E e has come round to A, it wu'll not have the water
standing in it in the same manner, leavingthe half space
BEO filled with compressed air; for it took in and
confined only what filled the quadrant BE. It is plain,
therefore, that the quadrant BE must be so shaped as
to take in and confine a much greater quantity of air ;
so that when it has come to A, the space BEO may
contain air sufficiently dense to support the column AO.
But this is not enough : For when the wide mouth,
now at A «i, rises up to the top, the surface of the wa¬
ter in it rises also, because the part AO 0 a is more ca¬
pacious than the cylindric part OE e 0 which socceeds WatcI
it, and which cannot contain all the water that it does, wort*
Since, then, the water in the spire rises above A, it'’“"V""
will press the water back from 0 » to some other posi¬
tion m! n', and the pressing height of the water column
will be diminished by this rising on the other side of 0.
In short, the horn must begin to widen, not from B,
but from A, and must occupy the whole semicircle
ABE ; and its capacity must be to the capacity of the
opposite cylindrical side as the sum of BO, and the
height of a column of water which balances the atmo¬
sphere to the height of that column. For then the air
which filled it, when of the common density, will fill
the uniform side BEO, when compressed so as to ba¬
lance the vertical column BO. But even this is not
enough; for it has not taken in enough of water.
When it dipped into the cistern at E, xt carried air
down with it, and the pressure of the water in the ci¬
stern caused the water to rise into it a little way ; and
some water must have come over at B from the other
side, which was drawing narrower. Therefore when
the horn is in the position EOA, it is not full of wa¬
ter. Thei*efore when it comes into the situation OAB,
it cannot be full nor balance the air on the opposite
side. Some will therefore come out at O, and rise up
through the water. The horn must therefore, 1st, Ex¬
tend at least from O to B, or occupy half the circumfe¬
rence ; and, 2dly, It must contain at least twice as
much water as would fill the side BEO. It will do
little harm though it be much larger ; because the sur¬
plus of air which it takes in at E will be discharged, as
the end E c of the horn rises from O to B, and it will
leave the precise quantity that is wanted. The overplus
water will be discharged as the horn comes round to
dip again into the cistern. It is possible, but requires
a discussion too intricate for this place, to make it of
such a size and shape, that while the mouth moves from
E to B, passing through O and A, the surface of the
water in it shall advance from E 1 to O 77, and be ex¬
actly at O when the beginning or narrow end of the
horn arrives there.
We must also secure the proper quantity of water.
When the machine is so much immersed as to be up to
the axis in water, the capacity which thus secures the
proper quantity of air will also take in the proper quan¬
tity of water. But it may be erected so as that the
spirals shall not even reach the water. In this case it
will answer our purpose if we join to the end of the horn
a scoop or shovel QRSB (fig. 19.), which is so formed Fig. 19-
as to take in at least as much water as will fill the horn.
This is all that is wanted in the beginning of the mo¬
tion along the spiral, and more than is necessary when
the water has advanced to the succeeding spire ; but the
overplus is discharged in the way we have mentioned.
At the same time, it is needless to load the machine
with more water than is necessary, merely to throw it
out again. We think that if the horn occupies fully
more than one half of the circumference, and contains
as much as will fill the whole round, and if the scoop
lifts as much as will certainly fill the horn, it will do
very well.
N. B. The scoop must be very open on the side next
the axis, that it may not confine the air as soon as it
enters the water. This would hinder it from receiving
water enough.
The
XT
Water Works
Hate DLXX1Y
WATER-WORKS.
68i
Water¬
works.
The following dimensions of a machine erected at
Florence, and whose performance corresponded extreme¬
ly well with the theory, may serve as an example.
The spiral is formed on a cylinder of 10 feet diame¬
ter, and the diameter of the pipe is 6 inches. The
smaller end of the horn is of the same diameter ; and it
occupies three-fourths of the circumference, and it is
^T8_ths inches wide at the outer end. Here it joins the
scoop, which lifts as much water as fills the horn, which
contains 4340 Swedish cubic inches, each = 1.577 Eng¬
lish. The machine makes six turns in a minute, and
raises 13^4 pounds of water, or 22 cubic feet, 10 feet
high in a minute.
The above account will, we hope, sufficiently explain
the manner in which this singular hydraulic machine
produces its eft’ect. When every thing is executed by
the maxims which we have deduced from its principles,
we are confident that its performance will correspond to
the theory *, and we have the Florentine machine as a
proof of this. It raises more than x°ths of what the
theory promises, and it is not perfect. The spiral is of
equal caliber, and is formed on a cylinder. The fric¬
tion is so inconsiderable in this machine, that it need
not be mended : hut the great excellency is that what¬
ever imperfection there may be in the arrangement of
the air and water columns, this only affects the elegance
of the execution, causing the water to make a few more
turns in the spiral before it can mount to the height re¬
quired ; but wastes no power, because the power employ¬
ed is always in proportion to the sum of the vertical co¬
lumns of water in the rising side of the machine*, and the
height to which the water is raised by it is in the very
same proportion. It should be made to move very slow,
that the water be not always dragged up by the pipes,
which would cause more to run over from each column,
and diminish the pressure of the remainder.
If the rising-pipe be made wide, and thus room be
made for the air to escape freely up through the water,
it will rise to the height assigned ; hut if it he narrow,
so that the air cannot get up, it rises almost as slow* as
the water, and by this circumstance the water is raised
to a much greater height mixed with air, and this with
hardly any more power. It is in this way that we can
account for the great performance of the Ilorentine ma¬
chine, which is almost triple of what a man can do with
the. finest pump that ever was made : indeed the per¬
formance is so great, that one is apt to suspect some in¬
accuracy in the accounts. The entry into the rising-
pip should he no wider than the last part of the spiral j
and it would he advisable to divide it into four channels
by a thin partition, and then to make the rising-pipe
W A T
WATERFORD, a city and sea port of Ireland, in
a county of the. same name, with a bishop’s see. It is the
seco’(1 place in the kingdom, and is a wealthy, populous
city, enjoying many ample privileges. I he streets are
narrow, and the air is not very healthy ; but it has an
excellent harbour, seated as well for trade as any in the
worid, and ships of the greatest burden may ride at the
qn tv. It stands on the river Sure, 8 miles north of St
George’s Channel, 26 south of Ivilkeuny, and 75 80llth-
by-west of Dublin. W. Long. 7- 8. N. Lat. 52. 14.
VOL. XX. Part II. t
very wide, and to put into it a number of slender rods, Water-
which would divide it into slender channels that would works,
completely entangle the air among the water. This '
will greatly increase the height of the heterogeneous co¬
lumn. It is surprising that a machine that is so very
promising should have attracted so little notice. We do
not know of any being erected out of Switzerland ex¬
cept at Florence in 1778. The account of its perform¬
ance was in consequence of a very public trial in 1779,
and honourable declaration of its merit, bv Sig. Loren¬
zo Ginori, who erected another, which fully equalled
it. It is shortly mentioned by Professor Sulzer of Ber¬
lin, in the Summlmigen Vermischlen Schrifteri for 1754.
A description of it is published bv the Philosophical So¬
ciety of Zurich in 1766, and in the descriptions pub¬
lished by the Society in London for the encouragement
of arts in 1766. The celebrated Daniel Bernoulli has
published a very accurate theory of it in the Petersburgli
Commentaries for 1772, and the machines at Florence
were erected according to his instructions, Baron Al-
stromer in Sweden caused a glass model of it to he made,
to exhibit the internal motions for the instruction of ar¬
tists, and also ordered an operative engine to he erect¬
ed *, hut we have not seen any account of its perform¬
ance. It is a very intricate machine in its principles}
and an ignorant engineer, nay the most intelligent, may
erect one which shall hardly do anything; and yet, by
a very trifling change, may become very powerful. We
presume that failures of this kind have turned the atten¬
tion of engineers from it ; but we are persuaded that it
may he made very effective, and we are certain that it
must he very durable. Fig. 20. is a section of the man-Fig. zo.
ner in which the author has formed the communication
between the spiral and the rising pipe. P is the end of
the hollow axis which is united with the solid iron axis.
Adjoining to P, on the under side, is the entry from
the last turn of the spiral. At Q is the collar which
rests on the supports, and turns round in a hole of bell-
metal. //is a broad flanch cast in one piece with the
hollow part. Beyond this the pipe is turned somewhat
smaller, very round and smooth, so as to fit into the
mouth of the rising pipe, like the key of a cock. This
mouth has a plate ee attached to it. There is another
plate dd, which is broader than e c, and is not fixed to
the cylindrical part, but moves easily round it. In this
plate are four screws, such as^, g-, which go into holes
in the plate ff, and thus draw the two plates// and
dd together, with the plate ee between them. Pieces
of thin leather are put on each side of ee; and thus all
escape of water is effectually prevented, with a very mo¬
derate compression and friction.
WAT
Waterford, a county of Ireland, 46 miles in length, Waterford,
and 25 in breadth; bounded on the south by St George’s Watering.
Channel; on the west by Cork; on the north by the ' ""V " ''
river Sure, which separates it from Tipperary and Kil¬
kenny ; and on the east by Waterford haven, which
parts it from Wexford. It contains 71 parishes, and
sends two members to parliament. It is a fine country,
very plea-ant and rich, and the principal place is of the
same name. See WATERFORD, SUPPLEMENT.
WATERING, in the manufactures, is to give a
4 R lustre
WAT [ 682 ] WAX
Waterin * lustre to stuff3> by wetting them lightly with gum-
|| k water, and then passing them through the press or calen-
Watson. der whether hot or cold.
~—v—WATERLAND, Dr Daniel, a learned English
divine who distinguished himself greatly in theological
controversies, was horn in 1683 at Wasely in Lincoln¬
shire, of which place his father was rector. He had his
academical learning at Magdalen college, Cambridge,
where he drew up a useful tract, which went through
several editions, intitled, Advice to a Young Student,
with a Method of Study for the first four years. In 1713
he became master of the college, was soon after ap¬
pointed chaplain to George I. j and at the time of his
death in 1740, was canon of Windsor, archdeacon of
Middlesex, and vicar of Twickenham, Besides his con¬
troversial writings, hepublished two volumes of sermons.
WATSON, Dr Robert, an elegant historian, was
born at St Andrew’s in Scotland, about the year 1730.
He was the son of an apothecary of that place, who was
also a brewer. Having gone through the usual course
of languages and philosophy at the school and university
of his native place, and also entered on the study ol di¬
vinity, a desire of being acquainted with a larger circle
of literati, and of improving himself in every branch of
knowledge, carried him, first to the university of Glas¬
gow, and afterwards to that of Edinburgh. The period
of theological studies at the universities of Scotland is
four years : but during that period, young men of inge¬
nious minds find sufficient leisure to carry on and ad¬
vance the pursuits of general knowledge. Mr Watson
pursued his studies with ardour. Few men ever studied
more constantly. It was a rule with him to study eight
hours every day ; and this law he observed during the
whole course of his life. An acquaintance with the po¬
lite writers of England, after the union of the two king¬
doms, became general in Scotland; and in Watson’s
younger years, an emulation began to prevail of writing
pure and elegant English. Mr Watson applied himself
with great industry to the principles of philosophical or
universal grammar 5 and by a combination of these,
with the authority of the best English writers, formed a
course of lectures on style or language. He proceeded
to the study of rhetoric or eloquence ; the principles of
which he endeavoured to trace to the nature of the hu¬
man mind. He delivered a course of lectures in Edin¬
burgh on these subjects j and met with the countenance,
approbation, and friendship of Lord Karnes, Mr Hume,
with other men of genius and learning.
At this time he had become a preacher; and a va¬
cancy having happened in one of the churches of St
Andrew’s, he offered himself a candidate for that living,
but was disappointed. Soon after he was appointed pro¬
fessor of logic ; and he obtained also a patent from the
crown, constituting him professor of rhetoric and belles
Jetties. The study of logic in St Andrew’s, as in most
other places, was at this time confined to syllogisms,
modes, and figures. Mr Watson, whose mind had been
opened by conversation, and by reading the writings of
the wits that had begun to flourish in the Scotch capi¬
tal, prepared and read to his students a course of meta¬
physics and logics on the most enlightened plan ; in
which he analyzed the powers of the mind, and entered
deeply into the nature of the difl’erent species of evidence
of truth or knowledge. By his history of Philip II. Dr
Watson attained in his lifetime a considerable degree of
2
celebrity; and his history of Philip III. published after Watucj
his death, has added to his fame. Of this last perform- ||
ance, however, he has only completed the first four Wai
books; the two last were written by the editor of his ma- '"““Y—
nuscript, at the desire of the guardians of his chil¬
dren.
On the death of Principal Tulideph, Dr Watson,
was appointed his successor; in which station he lived
only a few years. He married a lady of singular beau¬
ty and virtue, daughter to Mr Shaw, professor of divi¬
nity in St Mary’s college, St Andrew’s. By this lady he
had five daughters, who survived him.
WATT, James, the celebrated improver of the
steam engine, see Supplement.
WATTS, Dr Isaac, a learned and eminent dissent¬
ing minister, was born at Southampton in 1674,0! pa¬
rents eminent for piety, and considerable sufferers for
conscience-sake. In 1690 he was sent up to London for
academical education under the tuition of the Rev. Mr
Thomas Rowe ; and in 1696 was himself engaged as
tutor to the son of Sir John Hartopp, Bart, at Stok«
Newington. He began to preach in 1698, and met
with general acceptance ; and after officiating as an as¬
sistant to the Rev. Dr Isaac Chauncy, he succeeded in
his pastoral charge in 1702, and continued to preside
over that church as long as he lived. Though his whole
income did not amount to an hundred a-year, he allot¬
ted one third of it to the poor. He died in 174^*
numerous works have rendered his name famous among
people of every denomination, both in this and other
countries, and have been translated into a variety of lan¬
guages. His Lyric Poems, his Psalms and Hymns, and
his Divine Songs for Children, have had an amazingnum-
ber of editions. His logic and philosophy have been much
admired. He also wrote works upon a variety of other
subjects, and printed several volumes of his sermons.
He was admired tor the mildness and benevolence of his
disposition. After his death, his works were collected,
and published in six volumes quarto.
WAVE, in Philosophy, a cavity in the surface of
water, or other fluids, with an elevation aside thereof.
The waves of the sea are of two kinds, natural and
accidental. The natural waves are those which are ex¬
actly proportioned in size to the strength ot the wind,
whose blowing gives origin to them. I he accidental
waves are those occasioned by the wind’s reacting upon
itself by repercussion from hills and mountains, or high
shores, and by the washing ol the waves themselves,
otherwise of the natural kind, against rocks and shoals:
all these causes give the waves an elevation, which they
can never have in their natural state. For the height of
the waves, see Sea.
Stilling TFaves by means of Oil. See Sea.
WAVED, in Heraldry, is said of a bordure, or any
ordinary or charge, in a coat ol arms, having its out¬
lines indented in manner ol the rising and tailing ot
waves : it is used to denote, that the first of the taniily
in whose arms it stands, acquired its honours by sea-
service, t
WAVING, in the sea-language, is the making signs
to a vessel to come near or keep oft.
WAX, or Bees Wax, in Natural History, a firm
and solid substance, moderately heavy, and ol a fine yel¬
low colour, formed by the bees from the pollen ol
flowers. See Apis,
WAX [ 683 ;] WAY
The best sort is that of a lively yellow colour, and
an agreeable smell, somewhat like that of honey : when
new, it is toughish, yet easy to break ; but by age it
becomes harder and more brittle, loses its fine colour,
and in a great measure its smell.
It appears that wax and the pollen have for their basis
a fat oil, which passes to the state of resin by its combi¬
nation with oxygen. If the nitric or muriatic acid be
digested upon fixed oil for several months, it passes to a
state resembling wax. Wax, by repeated distillations,
affords an oil which possesses all the properties of vola¬
tile oils. It is reduced into water and carbonic acid by
combustion. The colouring matter of wax is insoluble
in water and in alcohol.
Fixed alkalies dissolve wax, and render it soluble in
water. It is this saponaceous solution which forms the
punic wax. It may be used as the basis of several co¬
lours } and may be made into an excellent paste for
washing the hands. Ammoniac likewise dissolves it ;
and as this solvent is evaporable, it ought to be prefer¬
red when it is proposed to use the wax as a varnish.
From the common yellow wax, by bleaching, is form¬
ed white-wax, sometimes called, very improperly, vir¬
gin-wax. The greater the surface is in proportion to
the quantity, the sooner and more perfectly this opera¬
tion is performed. The usual way is to melt the wax in
hot water; when melted, they press it through a strainer
of tolerable fine linen, and pour it into round and very
shallow moulds. When hardened by cooling, it is taken
out and exposed to the sun and air, sprinkling it now
and then with water, and often turning it: by this
means it soon becomes white. The best sort is of a
clear and almost transparent whiteness, dry, hard, brit¬
tle, and of an agreeable smell, like that of the yellow
wax, but much weaker.
The common yellow wax is of very great use both in
medicine and in many of the arts and manufactures. It
has been sometimes given internally in dysenteries and
erosions of the intestines •, but its great use is in the
making ointments and plasters, and the greater part of
those of the shops owe their consistence to it. rl he
white wax is also an ingredient in some of the cerates
and ointments of the shops \ and it is used in making
candles, and in many of the nicer arts and manufactures
where wax is required.
Stalivg-IFAX, or Spanish-Wax, is a composition of
gum lac, melted and prepared with resins, and coloured
with some suitable pigment.
There are two kinds of sealing-wax in use ; the one
hard, intended for sealing letters, and other such pur¬
poses ; the other soft, designed for receiving the impres¬
sions of seals of office to charters, patents, and such writ¬
ten instruments. The best hard red sealing-wax is made
by mixing two parts of shell lac, well powdered, and
resin and vermilion, powdered, of each one part, and
melting this combined powder over a gentle fire j and
when the ingredients seem thoroughly incorporated,
working the wax into sticks. Seed-lac may be substitut¬
ed for the shell-lac \ and instead of resin, boiled Venice
turpentine may be used. A coarser hard red sealing-
wax may be made, by mixing two parts of resin, and
of shell-lac, or vermilion and red lead, mixed in the
proportion of one part of the vermilion to two of the red
lead, of each one part; and proceeding as in the former
preparation. For a cheaper kind, the vermilion mar be
omitted, and the shell-lac also, for very coarse uses. Wax
of other colours is made by substituting other colouring
matters for vermilion, as verditer for blue, ivory black
for black wax. For uncoloured soft sealing-wax, take
of bees wax, one pound ; of turpentine, three ounces ;
and of olive oil, one ounce ; place them in a proper
vessel over the fire, and let them boil for some time j
and the wax will be then fit to be formed into rolls or
cakes for use. For red, black, green, blue, yellow, and
purple soft sealing-wax, add to the preceding composi¬
tion an ounce or more of any ingredients directed above
for colouring the hard sealing-wax, and stir the mass
till the colouring ingredients be incorporated with the
wax.
WAX-TFork, the representation of the faces, &c. of
persons living or dead ; made by applying plaster of
Paris in a kind of paste, and thus forming a mould con¬
taining the exact representation of the features. Into
this mould melted wax is poured, and thus a kind of
masks are formed •, which being painted and set with
glass eyes, and the figures dressed in their proper habits,
they bear such a resemblance that it is difficult to di¬
stinguish between the copy and the original.
WAY, a passage or road.
The Roman ways are divided into consular, praeto¬
rian, military, and public ; and of these we have four
remarkable ones in England : the first, Watling-street,
or Watheling-street, leading from Dover to London,
Dunstable,Toucester,Atterston, and the Severn,extend¬
ing as far as Anglesea in Wales. The second, called
Hikenild on Ikenild street, stretches from Southampton
over the river Isis at Newbridge ; thence by Camden
and Litchfield j then passes the Derwent near Derby,
and ends at Tinmouth. The third, called Fosse-ivay,
because in some places it was never perfected, but lies
as a large ditch, leads from Cornwall through Devon¬
shire, by Tethbury, near Stow in the Wolds ; and be¬
side Coventry to Leicester, Newark, and so to Lincoln.
The fourth, called Firming or Erminage street, ex¬
tends from St David’s, in Wales, to Southampton.
Way Covert, Gang, Hatch. See Covert IFatj,
Gang, &c.
Way of a Ship, is sometimes the same as her rake,
or run forward or backward : but this term is most com¬
monly understood of her sailing.
WAY-Leaves, in the coal business. See Coalert,
N° 3.
Right of Ways, in Law. This may be grounded on
a special permission j as when the owner of the land
grants to another a liberty of passing over his grounds,
to go to church, to market, or the like : in which case
the gift or grant is particular, and confined to the gran¬
tee alone; it dies with the person ; and if the grantee
leaves the country, he cannot assign over his right to
any other ; nor can he justify taking anothei* person in
his company. A way may be also by prescription ; as
if all the owners and occupiers of such a farm have im-
memorially used to cross another’s ground ; for this im¬
memorial usage supposes an original grant, whereby a
right of way thus appurtenant to land may clearly be
created. A right of way may also arise by act and ope¬
ration of law ; for if a man grants me a piece of ground
in the middle of his field, lie at the same time tacitly
and impliedly gives me a way to come at it; and I may
cross his land for that purpose without trespass. For
4 R 2 when
&
W E A [ 684 ] W E A
Ways when the law doth give any thing to one, it giveth im-
(1 pliedly whatsoever is necessary for enjoying the same.
Wearing. By the law
of the twelve tables at Rome, Avhere a man
had a right of way over another’s land, and the road
was out of repair, he who had the right of way might
go over any part of the land he pleased ; which was the
established rule in public as well as private ways. And
the law of England, in both cases, seems to correspond
with the Roman.
WAYFARING tree. See Viburnum, Botany
Index.
WAYGHTES, or Waits, a word which is used
only in the plural number, and signifies It is
now applied to the performers on these and other musi¬
cal instruments, by a transition from the instruments
themselves, and particularly to those performers who pa¬
rade the streets by night, about the Christmas season of
the year.
WAYWODE, is a title formerly given to the go¬
vernors of the chief places in the dominions of the czar
of Muscovy. The palatines, or governors of provinces
in Poland, also bear the quality of waywodes or wai-
wndes. The Poles likewise call the princes of Walla-
chia and Moldavia waywodes ; as esteeming them no
other than on the foot of governors •, pretending that
Wallach ia and Moldavia are provinces of Poland.
Everywhere else these are called hospodars. Du Cange
says, that the name waywode is used in Dalmatia, Cro¬
atia, and Hungary, for a general of an army 5 and Leun-
clavius, in his Pandects of Turkey, tells us, it usually
signifies captain or commander.
WEANING, putting a child away from the breast,
and bringing it to use common food.
WEAR, or Week, a great stank or dam in a river,
fitted for the taking of fish, or for conveying the stream
to a mill. New wears are not to be made, or others al¬
tered, to the nuisance of the public, under a certain pe¬
nalty. See River.
WEARING, or Veering, in Seamanship. See
Seamanship.
WEASEL. See Mustela, Mammalia Index.
WEA'l HER denotes the state of the atmosphere
with regard to heat and cold, wind, rain, and other me¬
teors. See Meteorology.
We ather, in sea-language, is used as an adjective,
and applied by mariners to every thing lying to wind¬
ward of a particular situation : thus, a ship is said to
have the weather-gage of another, when she is farther
to windward. Thus also, when a ship under sail pre¬
sents either of her sides to the wind, it is then called
the weather-side or weather board; and all the rigging
and furniture situated thereon are distinguished by the
same epithet, as the weather-shrouds, the weather-lifts,
the weather-braces, &e.
To Weather, in sea-language, is to sail to wind¬
ward of some ship, bank, or head land.
IFEATHER-Cock, a moveable vane, in form of a cock,
or other shape, placed on high, to be turned round ac¬
cording to the direction of the wind, and point out the
quarter from whence it blows.
JFeatiier Glass. See Barometer.
WE A I HI. RING, among sailors, signifies the doub¬
ling or sailing by a head-land or other place.
WEA\ ING, the art of working a web of cloth,
cilk, or other stuff, in a loom with a shuttle. For an
3
idea of the manner in which this is performed, see •Weavin*'
Cloth. ^ q
JFEAriNG-Loom, a machine for weaving cloth, silk,
&c. by raising the threads of the warp in order to throw
in the shoot, and strike it close. Of these there are va¬
rious kinds, distinguished by the different sorts of cloths,
stuffs, silks, &c. in which they are employed, and which
are chiefly distinguished by the number and variety of
the threads they raise in order to work the warp, either
plain or in figures, by making more or less of the woof
or shoot appear through the warp. In order to give a
general idea of weaving, we shall here describe the pjalg
parts of the common weaver’s loom. Fig. 1. in which DLXXY.
e f, ej are the front posts, and g, g the back posts of % '•
the loom \ l 11, m m, m m are the lams in their place
at Q, or, as they are called in some parts of Scotland,
the hsadles, and in others the slaves. They are com¬
posed of strong threads, stretched between two horizon¬
tal bars, an upper and a lower. The threads of one
lam are so disposed as to pass between the upper threads
of the warp, while they admit the lower threads to pass
through loops or small holes in them, and the disposition
of the threads of the other lam is such, that while they
pass between the lower threads of the warp, they admit
the upper threads to pass through the small holes just
mentioned. The lams are suspended from. the cross
bar or lam-bearer HH, by means of ropes n, n passing
from the upper bars of the lams over the pulleys at EE,
and balanced by weights at the other ends. From the
lower bar of each lam or headle a rope passes to the
treadles or moveable bar at 00 ; so that when a foot
presses a treadle, the lam fastened to it sinks, while the
other rises by means of the balancing weight suspended
from the pulley at E. The workman then throws in
the woof by means of the shuttle, and closes it by one
or two strokes of the lay or batten, of which M B, WB
are called the swords, CC the cap, or in Scotland the
upper shell, DD the block or under shell, and PP the
I'eed or comb contained between these shells. LL is the
bench on which the workmen sit $ for the loom which
our figure represents is constructed for weaving cloth of
such a breadth as to require two workmen, who have
their quills in a box d on the middle of the bench on
which they sit. Between the workmen’s bench and thd
batten or lay is the breast bar I, I, a smooth square
beam, in which there is an opening to let the web
through as it is wove. From this opening the web SS
passes to the knee roll or web beam GG, round which
it is rolled by means of the spokes, visible in the figure,
and kept from being unrolled by a wheel with teeth and
clench, visible likewise in the figure. In some looms
the web passes from the knee roll to the wooden frame
X, to be dried as it is wove. Opposite to the breast-
bar, and on the other side of the batten or lay, is the
cane-roll or yarn-beam, on which the warp is rolled
when put into the loom, and from which it is gradually
unrolled as the work proceeds. TT are bobbins filled
with yarn of the warp to mend such threads of it as may
be broke in the weaving j and B /j, B i are clues of the
same kind of yarn with the borders of the warp, to mend
such threads as may there be broken.
Fig. 2. represents the common shuttle with the va-f'tf- 3
cuity in the middle, in which the quill with the woof is
placed on a spindle or axis. As this shuttle is thrown
with one hand in at one side of the warp, and received
with
*
W E A [ 685 ] W E A
with the other hand at the other side, it is obvious, that
_ea'JLng'i ^en the weh is of a breadth too great for a man to
reach from one side of it to the other, two workmen
must be employed and much time lost. To remedy this
inconvemency, a new shuttle has, in this countiy, been
lately brought into very general use, and called the /Zy-
ing shuttle, because it flies through the warp with won-
, , derful rapidity on two steel rollers HR (fig. 3.).. This
f ’ shuttle is not thrown with the hand, but moved back¬
wards and forwards by a very simple piece of machinery,
of which fig. 4. will give the reader a sufficiently accu-
rate conception. To each end of the ZiaWew or/ay L is
fastened a kind ol open box i>, b, with tlx; bottom or
horizontal side exactly on a level with the threads of
the warp of the intended web. In each of these boxes
is a vertical piece of wood D, d, of considerable thick¬
ness, called a driver. This driver is moved easily on an
iron spindle or axis from one end of the box to the other
by means of a slender rope CCCD, and a handle H is
seen in the figure. When the weaver is to begin his
work, he lays the shuttle on its rollers in the box B
with the iron tip T (fig. 3.) touching, or almost touch¬
ing, the driver D (fig. 4.)- Tllen moving the handle
H, with a sudden jerk, towards the box b, the driver
D forces the shuttle with a rapid motion through the
warp till it strikes d, which is impelled by the stroke to
the further end of the box b. The two drivers D and
d have now changed their positions in their respective
boxes} so that the driver which was at the front oi its
box before, is now at the further end of it, and vice
versa. Then by a sudden jerk ol the hand towards B
the shuttle is driven back till it strike D ", and thus is
the work continued without the weaver having occasion
ever to stretch his arms from one margin of the web to
the other. That the shuttle may not, by the unsteadi¬
ness of the workman’s hand, be driven zzg-zog- through
the warp or out of the place in which it ought to move,
the guiding or driving rope CCCD is made to pass through
smooth holes or loops C, C, at the ends of the ropes EC,
EC, suspended either from the cross bar on the top of
the loom or from the swords of the batten.
This shuttle, we should think, a great improvement in
every kind of weaving-loom, though some ot the older
tradesmen, with whom we have conversed on the sub¬
ject, contend, that it is valuable only in what they call
light work, such as cotton or linen cloth, or when the
web, if woollen, is very broad.
But as the labour of weaving is pretty severe, Mr
Robert Millar, an ingenious calico-printer in the coun¬
ty of Dumbarton, Scotland, wishing to lessen it, invent¬
ed, some years ago, a weaving-loom, which mayr be
wrought by water, steam, horses, or any other power,
for which invention he received a patent in 179^' f
following is his own description oi his patent rveaving-
loom :
Fig. 9. represents a side view of the loom, A A, BB,
CC, Db, being the frame, a is an axis (which we
shall call the spindle) across the frame. On this axis is
a sheeve b, two inches thick, having a groove round it,
two inches deep, and half an inch wide. Ihe bottom
of this groove is circular, except in one part c, where
it is filled up to the top } a lever d rests on the bottom
ef this groove, and is lifted up by it when the elevation
c comes round to the situation represented in the figure.
By this motion, the lever d acts on the ratchet-wheel e
by the catch /, and draws it forward one tooth, each re- Weaving.
volution of the sheeve. This ratchet wheel is in an iron 1 1
frame g g, which also properly carries the two catches t
and u, which are connected with it at v. The catch u
holds the ratchet-wheel in its position, while the lever
d and the catch t, are moved bv the groove c in the
sheeve. On the arbor of the ratchet is a small pinion
A, working in the wheel /; this wheel is fixed on the
end of the roller e of fig. 7. On the side of the sheeve
b is fixed a wiper k, which bits the treadle /. This
tx-eadle turns on its joints in the sheeve E, which is fix¬
ed to the side of the frame A and D ; it is kept pres¬
sing on the bottom of the groove in the sheeve by a
spring m, fixed to the frame side A, and having a slen¬
der rod n from its extremity, joining it with the treadle
at/. From the point of the treadle there goes a belt 0,
which passes over the pulley 7?, which is seen edgewise
in this figure, and is joined to the top of the fly pin y,
of fig. 6. At the end of the frame A is the short post
F ; on this rests the yarn-beam^, having a sheeve r,
over which passes a cord, having a weight s suspended
to it. The other end of this cord is fastened to the
spring v; the weight causes the yarn-beam to stretch
the web from the ratchet-wheel e, with its catch w; and
the spring v allows the rope to slide on the sheeve as
the ratchet is drawn round during the working.
Fig. 6. is a front view of the loom, a a is the spin- F'g* ^
die which carries the sheeve b, and the wipers d and d,
which move the treadles w, w, of fig. 5. These use
the treadles of the beadles, with which they are con¬
nected by cords from the shafts of the beadles s, 9.
From the upper shaft there go two leathern belts /’ /,
to the roller y, furnished each with a buckle, for tight¬
ening them at pleasure. The two wipers c, c, on the
shaft a, which serve for taking back the lay, have the
two treadles, x, x, in fig. 7. with a belt from each pas¬
sing over the roller A 2 of fig. 6. and fixed to the sword
of the lay. From the swords of the lay forward is fix¬
ed a belt to each end of the roller i; from this roller
there goes a cord to the springy, which serves for tak¬
ing forward the lay which is hinged on the rocking-
tree t. The star-wheel b of fig. 3. and the sheeve b of
fig. 1. are fixed to the opposite ends of the spindle a
without the frame j and both the wheel and sheeve have
a wiper k fixed to them for moving the treadles. In
order to drive the shuttle, the belts 0, 0, go from the
points of the treadles, over the pulleys p, p, to the top
of the fly-pin y: This turns on a pin joint in a rail r,
which goes across the loom. From its lower end there
go two small cords to the shuttle drivers g, g, which
slide on the iron rods n, n. A long iron rod v goes
across the lay, and is hung on two centres at the ends.
In this rod v are fixed two small crooked wires
w, w, which are more distinctly marked in the little
figure w above, which represents a section of the lay.
The dot at the lower end of the wire w, in this figure,
is the section of the rod v. The shuttle passes between
these wires and the lay every shot, and lifts them up,
causing the rod v to turn round a little. But if the
shuttle should not pass these wires, nor lift them, it
would be drawn home by the lay, and destroy the web.
To prevent this, there is fixed on one end of the rod v
a stout crooked wire %, having a broad or flat headj
which naturally rests on a plate of iron, marked and
fixed to the back of the lay. This plate has a slit in
it*
W E A r 686 ] WEB
Wcaviiv-. its middle about an inch deep. In this slit rests the
<■ ^rod a 2 of fig. 7. on which is a short stud, which is
caught by the wire 2; when the wire w is not lifted
hack by the passing shuttle. This will stop the lay
from coming home, and will set oft the loom.
Fig. 7. Fig- 7- is another side view of the loom opposite to
fig. 5. On the spindle a is the star wheel b, on the out¬
side of the loom frame, on the arms of which wheel is
fixed the wiper k, as the similar wiper is fixed to the
sheeves on the other end of the spindle. The wipers
which drive the shuttles are fixed on opposite squares of
the spindle, and work alternately. Below the star-
wheel is a pinion c, which is on a round spindle, turned
by the water-wheel, by means of a wheel on this spin¬
dle. In a wheel on this spindle are two studs, on which
the pinion c slides off and on, as the loom is set oft and
on by the lever d. At the farther end of this lever is
the weight s, hanging by a chord which passes over a
pulley t, fixed at the outer end of the spring-catch on
which the lever d rest ; and thus the loom is drawn in
at the upper end of the lever d. But when the shuttle
does not lift the wire a, it catches on the stud on the
rod a 2, which is connected with the spring-catch, and
the lever d flies oft’ with the weight .9, and the loom
stops working. On the head of the post F is the yarn-
beam. The rollers e and /are cylinders, pressed toge¬
ther by a screw-lever, and take away the cloth between
them at a proper rate. In the roller^ i$ a groove for
a band for driving the roller g, on which the cloth winds
itself as it is wrought. Wherever springs are mention¬
ed to be used in the above description, weights may be
used in their stead, and to the same effect, and more
especially upon the treadle of fig. 5. for driving the
shuttle.
Fig. 8. Fig. 8. is a representation of a ribband loom. 1. Is
the frame of the loom. 2. The castle, containing 48
pulleys. 3. The branches, on which the pulleys turn.
4. The tires, or the riding-cords, which run on the pul¬
leys, and pull up the high-lisses. 5. The list-sticks, to
which the high-lisses are tied. 6. The high-lisses, or
lists, are a number of long threads, with platines, or
plate-leads at the bottom •, and ringlets, or loops, about
their middle, through which the cords or cross-threads
of the ground-harness ride. 7. The plate-leads, or pla¬
tines, are fiat pieces of lead, of about six inches long,
and three or four inches broad at the top, but round at
the bottom 5 some use black slates instead of them: their
use is to pull down those lisses which the workman had
raised by the treadle, after his foot is taken off. 8. The
branches or cords of the ground harness, which go
through the loops in the middle of the# high-lisses : on
the w’ell ordering of'these cords chiefly depends the art
of ribbon-weaving, because it is by means of this con¬
trivance that the weaver draws in the thread or Ilk
that makes the flower, and rejects or excludes the rest.
9. The batton : this is the wooden frame that holds the
reed or shuttle, and beats or closes the work : where
observe, that the ribbon-weaver does not beat his work ;
but as soon as the shuttle is passed, and his hand is taken
away, the batton is forced, by a spring from the top,
to beat the work close. 10. The shuttle, or reed. 11.
The spring of the batton, by which it is made to close
the work. 12. The long-harness are the front-reeds,
by which the figure is raised. 13. The linguas are the
long pieces of round or square lead, tied to the end of
each thread of the long-harness to keep them tight. "Wfavir
14. The broad piece of Wood, about a foot square,
leaning somewhat forward, intended to ease the weaver Websteil
as he stoops to his shuttle ; it is fixed in the middle of ^ y—
the breast-beam. Some weavers, instead of this, have
a contrivance of a cord or rope that is fastened to the
front-frame, and comes across his breast ; this is called
a stopfull. 15. The seat-bench; this leans forward very
much. 16. The foot-step to the treadles. 17. The
breast-beam, being a cross-bar that passes from one of
the standards to the other, so as to front the workman’s
breast: to this breast-bar is fixed a roll, upon which the
ribbon passes in its way, to be rolled upon the roller,
that turns a little below. 18. The clamps, or pieces of
wood, in which the broaches that confine the treadles
rest. 19. '1 he treadles are long narrow pieces of wood,
to the ends of which the cords that move the lisses are
fastened. 20. The treadle-cords are only distinguished
from the riding-cords by a board full of holes, which
divide them, in order to prevent the plate-leads, which
are tied to the high-lisses, from pulling them too high
when the workman’s foot is off the treadle : which stop
is made by a knot in the treadle-cord, too big to be
forced through that hole in the board. 21. The lams
are two pieces of thin narrow boards only used in plain
works, and then to supply the place of the long-harness.
22. The knee-roll, by which the weaver rolls up his
ribbon as he sees proper, or by bit and bit as it is finish¬
ed. 23. The back-rolls, on which the warp is rolled.
It is to be observed, that there is always as many rolls
as colours in the work to be wove. 24. The clamps,
which support the rollers. 25. The returning-sticks,
or, as others call them, the returns, or the tumblers, or
pulleys, to which the tiers are tied, to clear the course
of cords through the high-lisses. 26. The catch-board
for the tumblers. 27. The tire-board. 28. The but¬
tons for the knee-rolls and treadle-board, described in
N° 20.
It is stated in the proceedings of the National Insti¬
tute of France, that a report was presented to that body
concerning a new machine for weaving ribbed stock¬
ings. The advantages which this machine possesses
are said to be, that it may be erected at one half of the
expence of the English stocking frame, and that its
movements are much lighter. The experience of its
operations for two years has confirmed these advantages.
Of the nature and construction of this machine we have
had no opportunity of obtaining any information; but
we thought it worth while to insert this short notice,
with the view of directing the attention of such of our
readers as may be interested in the improvement of such
manufactures.
WEB, a sort of tissue or texture formed of threads
interwoven with each other; some whereof are extended
in length, and called the ivarp ; others are drawn across,
and called the woof.
WEBERA, a genus of plants belonging to the class
and order pentandria monogynia. See Botany Index.
WEBSTER, Alexander, D. D. was the son of
James Webster, minister of the Tolbooth church inEdin-
burgh, and born in that city about the year 1707. He
was only 13 years of age at the death of his father, and
of course could derive little from parental instruction or
example. He studied at the university of Edinburgh
the several branches of learning with great approbation,
particularly
AfE AVm (t
PLATE IiLXXV.
WhAVLNC;.
/'/j'n; zslwi/
11.. i/W//A/S'S •
WEB [
particularly those connected with the mathematics, for
which he discovered an early predilection. He after¬
wards attended the lectures of the professor of divinity,
and in the year 1733 he was ordained minister of the
parish of Culross, and in June 1737, he was admitted to
be one of the ministers of the Tolbooth church of Edin¬
burgh. His eloquence was noble and manly, his piety
conspicuous, and the discharge of his pastoral duties
faithful and laborious. To these qualities he added an
enlightened zeal for the external interests of the church,
a jealousy of corruption, a hatred of false politics and
tyrannical measures, which sometimes exposed him to
calumny from the guilty, but secured him the esteem
of all who could value independence of soul and inte¬
grity of heart.
The prosperity of fortune which placed Mr Webster
in the church of his father, and restored him to the po¬
lished society of his native city, was not confined to these
favours. Eleven days after his settlement in Edinburgh,
he obtained the hand of Mary Erskine, a young lady of
considerable fortune, and nearly related to the noble fa¬
mily of Dundonald. The genius of Mr Webster now
began to unfold itself. Family connections extended
his acquaintance with the nobility. Edinburgh then
possessed a number of men, both in civil and ecclesias¬
tical stations, who have saved or adorned their country.
With these he was soon to co-operate in defending the
Protestant interests from the arms and artifices ot re¬
bellion.
In the year 1733, five or six ministers seceded from
the church, and being anxious to draw away as many
as possible from the communion which they had renoun¬
ced, they invited down to Scotland in I741* Mr George
Whitefield, a young preacher of great piety and extra¬
ordinary pulpit talents. On his way to Dunfermline,
he was met and entertained at Edinburgh by Mr Web¬
ster and some of his brethren. From them he learned
the state of church parties in Scotland ; and though he
kept his promise of preaching first in I ile, he declined
connecting himself with any particular- sect. Disap¬
pointed of his influence and assistance, the Seceders
ascribed the effects of his preaching to sorcery and the
devil, while Mr Webster, in a pamphlet which he pu¬
blished on the occasion, attributed them to the influence
of the Holy Spirit, an opinion regarded by tne Secedeis
as unspeakable wickedness.
In the year i745> Mr Webster remained in the city
when it was taken by the rebels, and employed his uni¬
versal popularity and vigorous eloquence in retaining,
the minds of the people in the interests of the house of
Hanover. His exertions in this were not overlooked by
most of the spirited gentlemen who acted in quelling
the rebellion. He became an intimate friend of Duncan
Forbes of Culloden, Lord Milton, and others.
He preserved to the latest period of his career,, that
activity both of mind and body, which distinguished
him in the prime of life, obtaining at last his frequent
wish and prayer, an easy and peaceful death, a^tel ,l'
very short indisposition, on the 25th of January I7°4*
His remains were deposited in the Gray friars church¬
yard and it is not a little remarkable that neither pn-
vate friendship nor public generosity has yet come foi-
ward to testify its regard for two of the most eminent
characters of the church of Scotland. I he ashes of
Webster and Blair repose in the same cemetry, undis-
No monu- Webiter
II
Weeks.
687 ] WEE
tinguished from the less illustrious dead,
mental stone marks the place of their dust.
Nature endowed Mr Webster with strong faculties, ^
which were afterwards improved by a considerable share
of erudition. He was a master in the knowledge of the
world and of human nature *, his address was engaging j
his wit strong as his mind j his convivial powers, as they
are called, enchanting. He had a constitutional strength
against intoxication, which made it dangerous in most
men to attempt bringing him into such a state. His
character as a minister was popular in the extreme.
His voice was harmonious, and his figure noble. lo
the poor he was a father and a friend, a liberal patron to
poor students. In his person he was tall, and of a thin
and meagre habit. His features were strongly marked,
and the conformity of the whole indicated genius and
independence.
To him the widows of the clergy are indebted for
the establishment of the celebrated Scheme, the plan of
which he matured in his mind soon after he was appoint¬
ed a minister of the Tolbooth church. By it the wi¬
dows of ministers are entitled to the annual sum of 10,
15, 20, or 25 pounds, according as the clergy pay into
the fund yearly, 2l. 12s. 6d.—3I. 18s. 91!—_5l. 5s.
or 61. I is. 3d, or to their children in sums of IOO——
150—200—or 250I. in favour of which an act of par¬
liament was obtained in terms of a petition (17 Geo. II.)
with liberty to employ the surplus of the annual payments-
and expences in loans of 30I. each among the contribu¬
tors, and to put out the remainder at interest, on proper
security. A second act was procured in the 22d year
of the same reign (1748) granting liberty to raise the
capital to 8o,oool. including the sums lent to contribu¬
tors. The fund is conceived to commence from the
25th March 1744. This was followed by another act
in the year 1770, discontinuing the loan granted to
contributors, and granting liberty to raise the capital
to ioo,oool.; and the whole economy of the institution
was then fixed and determined, a report of the state of
the fund being ordered to be made annually to the Ge¬
neral Assembly by the trustees, which was to be after*
wards printed. The success of the scheme has been
complete.
WEDGE, one of the mechanical powers. See Me¬
chanics.
WEDNESDAY, the fourth day of the week, so
called from a Saxon idol named Woden, supposed to b«
Mars, worshipped on this day.
Ask-WEDNESVAY, the first day of Lent, so called from
the custom observed in the ancient Christian church of
penitents expressing their humiliation at this time, by
appearing in sackcloth and ashes.
WEED, a common name for all rank and wild
herbs, that grow of themselves, to the detriment ot
other useful herbs they grow among.
W'TEEDj in the miners language, denotes the degene¬
racy of a load or vein of fine metal into an useless mar-
casite.
WEEDS, also denote a peculiar habit, worn by the
relicts of persons deceased, by way of mourning.
WEEK, in chronology, a division of time comprising
seven days. See Planetary Days and Sabbath.
Passion-WEEK, or the Holy Week, is the last week
in Lent, wherein the church celebrates the mystery of
our Saviour’s death and passion.
Weeks
[ 688 ]
E I
W E I
Weeks Weeks, Ember. See Ember.
11 Feast of TFeeks. See Pentecost.
Weight.. WEEVER. See Frachinus, Ichthyology Index.
WEEVIL, in Zoology, a species of curculio. See
Curcueio, Entomology Index; and for the method
of destroying- this troublesome and destructive insect,
see Granary and Vermin.
WE1GELIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class and order pentandrla monogynia. See Botany
Index.
WEIGH, a weight of cheese, wood, &c. containing
256 pounds avoirdupois. Of corn, the weigh contains
40 bushels*, of barley or malt, six quarters. In some
places, as Essex, the weigh of cheese is 300 pounds.
WEIGHING, the act of examining a body in the
balance to find its weight.
JFeighing Anchor, is the drawing it out of the
ground it had been cast into, in order to set sail, or quit
a port, road, or the like.
WEIGH'!', in Physics, a quality in natural bodies,
whereby they tend downwards towards the centre of the
earth. Or, weight may he defined in a less limited man¬
ner, to be a power inherent in all bodies, whereby they
tend to some common point, called the centre of gravi¬
ty, or, to speak more accurately, to one another : and
that with a greater or less velocity, as they are more
or less dense, or as the medium they pass through is
more or less rare. See Mechanics.
Weight, in commerce, denotes a body.of a known
weight appointed to be put in the balance against other
bodies whose weight is required.
The security of commerce depending, in a good mea¬
sure, on the justness of weights, which are usually of
lead, iron, or brass, most nations have taken care to pre¬
vent the falsification thereof, by stamping or marking
them by proper officers, after being adjusted by some
original standard. Thus, in England, the standard of
weights is kept m the exchequer by a particular officer,
called the clerk of the market.
Weights may be distinguished into the ancient and
modern.
I. Ancient Weights.
1. Those of ancient Jews, reduced to the English
troy weight, will stand as in the following table :
lib. oz. dwt. gr.
Shekel - - - o o 9 2^
Maneh - - - 2361 Oy
5c|Talent - - 113 10 I 10^
2. Roman weights, reduced to English troy weight,
will stand as in the following table :
60
3000
w
The Roman ounce is the English avoirdupois ounce,
which they divided into seven denarii, as well as eight
drachmas.
3. Attic Weights.
Drachma
Mina
100
6000
6c
Talent
English Troy Weight,
lb. oz. dwt gr.
0 0 2 16.9
I I IO IO
67 7 5 O
II. Modern Weights.
I. English Weights.—Mr Renardson, in a paper pub¬
lished in the Philosophical Transactions, has proved, that
at first there was but one weight in England, and that
this was the avoirdupois. Troy weight was introduced
in the time of Henry VII. : At present, both the troy
and avoirdupois weights are used in England. Troy
weight seems to have derived its name from Troyes, a
town in France, where a celebrated fair wa- kept. It
is used for weighing gold, silver, jewels, silk, and all
liquors. The avoirdupois. is used for weighing other
things.
Table of Troy Weight, as used by the
Goldsmiths, 8fc.
Grains.
24
480
5760
Penny-weights.
O nee.
Pound.
240
Apothecaries.
Grains.
Scruple, j)
Dram. 5
1 2
20
60
480
5760
24
288
96
Ounce. ^
Pound.
12
The troy pound in Scotland, which by statute is to
be the same as the French pound, is commonly supposed
equal
W E I
[ 689 1
W E - I
equal to 15 ounces and three quarters troy English
weight, or 7560 grains. But by a mean of the stand¬
ards kept by the dean of guild of Edinburgh, it weighs
7599t* or 76°° grains.
Drams.
16
256
7168
28672
573440
Table of Avoirdupois Weight,
An ounce.
A pound.
448
1792
35840
28
112
2240
A quarter.
A hundred.
A ton.
80
20
The avoirdupois pound is equal to 7004 troy grains,
the avoirdupois ounce to 437 75 grains j and it follows
of consequence, that the troy pound is to the avoirdu*
pois ounce as 88 to 107 nearly, for as 88 to 107, so is
5760 to 7003.636 : that the troy ounce is to the avoir¬
dupois ounce as 80 to 73 nearly; for as 80 to 73, so is
480 to 438. An avoirdupois pound is equal to I lb.
2 oz,. n dwts. 20 gr. troy j a troy ounce is equal to 1 oz.
I.55 dr. avoirdupois j an avoirdupois dram contains
27.34375 grains', 175 troy pounds are equal to 144
avoirdupois pounds.
The moneyers have a peculiar subdivision of the grain
troy: thus,
rGrain T
Ti-te f int°
(„Periot J
{
20 Mites.
24 Droits.
20 Peroits.
24 Blanks.
The English weights are used in the United Provinces
of America.
2. French JFf/gAte.—Different weights were former¬
ly used in most of the different provinces of France :
These, however, have undergone very material altera¬
tions since the revolution in that kingdom. See Mea¬
sure. But as a knowledge ol the ancient weights of
that country is of importance, on account of the books
in which they are used, we insert the following tables.
The Paris pound contains 16 ounces, and is divided
two ways.
Grains.
24
72
576
4608
9216
Penny-weight.
Gros.
Ounce.
24
192
384
8
64
1 28
8
16
Marc.
Pound.
Vol. XX. Part II.
Half ounce.
16
32
3200
Ounce.
16
1600
Half-quarter pound.
2 Quarter-pound.
800
400
Half-pound.
too
Pound.
100 Quintal.
TrCyken.
4
16
’ 512
10240
81920
256
5120
40960
Vierling.
As.
128
2360
20480
32
640
512c
Angle.
Ounce.
20
160
8
Marc.
The marc is equal, according to M. Tillet, to 4620
French grains.
4 S
The
Weight.
The weights of the first division are used to weigh
gold, silver, and the richer commodities; and the
weights of the second division for commodities of less
value.
The Paris 2 marc, or pound weight, is equal to 75^°
grains troy, and the Paris ounce equal to 472.5 grains
troy.
Ib. oz. dwt. gr.
The Pai'is pound =1 3 15 o troy.
The Paris ounce = 0 919 16.5 troy.
A grain troy = 1.2186507 of a Paris grain.
BuQthe pound was not the same throughout France.
At Lyons, e. gr. the city pound was only 14 ounces :
so that ICO Lyons pounds, made only 86 Paris pounds.
But beside the city pound, they had another at Lyons
for silk, containing 15 ounces. At Tboulouse, and
throughout the Upper Languedoc, the pound was 13
ounces and a half of Paris weight. At Marseilles, and
throughout Provence, the pound was 134 ounces of
Paris weight. At Rouen, beside the common Paris
pound and mark, they had the weight of the vicomte;
which was 16 ounces, a half, and five-sixths of the Paris
weight. The weights enumerated under the two ar¬
ticles of English and French weights are the same that
are used throughout the greatest part of Europe $ only
under somewhat different names, divisions, and propor¬
tions.
French weights were formerly used in all the French
American settlements.
3. Dutch Weights.—The weight used in Amsterdam
and all over Holland is called Iroy weight, and is ex¬
actly the same with that used at Brussels. T.be Dutch
weights are as follows :
Deuskens.
W E I
[ 690 ]
W E I
Weight. The Amsterdam pound used in commerce is divided
——"v— into 16 ounces, 32 loots’, or I 28 drams. This ppurul
contains 2 marcs troy, and ought therefore to weigh
only I0240f7.9.’ but it weiglis 10280 ; so that it is a lit¬
tle heavier than the troy pound of Amsterdam : 256U).
of commerce are equal to 2571b. troy of Holland. Two
different pounds are used by apothecaries ; the one con¬
taining 2 marcs, the other only l^. The first is called
arsenic pound weight; it contains 16 ounces, the ounce
8 drams, the dram 8 scruples, the scruple 20 grains.
The second is called the apothecary1 s pound ; it is divid¬
ed into 12 ounces, or 24 loots. Three arsenic pounds
are equal to 4 apothecary’s pounds.
The Dutch stone - =8 commercial lb.
The Lispundt, or LI. =:: 15
The hundred weight ~ 100
The Schippondt, or Sch. lb. = 300
4. Spanish Weights.—The marc of Castile, used for
weighing gold and silver, is divided as follows :
Grains (gold weight).
Grain (silver weight).
Tomine (gold weight).
Pomine (silver weight.)
Adarme.
12
124
374
75
96
600
4800
12
72
92/t
576
4608
34
50
400
7 rx
48
384
16
128
Ochava.
Castellano.
Ounce.
8
64
5°
Marc.
The marc, according to Tillet, is equal to 7 oz.
4 gros, 8 grains French, which is equal to 4785 as of
Holland. One hundred marcs of Castile rr about 93^
marcs of Holland ; 100 marcs of Holland — 107 marcs
of Castile. Medicines are sold by the same marc ;
but it is divided differently, containing 8 ounces, 64
drachms, 192 scruples, 384 obolos, 1152 caracteras,
4608 grains.
1 he Spanish commercial pound is divided into two
marcs, called marcs of Tejo, each of which is equal to
the marc of Castile. This pound is divided into 16
ounces, 256 adarmes, 9,216 grains.
5. Wteights of Portugal.—The Lisbon marc for essay¬
ing silver coin of 12 deniers, and the denier of 24
grains. rI he marc of Portugal for weighing gold and
silver is equal, according to Tillet, to 7 ounces 34 gros,
and 34 grains French, which makes 4776 as of Holland;
so that it is exactly the same with the Lisbon pound, ft
is divided into 8 ounces, 64 outavas, 192 scruples, 4608
grains.
Ihe pound consists of 2 marcs, f6 ounces, or 96
outavas; the arroha of 32 lb.; the quintal of 4 arrobas,
01 128 lb. 100 Oporto pounds make 874th pounds of
commerce of Amsterdam.
6. Weights of Italy.—Genoa. Two kinds of weights
4
are used at Genoa, the peso givsso (heavyweight), and
the peso sottile (light weight) : the latter is used for
weighing gold and silver, the former for other things.
The pound of the peso sottile is equal, according to Til¬
let, to 1 marc, 2 ounces, 24 gros, 30 grains French. It
is divided into 8 ounces, the ounce into 24 deniers, and
the denier into 24 grains. The pound of the peso grosso
is equal to 1 marc, 2 ounces, 3 gros, 5 grains, French.
It is divided into 12 ounces :
The cantaro “ 100 lbs. peso grosso.
The rubbo = 25 lbs.
The rotolo = i4 lb-
100 lbs. peso grosso ~ 6441b. ofcommerce of Amsterdam.
100lbs peso sottile = 129 marcs troy of Holland.
Rome. The Roman pound consists of 12 ounces, the
ounce of 24 deniers, the denier of 24 grains. The Roman
pound, according to Tillet, is equal to 1 marc, 3 ounces,
4 gros, 14 grains, French.
Venice. The marc for weighing gold and silver con¬
tains 8 ounces, 32 quarti, 1152 carati, or 4608 grani.
An hundred marcs of Venice = 974 marcs troy of Hol¬
land, 100 marcs of Holland r= 103 of Venice. In Ve¬
nice they also use a peso grosso and peso sottile. too lbs.
peso grosso rz 94^ commercial lbs of Amsterdam.
100 lbs. peso sottile rr 614 ditto.
7. Swedish Weights.—The marc for weighing gold
and silver is equal to 16 lods, 64 quentins, or 4384 as.
The pound of 32 lods, used for weighing food, is equal,
according to Tillet, to I marc, 5 ounces, 7 gros,
8 grains French, which makes 88484 as troy of Holland.
This answers exactly to the weight of the different
pounds, as fixed in Sweden, viz. 8848 as — the pound
for weighing articles of food ; 782iTVr as =. marc used
in the mines ; 745°t4t as =: niarc used in towns and
in the country ; as zz: marc used for weighing
iron ; 7416 as zz pound used in medicine.
The skippund zz 400 lbs. for weighing food.
The centner r= 120 lbs.
The waag zz: 165 lbs.
The sten zz 32 lbs.
The Swedish as zz 1 as of Holland troy.
8. German Weights.— Vienna. The marc of Vienna
for weighing gold and silver is divided into i6 1oths,
64 quintals, or 256 deniers or pfenings ; the loth into
4 quintals, or 16 pfenings. This marc, according to
Tillet, is equal to I marc, 1 ounce, 1 gros, 16 grains,
French, z= 5831 as troy Holland. The pound of
Vienna is divided into 2 marcs, or 4 viertings; the
mark into 8 ounces, 16 loths, 64 quintals, or 266 pfs-
nings.
Hamburgh. The marc for essaving gold is divided
into 24 carats ; the carat into 12 grains. The mare
for silver is divided into 16 loths, and the loth into 18
grains. These marcs consist each of 288 grains, and
are therefore equal. This marc, used in Flamburgh for
gold and silver, is the marc of Cologne, which is equal,
according to Tillet, to 7 ounces, 5 gros, 74 grains,
French, zz 4866 as troy of Holland. It is divided into
8 ounces, j6 loths, 64 quentins, 256 pfenings, 4352
esches, or 65536 richt pfenings theile. The apothecary
pound used in Hamburgh, and almost all Germany, »
divided into 12 ounces, 96 drachms, 288 scruples, or
5760 grains j an ounce is equal to 621 as of Holland.
The
WEI [ 691 ] WEI
The pound of commerce is equal, according to Tillet,
to 10085 as of Holland j for half a pound is equal lo
7 ounces, 7 gros, 23 grains, French. This pound is di¬
vided into 16 ounces, 32 loths, 128 quentins, or 512
pfennigs.
9. Russian Weights.—The berckowitz =: 400 lbs.
The poud - - - - rrr 40 lbs.
The pound is divided into 32 loths, or 96 solotnuks.
One hundred Russian lbs. — 166^ marcs, or 82^ lbs. of
Amsterdam. One hundred lbs. of commerce of Am¬
sterdam =r 1 20^th lbs. of Russia.
10. Weights used in the several parts of Asia, the
East Indies, China, Persia, &c.—In Turkey, at
Smyrna, &c. they use the batman, or battemant, con¬
taining 74- occosj the occo contains 4 chekys or pounds,
each of which, according to Tillet, is equal to 1 marc
2 oz. 3 gros. 28 gr. French. The Turkish weights are
divided as follows :
Cantaras. Batmans. Occos. Rotolos. Cliekis. Mescals. Drachms.
I =r 7*- = 44m00 =176 =117334=17600
I = 6= I3tt= 24 =: 1600 = 2400
1= 2tV= 4 = 266|= 400
1 = i4f= 1174= 176
I = 664= 100
I = If
At Aleppo there are three sorts of rottos •, the first
720 drachms, making about 7 pounds English, and ser¬
ving to weigh cottons, galls, and other large commodi¬
ties ; the second is 680 drachms, used for all silks but
white ones, which are weighed by the third rotto of 700
drachms. At Seyda the rotto is 600 drachms.
The other ports of the Levant, not named here, use
some of these weights ; particularly the occa, or ocqua,
the rottoli, and rotto.
The Chinese weights are, the piece for large commo¬
dities : it is divided into 100 catis or cattis, though
some sav into 125; the cati into 16 taels or tales,
each tael equivalent to if of an ounce English, or the
weight of one rial and-rV? and containing 12 mas or
masses, and each mas 10 condrins. So that the Chinese
piece amounts to 137 pounds English avoirdupois, and
the cati to I pound 8 ounces. The picol for silk con¬
taining 66 catis and \ 5 the bahar, bakaire, or barr,
containing 300 catis.
Tonquin has also the same weights, measures, &c. as
China. Japan has only one weight, viz. the cati; which,
however, is difierent from that of China, as containing
20 taels. At Surat, Agra, and throughout the states
of the Great Mogul, they use the man, or maund, where¬
of they have two kinds ; the king’s maund, or king’s
weight ; and the maund simply ; the first used for the
weighing of common provisions, containing 40 seers, or
serres ; and each seer a just Paris pound. The common
maund, used in the weighing of merchandise, consists
likewise of 40 seers, but each seer is only estimated at
12 Paris ounces, or of the other seer.
The maund may be looked upon as the common weight
of the East Indies, though under some difference of
name, of rather of pronunciation •, it being called mao
at Cambaya, and in other places meiH and maun. The
seer ife propbrly the Indian pouhd, and of universal usej
the like niay be said of the bahar, tael, and catti, above
mentioned.
The weights of Siam are the piece, containing two Weight,
shans or cattis; but the Siamese catti is only half the v—-
Japanese, the latter containing 20 taels and the former
only 10 ; though some make the Chinese catti only l6
taels, and the Siamese 8. The tael contains 4 baats, or
ticals, each about a Paris ounce ; the baat 4 selings or
mayons ; the mayon 2 fouangs ; the fouang 4 paves;
the paye 2 clams ; the sompaye half a fouang.
It is to be observed, that these are the names of their
coins as well as weights ; silver and gold being commo¬
dities there sold, as other things, by their weights.
In the isle of Java, and particularly at Bantam, they
use the gantan, which amounts to near 3 Dutch pounds.
In Golconda, at Visapour, and Goa, they have the fu-
ratelle, containing 1 pound 14 ounces English; the
mangalis, or mangelin, for weighing diamonds and pre¬
cious stones, weighing at Goa 5 grains, at Golconda,
&c. 5-4 grains. They have also the rotolo, containing
14J ounces English ; the metricol, containing the sixth
part of an ounce ; the wall for piastres and ducats,
containing the 73d part of a rial.
In Persia they use two kinds of batmans or mans ;
the one called cahi or cheray, which is the king’s
weight, and the other batman of Tauris. The first
weighs 13 pounds 10 ounces English; the second 64-
pounds. Its divisions are the rate!, or a 16th ; the der-
hem, or drachm, which is the 50th; the meschal, which
is half the derhem; the dung, which is the sixth part of
the meschal, beingequivalent to 6 carat grains; and, last¬
ly, the grain which is the fourth part of the dung. They
have also the vakie, which exceeds a little our ounce ;
the sah-cheray, equal to the 11 70th part of the derhem ;
and the toman, used to weigh out large payments of mo¬
ney without telling ; its weight is that of 50 abasses.
11. Weights at Cairo in Egypt.—Almost every kind
of goods has its own weight ; these are regulated by tb«
cantaren or principal weight.
Rotels.
The ordinary cantaren, or hundredweight, weighs 100
The cantaren of quicksilver and tin - 102
coffee, wine, and iron - 105
ivory - - - - 100
almonds and other fruits - 115
woods for dyeing - - 120
arsenic and other drugs - 125
minium and cinnabar - 130
gum arabic, aloes, and other
aromatics - - 133
The ratel or rotoli is nearly equal to the pound of
Marseilles ; 108 lbs. of Marseilles are equal to 110 ro-
tels. The Marseilles pound consists of 13 ounces of
Paris; so that the ICO lbs. of Marseilles are equal to
81 lbs. Paris, and 100 lbs. Paris= I 23lbs.ofMarseilles.
We shall subjoin here Mr Ferguson’s table for com¬
paring the English avoirdupois pound with foreign
pounds:
London pound
Antwerp
Amsterdam
Abeville
Ancona
Avignon
Bourdeaux
Bologaa
i.oboo
1.04
1.1111
1.0989
0.78
c.8928
1.0989
0.8
Bruges
Calabria
Calais
Dieppe
Dantzic
Ferrara
Flanders
Geneva
2
I.02O4 I'ergusen't
O.73 Tables and
°-9345 Tr“rtf'
1.0989
0.862
°-75
°-9433
1.07
Genoa
W E I
Weight.
Genoa, gross
Hamburgh
Lisbon
Leghorn
No rim berg
Naples
Paris
Prague
Placentia
°-7
1.0865
I-I35
0.75
1^363
0.71
1-1235
1.2048
0.72
Rochelle
Rome
Rouen
Seville
Thoulouse
Turin
Venice
Vienna
[ 69
0.8928
0.7874
1.1089
0.9259
0.8928
0.82
1.06
1.23
]
W E I
In order to show the proportion of the several weights
used throughout Europe, we shall (add a reduction of
them to one standard, viz. the London pound.
The 100 lb. of England, Scotland, and Ireland are
equal to
lb.
91
96
88
106
90
107
JI3
81
93
89
96
237
132
J53
3 54
97
104
96
112
107
89
oz.
8
8
o
o
9
11
o
7
5
7
x
4
11
ix
o
10
o
J3
5
2
T
1
2?
of Amsterdam, Paris, &c.
of Antwerp or Brabant,
of Rouen, the viscounty weight,
of Lyons, the city weight,
of Rochelle.
of Thoulouse and Upper Languedoc,
of Marseilles or Provence,
of Geneva,
of Hamburgh,
of Francfort, &c.
of Leipsic, &c.
of Genoa,
of Leghorn,
of Milan,
of Venice,
of Naples.
of Seville, Cadiz, &c.
of Portugal,
of Liege,
of Russia,
of Sweden,
of Denmark.
A curious weighing machine was some time ago in¬
vented by M. Hanin of Paris, whereby the weights of
the principal countries in Europe, and the relative pro¬
portions they bear to each other, are shown at one view.
For this he received a bounty of 20 guineas from the
Society instituted at London for the Encouragement of
Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce. The following is
a description of this ingenious machine.
Plate Figure 1. represents the back of the machine, which
DLXXVIIbeing suspended by the ring A, and a weight hung to
fig- x
Fig. 2.
the hook B, the spring C, C, C, made fast by strong
screws at g, is drawn downwards j and the bar D hav¬
ing a rack thereon at e, turns the pinion /j in proportion
to the weight of the body hanging thereto. Figure 2.
shows the face of the machine, on which is a number
of concentric circles, and the weights of several coun¬
tries of Europe engraved thereon, as expressed by the
words on a line with them. In the centre of this face
is a ring fixed to the small plate, turned by the pinion
f, shown at figure 1. From this ring a hand pro¬
jects, which, by the turning of the pinion, points to
such part of the circle as is marked with the weight
hung to the hook B; and thereby shows what weight of
any of the countries mentioned, is equal to the pounds
troy of London, which are engraved on the outer circle,
or to the pounds avoirdupois, which are engraved on the
second circle, and so of the rest. A slider moves on the
hand, which may be brought to any of the circles at
pleasure, in order to point out the relative weight with
greater precision.
Many attempts have been made to introduce an uni¬
formity of weights and measures into the commercial
world ; but hitherto they have all failed, The accom¬
plishment of such an undertaking would be of infinite
advantage to mankind, and certainly claims the most
serious attention of those who by their situation can
alone bring it about. The undertaking is indeed dif¬
ficult, but surely not impossible. Something of this
kind has been attempted and adopted in France j and,
as the method is simole, and exceedingly well adapted
for calculation, it surely deserves to be imitated. See
Measure.
Weight of Air. See Pneumatics, N° 14—19.
Regulation of Weights and Measures^ is a branch
of the king’s prerogative. See Prerogative and
Measure.
As weight and measure are things in their nature ar¬
bitrary and uncertain, it is therefore expedient that they
be reduced to some fixed rule or standard : which stand¬
ard it is impossible to fix by any written law or oral pro¬
clamation ; for.no man can, by words only, give another
an adequate idea of a foot rule, or a pound weight. It
is therefore necessary to have recourse to some visible,
palpable, material standard ; by forming a comparison
with which all weights and measures may be reduced to
one uniform size j and the prerogative of fixing this
standard, our ancient law vested in the crown, as in
Normandy it belonged to the duke. This standard was
originally kept at Winchester: and we find in the laws
of King Edgar, near a century before the Conquest, an
injunction that the one measure, which rvas kept at Win¬
chester, should he observed throughout the realm. Most
nations have regulated the standard of measures of length
by comparison with the parts of the human body j as
the palm, the hand, the span, the foot, the cubit, the ell
{idnct or arm), the pace, and the fathom. But as these
are of different dimensions in men of different propor¬
tions, our ancient historians inform us, that a new stand¬
ard of longitudinal measure was ascertained by King
Henry the First 5 w ho commanded that the idna, or an¬
cient ell, which answers to the modern yard, should be
made of the exact length of his own arm. And one
standard of measure of length being gained, all others
are easily derived from thence j those of greater length
by multiplying, those of less by dividing, that original
standard. Thus, by the statute called compositio ulna-
rum et perticarum, five yards and a half make a perch j
and the yard is subdivided into three feet, and each foot
into 12 inches; which inches will be each of the length
of three grains of barley. Superficial measures are de-
rived by squaring those of length ; and measures of ca¬
pacity by cubing them. The standard of weights was
originally taken from corns of wheat, whence the lowest
denomination of weights we have is still called a grain;
32 of which are directed, by the statute called compositio
to compose a pennyweight, whereof 20 make
an ounce, 12 ounces a pound, and so upwards. And upon
these principles the first standards were made ; which,
being originally so fixed by the crown, their subsequent
regulations have been generally made by the king in
parliament. Thus, under King Richard I. in his par¬
liament holden at Westminster, A. D. 1197, it w-as
ordained that there should be only one weight and one
measure
W E L
measure throughout the kingdom,
of the assize, or standard of weights and measures, should
be committed to certain persons in every city and bo¬
rough ; from whence the ancient office of the king’s
aulnager seems to have been derived, whose duty it was,
for a certain fee, to measure all cloths made for sale, till
the office was abolished by the statute nth and 12th
William III. c. 20. In King John’s time this ordi¬
nance of King Richard was frequently dispensed with for
money ; which occasioned a provision to be made for
enforcing it, in the great charters of King John and his
son. These original standards were called pondus regis
and viensura domini regis, and are directed by a variety
of subsequent statutes to he kept in the exchequer
chamber, by an officer called the clerk of the market, ex¬
cept the wine gallon, which is committed to the city of
of London, and kept in Guildhall.
The Scottish standards are distributed among the old¬
est boroughs. I'he ehvand is kept at Edinburgh, the
pint at Stirling, the pound at Lanark, and the firlot at
Linlithgow.
Various statutes have been enacted for regulating
and enforcing an uniformity of weights and measures ;
and by the articles of union, the English standards are
established by law over all Great Britain. But the
force of custom is so strong, that these statutes have been
ill observed. The Scottish standards are still universally
retained for many purposes; and likewise a variety of
local weights and measures are used in particular places
of both countries, which differ from the general standards
of either. A report was made by a committee of the
House of Commons on the subject of weights and mea¬
sures, 24th June, 1819, recommending alterations of a
very limited nature1, but nothing farther has been done.
WEINMANNIA, a genus of plants of the class
octandria, order monogynia, and arranged in the natu¬
ral classification with those plants the order of which
is doubtful.
WELD, or Wold. See Reseda, Botany Index,
and Dyeing.
WELDINGHEAT,insmithery, a degree of heat given
to iron, &c. sufficient to make the surfaces of two pieces
incorporate upon being beaten together with a hammer.
WELL, a hole under ground, usually of a cylindri¬
cal figure, and walled with stone and mortar : its use is
to collect the water of the strata around it.
Well, an apartment formed in the middle of a ship’s
hold to inclose the pumps, from the bottom to the lower
decks. It is used as a barrier to preserve those machines
from being damaged by the friction or compression ol
the materials contained in the hold, and particularly to
prevent the entrance ol ballast, &c. by which the tubes
would presently be choked, and the pumps rendered
incapable of service. By means of this inclosure, the ar¬
tificers may likewise more readily descend into the hold,
in order to examine the state of the pumps, and repair
them as occasion requires.
WELL-lloom of a Boat, the place in the bottom where
the water lies between the ceiling and the platform ot
the stern-sheets, whence it is thrown out into the sea
with a scoop.
Burning-Well. See Buitning-Spring.
Well of a Fishing-vessel, an apartment in the middle
of the hold, which is entirely detached from the rest,
being lined with lead on every side, and having the bot-
Well
WerUirian.
[ 693 ] WEB
nd that the custody tom thereof penetrated with a competent number of small
holes passing also through the ship’s floor; so that the
salt-water running into the well is always kept as fresh
as that in the sea, and yet prevented from communicat¬
ing itself to the other parts of the hold.
IFELL-hole, in building, is the hole left in a floor for
the stairs to come up through.
WELLS, a city of Somersetshire, and see of a bi¬
shop ; the bishop of Bath being also that of Wells.—It
is supposed to take its name from the many springs and
wells that are near it. It is not very large; but is
adorned with handsome buildings, and contained 5156
inhabitants in 1811. Its cathedral is a very beautiful
structure, adorned with images and carved stone work.
The bishop’s palace joins to the cathedral; and on the
other side are the houses for the prebendaries. In the
maiket-place is a fine market house, supported by pillars.
It is governed by a mayor, and sends two members to
parliament. The chief manufacture is knit hose. W.
Long. 2. 40. N. Lat. 51. 12.
WEN, a tumor or excrescence arising on different
parts of the body, and containing a cystus or bag filled
with some peculiar kind of matter. See N^vus, Sur¬
gery Index.
WEREGILD, the price of homicide ; paid partly to
the king for the loss of a subject, partly to the lord
whose vassal he was, and partly to the next of kin of
the person slain.
WERST, Wurst, or Verst, a Russian measure equal
to 3500 English feet. A degree of a great circle of
the earth contains about 104 wersts and a half.
WERTURIAN or Uralian Mountains, a famous
chain of mountains forming part of the boundary of A-
sia. It begins distinctly (for it may be traced interrupt¬
edly farther south) near the town of Kungur, in the go¬
vernment of Kasan, in latitude 570 20'; runs north, and
ends opposite to the Waygatz strait, and rises again in
the isle of Nova T^emlja. The Russians also call this
range Semennoi Poias, or, the girdle of the world; from;
a supposition that it encircled the universe. These were
the Riphcei monies: Pars nmndidamnata a natura re-
rum, et densa mersa caligine* ; of which only the south-* Plinii
ern part was known to the ancients, and that so little as Nab,
to give rise to numbel’less fables. Beyond these were *v‘
placed the happy Hyperborei, a fiction most beautifully^'
related by Pomponius Mela. Moderns have not been
behind-hand in exaggerating several circumstances re¬
lative to these noted hills. Ysbrand Ides, who crossed
them in his embassy to China, asserts that they are 5000
toises or fathoms high ; others, that they are covered
with eternal snow. The last may be true in their more
northern parts ; but in the usual passages over them,
they are. free from it three or four months.
The heights of part of this chain have been taken by
M. 1’Abbe d’Auteroche: rvho, with many assurances
of his accuracy, says, that the height of the mountain
Kvria near Solikamskaia, in latitude 6o°, does not ex¬
ceed 471 toises from the level of the sea, or 286 from
the ground on which it stands. But according to M.
Gmelin, the mountain Pauda is much higher, being
752 toises above the sea. From Petersburgh to this
chain is a vast plain, mixed with certain elevations or
platforms, like islands in the midst of an ocean. The,
eastern side descends gradually to a great distance into
the wooded and morassy Siberia, which forms an im¬
mense
WES [ 694 ] WES
Wcrturian, mense inclined plane to the Icy sea. This is evident
Wesley, from all the great rivers taking their rise on that side,
1 v some at the amazing distance of latitude 46° ; and, af¬
ter a course of about 27 degrees, falling into the Fro¬
zen ocean, in latitude 730 30'. The Yaik alone, which
rises near the southern part of the eastern side, takes a
southern direction, and drops into the Caspian sea. The
Dwina, the Peczora, and a few other rivers in European
Russia, shew the inclined plane of that part. All of them
run to the northern sea 5 but their course is comparatively
short. Another inclination directs the Dnieper and the Don
into the Euxine, and the vast Wolga into the Caspian sea.
WESLEY, John, a very extraordinary character,
and founder of the sect of Methodists, was the son of
the Reverend Samuel Wesley, rector of Epworth in the
isle of Axholme in Lincolnshire, and was born in that
village in the year 1703. His very infancy was di¬
stinguished by an extraordinary incident; for when he
was only six years old, the parsonage-house at Epworth
was burnt to the ground, and the flames had spread with
such rapidity, that few things of value coidd be saved.
His mother, in a letter to her son Samuel Wesley, then
on the foundation at Westminster school, thanks Cod
that no lives were lost, although for some time they
gave up Poor Jackij, as she expresses herself; for his
father had twice attempted to rescue the child, but was
beaten back by the flames. Finding all his efforts in¬
effectual, he resigned him to Divine Providence. But
parental tenderness prevailed over human fears, and Mr
Wesley once more attempted to save Jiis child. By some
means equally unexpected and unaccountable, the boy
got round to a window in the front of the house, and
was taken out, by one man’s leaping on the shoulders
of another, and thus getting within his reach. Imme¬
diately on his rescue from this very perilous situation, the
roof fell in. This extraordinary escape explains a cer¬
tain device, in a print of Mr John Wesley, engraved by
Vertue, in the year 174?, from a painting by Williams.
It represents a house inflames, with this motto from the
prophet, “ Is he not a brand plucked out of the burn¬
ing ?” Many have supposed this device to be merely
emblematical of his spiritual deliverance ; but from this
circumstance it is apparent that it has a primary as well
as a secondary meaning ; it is real as well as allusive.
In the year 1713 he was entered a scholar at the
Charter-house in London, where he continued seven
years under the tuition of the celebrated Dr Walker,
and of the Rev. Andrew Tooke author of The Pan¬
theon. Being elected to Lincoln college, Oxford, he
became a fellow of that college about the year 1725,
took the degree of Master of Arts in 1726, and was
joint tutor with the Rev. Dr Hutchins the rector. He
discovered very early an elegant turn for poetry. Some
of his gayer poetical effusions are proofs of a lively fancy
and a line classical taste ; and some translations from the
Latin poets, while at college, are allowed to have great
merit. He had early a strong impression, like Count
Zinzendorft, of his designation to some extraordinary
work. This impression received additional force from
some domestic incidents ; all which his active fancy
turned to his own account. His wonderful preservation,
already noticed, naturally tended to cherish the idea of
bis being designed by Providehce to accomplish some
purpose Or other, that was out of the ordinary course of
human events. The lute Rev. Samuel Badceck, in a
letter inserted in the Bibliotheca Topographica Britan-
nica, N° XX. says, “ There were some strange pheno¬
mena perceived at the parsonage at Epworth, and some
uncommon noises heard there from time to time, which
he was very curious in examining into, and very parti¬
cular in relating. I have little doubt that he considered
himself the chief object of this wonderful visitation. In¬
deed his father’s credulity was in some degree affected
by it; since he collected all the evidences that tended
to confirm the story, arranged them with scrupulous ex¬
actness, in a manuscript consisting of several sheets, and
which is still in being. I know not what became of tire
ghost of Epworth; unless, considered as the prelude to
the noise Mr John Wesley made on a more ample stage,
it ceased to speak when he began to act.”
“ i he dawn of Mr Wesley’s public mission (conti¬
nues Mr Badcock) was clouded with mysticism ; that
species of it which affects silence and solitude ; a certain
inexplicable introversion of the mind, which abstracts
the passions from all sensible objects; and as the French
Quietists express it, perfects itself by an absorption of
the will and intellect, and all the faculties, into the
Deity.” In this palpable obscure the excellent Fenelon
led himself, when he forsook the shades of Pindus, to
wander in quest of pure love w’ith Madam Guyon i Mr
Wesley pursued for a while the same ignis fatuus with
Mr William Law and the Ghost of De Renty. A state,
however, so torpid and ignoble, ill suited the active
genius of this singular man. His elastic mind gained
strength by compression ; thence bursting glorious, lie
passed (as he himself somewhere savs) “ the immense
chasm, upborne on an eagle’s wings.”
The reading of the writings of this Mr William Law,
the celebrated author of Christian Perfection, and of A
Serious Address to the Christian World, contributed
moreover, to lead Mr John Wesley and his brother
Charles with a few of their young fellow-students, into
a more than common strictness of religious life. They
received the sacrament of the Lord’s Slipper every
week ; observed all the fasts of the church ; visited
the prisons ; rose at four in the morning; and refrain¬
ed from all amusements. From the exact method in
which they disposed of every hour, they acquired the
appellation of Methodists; by which their followers
have been ever since distinguished.
But a more particular account of the origin of this
sect, we shall give from a celebrated publication. “The
Methodists (says the editor of this wttrk) form a very
considerable class, principally of the lower people in this
country. They sprung up about fifty years ago at Ox¬
ford, and were soon divided into two parties; the one
under the direction of Mr George Whitefield, and the
other under that of two brothers, John arid Charles
WYsley. These leaders, and, if We except Mr William
Law, founders of the Methodists, were educated at Ox¬
ford, received episcopal ordination, and always professed
themselves advocates for the articles and liturgy of the
established church ; though they more commonly prac¬
tised the dissenting mode of worship. But conceiving
a design of forming separate communities, superior in
sanctity and perfection to all other Christian churches,
and impressed to a very considerable degree by a zral
of an extravagant and enthusiastic kind, they became
itinerant preachers ; and, being excluded from most of
our churches, exercised their jAinistty in private koines,
fields
W E S
Weslcr. fields, &c. not only in Great Britain ami Ireland, but
— -y——< also in America } thus collecting a very considerable
number of hearers and proselytes, both among the mem¬
bers of the established church and the dissenters. The
theological system of Mr Whitefield and his followers is
Calvinistic j that of Mr Wesley and his disciples Armi-
nian ; and the latter maintains the possibility of attain¬
ing sinless perfection in the present state. The subordi¬
nate teachers of both these classes of Methodists are ge¬
nerally men of no liberal education j and they pretend
to derive their ministerial abilities from special commu¬
nications of the Spirit. The Methodists of both parties,
like other enthusiasts, make true religion to consist prin¬
cipally in certain affections and inward feelings which
it is impossible to explain ; but which, when analysed,
seem to be mechanical in their spring and operation $
and they generally maintain, that Christians will be
most likely to succeed in the pursuit of truth, not by the
dictates of reason, or the aids of learning, but by lay¬
ing their minds open to the direction and influence of
divine illumination 5 and their conduct has been direct¬
ed by impulses.”
Our readers rvill judge for themselves, according to
their various modes of education, and to the different
lights in which they may respectively view the doctrines
of our common Christianity, whether this representation
of the origin of the Methodists, and of their distinguish¬
ing tenets, be accurate and just.—Not presuming to sit
in judgment on the religious opinions of any man, we
snail only observe, that an appellation originally given
in reproach, has been gloried in ever since by those who
have distinguished themselves as the followers either of
Mr Whitefield or of Mr Wesley. “ After the way
called Methodists, so worship they the God of their
fathers.” But the ridicule and contempt which the
singularity of their conduct produced, both John and
Charles Wesley were well qualified to bear. They were
not to be intimidated by danger, actuated by interest,
or deterred by disgrace.
The boundaries of this island were soon deemed by
Mr Wesley too confined for a zeal which displayed the
piety of an apostle, and of an intrepidity to which few
missionaries had been superior. In 1735 he embarked
for Georgia, one of our colonies, which was at that time
in a state of political infancy; and the great object of
this voyage was to preach the gospel to the Indian na-
| tions in the vicinity of that province. He returned to
England in 1737. Of his spiritual labours, both in this
country and in America, he himself has given a very
copious account, in a series of Journals printed at differ¬
ent periods. These journals drew upon our laborious
preacher and his coadjutors some severe animadversions
from two right reverend prelates; Dr George Eaving-
ton bishop of Exeter, and Dr Will iam Warburton bi¬
shop of Gloucester. The former published, in three
parts, The Enthusiasm of the Methodists and Papists
compared ; the third part of this performance contain¬
ing a personal charge of immoral conduct. Mr Wesley,
in his vindication, published a letter to his lordship,
which produced a reply from the latter.
Bishop Warburton’s attack is contained in his cele¬
brated treatise, entitled The Doctrine of Grace : or,
The Office and Operations of the Holy Spirit vindicat¬
ed from the Insults of Infidelity, and the Abuses of Fa¬
naticism : concluding with some thoughts, humbly of-
W E S
fered to the consideration of the Established Clergy, Wesley,
with regard to the Right Method of defending Reli- — ■■
gion against the Attacks of either party ; 2 vols. small
Svo, 1762. There is much acute reasoning, and much
poignant and sprightly wit, in his Doctrine of Grace ;
but there is too much levity in it for a grave bishop,
and too much abuse for a candid Christian. On this
occasion, Mr Wesley published a letter to the bishop,
in which, with great temper and moderation, as well as
with great ingenuity and address, he endeavoured to
shelter himself from his lordship’s attacks ; not only un¬
der the authority of the Holy Scriptures, but of the
church itself, as by law established.
On bis return from Georgia, Mr Wesley paid a visit
to Count Zinzendorf, the celebrated founder of the sect
ot Moravians, or Hernhutters, at Hernbut in Upper
Lusatia. In the following year he appeared again in
England, and with his brother Charles, at the head of
the Methodists. He preached his first field-sermon at
Bristol, on the ?d ot April 1738, from which time his
disciples have continued to increase. In 1741, a serious
altercation took place between him and Mr Whitefield.
In 1744, attempting to preach at an inn at Taunton,
he was regularly silenced by the magistrates. Although
he chiefly resided lor the remainder of his life in the
metropolis, he occasionally travelled through every part
ot Great Britain and Ireland, establishing congrega¬
tions in each kingdom. In 1750 he married a lady,
from whom he was alterwards separated. By this lady,
who died in 1781, he had no children.
We have already mentioned Mr Wesley as a very va¬
rious and voluminous writer. Divinity, both devotional
and controversial, biography, history, philosophy, poli¬
tics, and poetry, were all, at different times, the sub¬
jects of his pen : and, whatever opinion may be enter¬
tained of bis theological sentiments, it is impossible to
deny him the merit of having done very extensive good
among the lower classes of people. He certainly possess¬
ed great abilities, and a fluency which was well accom¬
modated to his hearers, and highly acceptable to them.
He had been gradually declining for three years before
his death ; yet he still rose at four in the morning, and
preached, and travelled, and wrote as usual. He preach¬
ed at Leatherhead in Surrey, on the Wednesday before
that event. On the Friday following, appeared the first
symptoms of his approaching dissolution. The four suc¬
ceeding days be spent in praising God; and he left this
scene, in which bis labours had been so extensive and so
useful, at a quarter before ten in the morning of the 2d
of March I79I5 88th year of his age. His re¬
mains, after lying in a kind of state at his chapel in the
city-road, dressed in the sacerdotal robes which he usu¬
ally wore, and on his head the old clerical cap, a bible
in one hand, and a white handkerchief in the other,
were, agreeably to his own directions, and after the
manner of the interment of the late Mr Whitefield, de¬
posited in the cemetry behind his chapel, on the morn¬
ing of the 9th March, amid an innumerable concourse
of his friends and admirers; many of whom appeared in
deep mourning on the occasion. One singularity was
observable in the funeral service. Instead of, “ We give
thee hearty thanks, for that it hath pleased thee to de¬
liver this our brother ;” it was read “ our father.” A
sermon, previously to the funeral, had been preached by
Dr Thomas Whitehead, one of the physicians to the
Londoa
[ 695 ]
WES [ Gg5 ] WES
Wesley, London liospital j and on the 13th the different chapels
West of his persuasion in London were hung with black.
' J |ias been justly observed of Mr .Wesley, that his
labours were principally devoted to those who had no
instructor } to the highways and hedges j to the miners
in Cornwall, and the coalliers in Kingswood. These
unhappy creatures married and buried among themselves,
and often committed murders with impunity, before the
Methodists sprung up. By the humane and active en¬
deavours of Mr Wesley and his brother Charles, a sense
of decency, morals, and religion, was introduced into
the lowest classes of mankind ; the ignorant were in¬
structed, the wretched relieved, and the abandoned re¬
claimed. His personal influence was greater, perhaps,
than that of any other private gentleman in any coun¬
try - -But the limits of this article will not permit us
to expatiate further on the character of this extraordi-
narv man.
WEST, Gilbert, was the son of Dr West, preben¬
dary of Winchester, and chaplain to King George I. but
at 12 years of age lost his father. He studied at Win¬
chester and Eton schools, and from thence w’as placed
in Christ-church college, Oxford. His studious and se¬
rious turn inclined him to take orders; hut Lord Cob-
ham, his uncle, diverted him from that pursuit, and
gave him a cornttcy in his own regiment. This pro¬
fession he soon quitted, on account of an opening of an¬
other nature, which presented him with a flattering pro¬
spect of advancement in life. A number of young gentle¬
men were to be elected from the universities, and, at the
expence of government, were to be taught foreign lan¬
guages ; and then sent to the secretaries office, to be ini¬
tiated into business, and trained there for public services,
as envoys, ambassadors, &c. Mr Gilbert West was one
of the few pitched upon ; and on his first introduction
into that office, Lord Townsend, secretarv of state,
treated him with singular marks of regard, and the
strongest inclinations to serve him were testified from all
quarters. But his uncle Lord Cobham’s strong opposi¬
tion to the measures of the government, rendered these
advantages entirely fruitless ; and the ministers honestly
told Mr West, that he must not expect them to distin¬
guish his merit, as any favours conferred upon him would
he imputed as done to his uncle Lord Cobham. Mr
West now left that office, and all his views of making
his fortune; and entering into marriage, retired to Wick¬
ham in Kent, where he lived in great domestic comfort
and tranquil happiness. He was there visited by his va¬
luable friends, who held the most delightful converse of
wit, humour, and learning, supported upon the prin¬
ciples of virtue, sound reasoning, and solid friendship,
which rendered the whole cheerful, animating, and in¬
structive. Mr William Pitt, who was one of those tha±
composed this happy society, becoming paymaster, ap¬
pointed Mr West treasurer to Chelsea-hpspital; and he
obtained a seat at the council board, in consequence of
a friendship contracted at the school with one of the
duke of Devonshire’s sons, who procured of his grace
his being nominate d one of the clerks extraordinary of
that office. Towards the latter part of Mr West’s life,
he wholly applied himself to the study of the Scriptures;
being extremely anxious to try his utmost endeavours to
reconcile the seeming inconsistencies which gave the
enemies to revealed religion a handle to doubt and dis¬
credit their authenticity. His observations on the re-
x
surrection, which, it has been said, were written to con- tVctt
firm the wavering faith of his great friends Pitt and !|
Lyttleton, hear ample testimony to his reasoning powers Westmon*
and the sincerity of his religion ; while his translations. ian(1,
of Pindar show him to have been an eminent Greek
scholar, and very considerable poet. He had a mind
replete with virtue, and was an honour to bis country ;
hut died at 50 years of age.
West, one of the cardinal points of the horizon, dia¬
metrically opposite to the east; and strictly defined the
intersection of the prime vertical with the horizon on
that side the sun sets in.
WESTMINSTER, a city which forms the west
part of the capital of Britain, but has a government di¬
stinct from the rest. This city had its name from the
situation of its abbey, anciently called a minster, in re¬
spect of that of St Paul. That part properly called the
city of Westminster, comprehending the parishes ol St
John and St Margaret, was once an island formed by
the Thames, called Thorney island, from the thorns with
which it was overrun ; and the abbey that stood in it,
Thorney abbey. The liberties of Westminster contain
the several parishes of St Martin in the Fields, St
James’s, St Anne, St Paul, Coveut Garden, St Mary le
Strand, St Clement Danes, St George, Hanover Square,
and the precinct of the Savoy. The government, both
of the city and liberties, is under the jurisdiction of the
dean and ehapterofWestminster, in civil as well as eccle¬
siastical affairs; and their authority extends to the pre¬
cinct of St Martin le Grand, by Newgate-street, aad
in some towns of Essex, which aie exempted from the ju¬
risdiction of the bishop of London and the archbishop of
Canterbury ; but the management of the civil part has,
ever since the Reformation, been in the hands of lay¬
men, elected from time to time, and confirmed by the
dean and chapter. The chief of these laymen are the
high-steward, the deputy-steward, and the high-bailiff,
who hold their offices for life. There are also 16 bur¬
gesses and their assistants, out of which are elected two
head-burgesses, one for the city, and the other for the
liberties. Another officer is the high-constable, who
has all the other constables under his direction.
WESTMORELAND, a county of England, hound¬
ed on the north and north-west by Cumberland ; on the
south and south-east by Yorkshire ; and on the south
and south-west by Lancashire. Its extent from north¬
east to south, is 40 miles, and its breadth from the east
projection to that in the west, 42. It is generally di¬
vided into the baronies of Kendal and Westmoreland:
the former is very mountainous, hut the latter is a large
champaign country. These are the only principal divi¬
sions of this county, which contains eight market-towns,
26 parishes, and in 1811 the number of inhabitants w’as
45,922. It lies partly in the diocese of Chester, and part¬
ly in that of Carlisle. The earl of Thanet is hereditary
sheriff of the county, which sends only four members to
parliament. The air is clear, sharp, and salubrious, the
natives being seldom troubled with diseases, and general¬
ly living to old age. The soil is various ; that on the
mountains is very barren, while that in the valleys is fer¬
tile, producing good corn and grass, especially in the
meadows near the rivers. In the billy parts on the wes¬
tern borders it is generally believed there are vast quan¬
tities of copper ore, and veins of gold ; some mines of
copper are worked, but most of the ore lies so deep that
WET t 607 ] W H A
fcstmore- it will not answer the expence. Tills county yields the
land finest slate, and abundance of excellent hams are cured
11 . here. The principal rivers are, the Eden, the Lone,
wcUteiu.^ anj t|ie j£en> jt |,as a]so sevt.ra] fine lahes, the prin¬
cipal of which is Windermere. In the forest of Mar-
tindale, to the south of Ulls-water, the breed of red deer
still exists in a wild state.—Appleby is the county town.
See Westmoreland, Supplement.
WESTPHALIA, formerly a duchy of Germany,
bounded to the east by the bishopric of Paderborn, and
the territories of Waldeck and Hesse $ to the south by
the counties of Witgenstein and Nassau, and the duchy
of Berg ; to the north by the bishopric of Munster and
the county of Lippe. It is about 40 miles in length
and 30 in breadth. The lower part of it is very fruit¬
ful, yielding plenty of corn and cattle, and some salt
springs. The higher affords iron ore, calamine, lead,
copper, some silver and gold, fine woods, cattle, game,
fish, with a little corn. The rivers, that either pass
through the duchy or along its borders, are the Itahr,
the Lenne, the Bigge, the Dime!, and the Lippe. There
are 28 towns in it, besides boroughs and cloisters. The
provincial diets were held at Arensberg. In the year
1183, the emperor Frederic I. made a donation of this
duchy to the archbishopric of Cologne, which was con¬
firmed by succeeding emperors j and in 1638, the last
duke of Arensberg ceded to it also the county of Arens¬
berg.
Westphalia, one of the circles of Germany. An¬
ciently the people inhabiting between the Weser and
the Rhine, were called Westphalians; and hence that
tract got the name of Westphalia: but the circle of that
name is of a larger extent, being surrounded by the cir¬
cle of Burgundy, or the Austrian Netherlands, the
United Provinces, and the North sea, with the circles
of the Upper and Lower Rhine, and comprising a great
many different states.
With respect to religion, Westphalia is partly Pro¬
testant and partly Catholic ) but the Protestants pre¬
dominate, and are, at least the greater part of them,
Calvinists. The air of this country is not reckoned
very wholesome, and towards the north is extremely
cold in winter. The soil in general is marshy and bar¬
ren ; yet there is some good corn and pasture land j but
the fruit is chiefly used to feed hogs ; and hence it is
that their bacon and hams are so much valued and ad¬
mired.
After the peace of Tilsit in 1807, the principalities
of Hanover, Brunswick, Magdeburg, Old Mark, Hesse
Cassel, with some other territories, were erected into
the kingdom of Westphalia, which was governed by Je¬
rome Bonaparte. This state disappeared on the over¬
throw of the French power in 1814, and the territories
which composed it were restored to their former princes.
Je rome Bonaparte’s court was kept at Cassel, the capi¬
tal of the principality of Hesse.
WESTRINGIA, a genus of plants, formed from
eunila frnticosa, which was discovered by Dr Solander
in New Holland. Dr Smith describes it as approach¬
ing nearer to rosemary, and places it after teuenum in
the cla«s didynamia.
WET -couch, Coming-heap, a term used by the malt¬
sters for one of the principal articles of malt-making.
See Brewing, N° 4.
WETSTEIN, John James, a learned German di¬
vine, was born at Basil in 1693. On his admission to
Vol. XX. Part II. f
the ministry, he maintained a thesis De variis Novi Tc-
stamenti Lcctionibus; in which he showed that the great
variety of readings of the New Testament afford no ar¬
gument against the authenticity of the trxt. He had
made these various readings the object of his attention 1
and travelled into foreign countries to examine all the
MSS. he could come at. In 173O, he published Prole¬
gomena ad Novi Tcstamcnti Grceci editionem accuratis-
simatn, &c. Some divines, dreading his unsettling the
present text, procured a decree of the senate of Basil
against his undertaking, and even got him prohibited
from officiating in the ministry j on which he went to
Amsterdam, where the Remonstrants named him to
succeed the famous Le Cl ere-, then superannuated, as
professor of philosophy and history. At last he publish¬
ed his edition of the New Testament, in 2 vols. folio,
1752; in which he left the text as he found it, placing
the various readings, with a critical commentary, under¬
neath ; subjoining two epistles of Clemens Romanus, till
then unknown to the learned, but discovered by him in
a Syriac MS. of the New Testament. He also publish¬
ed some small works 5 and is said to have been not only
an universal scholar, but to have abounded in good
and amiable qualities. He died at Amsterdam in
1754*
WETTER AVIA, the southern division of the land-
gravate of Hesse in Germany, lying along the northern
bank of the river Maine, and comprehending the coun¬
ties of Hanau and Nassau.
WEXFORD, a county of Ireland, in the province
of Munster, 38 miles in length, and 24 in breadth ;
bounded on the north by Wicklow, on the east by St
George’s channel, on the south by the Atlantic ocean,
on the west by Waterford and Kilkenny, and on the
north by Catherlough. It contains 109 parishes, and
formerly sent 18 members to the Irish parliament. It
is a fruitful country in corn and grass. See Wexford,
Supplement.
Wexford, a sea-port of Ireland, capital of a county
of the same name. It was once reckoned the chief city
in Ireland, being the first colony of the English, and is
still a large handsome town, with a very commodious
harbour at the mouth of the river Slana, on a bay of St
George’s channel, 63 miles south of Dublin. W. Long.
6. 25. N. Lat. 52. 18.
WHALE. See BaljENA and Physeter, Ceto-
logy Index.
Whale, one of the constellations. See Astronomy.
WUALE-Bone. For its natural history, see Fetolo¬
gy Index.
A patent was granted in October 1806 to Robert
Bowman of Leith, in Scotland, for making hats, caps,
and bonnets for men and women, of whalebone; harps
for harping or cleansing corn or grain ; and also the
bottoms of sieves and riddles, and girths for horses j
and also a cloth or webbing for making into hats, caps,
&c. j and for the backs and seats of chairs and sofas,
gigs, coaches, and other similar carriages 5 and the bot¬
toms of beds j as also reeds for weavers.
Whale fishery. See Fetology.
WHARF, a space on the banks of a haven, creek,
or hithe, provided for the convenient loading and un¬
loading of vessels.
WHARTON, Philip duke of, a nobleman of the
most brilliant parts, but of the most whimsical, extrava¬
gant, and inconsistent turn of mind, was educated by his
4 T father’s
WeLteirt
1!
Wh nr to n.
W II A L 6q8 ] W II A
failicr’s express order at home, lie very early married
a yomigr lady, the (hrigliter of Major-General Holmes,
which disappointed his father’s views ol disposing of him
in such a marriage as would have been a considerable
addition to the fortune ami grandeur of his illustrious
family *, yet that amiable lady deserved infinitely more
felicity than she met with !>y this alliance. This pre¬
cipitate marriage is thought to have hastened the death
of his father ; after which the duke, being free from pa¬
ternal restraints, plunged into those excesses which ren¬
dered him, as Pope expresses it,
“ A tyrant to the wife his heart approv’d j
“ A rebel to the very king he lov’d.”
In. the beginning of the year 1716, he began Ids tra¬
vels •, and as be was designed to be instructed in the
strictest Whig principles, Geneva was thought a proper
place for his residence. He first passed through Holland,
and visited several courts of Germany ; and being arri¬
ved at Geneva, conceived such a disgust against his go¬
vernor, that he left him, and set out post for Lyons,
where he wrote a letter to the chevalier de St George,
who then resided at Avignon, and presented him a very
fine stout horse , which the chevalier no sooner received
than he sent a man of quality to him, who took him pri¬
vately to his court, where he was entertained with the
greatest marks of esteem, and had the title of duke of
Northumberland conferred upon him. He, however,
remained there but one day, and then returned post to
Lyons, whence he set out for Paris. He likewise paid
a visit to the consort of James H. who then resided at
St Germains, to whom he also paid his court. During
his stay at Paris, Ills winning address and abilities gain¬
ed him the esteem and admiration of all the British sub¬
jects of rank of both parties.
About the latter end of December 1716, he arrived
in England, whence he soon after set out for Ireland,
where, though under age, he was allowed the honour
to take his seat in the house of peers, and immediately
distinguished himself, notwithstanding his former con¬
duct, as a violent partizan for the ministry ; in conse¬
quence of which zeal the king created him a duke. He
no sooner came of age than he was introduced to the
house of lords in England with the same blaze of repu¬
tation. In a little time he oppo-ed the court, and ap¬
peared one of the most vigorous in defence of the bishop
of Rochester ; and soon after printed Ids thoughts twice
a-week, in a paper called the TrueBritoriy several thou¬
sands of which were circulated.
The duke’s boundless profusion bad by this time so
burdened bis estate, that by a d'-cree of Chancery it was
vested in the hands of trustees for the payment of his
debts, allowing him a provision of !20ol. pei annum for
his subsistence. This being insufficient to support Ids
title with suitable dignity, be went abroad, and shone to
great advantage, with respect to bis peis nal character,,
at the imperial court. From thence he made a tour to
Spain: the English minister was alarmed at bis arrival,
tearing that his grace wets received in the character of
an ambassado : upon which the duke received a sum¬
mons under the privy seal to return home j but instead
of obeying it, he endeavoured to inflame the Spanish,
goprt against thatofGreat Britain, forexercising an act
of power, as lie ca Is it, within the jurisdiction of his
Catholic majesty. He then acted openly in the service
ol the Pretender, and was received at his court with the vYinuti*
greatest marks of favour. ’ y—
While Ids grace was thus employed, his neglected
duchess die d in England on the 14th of April 1726,
without issue. Soon after the duke fell violently in love
with M. Oberne, one of the maids of honour to the.
queen of Spain, the daughter of an Irish colonel, whose
lortunechiefly consisted in her personal accomplishments.
All his friends, and particularly the qmeen of Spain, op¬
posed the match j but he falling into a lingering fever,
occasioned by his disappointment, the queen gave her
consent, and they were soon after married. He then
spent some time at Rome, where he accepted of a blue
garter, assumed the title of duke of Northumberland,
and for a while enjoyed the confidence of the exiled
prince. But not alwavs keeping within the bounds of
Italian gravity, it became necessary for him to remove
from hence •, when, going by sea to Barcelona, he wrote
a letter to the king of Spain, acquainting him that he
would assist at the siege of Gibraltar as a volunteer.
Soon after lie wrote to the chevalier de St George, ex¬
pressing a desire to visit his court ; but the chevalier ad¬
vised him to draw near to England.
The duke seemed resolved to follow his advice ; and
setting out with his duchess, arrived in Paris in May
1728, whence he soon a/ter proceeded to Rouen, where
he took up his residence j and was so far from making
any concession to the government of England, that he
did not give himself the least trouble about his estate, or
any other concern there, though, on his arrival at
Rouen, he had only about 600I. in bis possession, and a
bill of indictment was preferred against him in England
for high-treason. Soon after the chevalier sent him
20Col. which he squandered away in a course of extra¬
vagance \ when, to save the ehar&es of travelling by
land, he went from Orleans to Nantz bv water, and
staid there till he got a remittance from Paris, which
was squandered almost as soon as received. At Nantz
he was joined bv his ragged servants, and from hence
took shipping with them for Bilboa, when the queen of
Spain took the duchess to attend her person. About
the beginning of the year 1731, the duke, who com¬
manded a regiment, was atLerida, but declined so fast
that he could not move without assistance •, yet when
free from pain did not lose his gaiety. He, however,
received benefit fiom some mineral waters in Catalonia j
but soon after relapsed at a small village, where he was
utterly destitute of all the necessaries of life, till some
charitable fathers ofa Bernardine convent removed him
to their house, and gave him all the relief in their power.
Under their hospitable roof he languished a week, and
then died, without one friend or acquaintance to close
his eyfs j and his funeral was performed in the same
manner in which the fathers inter those of their own
fraternity.
Thus died Philip duke of Wharton, “ who, like
Buckingham and Rochester (says Mr Walpole), com¬
forted all the grave and dull, by throwirg away the
brightest profusion of parts on witty fooleries, debauch¬
eries, and scrapes, which mix , graces with a great cha-'
racter, hut never can compose one. ,
“ With attachment to no party, though with talents
to govern any party, this lively man changed the free
air of Westminster for the gloom of the Escurial, the
prospect of lying George’s garter for the Pretender’s 5
api>.
Wbarlon,
Wheat.
i me l)is
' rtation
Ii the
tadcmy
' timir-
mix.
W II E
anti with indifTerencc to all religion
had written the ballad on the archbishop of Canterbury,
died in the habit of a capuchin. It is difficult to give
aa account of the works of a man whose library was a
tavern, and women of pleasure his muses. A thousand
sallies of his imagination may have been lost. There
are only two volumes in 8vo, called his Life and fFri-
tings. These contain nothing of the latter, but 74
numbers of the True Briton, and his speech in defence
of the bishop of Rochester. His other works are the
ballads above mentioned j the Drinking Match at
Eden-hall, in imitation of the Chevy Chace, printed in
a miscellany called Whartoniana; and a parody of a
song sung at the opera house by Mrs Tofts. His lord-
ship also began a play on the story of the queen of
Scots.”
WHEAT. See Triticum, Botany Index; and
for the culture of wheat, see Agriculture Index.
The three principal kinds of bad wheat are, the
blighted, the smutty, and the worm-eaten. Blighted
wheat is that of which the stalk is a little twisted and
rickety, the blade being of a bluish green and curled
up, the grain also is green and tubercled : smutty wheat
appears as if great part of the ear had been burnt, some
small parts only being free, and, in particular, the stem
that rises in the centre of the ear, round which the
grain is ranged : worm-eaten or rotten wheat is corrupt¬
ed without losing much of its natural form, or external
appearance j the husk is filled with a greasy black
powder, that is insufferably fetid. It appeared, from
the experiments of M. Tillet, that there was a kind of
infectious quality in all those kinds of wheat: so that
if sound wheat was sprinkled with the flower of smutty
or rotten wheat, the crop produced would be rotten or
smutty. It appeared also, that among the grain which
was produced from ground manured with the straw of
distempered wheat, there was a much greater proportion
of distempered wheat than in that produced from ground
manured with the straw of good wheat 5 the great secret
then was to destroy the principle of this contagion in
the wheat that was put into the ground •, and M. Tillet
found, as the result of a great number of experiments,
that if the grain, before it is sowed, be well moistened
with a solution of sea-salt, or nitre, in common water,
none of the ensuing crop will be smutty, or otherwise
defective, either in kind or quality; not only supposing
the grain that is sowed to be sound, and the soil to be
good, but even supposing the grain to be strewed with
the flour of smutty wheat, and the ground manured with
bad straw.
The following receipt for preventing smutty wheat
was published in 1769 by order of the Society for the
Encouragement of Arts : they received it from Mr
John Reynolds of Adisham in Kent.
A tub is to be procured that has a hole at bottom, in
which a staft and tap hose is to be fixed over a whispof
straw’, to prevent any small pieces of lime passing (as in
the brewing way) ; this done, we put 70 gallons of wa¬
ter, then acorn bushel heap-full of stone-lime, unslaked,
stirring it well till the whole is dissolved or mixed, let¬
ting it stand about 30 hours, and then run it oft into
another tub as clear as we can (as practised in beer) :
this generally produces a hogshead of good strong lime-
water; then add three pecks of salt, 42 pounds, which,
with a little stirring, will soon dissolve; thus we have
t 699 ] W H E
the frolic lord who a proper pickle for the purpose of brining and liming
our seed-wheat without any manner of obstacle, which
is more than can be said in doing it the common way,
and greatly facilitates the drilling.
Herein we steep the wheat in a broad-bottomed bas¬
ket of about 24 inches in diameter, and 20 inches deep
(for large sowing, made on purpose), running in the
grain gradually in small quantities from 10 to 12 gal¬
lons up to 16 gallons, stirring the same. What floats,
we skim off with a strainer, and is not to be sown : then
draw up the basket to drain over the pickle, for a few
minutes ; all which may be performed within half an
hour, sufficiently pickled ; and so proceed as before.
This done, the wheat will be fit for sowing in 24 hours,
if required ; but if designed for drilling, two hours
pickled will be found best; and if prepared four or five
days before-band, in either case it makes no difference
at all ; but should the seed be clammy, and stick to the
notches in the drill-box, more lime must be added to the
lime-water : here the master must use his discretion, as
the case requires; for some lime has much more drying
or astringent qualities in it than others. If sea water
can be obtained conveniently, much less salt will suffice,
but some will be found necessary even then, otherwise
the light grains will not float, a thing of more conse¬
quence than is generally imagined, and it ought to be
skimmed oft’ and thrown aside for poultry, &c.
WHEEL, in Mechanics, a simple machine, consist¬
ing of a round piece of wood, metal, or other matter,
which revolves on its axis. See Mechanics.
Wheel-Carriages. See Mechanics for an account
of the general principles.
No kind of wheel-carriages are of more importance
to a commercial and manufacturing country than stage
coaches ; and perhaps in no kingdom of Europe has the
system of travelling in public vehicles been carried to
greater perfection, as to comfort and speed, than in Bri¬
tain. The danger, however, of travelling by these
coaches makes considerable deduction from their accom¬
modation otherwise: it is but too well known that this
mode of travelling is liable to frequent and serious acci¬
dents. Every attempt therefore that promises to be use¬
ful in diminishing such danger should have all possible
publicity. With this view we are much gratified in
having an opportunity of laying before our readers the
following account of an invention to render stage
coaches more secure from danger, obligingly transmit¬
ted to us by the inventor, the reverend William Milton
of Heckfield, Hants. For this invention that gentle¬
man has-obtained a patent.
The danger of stage coaches arises sometimes from
overturning, and sometimes from breaking down. The
overturn ’is, \n general, occasioned either by taking two
side-wheels into too deep a hole or ditch, or over too
high a bank ; or, secondly, by running down more
quickly than the carriage is calculated to do, from the
top to the sides of a rounded road ; or, lastly, by turn¬
ing a sharp corner with too great velocity. In the two
first cases the danger arises from the centre of gravity
of the total coach and load being placed too high; and
in the last instance, of turning the sharp corner, from
the same centre (but which we must now consider as the
centre of the vis inertias) being also placed too high.
The danger in the two first cases grows often out of the
very circumstances of the road, and meets every one’s
4 T 2 comprehension ;
Wheat
W H E [ 7CO ] W H E
Wheel- comprehension : the last, which is less obvious, is gene
carriages, rally owing to the mere will of the driver; and the bet
'   ' ter the road, the more is he tempted, without any inten¬
tion, to go on to produce it: it requires therefore to be
more generally understood than it is. It may be thus
explained :—A carriage is going along a straight level
road at the rate of nine miles an hour : then, though
you imagine the horses or pulling power to be in an in¬
stant withdrawn, yet will the carriage continue its mo¬
tion for ten, fifteen, or more yards, and at first with the
same velocity, and in the same straight line, in conse-
queiice of the acquired motion. Supposing, now, the
coach with its four horses going the nine miles an hour
along a fine level road, but which has a sharp and sud¬
den corner to turn;—the coachman knows it, and wishes
to keep his velocity ; the horses are aware of both—!
and by the animal dexterity with which they are gifted,
contrive to make the turn without remitting any thing of
their speed. Not so the coach which follows them ; that has
a tendency to persevere in its straight line; and the cen¬
tre of its elfort to do so is the centre of its vis inert ice,
the very centre of its gravity. If this centre ht low, the
turn of the corner may be made with no other incon¬
venience than a short awkward slide of the hind wheels,
onward in the original direction; whereas, if it be high,
there will be no slide, but the coach will be overturned,
and overturned nearly at that point where its broadside
is at rectangles to the straight line of road it has been
thus forced to quit : for at that point the base against
such an overturn will be the mo-^t disadvantageous, and
the check to the onward motion the greatest. The
remedif offered against all these causes of the overturn,
(whether by a ditch, bank, rounded road, or sharp cor¬
ner), is to bring down this centre, by placing as much of
the luggage as possible in a luggage box, below the body
ojthe carriage; the body not being higher than usual.
From the overturn, we pass to the consideration of
the breaking-down; this we must reckon on happen¬
ing as often in these patent stage coaches as in others.
Wheels will come off or fail, or axles will break, in fu¬
ture, as they have done heretofore ; but against the dis¬
astrous and fatal consequences of such accidents the re¬
medy offered may be thus described.—On each side of
the luggage-box, with their periphery below its floor,
and each as near as may be requisite to its respective
active wheel, there is placed a small strong idle wheel,
reedy in case of breaking down, on either side, to catch
the fidling carriage, and instantly to continue its previous
velocity, till the coachman can pull up his horses, there¬
by preventing that sudden stop to rapid motion, which
at present constantly attends the breaking-down ; and
which has so frequently proved fatal to the coachman
and outside passengers. In case a fore-wheel comes
off, each end ot the fore-carriage has its idle wheel.
By this provision we shall be, to all effect of safety, con¬
tinually travelling with two carriages under us. The
bottom of this luggage-box is meant to be about four¬
teen inches from the ground; and the idle wheels seven,
six, or five; but if at a still less distance, little inconve¬
nience would result; for when either of them takes
over an obstacle in the road, it instantly, and during
the need, discharges its respective active wheel from the
ground, and works in its stead. If these two principles
of safety were applied to the description of the several
stage-coach accidents we meet with, there is no doubt
but a general conviction would arise, that the safety by wheei
these modes is (in vehicles of all kinds), perhaps as carriage
great as can consist with rapid loco-motion ; and that, |1
sooner or later, legislative authority, in some shape or ~^lcek~
other, may judge it necessary to interpose, for the pur-
pose of controlling a prejudice against the form essen¬
tial to this mode of safety. The trial and proof which
these principles have been brought to, have not only
been by public exhibition, and with preparation ; but
in all the suddenness, also, of actual heavy work : and
the result in both cases has been so exactly the same,
as to give continual assurance of the full effect of the
remedy, as often as the casualties of the road shall
bring it into action.
The aim in the arrangement of this coach of safety,
has been to bring down the load, and consequently the
centre of gravity, as low as possible: this is thought to
make the coach look heavy; and this word, by the
ready operation of a prejudice, has been transferred to
its going ; and one specific reason added withal, that,
because the load is low, the draught must be heavy.
This point, however, has, in the presence of 10 or 12
competent persons, been brought to the most decisive
proof; and it comes out, that it is as indifferent to
draught, as it is material to danger or safety, whether
a ton be placed on the roof of a coach, or a ton on the
floor of the patent luggage-box, about 15 or 16 inches
from the ground.
It has been asked, “ What would this coach do in
snow The question has been thus answered by the
result of actual work; for the patent coach, after being
detained on the road with several other coaches, by a
sudden fall of snow, when at last they started together,
came in six or seven hours before any of them. They
were bound in prudence, to go cautiously along the
ground, whose unevenness was invisible; while the pa¬
tent coach dashed along it with all the confidence and
safety of a post-chaise. See Plate DLXXYII.
Wheel-Animal. See Animalcule, N° 16—23.
Wheel, Persian. See Agriculture.
Wheel, Potter's. See Porcelain.
Wheel is also the name of a kind of punishment to
which great criminals are put in divers countries. In
some, assassins, parricides, and robbers on the highway,
are said to be condemned to the wheel, when they are
to have their bones first broken with an iron bar on a
scaffold, and then to be exposed, and left to expire on
the circumference of a wheel. In Germany the y break
their bones on the wheel itself.—Of this cruel punish¬
ment, it is not certain who was the inventor : it was
first used in Germany, and was, indeed, but rarely prac¬
tised anywhere else, till the time of Francis F. of France;
who, by an edict of the year 1534, appointed it to be
inflicted on robbers on the highway.
WHEELER, Sir George, a learned traveller and
divine, was the son of Colonel Wheeler of Charing in
Kent, and was born in 1650 at Breda, where his pa¬
rents as royalists were then in exile. He travelled
through various parts of Greece and the East, in com¬
pany with Dr James Spon of Lyons; and taking orders
on his return, was installed a prebend of Durham, made
vicar of Basingstoke, and afterward rector of Houghton
le Spring. He published an account of his Travels in
1682 in folio; and in 1689, his Observations on An¬
cient Edifices of Churches yet remaining in the East,
compared
WEIGHING
PLATE DLXXVTl.
/<u/. J
irHEEL CARltTAOES
r’'*ipx*tfved. Staffe C oach .
W H I [ 701 J W H I
comparetl with Eusebius : also the Protestant Monas¬
tery, or Christian Oeconomics. He died in 1724.
WHEELINGS, in the military art, are dift'erent
motions made both by horse and foot, either to the right
and left, or to the right and left about.
General Rules for JFheelixg.—The circle is divid¬
ed into four equal points : thence, wheeling to the right
or left, is only a quarter of the circle ; wheeling to the
right or left about, is one half of the circle.
When you wheel to the right, you are to close to the
right, so near as to touch your right-hand man, but with¬
out pressing him j and to look to the left, in order to
bring the rank about even.
When you wheel to the left, you are to close to the
left, and look to the right as above directed. This rule
will serve for all the wheeling by ranks ; as when a bat¬
talion is marching by subdivisions with their ranks open,
then each rank wheels distinctly by itself, when it comes
to the ground on which the ranks before it wheeled,
but not before.
In wheeling, the men are to take particular care
neither to open nor close their ranks, and to carry their
arms well.
In wheeling, the motion of each man is quicker or
slower, according to the distance he is from the right or
the left: thus, when vou wheel to the right, each man
moves quicker than his right-hand man j and wheeling
to the left, each man moves quicker than his left-hand
man ; the circle that every man wheels being larger,
according to the distance he is from the hand he wheels
to ; as may be seen by describing several circles with¬
in one another, at two feet distance from each, which is
nearly the space every man is supposed to take up.
WHELK, a species of shell-fish. See Buccinum,
Conchoi.og y Index.
WHELP, the young of a dog, fox, lion, or any wild
beast.
WhELPS, in a ship, the seaman’s term for those
brackets which are set up on the capstan close under
the bars *, they give the sweep to it, and are so contri¬
ved that the cable winding about them may not surge
so much as it might otherwise do if the body of the cap¬
stan were quite round and smooth.
WHETSTONE, a stone so called, because it serves
for the whetting of edge tools upon. See MINERALOGY
Index.
WHEY, the serum or watery part of milk.
WHIDAH, a kingdom of Africa, on the coast of
Guinea, and to the west of the Gold Coast ; extending
about 10 miles along tbe sea. It is a populous country,
well furnished with large villages j and there are so
many small ones, that they are not above a musket-shot
from each other.—The houses are small, round at the
top, and encompassed with mud walls or hedges, to¬
gether with a great number of all sorts of beautiful and
lofty trees, which afford the most beautiful prospect in
the world, insomuch that those that have been here re¬
present it as a perfect paradise. The fields are always
green, and they cultivate beans, potatoes, and fruits j
nor will the negroes here let a foot of ground remain
uncultivated. They sow again the very next day after
they have reaped. The inhabitants are greatly civili¬
zed, very respectful to each other, especially to their
superiors, and very industrious. The women brew the
beer, dress the victuals, and sell all sorts of commodities
at the market. Those that are rich employ their wives Whldah
and slaves in tilling the land, and they carry on a con- !l
siderable trade with the product, as well as in slaves j Whirlpool.
for some of them are able to deliver 1000 of the latter v
every month. The chief men have generally 40 or 50
wives, the principal captains 300 or 400, and the king
4000 or 5000. 1 hey are extremely jealous, and, on
the least suspicion, will sell them to the Europeans for
slaves. If any one happen to touch one of the king’s
wives accidentally, he is doomed to perpetual slavery. It
is’ no wonder then that the women are not fond of being
the king’s wives ; and some of them will prefer a speedy
deatli to such a miserable life. They have no distinc¬
tion of hours, days, weeks, months, or years. The rite
of circumcision is used here; but they are not able to
tell why they use it, nor whence it is derived. They
are such great gamesters, that they will stake all they
have at play, not excepting their wives and children.
They have a vast number of idols ; and they deify the
most contemptible animal that they see first in a morn¬
ing, and even stocks and stones. Their principal re¬
gard is for snakes, very high trees, and the sea. An -
English factor, just arrived, found a snake in the house
belonging to the factory, and killed it without the least
scruple ; which so incensed the negroes, that they were
for revenging the death of the snake, not only upon him
that killed it, but upon the whole factory ; but by
means of presents, and the interposition of the people of
the other factories, the affair was made up, and the snake
honourably interred. However, to prevent such acci¬
dents, they gave them warning not to do the like for
the future. They have oxen, cow's, goats, sheep, hogs,
turkeys, ducks, and hens; which last are extremely
plentiful. There are many elephants, buffaloes, tigers,
several kinds of deer, and a sort of hares. The fruits
are citrons, lemons, oranges, bananas, tamarinds, &c.
and they have vast numbers of palm-trees, from which
they obtain wine. Whidah was conquered by the king
of Hahomy. Their trade consists of slaves, elephants
teeth, wax, and honey. The English factory is 200
miles east of Cape Coast Castle, within land. Bows,
arrows, beautiful assaguays, and clubs, are the princi¬
pal weapons of the nation.
WHIDAW-Bird. See Emberiza, Ornitholo¬
gy Index.
WHIG, a person belonging to a political party in
Britain, opposite to the Tories. See Tories, and Bri¬
tain.
WHIMB11EL. See Scolopax, Ornithology
Index.
WHIN. See Ulex, Botany Index.
WHINCHAT. See Motacilla, Ornithology
Index.
WHIP, or TFtup-Staff, in a ship, a piece of timber,
in form of a strong staff, fastened into the helm, for the
steersman, in small ships, to hold in his hand, in order
to move the rudder, and direct the ship.
WHIRLPOOL, an eddy, vortex, or gulf, where
the water is continually turning round.
Those in rivers are very common, from various acci¬
dents, and are usually very trivial, and of little conse¬
quence. In tbe sea they are more rare, but more dan¬
gerous. Sibbald has related the efiects of a very re¬
markable marine whirlpool among the Orcades, which
would prove very dangerous to strangers, though it is
of
W H I r 702 ] W H I
IVIrrlpool, or no consequence to the people who are user! to it.
tV'm-hviiid. This is not fixed to any particular place, but appears in
v various parts ot’the limits of the sea among the-e islands.
Wh erever it appears, it is very furious , and boats, &c.
would inevitably he drawn in and perish with it ; hut
the people who navigate them are. prepared for it, and
always carry an empty vessel, a log of wood, or large
bundle of straw, or some such thing in the boat with
them ; as soon r.s they perceive the whirlpool, they toss
this within its vortex, keeping themselves out: this
substance, whatever it be, is immediately received into
thi centre, and carried under water} and as soon as
this i< done, the surface of the place where the whirl¬
pool was becomes smooth, and they row over it with
safety*, and in about an hour they see the vortex be¬
gin again in some other place, usually at about a mile’s
distance from the first.
WHIRLWIND, a wind which moves in a spiral
direction, as well as horizontally, which is exceedingly
rapid and impetuous, but only of short duration.
Dr Franklin’s opinion of the origin of whirlwinds
has been already given in the article IFATER-Spout. If
his theory he true, it will follow, that no hurricane e-
ver can be so violent as to remove an obstacle of the size
■of onlv one cubic inch, provided that was supported by
a power equivalent to 15 pounds *, for this is the utmost
force of the atmosphere when rushing into a perfect va¬
cuum, which never could take place in the centre of a
whirlwind or water spout. Indeed, notwithstanding the
dreadful effects sometimes observed from hurricanes and
whirlwinds, we shall easily perceive, that the utmost of
their power always falls very far short of this. The di¬
minution of the specific gravity of the air by only one-
fourth in the middle of the column, would produce such
an afflux of air from all quarters, that an obstacle pre¬
senting a surface of one foot square, would require a
force cf 504 pounds to prevent it from being carried
away $ which the strongest walls that can he built by
human art could scarce resist. Nay, even the tenth
part of this, or the diminution of the gravity of the at¬
mosphere by one-fortieth part, would produce a pressure
of upwards of 50 pounds on every square foot of surface,
which, it is to be doubted, whether any of our common
ho uses could resist.
Some philosophers ascribe the vacuum in the atmo¬
sphere, to which, according to Dr Franklin’s theory,
whirlwinds are owing, to a stream of electric, matter
rushing with violence into the atmosphere out of the
earth. But they do not inform us how this matter comes
to be accumulated in that part of the earth ; what in¬
duces it to pass out of the earth ; how it passes invisibly
through pure air; or what serves it for a conductor.
It seems to be the fashion among certain philosophers to
ascribe every phenomenon, with the cause of which we
are unacquainted, to electricity. But this is merely
substituting a new name, and serves rather to retard
than advance our knowledge of nature.
Some kinds of whirlwinds move with a slow motion,
and are injurious only by their vortex ; while others
seem to do mischief as well by their progressive as their
whirling motion. Of this kind are those called iyphonn;
which, by their frequently following the course of ri¬
vers, seem thus also to discover their electrical origin.
Gl the destructive effects of these, we have an instance
in-what happened in Charlestown.in South Carolina, on
5
the 1st of June 1761. it was first observed about noon Whirlwli
on land, upwards of 50 miles west by south of Charles- j|
town, and destroyed several houses, 61c. as it passed
along, in many places making wide avenues through
the woods; from whence every tree and shrub was torn
up, and great branches of trees were driven about in the
column as it passed along. It directed its course
to A>hley river, down which it came, with surprising
velocity ; in its appearance resembling a column of
smoke or vapour, whose motion was very irregular and
tumultuous. Its momentum was so great, that Ashley
river was ploughed to the bottom, and the channel laid
bare. As it came down this river, it made a constant
noise like thunder ; its diameter being computed about
300 fathoms. It was met at White Point by another of
the same kind which came down Cooper’s river, butwith
inferior strength ; however, on their meeting together,
the agitation of the air was much greater, while the
clouds, which were driving in all directions to the place,
seemed to be precipitated, and whirled round with in¬
credible velocity. It then fell upon the shipping m the
road; entirely destroying some, and damaging others;
being scarce three minutes in its passage, though the di¬
stance was near two leagues. In that short time it did
damage to the amount of 20,0001.; and had not its di¬
rection been altered by that gust which came down
Cooper’s river, it must have totally destroyed Charles¬
town, as no obstacle whatever seemed capable of resist¬
ing its furv.
WHISKY, a term signifying water, and applied in
Scotland and in Ireland to a distilled liquor drawn from
barlev,
WHISPERING places. See Acoustics, N° 24.
WHIST, a well known game at cards, which requires
great attention and silence ; hence the name.
This game is played by four persons, who cut for
partners ; the two highest and the two lowest are toge¬
ther, and the partners sit opposite to each other : the
person who cuts the lowest card is to deal first, giving
one at a time to each person, till he comes to the last
card, which is turned up for the trump, and remains on
the table till each person has played a card. The per¬
son on the left hand side of the dealer plays first, and
whoever wins the trick is to play again, thus going on
till the cards are played out. The ace, king, queen, and
knave of trumps, are called Zionoi/rs ; in case any three
of these honours have been played between, or by either
of the two partners, they reckon for two points towards
the game ; and if the four honours have been played be¬
tween, or by either of the two partners, they reckon for
four points towards the game, the game consisting of
ten points. The honours are reckoned after the tricks ;
all above six tricks reckoning also towards the game.
General Rules for playing the Game of JFhist.—
I. He who is to play first should lead from the strongest
suit. If he has a sequence of king, queen, and knave,
or queen, knave and ten, he may safely lead the highest
of the sequence ; but if he has five or six in number, he
must begin with the lowest. He must always begin
with the highest trump, by which he forces out the su¬
perior trumps, and can come in again, to make his strong
suit.
2- He should never he afraid to play trumps when he
has five, in his hand, even of the smallest, although he
may not have any good cards of anv other suit.
3. With
Whist.
W H I [ 7c
Wit-i acc and king of any two suits, and only two
or three small trumps, the aces and kings should be
played out, in order to make as many tricks as pos¬
sible j and having but two or time small trumps, he
should never force his partner to trump, if he finds he
cannot follow suit •, but endeavour to throw the lead
into Ids partner’s hand.
4. He should in general return his partner’s lead, un¬
less he has some capital cards of his own.
5. As this game is played with the lurch, that is, to
save half the stake, five points must he made before the
game is out: he should not venture to play trumps
when he is four of the game, unless he is very strong,
having at least an honour and three trumps, or ace,
king, and two small ones.
6. When the game is scored nine, at which stage the
honours reckon for nothing, lie should be still more cau¬
tious how he plays trumps, even if he is strong in hand,
and give his partner an opportunity of trumping the ad¬
versaries suits, in case he is deficient in them.
7. If his adversaries are six or seven love of the game,
he should play a forward or bold game, that he may
have a chance, at the risk of a trick or two, to come
up with them. If he has but three trumps and other
good cards, he may play trumps, especially if he has a
sequence, or queen, knave, and a small one.
8. He should always risk a trick or two when the
game is much in his favour j because a new deal is ot
greater consequence to the adversary than one or two
points are to him.
9. When the player finds there is a likelihood of ci¬
ther saving the game or his lurch, he should risk the odd
trick; but if the game is five all, and he can make two
tricks in his own hand, he should make them, in order
to secure the difference of two points, which make the
game near two to one in his favour.
10. A good player should begin with a. small trump,
when he has ace, king, and four small ones; for this
reason, if his partner has a better trump than the last
player, which is an equal wager but he has, he lias a
chance of fetching out all the trumps, by having three
rounds of them.
11. The odds are always in his favour that his part¬
ner holds an honour; consequently il he has king,
queen, and four small ones, he should begin with a
small one.
1 2. When queen, knave, and four small trumps are
dealt him, he should play a small one first, the odds be¬
ing in his favour that his partner holds an honour; if
he has knave, ten, and four small trumps, he should also
begin with a small one, for the same reason.
13. If he has knave, ten, eight, and three small
trumps, the knave should be played first, by which
means the nine may be prevented from winning a trick,
the odds being in his favour that three honours are
played in two rounds.
14. If an honour is turned up against him on his left
hand, and he has ten, nine, and eight, with two or three
small trumps; when he is to play, he should play through
the honours with the ten, which will lorce the dealer to
(a) Finesse, is to play a small card which may win,
hand adversary.
3 ] W H I
play his honour to a disadvantage, if the dealer does Wliist.
not choose to leave it to the option of his adversary ' v—-
whether he will pass it or not ; but if he has six trumps
of a lower denomination, and not ten, nine, and eight,
and no honour turned up against him, he should begin
with a small one.
15. In general, when he has two capital cards in
trumps, and two or three small ones, he should begin
with a small one, for the reason assigned in N° 12.
16. When he has ace, king, knave, and two small
trumps, or even one small trump, by first playing the
king, and putting the lead into his partner’s hand, who
will play a trump ; judging him to have ace and knave,
from his beginning with the king : in this case the
knave should be finessed (a), nothing being against
him but the queen.
17. If he has knave, ten, eight, and two small trumps,
by playing the knave first, it is odds but in two rounds
of trumps the nine falls, or lie may finesse the eight
when his partner returns trumps.
18. With five trumps of a lower denomination, he
should begin witli the smallest, nniess he has a sequence-
of ten, nine, and eight; then he should begin with the
ten.
19. When he lias king, queen, ten, and one small
trump, he must begin with the king, and wait for his
partner’s return of the trumps, in order to finesse the
ten, by which means he may win the knave.
20. In order to prevent the ten from winning, when
he has queen, knave, nine, and one small trump, he
must begin with the queen. And in case he lias knave,
ten, eight, and one small trump, he should begin with
the knave, that the nine may not win.
21. If he has ten, nine, eight, and one small trump,
he should begin with the ten ; thereby he strengthens
his partner’s hand, leaving it at his option to take it or
not.
22. He should begin with a small one, when he has
the ten and three small trumps.
23. If he has a good suit, and ace, king, and four
small trumps, lie must play three rounds of trumps, in
order to secure his strong suit from being trumped.
24. When he has king, queen, ten, and three small
trumps, he should begin with the king, because he has
a chance of the knaves’s coming down in the second
round ; and to secure his strong suit, he should not
wait to finesse the ten. If he should have queen,
knave, and three small trumps, and some good suit to
make, he must begin with a small one.
25. If he has knave, ten, eight, and two small trumps*
with a strong suit, he should begin with the knave, in
Older to make the nine fall in the second round ; but if
lie lias knave, ten, and three small trumps, with a good
suit, he should play a small one first.
26. With ten, nine, eight, and one small trump, pro¬
vided he has a good suit, he should begin with the ten ;
by which means he may get the trumps out, and have a
chance of making his strong suit.
The following observations will enable a player to
know that his partner has no more of a suit which either
of
keeping the superior card or cards to lay over the right;
Whist.
^"I". - y 1
\V H I [7
of them lias, played. Suppose he leans from queen, ten,
‘ nine, and two small cards of any suit, the second hand
puts on the knave, his partner plays the eight •, in this
case, he having queen, ten, and nine, it is a demonstra¬
tion, if his partner plays well, that he can have no more
of that suit. Bv that discovery, he may play his game
accordingly, either by forcing his partner to trump
that suit, if he is strong in trumps, or by playing an¬
other suit. If he has king, queen, and ten of a suit,
and he leads his king, his partner plays the knave; this
also demonstrates he has no more of that suit. If he has
Icing, queen, and many more of a suit, and begins with
the king, in some cases it is good play in a partner,
when he has the ace and one small card in that suit on¬
ly, to win the king with the ace ; for suppose the part¬
ner to be very strong in trumps, by taking the king
with the ace, he gets the lead and trumps out, and hav¬
ing cleared the board of trumps, his partner returns his
lead ; and the ace being out, there is room for him to
make that whole suit, which could not have been done
if the partner had kept the ace. Suppose lie has no
other good card in his hand besides that suit, he loses
nothing by the ace’s taking his king ; and if it should
so happen that he has a good card to bring in that suit,
he gains all the tricks which he makes to that suit by
this method of play : as his partner has taken his king
with the ace, and trumps out upon it, he has reason to
imagine that his partner has one of that suit to return
him; for which reason he should not throw away any of
that suit, even to keep a king or queen guarded.
Method of playing when an honour is turned up on
the right hand.—Suppose the knave is turned up ou his
right hand, and that he has king, queen, and ten; in or¬
der to win the knave, lie must begin with the king; by
which means, his partner may suppose him to have queen
and ten remaining, especially if he has a second lead,
and he does not proceed to play the queen.
Suppose the knave turned up as before, and he has
ace, queen, and ten, by playing his queen, it answers
the purpose of the former rule.
When the queer, is turned up on his right hand, and
lie has ace, king, and knave, by playing his king, it an¬
swers the same purpose of the former rule.
In case an honour is turned up on his left hand, sup¬
posing he should hold no honour, he should play trumps
through the honour as soon as he gets the lead ; but if
he should hold an honour (except the ace), he must be
cautious how he plays trumps, because, in case his part¬
ner holds no honour, his adversary will play his own
game upon him.
Method of playing the sequences.-—The highest in se¬
quences of trumps should be played, unless he has ace,
king, and queen ; and then he should play the lowest,
which informs his partner of the state of his game.
When he has king, queen, and knave, and two small
ones, which are not trumps, he should begin with the
knave, whether he is strong in trumps or not, as he
makes way for the whole suit by getting the ace out.
If he is strong in trumps, and has a sequence of queen,
knave, ten, and two small cards of a suit, he should play
the highest of his sequence ; for if either of the adversa¬
ries should trump that suit in the second round, being
also strong in trumps, he will make the remainder of
that suit, by fetching out the trumps. "When he has
a
04 ] W H I
knave, ten, and ninej and two small cards of a suit, he
may play in the like manner.
If king, queen, and knave, and one small card of any
suit, is the case, whether strong in trumps or not, he
should play the king; and when there are only four in
number, the same method of play should be observed by
inferior sequences.
When weak in trumps, he should begin by the lowest
of the sequence, provided he has five in number, because
if his partner has the ace of that suit he will make it.
If he has the ace and four small cards of a suit, and
weak in trumps, leading from that suit, he should play
the ace. When strong in trumps, the game may b«
played otherwise.
How to make a flam, or win every trick.—Suppose A
and B partners against C and D, and C to deal, A to
have the king, knave, and nine, and seven of hearts,
which are trumps, a quart-major in spades, a tierce-major
in diamonds, and the ace and king of clubs. Then sup¬
pose B to have nine spades, two clubs, and two diamonds.
Also suppose D to have ace, queen, ten, and eight of
trumps, with nine clubs, and C to have five trumps and
eight diamonds. A leads a trump, which D wins, and
D is to play a club, which his partner C is to trump; C
leads a trump, which his partner D wins ; D then will
lead a club, which C will trump; and C will play a
trump, which 1) will win ; and D having the best trump
will play it; after which I) having seven clubs in hi*
hand, makes them, so that he flams A and B.
How to play any hand of cards according to the nearest
calculations of his partner's holding certain winning
cards i
1. That he lias not one certain winning
card, is -
2. That he has not two certain winning
cards, is - - -
But it is about 5 to 4 that he has one
or both, or -
3. That he has one card out of any three
certain winning cards, is about
4. That he has not three certain winning
cards is about 31 to 1, or
5. That he has not two jf them, is about
7 to 2, or
6. That he has not one of them, is about
7 to 6, or
7. That he holds one or two of them, is
in his favour about 13 to 6, or
8. And about 5 to 2, that he holds I, 2,
or all three of them.
The use of these calculations is for a whist-player to
play his cards to the most advantage. For instance,
As the first calculation is two to one that his partner
does not hold one certain winning card.—Suppose then
a suit is led, of which the second player has the king
and a small one only, he should put on the king, be¬
cause the odds are in his favour, that the third jilayer
cannot win it. For the same reason, when lie is se¬
cond player-, and to lead, he should play a king in pre¬
ference to a queen, because it is two to one the ace doe*
not take it; but it is five to four the queen will be
taken by either ace or king, which may be in the third
hand.
According
2 to I
17 to 2
32 to 25
J to 2
681 to 22
547 t0 *56
378 to 325
481 to 222
W H I
[
Whist,
Whist on.
I j Hoyle'
imts im-
oved by
cmfort.
According to the second calculation, of its being five
to four that his partner holds one certain winning card
’ out of any two : If he has two honours in any suit, he
can play to an advantage, knowing it is five to four in
favour of his partner’s having one of the two honours ;
and by the same rule, if he is second player, having a
queen and one small card, by playing the queen he plays
five to four against himself.
It is obvious, from the third calculation, which proves
it to be five to two that his partner has one card out of
any three certain winning cards, that he who plays the
knave second hand, having but the knave and one small
card of the same suit, must play five to two against him¬
self, and discovers his game to a great disadvantage j for
which reason, he should play the lowest of any sequence
which he may hold in his hand, as the knave, if he has
king, queen, and knave J the ten, if he has queen, knave,
and ten, &c. By so doing, his partner has an opportu¬
nity of judging what card to play in that suit, according
to the odds for or against him.
s From the above calculation, if he has ace, king, and
two small trumps, he is entitled to wdn four tricks out
of six, provided he has four winning cards of any suit 5
or five tricks out of seven, if he lias five winning cards
of any suit: by playing two rounds of trumps, and ta¬
king out eight of them, it is five to two but his partner
has a third trump ; and if it should be so, he makes the
tricks intended.
Will ST ON, William, an English divine of great
parts, uncommon learning, and of singular character,
■was born in 1667 at Norton near Twycrosse in the
county of Leicester, where his father was rector. He
was admitted of Clarehall, Cambridge, where he pur¬
sued his studies, particularly in the mathematics, and
commenced tutor-, which his ill health at length forced
him to decline. Having entered into orders, he became
chaplain to Dr More bishop of Norwich in 1694 and
in this station he published his first work, entitled A New
Theory of the Earth, &e. in which he undertook to
prove the Mosaic doctrine of the earth perfectly agree¬
able to reason and philosophy. This work brought no
small reputation to the author, in the beginning ot
the 18th century he was made Sir Isaac Newton’s de¬
puty, and afterwards his successor, in the Lucasian pro¬
fessorship of mathematics; when he resigned a living he
had in Suffolk, and went to reside at Cambridge. About
this time he published several scientifical works, expla¬
natory of the Newtonian philosophy; and he had the
honour to be one of the first, if not the very first, who
rendered these principles popular and intelligible to the
generality of readers. About the year I7I0» ^,e was
known to have adopted Arian principles, and was form¬
ing projects to support and propagate them : among
other things, he had translated the Apostolic Consti¬
tutions into English, which favoured the Arian doctrine,
and which he asserted to be genuine. The consequence
was, that he was deprived of his professorship, and ba¬
nished the university ; he nevertheless pursued his scheme,
bv publishing the next year his Primitive Christianity
Revived, 4 vols. 8vo, for which the convocation fell
upon him very vehemently. On his expulsion from
05 ] w h r
Cambridge, Mr Whiston settled in London ; where- widstoH,
without suffering his zeal to be intimidated, he conti- Whitin.
nued to write, and propagate his Primitive Christianitv, v——
with as much ardour as if he had been in the most flou¬
rishing circumstances. In 1721, a subscription was
made for the Support of his family, which amounted to
470I. For though he drew profits from reading astro¬
nomical and philosophical lectures, and also from his pub¬
lications, which were very numerous, yet these of them¬
selves would have been very insufficient : nor, when
joined with the benevolence and charity of those who
loved and esteemed him for his learning, integrity, and
piety, did they prevent his being frequently in great
distress. He continued long a member of the church of
England, and regularly frequented its service, though he
disapproved of many things in it : but at last he went
over to the Baptists, and attended Dr Forster’s meeting
at Pinner’s hall, Broadstreet. Among other performan¬
ces not specified above, he wrote Memoirs of his own life
and writings, which contain some curious particulars.
He was remarkable for speaking the plainesttruthsou
every occasion, and to persons of every degree. During
the year 1725, that he, with Dr Glarke, Dr Berkeley,
and others, had the honour to attend Queen Caroline
on a certain day of every week, to talk of the progress
of science, her majesty one evening took occasion to pay
him a just compliment on his truth and integrity, re¬
questing that he would, with his usual plainness, point
out to her any fault that he might have observed in her
conduct. At first he begged to be excused, adding, that
few persons could bear to have their faults plainly told
to them, and least of all royal personages, who, from
their elevation, are necessarily surrounded by flatterers,
to whose lips truth is a stranger. Her majesty replied,
that he was to consider her not as a queen, but as a phi¬
losopher; and that philosophy is of very little use, if it
cannot enable its professors to bear without offence
truths necessary to their own improvement. Upon this
he told her, that the greatest fault which he had obser¬
ved in her conduct, was her indecent behaviour in the
house of God, which, he assured her, had made very
unfavourable impressions on the minds of many persons,
who coming to town from distant parts of the country,
had gone to the chapel to obtain a sight of her majesty,
the king, and the royal family. The queen made no
reply ; but in about six weeks afterwards renewed her
request, that Mr Whiston would point out the most
glaring improprieties in her conduct. To this he an¬
swered, that he had laid down a maxim, from which he
could not deviate, never to point out to any person more
than one fault at a time, and never to give a second re¬
proof till he had observed some good consequence to have
arisen from the first (a). Much to the queen’s honour,
she was pleased with this plain-dealing, and continued
to think favourably of Mr Whiston. This honest, but
whimsical and credulous man, died in 1762, at the ad¬
vanced age of 9 5.
WHITBY, Dr Daniel, a very learned English
divine, was born in 1638, and bred at Oxford; where
in 1654, he was elected perpetual fellow of his college.
He afterwards became chaplain to Dr Seth Ward, bi¬
shop
(a) Bishop Berkeley was present at these conversations, and from his son we received the account we have given
of them. Thev are likewise mentioned, but not stated so accurately, by Bishop Newton in hio own Life.
Vol. XX. Part XL f 4U„
W H I
[ 7°6 ]
W H I
Whitby shop of Salisbury ; who collated him in 1668 to the pre-
(| * bend of Yatesbm y in that church, and soon after to that
Whitefield. 0f Husborn and Burbach. In 1672 he was admitted
chanter of tke said church, on the death of Mr John
South, and then, or soon after, rector of St Edmund’s
church in Salisbury. He was made a‘prebendary of
Taunton Regis in 1696, and died in 1726. He was
ever strangely ignorant of worldly affairs, even to a de¬
gree that is scarcely to be conceived. His writings are
numerous, and well known •, particularly his Commen¬
tary on the New Testament.
Whitby, a sea-port town in the north riding of
Yorkshire, seated on the river Esk, near the place where
it falls into the sea. The houses are neat, strong, and
convenient-, the number of inhabitants in 181 1 was
6969. Ship-building is their principal employment.
W. Long. o. 24. N. Lat. 54. 30.
* WHITE, one of the colours of natural bodies.
White of the Eye, denotes the first tunic or coat of
the eye, called albuginea. See Anatomy, N° 142.
White of Egg. See Albumkn and Egg.
White Friars, a name common to several orders of
monks, from being clothed in a white habit.
White Sea, is a bay of the Frozen ocean, so called in
the north part of Muscovy, lying between Russian Lap-
land and Samoieda 5 at the bottom of which stands the
city of Archangel. This was the chief port the Russi¬
ans had before their conquest of Livonia.
White Colour, white lead for painting. See Che¬
mistry, N° 1856.
If hite Iron, or Tin-plate, iron-plates covered over
with tin 5 for the method of making which, see Lat-
ten, Chemistry, N° 1936.
In 1681 tin-plates were manufactured in England
by one Andrew Yarranton, who had been sent to Bo¬
hemia to learn the method of making them. But
the manufacture was soon afterwards discontinued. It
was revived in 1740, and has now arrived at as great,
if not greater, perfection in this country than in any
other.
White Lead. See Chemistry, N° 1856.
- Whit E-Throat. See Motacilla, Ornithology
Index.
WHITEFIELD, George, the celebrated preacher
among the people called Methodists, was born in the
year 1714, at the Bell in the city of Gloucester, which
was then kept by his mother. At about 12 years of
age he was put to a grammar-school but his mother
entering into a second marriage, which proved a-disad¬
vantageous one, he, when about 15, put on a blue apron,
and served her in the capacity of a drawer or waiter.
Alter continuing about a year in this servile employ¬
ment, she turned over the business to his brother j who
marrying, and George not agreeing with his sister-in-
law, he left the inn. Some time after, meeting with an
old school-fellow, then a servitor in Pembroke college,
Oxford, he was induced to attempt getting into the
same college in a like capacity, and succeeded. Here
Mr Whitefield, who from his own account appears to
have always had a strong tincture of enthusiasm in his
constitution from his very childhood, distinguished him¬
self by the austerity of his devotion, and acquired con¬
siderable eminence in some religious assemblies in that
city. At the age of 21, the fame of his piety recom¬
mended him so effectually to Dr Benson, then bishop of
3,
Gloucester, that he made him a voluntary offer of ordi- WhlteSe
nation. Immediately after this regular admission into ||
the ministry, Mr Whitefield applied himself to the most Whitsun-
extraordinary, the most indefatigable, duties of his cha- v ^ay-
racter, preaching daily in prisons, fields, and open streets,
wherever he thought there would be a likelihood of
making proselvtes. Having at length made himself
universally known in England, he embarked for Ame¬
rica, where the tenets of Methodism began to spread
very fast under his friends the Wesleys 5 and first deter¬
mined upon the institution of the orphan-house at Geor¬
gia, which he afterwards effected. After a long course
of peregrination, his fortune increased as his fame ex¬
tended among his followers, and he erected two very
extensive buildings for public worship, under the name
of Tabernacles; one in Tottenham-Court Road, and the
other in Moorfields. Here, with the help of some
assistants, he continued for several years, attended by
very crowded congregations, and quitting the kingdom
only occasionally. Besides the two tabernacles already
mentioned, Mr Whitefield, by being chaplain to the
countess dowager of Huntingdon, was connected with
two other religious meetings, one at Bath, and the other
at Tunbridge, chiefly erected under that lady’s patron¬
age. By a lively, fertile, and penetrating genius, by the
most unwearied zeal, and by a forcible and persuasive de¬
livery, he never failed of the desired effect upon his ever
crowded and admiring audiences. In America, however,
which always engaged much of his attention, he was
destined to finish his course j and he died at Newberry,
about 40 miles from Boston in New England, in 1770.
WHITEHAVEN, a sea-port town of Cumberland,
with a maiket on Tuesday, and containing 10,106 in¬
habitants in 1811. It is seated on a creek of the Iiish
sea, on the north end of a great hill, washed by the
tide of flood on the west side, where there is a large
rock or quarry of hard white stone, which gives name to
the place, and which, with the help of a strong stone¬
wall, secures the harbour, into which small barks may
enter. It is lately much improved in its buildings, and
noted for its trade in pit-coal and salt, there being near
it a valuable coal-mine, which runs a considerable
way under the sea. They have a custom-house here J
and they carry on a good trade to Ireland, Scotland,
Chester, Bristol, and other parts. It is 10 miles south¬
west of Cockermouth, and 305 north-west of London.
W. Long. 2. 55. N. Lat. 55. 30.
WHITENESS, the quality which denominates or
constitutes a body white.
W HITES, or Fluor Albus. See Medicine, N°
250.
WHITING. See Gadus, Ichthyology Index.
WHITLOW, or Whitloe. See Surgery Index.
WHITSUN Farthings, otherwise called Smoke-
farthings or (fnadrantes Pentecost ales, a composition for
offerings which were anciently made in Whitsun-week
by every man in England, who occupied a house with a
chimney, to the cathedral church of the diocese in which
he lived.
WHITSUNDAY, a solemn festival of the Christian
church, observed on the fiftieth day after Easter, in me¬
mory of the descent of the Holy Ghost upon the apostles
in the visible appearance of fiery cloven tongues, and of
those miraculous powers which were then conferred upon
them,
It
WHY [ 707 ] WHY
i\'liitsun- It is called Whitsunday, or White Sunday ; because
day this being one of the stated times for baptism in the an¬
il cient church, those who were baptized put on white gar-
WnytL mentS) as types of that spiritual purity they received in
* baptism. As the descent of the Holy Ghost upon the
apostles happened upon the day which the Jews called
Pentecost, this festival retained the name of Pentecost
among the Christians.
' Whitsunday Isle, one of the New Hebrides, which
lies about four miles to the south, runs in the same direc¬
tion, and is of the same length, having more sloping ex¬
posures than Aurora : it appears to he better inhabited,
and to contain more plantations.
WHORTLEBERRY. See Vaccinium, Botany
Index.
WHYTT, Dr Robert, an eminent physician, horn
at Edinburgh on the 6th September 1714, was the son
of Robert Whytt, Esq. of Bennochy, advocate. This
gentleman died six months before the birth of our au¬
thor, who had also the misfortune to be deprived of his
mother before he had attained the seventh year of his
age. After receiving the first rudiments of school-edu¬
cation, he was sent to the university of St Andrew’s j
and after the usual course of instruction there, in classi¬
cal, philosophical, and mathematical learning, he came
to Edinburgh, where he entered upon the study of me¬
dicine, under those eminent medical teachers, Monro,
Rutherford, Sinclair, Plummer, Alston, and Innes. Af¬
ter learning what was to be acquired at this university,
in the prosecution of his studies he visited foreign coun¬
tries •, and after attending the most eminent teachers
at London, Paris, and Leyden, he had the degree of
Doctor of Physic conferred upon him by the university
of Rheims in 1736, being then in the 22d year of his
age.
Upon his return to his native country, he had the same
honour also conferred upon him by the university of St
Andrew’s 5 where he had before obtained, with applause,
the degree of Master of Arts.
Not long afterwards, in the yea? 1737’ ^ie vvas at^'
mitted a Licentiate of Medicine by the Royal College
of Physicians of Edinburgh •, and the year following he
was raised to the rank of a hellow of the College, i rom
the time of his admission as a licentiate, he entered upon
the practice of physic at Edinburgh } and the reputation
which he acquired for medical learning, pointed him
out as a fit successor for the first vacant chair in the
University. Accordingly, when Dr Sinclair, whose
eminent medical abilities, and persuasive powers of ora¬
tory, had contributed not a little to the rapid advance¬
ment of the medical school of Edinburgh, found that
those conspicuous talents which he possessed could no
longer be exerted in the manner which they once had
been, when he enjoyed bodily vigour unimpaired by
age and powers of mind unclouded by disease, he re¬
signed his academical appointments in favour of Dr
Whytt.
This admission into the college took place on the
20th of June 1746 *, and he began his first course of the
institutions of medicine at the commencement of the
next winter-session. rI he abilities which he displayed
from his academical chair, in no particular disappointed
the expectations which had been formed of his lectures.
The Latin tongue was the language of the university of
Edinburgh j and he both spoke and wrote in Latin
with singular propriety, elegance, and perspicuity. At
that time the system and sentiments of Dr Boerhaave,
which, notwithstanding their errors, must challenge the
admiration of latest ages, were very generally received
by the most intelligent physicians in Britain. Dr Whytt
had no such idle ardour for novelties as to throw them
entirely aside because he could not follow them in every
particular. The institutions of Dr Boerhaave, there¬
fore, furnished him with a text for his lectures ; and he
was no less successful in explaining, illustrating, and
establishing the sentiments of the author, when he could
freely adopt them, than in refuting them by clear, con¬
nected, and decisive arguments, when he had occasion
to differ from him. The opinions which he himself pro¬
posed, were delivered and enforced with such acuteness
of invention, such display of facts and force of argument,
as could rarely fail to gain universal assent from his nu¬
merous auditors ; but free from that self-sufficiency
which is ever the offspring of ignorance and conceit, he
delivered his conclusions with becoming modesty and
diffidence.
From the time that he first entered upon an academi¬
cal appointment, till the year 1756, his prelections were
confined to the institutions of medicine alone. But at
that period his learned colleague Dr Rutherford, who
then filled the practical chair, who had already taught
medicine at Edinburgh with universal applause for more
than thirty years, and who had been the first to begin
the institution of clinical lectures at the Royal Infirmary,
found it necessary to retire from the fatiguing duties of
an office to which the progress of age rendered him un¬
equal. On this crisis Dr Whytt, Dr Monro, sen. and
Dr Cullen, each agreed to take a share in an appoint¬
ment in which their united exertions promised the highest
advantages to the university. By this arrangement stu¬
dents, who had an opportunity of daily witnessing the
practice of three such teachers, and of hearing the
grounds of that practice explained, could not fail to de¬
rive the most solid advantages.
In these two departments, the institutions of medicine
in the university, and the clinical lectures in the Royal
Infirmary, Dr Whytt’s academical labours were attend¬
ed with the most beneficial consequences both to the stu¬
dents and to the university. But not long after the
period we have last mentioned, his lectures on the for¬
mer of these subjects underwent a considerable change.
About this time the illustrious Gaubius, who had suc¬
ceeded to the chair of Boerhaave, favoured the world
with his Institutiones Pathologies. This branch of medi¬
cine had indeed a place in the text which Dr Whytt
formerly followed j but, without detracting from the
character of Dr Boerhaave, it may justly be said, that
the attention he had bestowed upon it was not equal to
its importance. Dr Whytt was sensible of the improved
state in which pathology now appeared in the writings
of Boerhaave’s successor ; and he made no delay in
availing himself of the advantages which were then af¬
forded.
In the year 1762, his pathological lectures w'ere en¬
tirely new-modelled. Following the publication of
Gaubius as a text, he delivered a comment, which was
read by every intelligent student with the most unfeign¬
ed satisfaction. In these lectures he collected and con¬
densed the fruits of accurate observation aud long experi¬
ence. Enriched by all the opportunities of information
4 U 2 which
WHY [ 7°8 ] . W I C
Avliich liatl enjoyed, and by all tlie discernment which
he was capable of exerting, they were justly considered
as bis most finished production.
For a period of more than twenty years, during which
he was justly held in the highest esteem as a lecturer at
Edinburgh, it may readily be supposed that the extent
of his practice corresponded to his reputation. In fact,
he received both the first emoluments, and the highest
honours, which could here be obtained. With exten¬
sive practice in Edinburgh, he had numerous consulta¬
tions from other places. His opinion on medical sub¬
jects was daily requested by his most eminent contem¬
poraries in every part of Britain. I oreigners of the first
distinction, and celebrated physicians in the most remote
parts of the British empire, courted an intercourse with
him by letter. Besides private testimonies of esteem,
many public marks of honour were conferred upon him
both at home and abroad. In 1752, he was elected a
fellow of the Royal Society of London j in 1761, he
was appointed first physician to the king of Scotland 5
and in 1764, he was chosen president of the Royal Col¬
lege of Physicians at Edinburgh.
But the fame which Dr Whytt acquired as a practi¬
tioner and teacher of medicine, were not a little increased
by the information which he communicated to the me¬
dical world in different publications. His celebrity as
an author was still more extensive than his reputation
as a professor.
His first publication, An Essay on the Vital and
other Involuntary Motions of Animals, although it had
been begun soon after be had finished his academical
course of medical education, did not come from the
press till 1751 j a period of fifteen years from the
time that he had finished his academical course, and
obtained a degree in medicine : but the delay of this
publication was fully compensated by the matter which
it contained, and the improved form under which it
appeared.
The next subject which employed the pen of Dr
Whytt was one of a nature more immediately practi¬
cal. His Essay on the Virtues of Lime-water and
Soap in the Cure of the Stone, first made its appear¬
ance in a separate volume in I752, °f this second
work had appeared several years before in the Edinburgh
Medical Essays : but it was now presented to the world
as a distinct publication, with many improvements and
additions.
His third work, in titled Physiological Essays, was
first published in the year 1755. This treatise consisted
of two parts; 1st, An Inquiry into the Causes which
promote the Circulation of the Fluids in the very small
Vessels of Animals ; and 2dly, Observations on the Sen¬
sibility and Irritability of the Parts of Men and other
Animals, occasioned by Dr Haller’s treatise on that sub¬
ject. The former of these may be considered as an ex¬
tension and farther illustration of the sentiments which
he had already delivered in his Essay on the Vital Mo¬
tions, while the latter was on a subject of a controversial
nature. In both he displayed that acuteness of genius
and strength of judgment which appeared in his former
writings.
From the time at which his Physiological Essays were
published, several years were probably employed by our
author in preparing for the press a larger and perhaps a
more important work than any yet mentioned, his Ob¬
servations on the Nature, Causes, and Cure of those Dis¬
orders which are commonly called nervous, hypochon¬
driac, and hysteric. The elaborate and useful work was
published in the year 1764.
The last of Dr Whytt’s writings is entitled, Observa¬
tions on the Dropsy in the Brain. This treatise did not
appear till two years after his death; when all bis other
works were collected and published in one quarto vo¬
lume, under the direction of his son and of his intimate
friend the late Sir John Pringle.
Besides these five works, be wrote many other papers,,
which appeared in different periodical publications ; par¬
ticularly in the Philosophical Transactions, the Medical
Essays, the Medical Observations, and the Physical and
Literary Essays.
At an early period of life, soon after be bad settled as
a medical practitioner in Edinburgh, he entered into tbs
married state. His first wife was M iss Robertson, sister
to General Robertson, governor of New York. By her
he bad two children ; both of whom died in early infan¬
cy, and their mother did not long survive them. A few
years after the death of his first wife, he married as a
second wife Miss Balfour, sister to James Balfour, Esq^
of Pilrig. By her he had fourteen children ; but ia
these also he was in some respects unfortunate ; for six.
of them only survived him, three sons and three daugh¬
ters, and of the former two are since dead. Although
the feeling heart of Dr Whytt, amidst the distresses of
bis family, must have often suffered that uneasiness and
anxiety which in such circumstances is the unavoidable
consequence of parental affection and conjugal love ; yet
he enjoyed a large share of matrimonial felicity. But
his course of happiness was terminated by the death of
his wife, which happened in the year 17^4 • an(^ ’8
not improbable that this event had some share in hasten¬
ing his own death ; for in the beginning of the year
1765 his health was so far impaired, that he became
incapable of his former exertions. A tedious complica¬
tion of chronical ailments, which chiefly appeared under
the form of diabetes, was not to be resisted by all the
medical skill which Edinburgh could aflord ; and at
length terminated in death, on the 15th ot April 1766,
in the 52d of his age.
W1 BURGH, a considerable town of Denmark, in.
North Jutland, with a bishop’s see, remarkable for being
the seat of the chief court of justice in the province.
The hall where the council assembles has the archives
of the country, and escaped the terrible fire that happen¬
ed in the year 1726, and which burned the cathedral-
church, that of the Black Friars, the town-house, and
the bishop’s palace; but they have all been rebuilt more
magnificent than before. It is seated on the lake Weter,
in a peninsula, 25 miles north-west of Sleswick, and
no north-by-west of Copenhagen. E. Long. 9. 50*
N. Lat. 56. 20.
WICK, a royal borough on the east coast of the
county of Caithness. It is small, and the streets narrow,
but a few of its buildings are an ornament to the place.
The present harbour is very inconvenient, but it is pro¬
posed to erect a new one, which will be of great ini*
portance to the safety of navigation along that coast.
The population of the whole parish in 1793 amounfe^
to 5000 ; that of the town alone, in 181.1, 5080.
WICKER, signifies made of small twigs.
WICKET, a small door in the gate of a fortified
place,
Wicket,
Wicklift’.
W I C [ 709 ] W I G
place, &c. or a hole in a door through which to view
what passes without.
WICKLIFF, John, the first divine in Europe who
had resolution to attempt a reformation of religion, was
horn about the year 1324, in the parish of Wycliff, near
Richmond, in Yorkshire. He was educated at Oxford,
first in Queen’s and afterwards in Merton college, of
which he was a probationer fellow. Having acquired
the reputation of a man of great learning and abilities,
in 1361 he was chosen master of Baliol-hall, and in
136 ^ constituted warden of Canterbury college, by the
founder, Archbishop Simon dq. Islip •, but in 1367, he was
ejected by the regulars, together with three secular fel¬
lows. He thought their proceedings arbitrary, and
therefore appealed to the pope j but instead of obtain¬
ing redress, the ejectment was confirmed in 1370. This
disappointment probably contributed somewhat towards
his enmity to the see of Rome, or-rather to confirm that
enmity j for he had long before written against the
pope’s exactions and corruptions of religion. However,
his credit in the university continued ; for having taken
the degree of doctor in divinity, he read public lectures
with great applause •, in which he frequently exposed
the impositions of the ISXendicant fiiars. About this
time he published a defence of his sovereign Edward HI.
against the pope, who had insisted on the homage to
which his predecessor. King John had agreed. This de¬
fence was the cause of WicklifPs introduction at court,
and of his being sent one of the ambassadors in 137410
Bruges, where they met the pope’s nuncios, in order to
settle several ecclesiastical matters relative to the pope’s
authority. In the mean time Wickliff was presented by
the king to the rectory of Lutterworth in Leicestershire,
and in "1375 he obtained a J rebend in the church of
Westbury in Gloucestershire. Wickliff continued hither¬
to, without molestation, to oppose the papal authority •,
but in 1377 a bull was sent over to the archbishop of
Canterbury, and to Courtney bishop of London, order¬
ing them to secure this arch-heretic, and lay him in
irons ; at the same time the pope wrote to the king, re¬
questing him to favour the bishops in the prosecution j
he also'sent a bull to Oxford, commanding the uni ver¬
sity to give him up. Before these bulls reached Eng¬
land Edward HI. was dead ; and Wickliff, protected by
John duke of Lancaster, uncle to Richard II. favoured
by the queen-mother, and supported by the citizens of
London, eluded the persecution of Pope Gregory IX.
who died in 1378. In the following year this intrepid
reformer presented to parliament a severe paper against
the tyranny of Rome, wrote against the papal supremacy
and infallibility, and published a book On the Iruthoj
the Scriptures, intended to prepare the way for an Eng¬
lish translation of them, in which he had made consider¬
able progress. In 1381 he published Sixteen Conclusions;
in the first of which he ventured to expose the grand ai-
ticle of transubstantiation. rl hese conclusions being con¬
demned by the chancellor of Oxford, Wickliff appea ed
to the king and parliament; but being deserted by his
unsteady patron the duke of Lancaster, he was obliged
to make a confession at Oxford j and by an order from
the king was expelled the university. He now retired
to his living of Lutterworth, where he finished his trans¬
lation of the bible. This version, of which there are
several manuscript copies in the libraries of the univer¬
sities, British Museum, &c. is a very literal translation,
from the Latin vulgate. In 1383 he was suddenly Wiekliff
struck with a palsy j a repetition of which put an end 11
to his life in December 1384. He was buried in his , ^ ^
own church, where his bones were suffered to rest in
peace till the year 1428, when, by an order from the
pope, they were taken up and burnt.—Besides a num¬
ber of works that have been printed, he left a prodigi¬
ous number of manuscripts $ an accurate list of which
may be seen in Bishop Tanner’s Bib. Brit. Hib. Some
of them are in the Bodleian Library, others in the Bri-:
tish Museum, &c.
Wickliff was doubtless a very extraordinary man, con¬
sidering the times in which he lived. His natural saga¬
city discovered the absurdities and impositions of the
church of Rome, and he had the honesty and resolution
to promulgate bis opinions, which a little more sup¬
port would probably have enabled him to establish :
they were evidently the foundation of the subsequent
reformation.
WICKLOW, a county of Ireland, in the province
of Leinster •, bounded on the north by the county ot
Dublin \ on the east by the Irish sea ; on the south by
Wexford j and on the west by Kildare and Cather-
lough. It is 33 miles in length, 20 in breadth, and in¬
differently fruitful. It contains 54 parishes, and sends
two members to parliament. See Wicklow, Supple¬
ment.
Wicklow, the capital of a county of the same name
in Ireland j seated on the sea-side, with a narrow harbour,,
at the mouth of the river Leitrim, over which stands a
rock, instead of a castle, surrounded by a strong wall, 24
miles south of Du blin. W. Long. 6. 7. N. Lat. 52.-55.
WIDGEON. See Anas, Ornithology Index^
WIDOW, a woman who has lost her husband.
WIFE, a married woman, or one joined with, and •
under the protection of, an husband. See Husband.
Isle of WIGHT, an island lying on the south coast
of Hampshire, from which it is Separated by a narrow
channel. It is about 21 miles in length and 13 in
breadth. It is nearly divided into equal parts by the
river Mede or Cowes, which rising in the southern
angle, enters at the northern, into the channel, opposite
the mouth of Southampton bay. The south-coast is
edged with very steep cliffs of chalk and freestone, hol¬
lowed into caverns in various parts. The west side is
fenced with ridges ot rocks, of which the most remark¬
able are those called, from their sharp extremities, the
Needles. Between the island and the main are various
sand-banks, especially off the eastern part, where is the
safe road of St Helen’s. Across the island, from east to
west, runs a ridge of hills, forming a tract of fine downs,
with a chalky or marly soil, which feed a great number
of fine-fleeced sheep. Rabbits are also very plentiful
here. To the north of this ridge the land is chiefly
pasture : to the south of it is a rich arable country, pro¬
ducing great crops of corn. The variety of prospecte
which this island affords, its mild air, and the neat man¬
ner in which the fields are Lid out, render it a very de¬
lightful spot. It is devoted almost solely to husbanr
dry, and has no manufactory. It is one of the princi¬
pal resources of the London market for unmalted barley.
Among its products are to be reckoned a pure white
pipe-clay, and a fine white crystalline sand •, of the lat¬
ter of which great quantities are exported for the use of
the glass works in various parts. Its principal town is
W I L
[ 710 1 W I L
WMit the borough of Newport •, it likewise contains the two
(f small boroughs of Newton and Yarmouth.
Wilder- WIGTON, a royal borough, and capital of that
, district of Galloway to which it gives name. It is of
considerable antiquity, and few of its houses have been
lately erected. It is supposed to have been a place of
some consequence in the ninth century, and that it
was made a royal borough in the reign of Robert
Bruce. It is governed by a provost, two bailies, and
12 counsellors j is extremely healthy, and furnishes
many instances of longevity. In i'755, the population
amounted to 1032, and in 1811 it amounted to 1711.
AVIGTONSII IRE, sometimes denominated Upper or
West Galloway, is about 30 miles long, and I 2 broad.
It is bounded on the south-east by the bay of Wigton,
by which it is separated from Kirkcudbright ; on the
south and west by the ocean ; on the north by Ayr¬
shire; and on the east by Kirkcudbright. The coast
is tolerably fertile, but improvements in agriculture are
still in their infancy. The interior and northern parts
are hilly and barren, fit only for sheep and black cattle.
It contains three royal boroughs, viz. Wigton, Stran¬
raer, and Whithorn, with a number of seats belonging
to noblemen and gentlemen. It is divided into 17
parishes ; and, according to a census taken since the
passing of the population act in 1811, the population
amounted to 26,891, being an increase of 10,425 since
the return to Dr Webster in 1755. The valued rent
is 67,6461. Scots, while the real rent was computed
many years ago at 53,890!. sterling.
* Statist.
Hist. vol.
xx.
The following is the population according to the pa¬
rishes at two different periods * :
Parishes.
Glasserton
Inch
Kirkcolm
Kirkinner
5 Kirkmaiden
Kirkowan
Lesvvalt
Luce, New
Luce, Old
10 Mochrum
Pe nninghame
Port Patrick
Sorbie
Stranraer
15 Stoneykirk
Whithorn
17 Wigton
Population
in I755*
809
It'S
765
792
10 Cl
795
6c2
459
I5°9
828
I5°9
611
968
610
II5I
1412
1032
Population in
1790—1798.
900
I45°
945
11 c 2
1380
690
”94
400
1200
1400
2000
996
1069
1602
l3^5
1890
I35°
. Total, 16,466 20,982
Population in x 811 . _ „ 26,891
See WlGTONSHIRE, SUPPLEMENT.
WILD-fire. See Wild Fire.
WILDERNESS, in Gardening, a kind of grove of
large trees, in a spacious garden, in which the walks are
commonly made eithePto intersect each other in angles,
or have the appearance of meanders and labyrinths.
Wildernesses (says Mr Miller) should always he pro- -wilder,
portioned to the extent ot the gardens in which they are ness6,
made ; for it is very ridiculous to see a large wilderness '—“r—
planted with tall trees in a small spot of ground ; and
on the other hand, nothing can be more absurd than to
see little paltry squares, or quarters of wilderness-work,
in a magnificent large garden. As to the situation of
wildernesses, they should never be placed too near the
habitation, nor so as to obstruct any distant prospect of
the country, there being nothing so agreeable as an un¬
confined prospect: but where, from the situation of the
place, the light is confined within the limits of the gar¬
den, nothing can so agreeably terminate the prospect as
a beautiful scene of the various kinds of trees judiciously
planted; and if it is so contrived that the termination is
planted circularly, with the concave towards the sight,
it will have a much better effect than if it end in
straight lines or angles. The plants should always be
adapted to the size of the plantation; for it is very ab¬
surd for tall trees to be planted in the small squares of a
little garden; and in large designs small shrubs will have
a mean appearance. It should also be observed never to
plant evergreens amongst deciduous trees; but always to
place the evergreens in a wilderness in a separatepartby
themselves, and that chiefly in sight.
As to the walks, those that have the appearance of
meanders, where the eye cannot discover more than
twenty or thirty yards in length, are generally prefer¬
able to all others, and these should now and then lead
into an open circular piece of grass; in the centre of
which may be placed either an obelisk, statue, or foun¬
tain ; and if in the middle of the wilderness there be
contrived a large opening, in the centre of which may
be erected a dome or banqueting house, surrounded with
a green plot of grass, it will be a considerable addition
to the beauty of the whole. From the sides of the
walks and openings, the trees should rise gradually one
above another to the middle of the quarters ; where
should always be planted the largest growing trees, so
that the heads of all the trees may appear to view, while
their stems will be hid from the sight. Thus, in those
parts which are planted with deciduous trees, roses,
honeysuckles, spiraea f'rutex, and other kinds of low
flowering shrubs, may be planted next the walks and
openings; and at their feet, near the sides of the walks,
may be planted primroses, violets, daffodils, &c. not in a
straight line, but so as to appear accidental, as in a na¬
tural wood. Behind the first row of shrubs should be
planted syringas, althaea frutex, mezereons, and other
flowering shrubs of a middle growth ; and these may be
backed with many other sorts of trees rising gradually
to the middle of the quarters.
The part planted with evergreens may be disposed
in the following manner, viz. in the first line next the
great walks may be placed the laurustinus, boxes,
spurge laurel, juniper, savin, and other dwarf evei’-
greens. Behind these may be placed laurels, hollies,
arbutuses, and other evergreens of a larger growth.
Next to these may be planted alaternuses, phyllireas,
yews, cypresses, A irginian cedars, and other trees of
the same growth ; behind these may be planted Nor¬
way and silver firs, the true pine, and other sorts of the
fir growth ; and in the middle should be planted Scotch
pines, pinaster, and other sorts of the larger growing
evergreens;
,W I L [71
Wilder- evergreens ; which will afford a most delightful prospect
ness, if the different shades of the greens are curiously inter-
Wilkse. mixed.
But beside the grand walks and openings (which
should always be laid with turf, and kept well mowed),
there should be some smaller serpentine walks through
the middle of the quarters, where persons may retire
for privacy j and by the sides of these private walks
may also he scattered some wood-flowers and plants j
which, if artfully planted, will have a very good ef¬
fect.
In the general design of these wildernesses, there
should not he a studied and stiff correspondency between
the several parts ; for the greater diversity there is in
the distiibution of them, the more pleasure they will af¬
ford.
WILKIE, William, D. D. author of a heroic
poqm called the Epigoniad, was born in the parish of
Dalmeny in West Lothian in Scotland, in October
1721. H is father was a small farmer, and was not
very fortunate in his worldly affairs. He gave his son,
however, a liberal education, the early part of which
he received at the parish school of Dalmeny, and at the
age of 13 he was sent to the university of Edinburgh,
where he was soon distinguished as a young man of ge¬
nius. Among his fellow-students rvere Dr Robertson
the historian, Mr Home the poet, and some other emi¬
nent literary characters. He became acquainted also
in the course of his education, with David Hume and
Dr Adam Ferguson.
Before he completed his studies at the university, his
father died, leaving him only the stock and unexpired
lease of his farm, with the care of three sisters, one of
whom being afterwards married to an experienced farm¬
er, Wilkie availed himself of his practical knowledge.
He formed a system of farming which fully answered his
own expectations, and secured to him the approbation of
all his neighbours. After becoming a preacher in the
church of Scotland, he still continued his former mode
of living, cultivating his farm, reading the classics, and
occasionally preaching for the ministers in the neigh¬
bourhood. In 1753, he was presented to the church of
Ratho by the earl of Lauderdale, who was sensible of
his worth, and admired his genius. I he duties of his
new office he discharged with fidelity, and was celebra¬
ted for his impressive mode of preaching, while he did
not neglect the amusements of husbandry, and the study
of the belles lettres. He published his Epigoniad in
the year 1757, the result of fourteen years study, and
a second edition of it was called for in 1759’ *n vv^‘c^
year he was chosen professor of natural philosophy in
the university of St Andrews. His whole fortune, when
he removed to this place, did not exceed 2Col. which
he laid out in the purchase of a few acres of land in tiie
vicinity of the city. He lived in the university in the
same studious and retired manner as he had done at
Ratho. In the year 1768, he published a volume of
fables of no great celebrity, prior to which the universi¬
ty conferred on him the degree of D. D. He died, af¬
ter a lingering illness, on the lotii of October 1772'
The manners of Dr Wilkie were in many respects
very singular, and in some quite disgusting, lor the
purpose of promoting perspiration, and thus removing
an aguish complaint, with which he had been seized du¬
ring his residence at Ratho, he generally slept in winter
I ] W I L
under no fewer than 24 blankets. His aversion to clean Wilkie
linen is altogether unaccountable. It is said than when II
he slept from home, he not only stipulated for the pro-, ^'di.
per quantity of blankets, but requested to be indulged
with sheets which had been previously used by some
other person. It is scarcely necessary to add, that his
dress was slovenly in the extreme. It is somewhat re¬
markable, that Dr Wilkie never could read aloud the
smoothest verse in such a manner as to preserve either
the measure or the sense, although his own compositions
in verse are greatly distinguished by their smoothness >
and elegance.
It is said that Dr Wilkie, from having studied Ho¬
mer with great attention, was led to project an epic
poem on the model of that ancient poet. The subject
of it is drawn from the fourth book of the Iliad, where
Sthenelus gives Agamemnon a short account of the
sacking of Thebes ; and as that city was taken by the
sons of those who had fallen before it, our author gave
to his poem the title of Epigoniad, from the Greek
word imyovai, signifying descendants. This title, it is
supposed, is not very appropriate, and is not altogether
free from quaintness. The subject of the poem has not
been selected with much judgment; for the learned
reader will prefer studying the manners and actions of
ancient heroes in the sublime descriptions of Homer and
Virgil, and others will be little interested in scenes and
characters so different from those with which they are
familiar, and so far removed from their own times.
Accordingly, the Epigoniad, with all its merit as an
epic poem (and it is not destitute of many of the essen¬
tial requisites of that species of poetical composition), is
now little known.
WILKINS, Dr John, a most ingenious and learned
English bishop, was the son of a goldsmith of Oxford,
and was born in 1614. He adhered to the parliament
during the civil wars, by whom he was made warden of
Wadham college in 1648: he married afterwards the
sister of Oliver Cromwell, and procured a dispensation to
retain his wardenship notwithstanding. Richard Crom¬
well made him master of Trinity college, Cambridge,
from which he was ejected on the Restoration He
then became preacher to Gray’s-Inn, rector of St Lau¬
rence Jewry, London, dean of Rippon, and in 1688
was promoted to the bishopric of Chester. He died in
1672. Bishop Wilkins thought it prudent to submit to
the powers in being ; he therefore subscribed to the so¬
lemn league and covenant while it was enforced, and
was equally ready to swear allegiance to King Charles
when he was restored : this with his moderate spirit
toward dissenters, rendered him not very agreeable to
churchmen. His mathematical and philosophical works,
which contain many ingenious and curious pieces, con¬
sidering the time when they were written, have been
collected in one vol. 8vo. He published also some theo¬
logical tracts. He was the first president of the Royal
Society.
WILL, that faculty of the mind by'which it em¬
braces or rejects any thing offered to it. See Meta¬
physics.
Will, or Last Will, in Law, signifies the decla¬
ration of a man’s mind and intent relating to the dispo¬
sition of his lands, goods, or other estate, or of what he
would have done after his death. In the common law
there is a distinction made between a will and a testa¬
ment;
W I L [7
wi,| ment : that Is called a will where lands or tenements
William, are given 5 and when the disposition concerns goods
  v~~,/ and chattels alone, it is termed a testament. See T.ES-
TAMENT.
WiLL-with-a-wisp, or Jack with-a-lanthnrn, two po¬
pular names for the meteor called ignisJatwts. See
Light, N° 46.
WILLIAM o/'MaLMSBURY, an history of consi¬
derable merit in tiie reign of King Stephen ; but of
whose life few' particulars are knowm. According to
Bale and Pits, lie was surnamed Somersetus, from the
county in which he wTas born. I rom his own preface
to his second book Ue Regibus Anglo? am, it appears
that he was addicted to learning from his youth •, that
he applied himself to the study of logic, physic, ethics,
and particularly to history. He retired to the Bene¬
dictine convent at Malmsbury, became a monk, and
was made precentor and librarian ; a situation which
much favoured his intention of writing the history of
this kingdom. In this monastery he spent the remain¬
der of his life, and died in the year 1142. He is one
of our most ancient and most faithful historians. His
capital work is that intitled De Regibus Anglorvm, in
five books •, with an Appendix, which he styles Jhsto-
rite Novella, in two more. It is a judicious collection
of whatever he found on record relative to Lngland,
from the invasion of the Saxons to his owm times.
William of Newbunj, so called from a monastery
in Yorkshire, of which he was a member, wrote a hi¬
story which begins at the Conquest and ends at the year
1197. His Latin style is preferred to that of Matthew
Paris ; and he is entitled to particular praise, for his
honest regard to truth, in treating the fables of Jeffrey
of Monmouth with the contempt they deserve ; as w^ll
as for expressing his approbation of Henry II.’s design
of reforming the clergy, by bringing them under the
regulation of the secular power.
William of Wykeham, bishop of W inchester, was
born in the village of Wykeham, in the county of
Southampton, in 1324. He was educated at W inches¬
ter and Oxford } and having continued near six years
in the university, his patron Nicholas WYdal, governor
of the province of Southampton, took him into his fa¬
mily, and appointed him his counsellor and secretary.
He could not have made choice of a fitter person for
that employment, no man in that age writing or speak¬
ing more politely than Wykeham. For this reason
F.dington, bishop of Winchester, lord high treasurer of
the kingdom, appointed him his secretary three years
after, and also recommended him to King I1.c!ward III.
who took him into his service. Being skilled in geo¬
metry and architecture, he was appointed surveyor of
the royal buildings, and also chief justice in eyre : he
superintended the building of Windsor castle. He was
afterward chief secretary of state, a keeper of the
privv seal j and in 1367 succeeded Edington in the
see of Winchester. A little after he was appointed lord-
high chancellor and president of the privy council. That
he might well discharge the several functions of his em¬
ployments, both ecclesiastical and civil, he endeavoured
on one hand, to regulate his own life according to the
strictest maxims, and to promote such parish priets only
as were able to give due instructions to their parishion¬
ers, and at the same time led exemplary lives : on the
other hand, he did all in his power to cause justice to
2 ] W I L
he impartially administered. In 1371 lie resigned his William
chancellorship, and some time after the great seal. Ed- William's
ward returning to England, after having carried on a foit-
very successful war in France, found his exchequer in v *“
great disorder. The duke of Lancaster, one of his sons,
at the head of several lord-;, having brought complaints
against the clergy, who then enjoyed the chief places in
the kingdom, the king removed them from their employ¬
ments. But the laymen, who were raised to them, be¬
haved so ill, that the king was forced to restore the ec¬
clesiastics. The duke of Lancaster showed strong ani¬
mosity to the clergy, and set every engine at work to
ruin Wykeham. He impeached him of extortion, and of
disguising things, and obliged him to appear at the
King’s-bench. He got such judges appointed as con¬
demned him ; and not satisfied with depriving him of all
the temporalities of his bishopric, he advised Edward to
banish him : but this prince rejected the proposal, and
afterward restored to Wykeham all that he had been
divested of. Richard II. was but II years old when
Edward died : so that the duke of Lancaster had an easy
opportunity of reviving the accusations against the bi¬
shop of Winchester 5 nevertheless Wykeham cleared
himself. Then he founded two noble colleges, the one
in Oxford, the other in Winchester. Whilst he was ex¬
erting his utmost endeavours to improve these two fine
foundations, he was recalled to couit, and in a manner
forced to accept of the office of lord high-chancellor in
1389.—Having excellently discharged the duties of
that employment for three years, lie obtained leave to
resign it, foreseeing the disturbances that were going
to break out. Being returned to his church, he finished
his college, and built there so magnificent a cathedral,
that it almost equals that of St Paul’s in London. He
laid out several sums in things advantageous to the pub¬
lic and to the poor; notwithstanding which, in 1397 he
was in great danger : for h0, and some others were im¬
peached of high-treason in open parliament: however,
he was again fully cleared. From that time till his
death he kept quiet in his diocese, and there employed
himself in all the duties of a good prelate. He died in
1404, in the 81st year of his age.
William, the name of several kings of England.
See England, N* 87—92, and Britain, N° 302.
Fort-WiLLiAM, a fortress in the Highlands of Scot¬
land, erected in King William’s reign, as ivas also a
small town adjoining, called Man/burgh,' in honour of
his queen. It is situated in Inverness shire, on a nar¬
row’ arm of the sea called Loch Eil, which by the com¬
pletion of the Caledonian canal, will he united to the
Western sea. Fort-William is of a triangular form,
having two bastions, and is capable of admitting a gar¬
rison of 800 men ; but could not be defended against
an attack, as it is commanded by several hills in the
neighbourhood.
William's Fort, is a factory of Asia belonging to
the East India Company, seated on one of the branches
of the river Ganges, in the kingdom of Bengal. The
fort was first built in the shape of an irregular tetragon
of brick and mortar; and the town has nothing regular
in it, because every one built a house as he liked best,
and for his own conveniency. The governor’s house is
within the fort, and is the best piece of architecture in
these parts. Here there are also convenient lodgings
for the factors and writers, wkh store-houses for the
4 company’s
Ulliaai
il
SVillis.
/
W I L
company’s goods, and magazines for ammunition,
bout 50 yards from the fort is the church, which was
originally built by the merchants. The town of Cal¬
cutta is contiguous, containing 500,000 inhabitants.
It is governed by a mayor and aldermen, as most of
the company’s factories in the East Indies now are.
In 1757 it was surprised by the nabob of Bengal, who
took it, and put most of those that had made re¬
sistance into a place called the Black-Hole, where the
greater number was suffocated. This nabob was after¬
wards killed, and another set up in his room, more
friendly to the English ; and the factory was re-esta¬
blished. E. Long. 86. o. N. Lat. 22. 27. See Cal¬
cutta.
Sweet-William. See Dianthus, Botany Index.
WILLIAMSBURG, a town of North America, in
Virginia, and formerly capital of that state. It is situ¬
ated between two creeks j one falling into James and
the other into York River. The distance of each land¬
ing place is about a mite from the town, which, with
the disadvantage of not being able to bring up large
vessels, and the want of enterprise in the inhabitants,
has occasioned its decay. Here is a college, designed
for the education of the Indians, but which, on account
of their aversion to learning, never answered the pur¬
pose. It is 60 miles east of Richmond. W. Long.
76. 30. N. Lat. 37. 10.
WILLIAMSTADT, a sea-port town of Holland.
It is a handsome strong place, and the harbour is well
frequented. It was built by William prince of Orange
in 1585; and in 1732 belonged to the stadtholder of
Friesland. The river near which it is built is called
ButterfUet or Holland Diep; and it is one of the bul warks
of the Hutch on the side of Brabant, where they always
keep a garrison. This place made a gallant defence in
r793 against the French, who were obliged to raise
the siege. It is 15 miles north east of Bei gen-op-Zoom,
and 12 south-west of Dort. E. Long. 4. 33. N. Lat.
5T. 39.
WILLIS, Dr Thomas, a celebrated English phy¬
sician, was born at Great Bodvvin, in Wiltshire, in
1621, and studied at Christ church college, Oxford.
When that city was garrisoned for the king, he, among
other scholars, bore arms for his majesty, and devoted
his leisure hours to the study ot physic. The garrison
Off Oxford at length surrendering to the parliament, he
applied himselt to the practice of his profession ; and
soon rendered himself famous by his care and skill. He
appropriated a room as an oratory for divine service
according to the church of England, whither most of
the loyalists in Oxford daily resorted. In 1660, he be-
eavne Sedleian professor of natural philosophy, and the
£ftme year took the degree of doctor of physic. In 1664,
he discovered the famous medicinal spring at Alstropp,
near Bracklev. He was one of the first members of the
Royal Society, and soon made bis name illustrious by
his excellent writings; In 1666, after the fire of Lon¬
don, he removed to Westminster; and bis practice be¬
came greater than that of any of the physicians his con¬
temporaries. Soon after his settlement in London, Ins
only son Thomas failing into a consumption, he sent
him tb Montpelier in France for the recovery of his
health ; and it proved successful; His wife also labour-
irfg under the same disorder, he offered to leave the
town ; but she, not suffering him to neglect the means
Vol. XX. Part II. *
W I L
of providing for his family, died in 1670. He died at
his house in St Martin’s in 1675, a,1(^ 'vas near
her in Westminster-abbey. Dr Willis was extremely
modest and unambitious, and refused the honour of
knighthood. He was remarkably pious : As he rose
early in the morning, that he might be present at di¬
vine service, which he constantly frequented before he
visited his patients, he procured prayers to be read be¬
yond the accustomed times while he lived ; and at his
death settled a stipend of 20I. per annum to continue
them. He was a liberal benefactor to the poor where-
ever be came, having from his early practice allotted
part of bis profits to charitable uses. He was exact and
regular in all his hours: and though his table was the
resort of most of the great men of London, yet he was
remarkable for his plainness, and his being a man of
little discourse, complaisance, or society ; but be was
justly admired for his deep insight into natural and ex¬
perimental philosophy, anatomy, and chemistry ; for bis
successful practice: and for the elegance and purity of
bis Latin style. He wrote, 1. A treatise in English,
infilled A plain and easy Method for preserving those
that are well from the Infection of the Plague, and for
curing such as are infected. 2. Several Latin works,
which were collected and printed at Amsterdam, in
1682, in 2 vols 4to.
WILLUGHBY, Francis, a celebrated natural hi¬
storian, was the only son of Sir Francis Willughby,
knight. He was fond of study from his childhood, and
held idleness in abhorrence; he being so great an eco¬
nomist with regard to his time, as not willingly to lose
or misapply the least part of it, by which means he at¬
tained'great skill in all branches of learning, and parti¬
cularly in the mathematics. But to the history of ani¬
mals, which was in a great measure neglected by bis
countrymen, be particularly applied himse’f; and for
this purpose carefully read over what had been Written
on that subject bv others. He then travelled several
times over his native country; and afterwards into
France, Spain, Italy, Germany, and the Low Coun¬
tries, attended by his ingenious friend Mr John Ray.
It is remarkable, that, notwithstanding the advantages
of birth, fortune, and parts, he was as humble as any
man of the meanest fortune ; was sober, temperate, and
chaste; scrupulously just; so true to his word and pro¬
mise, that a man might venture bis estate and life upon
it; so faithful and constant to his friend, as never to de¬
sert him when fortune frowned upon him ; and remark¬
ably pious, patient, and submissive to the divine will.
This is the character given of him by Mr Ray, whose
veracity none will doubt. This ingenious and learned
gentleman, died in 1672, at 37 years of age ; having
impaired his health by his application. He wrote,
1. Ornithologia: lihri tres, folio, which was afterwards
translated into English, with an Appendix, by Mr Ray,
in folio. 2. Historic Piscium libri (jnatnor, folio. 3.
Letters of Francis Willughby, Esq. added to Philoso¬
phical Letters hetween the learned Mr Ray and several
of his correspondents, published, in 8vo, by William
Derham. 4. Several ingenious papers in the Philoso¬
phical Transactions.
WILMOT, John; earl of Rochester, a? great wit iu
the reign’of Charles II. the son of Henry earl of Ro-
clie&er, was born in: 1648; He was taught' grammar
and classical learning at the free-school at Burford ;
4 X where
[ VLS ]
A-
W I L [ 71
WUmot. wliere lie obtained a quick relish of the beauties of the
 v~'—J Latin tongue, and afterwards became well versed in the
authors of the Augustan age. In 1659, ^ie was
niitted a nobleman of Wadham college, where he ob¬
tained the degree of master of arts. He afterwards tra¬
velled through France and Italy •, and at his return was
made one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber to the
king, and comptroller of Woodstock Park. In 1665,
he w'ent to sea, and was in the Revenge, commanded
by Sir Thomas Tiddiman, when an attack was made
on the port of Bergen in Norway : during the whole
action he showed the greatest resolution, and gained a
high reputation for courage ; which he supported in a
second expedition, but afterwards lost it in a private
adventure with Lord Mulgrave.
Before the earl of Rochester travelled, he had indul¬
ged in the most disorderly and intemperate way of liv¬
ing •, at his return, however, he seemed to have got the
better of it entirely. But falling into the company of
the courtiers, who continually practised these excesses,
he became so sunk in debauchery, that he was for five
years together so given up to drinking, that during all
that time he was never cool enough to be master of him¬
self. His violent love of pleasure, and his disposition
to extravagant mirth, carried him to great excesses.
The first involved him in sensuality', and the other led
him into many adventures and ridiculous frolics. Once
disguising himself so that he could not be known by his
nearest friends, he set up in Tower-street for an Italian
mountebank, and there dispersed his nostrums for some
weeks. He often disguised himself as a porter, or as a
beggar, sometimes to follow a mean amour j at other
times, he would go about merely for diversion, in odd
shapes j and acted his part so naturally, that he could
not be known even by his friends. In short, by his
constant indulgence in wine, women, and irregular fro¬
lics, he entirely wore out an excellent constitution be¬
fore he was 30 years of age. In October 1679, when
recovering from a violent disease, which ended in a con¬
sumption, he was visited by Dr Burnet, upon an inti¬
mation that such a visit would be agreeable to him. Dr
Burnet published an account of his conferences with
Lord Rochester j in which it appears, that though he
had lived the life of a libertine and atheist, yet he died
the death of a penitent Christian. His death happened
in 1680 ; since which time his poems have been various
times printed, both separately and together : but when
once he obtained the character of a lewd and obscene
writer, every thing in that strain was ascribed to him ;
and thus many pieces not of his writing have crept into
the later editions of his works. The author of the Ca¬
talogue of Royal and Noble Authors says, he was “ a
man whom the Muses were fond to inspire, and ashamed
to avow, and who practised without the least reserve
that secret which can make verses more read for their
defects than their merits. Lord Rochester’s Poems have
much more obscenity than wit, more wit than poetry,
and more poetry than politeness.” His writings, be¬
sides those already mentioned, are, A Satire against
Mankind j Nothing, a poem-, Valentinian, a tragedy j
Fifty four Letters to Henry Saville, and others ; Seven
more to his wife and Son: a Letter on his deathbed
to Dr Burnet. He.also left behind him several other
papers, and a History of the Intrigues of the Court of
4] W I L
Charles II. j but his mother, a very devout lady, order- Wilmot
ed all his papers to be burned. Wilson.
WILSON, Florence, known in the republic of v—^
letters by the name of Florentius Volusinus, was born at
Elgin in the shire cf Murray in Scotland, and educated
in the university of Aberdeen. Travelling to England
with an intention to improve his fortune, he had the
felicity to be introduced to Cardinal Wolsey, who ap¬
pointed him tutor to one of his nephews. In that capa¬
city he went to Paris, and continued there till the Car¬
dinal’s death. During his residence in that city he be¬
came acquainted with the learned Cardinal Bellai, arch¬
bishop of Paris, who allowed him a pension, and meant
to have appointed him royal professor of the Greek and
Latin languages in the university of Paris: but Bellai
being disgraced, Wilson’s prospects faded with the for¬
tunes of his patron, whom nevertheless he attended on
his journey to Rome. Wilson was taken ill at Avig¬
non, and the cardinal proceeded without him. After
his recovery, he paid a visit to the celebrated Cardinal
Sabo'et, the Mectenas of his time, who was also bishop
of Carpentras, where he then resided. The cardinal
wTas so charmed with his erudition, that he appointed
him professor of the learned languages, with a stipend
of 100 pistoles per annum.
During his residence at Carpentras, he wrote his ce¬
lebrated treatise Dc AnimiTranquillitate. Mackenzie
says that he afterwards taught philosophy in Italy; and
that, being at length desirous of returning to Scotland^
he began his journey homeward, was taken ill at Vienne
in Dauphiny, and died there in the year 1547. He
was generally esteemed an accomplished linguist, an ad¬
mirable philosopher, and an excellent Latin poet. He
w'rote, beside the above treatise, 1. Poemata, London
1619, 4to. 2. Commentalio qveedam theologica in a-
phorismos dissecta, per Scbast. Gryph. 3. Philosophice
Arisiot. Synopsis, lib. iv.
Wilson, Thomas, lord bishop of Sodor and Man,
was born in 1663, at Burton, in the county of Chester.
He received the rudiments of his education at the coun¬
ty town, and from thence was removed to the university
of Dublin. His allowance at the university was 20I. a-
year ; a sum, small as it may now appear, which was in
those days sufficient for a sober youth in so cheap a
country as Ireland.
FI is first intention was to have applied to the study ol
physic; but from this he was diverted by Archdeacon
Hewetson, by whose advice he dedicated himself to the
church. He continued at college till the year 1686,
when, on the 29th of June, he was ordained deacon.
The exact time of Mr Wilson’s leaving Dublin is not
known : but on account of the political and religious
disputes of those days, it was sooner than he intended.
On the 10th of December, in the same year, he was li¬
censed to the curacy of New Church in Winwick, oi
which Dr Sherlock, his maternal uncle, was rector.
Flis stipend was no more than 30I. a-year; but being
an excellent economist, and having the advantage of hy¬
ing with his uncle, this small income was not only suffi¬
cient to supply his own wants, but it enabled him to
supply the wants of others; and for this purpose he set
apart one-tenth of his income. In 1692 he was ap¬
pointed domestic chaplain to William earl of Derby,
and tutor to his son James Lord Strange, with a salary^
W I L [715] W I L
Wilson, of 30I. a-year. He was soon after elected master of the
—v ' alms-house at Latham, which brought him in 20I. a-
jear more. Having now an income far beyond his ex¬
pectations, or his wishes, except as it increased his abi¬
lity to do good, he set apart one fifth of his income for
pious uses, and particularly for the poor. In short, as
his income increased, he increased the portion of it
which was allotted to the purposes of charity. At fii’st
he set apart a tenth, then a fifth, afterwards a third,
and lastly, when lie became a bishop, he dedicated the
full half of his revenues to pious and charitable uses.
He had not been long in the service of Lord Derby,
before he was offered the valuable living of Buddes-
worth in Yorkshire ; which he refused to accept, as be¬
ing inconsistent with the resolves of his conscience a-
gainst non-residence, Lord Derby choosing still to re¬
tain him as chaplain and tutor to his son. In 1697 he
was promoted, not without some degree of compulsion
on the part of his patron, to the bishopric of the Isle of
Man ; a preferment which he held 58 years. In 1698
he married Mary, daughter of Thomas Patten, Esq. of
Warrington. By this lady who survived her marriage
above six years, he had four children *, none of whom
survived him, except the late Dr Wilson, prebendary
of Westminster.
“ The annual receipts of the bishopric (says the au¬
thor of his memoirs) did not exceed 300I. in money.
Some necessaries in his house, as spices, sugar, wine,
books, &c. must be paid for with money j distressed or
shipwrecked mariners, and some other poor objects, re¬
quired to be relieved with money ; but the poor of the
island were fed and clothed, and the house in general
supplied from his demesnes, by exchange, without mo¬
ney. The poor, who could weave or spin, found the
best market at Bishop’s-court, where they bartered the
produce of their labour for corn. Taylors and shoe¬
makers were kept in the bouse constantly employed, to
make into garments or shoes that cloth or leather which
his coin had purchased ; and the aged and infirm were
supplied according to their several wants. Mr Moore
of Douglas informed the editor, that he was once wit¬
ness to a pleasing and singular instance of the Bishop’s
attention to some aged poor of the island. As he was
distributing spectacles to some whose eyesight failed
them, Mr Moore expressed bis surprise, as he well
knew not one of them could read a letter. “ No matter
(said the Bishop with a smile), they will find use enough
for them j these spectacles will help them to thread a
needle, to mend their clothes, or if need be, to keep
themselves free from vermin.”
So great was the bishop’s attachment to his flock,
that no temptation could seduce him from their service.
He more than once refused the offer of an English bi¬
shopric. There is an anecdote of his lordship and Car¬
dinal Eleury, which does great credit to them both.
The cardinal wanted much to see him, and sent over on
purpose to inquire after his health, his age* and the
date of his consecration, as they were the two oldest bi¬
shops, and he believed the poorest, in Europe j at the
same time inviting him to France. The bishop sent the
•cardinal an answer, which gave him so high an opinion
of him, that the cardinal obtained an order that no
Ererich privateer should ravage the isle of Man.
This good prelate lived till the year J755>
the advanced age of 93. His works have lately been
published in 2 vols. 410.
WILTON, a market town in Wiltshire, three miles
west of Salisbury. It was once so considerable as to ;
give title to the county. It had formerly 12 churches j
and Odo, brother-in-law to William I. was bishop of
Wilton. Only one now remains, and its inhabitants in
1811 amounted to 1963. It sends members to parlia¬
ment, and is the place where the knights of the shire are
chosen. It has a great manufactory of carpets, which
are brought to high perfection. Wilton is famous for
Lord Pembroke’s seat, so wall known through Europe
for its containing a grand assemblage of the productions
of the greatest and most ancient masters in painting
and sculpture.—-Two fairs are held here anually.
WILTSHIRE, a county of England, bounded oh
the west by Somersetshire, on the east by Berkshire and
Hampshire, on the north by Gloucestershire, and on the
south by Dorsetshire and part of Hampshire. The
length amounts to 39 miles j its breadth to 30 •, arid its
circumference to 140. It contains 29 hundreds, 23
maiket-towns, 304 parishes, and in 1811 had 193,828
inhabitants. Besides two members for the shire, and
two for the city ofSalisbury, each of the following towns
sends two members to parliament, viz. W ilton, Down-
ton, Hindon, Heytesbury, AVestbury, Caine, Devizes,
Chippanham, Malmsbury, Cricklade, Great Bedwin,
Ludgershall, Old Sarum, W^oton-Basset, Marlborough.
The air of this county is very healthy, not only in
the more low and level parts, but also on the hills.
The soil of the vales is very rich, and produces corn
and grass in great plenty. The beautiful downs in the
south yield the finest pasture for sheep, with which they
are overspread. The greatest disadvantage the county
labours under is want of fuel, as there is no coal-pits,
and but little pood. This county is noted for great
quantities of very fine cheese, and for its manufacture
of broad cloth, to which it was invited by the great
plenty and fineness of its wool. It is watered by the ri¬
vers Isis, Kennet, Upper and Lower Avon, Willy,
Burne, and Nadder, which are well stored with fish.
Ste Wiltshire, Supplement.
WINCH ELSE A, a town in Sussex, which has no
market, but has one fair on May 14th for cattle and
pedlars ware. It was an ancient place, at least the old
town, which was swallowed up by the ocean in 1250.
It is now dwindled to a mean place, though it retains
its privileges, and sends two members to parliament.
It is seated on a rocky cliff, on an inlet of the sea j and
had a haven, now choked up. It had 18 parish-church¬
es, now reduced to one. The market-house is in the
midst of the town, from whence run four paved streets,
at the end of which are four ways, which had formerly
buildings on each side for a considerable distance. * It
is 71 miles south-east of London. It is governed by a
mayor and jurats, though it had but 652 inhabitants
in j8ii. Three of the gates are still standing, but
much decayed. E. Long. o. 44. N. Lat. 50. 58.
Winchelsea, Anne Countess oJ\ a lady of excellent
genius, especially in poetry, was maid of honour to the
duchess of York, second wife to King James II. and
was afterwards married to Heneagb, second son of the
earl of Winchelsea. One of the most considerable of
the countess of Winchelsea’s poems was that on the
4X2 Spleen.
V, If,OP
Winclicl-
sea, '
Winch el¬
se a
W IN [?
Spleen. A collectian of tier poems was printed atX-on-
don in 1713, containing a tragedy never acted, entitled
H , Arislomctics. The countess died in 17-20 without issue,
Winck t- as jjgj. |lUg[)ai)d did in 1706.
n^l!' , WINCHESTER, the capital of the county of
Hampshire in England. It is a very ancient city, sup¬
posed -to have been built several centuries before Christ.
The Romans called it Vent a BeJgarum, the Britons Caer
•Givcnt, and the Saxons Witianceaster; whence came the
present name. It stands upon the river Itchin, in a bottom
surrounded with chalky hiils \ and is generally allowed
to have been a considerable place in the time of the
Romans. Some of the first converts to Christianity are
supposed to have lived here. In the castle,near the west
^ate, many of the Saxon kings anciently kept their court.
The-cathedral was lounded by Kenegulfe, a king of the
Mercians ; but there were many Christians, and places
for their worship here, long before that period. It is a
large pile, and has a venerable look, but is not very ele¬
gant. Besides the tombs, there are many curious pieces
of workmanship in it y the chief of which are, 1. 1 he
font, erected in the time of the Saxons. 2. Copper sta¬
tues of James I. and Charles I. 3. The bishop’s throne.
4. The stalls of the dean and prebendaries. 5. 1 lie
ascent to the choir and altar. 6. The pavement inlaid
with marble of diverse colours, in various figures. 7. The
altar-piece, reckoned the noblest in England. S. The
paintings in the windows, especially the great east win¬
dow. At the hospital of the Holy Cross, every traveller
that knocks at the door may claim a mane bet of white
bread and a cup of beer y of which a great quantity is
provided every day for that purpose. 1 his hospital was
intended fur the maintenance of a master and 30 pension¬
er, but only 14 are now maintained in it y and the mas¬
ter enjoys a revenue of Bool, a-year. T his city is about
a mile and a half in compass, and almost surrounded
with a wall of flint y has six gates, large suburbs, broad
clean streets y but the private houses are in general but
ordinary, many of them being very old. The city is
interspersed'yvith a great many gardens, which contribute
to its beauty and healthiness. The corporation consists
of a mayor, high-steward, recorder, aldermen, two coro¬
ners, two bailiff’s, 24 common-council men, a town clerk,
four constables, and four serjeants at mace; and the city
gives title of marquis to the duke of Bolton. A Roman
highway leads from hence to Alton y and went for¬
merly, as it is thought, from thence to London. The
charming downs in the neighbourhood contribute greatly
to the health ami pleasure of the inhabitants. T he
river Itchin is navigable for barges from hence to South-
mupton. The population in 1811 amounted to 6705
persons. W. Long. I. 16. N. Lat. 5°- 57-
WINCKLEMAN, Abbe John, was born at Sten-
dall, in the old Marc lie of Brandenburg, in 1718.
H is father was a shoemaker. This wonderful man, to
all appearance destined by his birth to superintend a
. little school in an obscure town of Germany, raised
himself to the office of president of antiquities in the
Vatican. After having been seven years professor in
the college of Seehaasen near Sal swede I, he went into
Saxony, where he resided seven years more, and was
librarian to Count Bunau at Nothenitz. When he left
this place, 1754, he went *0 Dresden, where he formed
an acquaintance with the ablest artists, and particularly
with M. Oeser, an excelleftt painter, and one of the
16 ] WIN
best draughtsmen of the age. In that year he abjured Winrk'if.
Lutheranism, and embraced the Roman Catholic reii- man.
gion. In September 175*5, ^5e Sft out ^01' and
arrived at Rome in December following. His princi¬
pal object was to see the Vatican library, and to exa¬
mine the ruins of Herculaneum.
Mr Winckleman carried with him into Italy a sense
of beauty and art, which led him instantly to admire the
masterpieces of the Vatican, and with which he began
to study them. He soon increased his knowledge; and
it was not till after he had thus purified his taste and
conceived an idea of ideal beauty, which led him into
the greatest secrets of art, that he began to think of
the explanation of other monuments, in which his great
learning could not fail to distinguish him. His erudition
enabled him to fill up his principal plan of writing the
“ History of Art.” In 1756, he planned his “ Restora¬
tion of Ancient Statues,” and a larger work on the
Taste of the Greek Artists; and designed an account of
the. galleries of Rome and Italy, beginning -with a vo¬
lume on the Bel-videre statues, in the manner ot Rich¬
ardson, who, he says, only ran over Rome. He also in¬
tended a history of the corruption of taste in art, the
restoration of statues, and an illustration of the obscure
points of mythology. All these different essays led him
to his “ History of Art,” and his “ Monument i Inediti.”
It must, however, he confessed, that the first of these
works has not all the clearness and precision that might
be expected in its general plan and division of its parts
and objects; but it lias enlarged and extended the ideas
both of antiquaries and collectors. The description of
the gems and soli.-hurs of the Stosch cabinet contributed
not a little to extend Mr Wmckltman’s knowledge.
Few persons have opportunities of contemplating such
vast collections. The engravings of Lippet and Count
Caylus are all that many can arrive at. JVIr Winckle-
man’s Monument! Inediti, of which he had begun the
third volume 1767, seem to have secured him tlic esteem
of antiquaries. Had he lived, we should have had a
work long wished Tor y a complete collection of the lias-
reliefs discovered from the time of Bartoli to the pre¬
sent, the greater part of which are in the possession of
Cardinal Albani.
When Cardinal Albani succeeded to the place of lit
brarian of the Vatican, he endeavoured to get a place
for the Hebrew language for W inekleman, who refused
a canonry. because he would not take the tonsure. The
elector of Saxony gave him, 1761, unsolicited, the place
of Counsellor Richter, the direction of the royal cabinet
of medals and antiquities at Dresden. Upon the death
of the able Vcnuti, 1762, he was appointed president
of the antiquities of the apostolic-chamber, with power
over all discoveries and exportations of antiquities and
pictures. This is a post of honour, with an income of
160 scudi per annum. He had a prospect of the place
of president of antiquities in the Vatican going to be
created at 16 scudi per month, and was named corre¬
sponding member ol the Academyol Inscriptions. The
Ling of Prussia offered him, by Col. Quintus Icilius, the
place of librarian and director ot his cabinet ol medals
and antiquities, void by the death ol M. Gautier de la
Croze, with a handsome appointment. He made no
scruple of accepting the offer; but when it came to the
pope’s ears, he added an appointment oat.of his own
purse, and kept him at Rome.
WIN [71
In April 1786, he left Home to go with M. Cava-
eoppi over Geraiany anti Switzerland. When he came
to Vienna, he was so pleasetl with the reception he met
with, that he made a longer stay there than he had in¬
tended. But, being suddenly seized with a secret un¬
easiness and extraordinary desire to return to Rome, he
set out for Italy, putting olf his visits to his friends in
Germany to a future opportunity. As he passed through
Trieste, he was assassinated, June 8. 1786, by a wretch
atamed Arcani>eli, a native of Campiglio, a town in the
territory of Pistoia, with whom he had made an ac¬
quaintance on the road. This miscreant had been con¬
demned tor a robbery to work tn fetters four years, and
then to be banished the Austrian territories, on an oath
never to return. He had obtained a mitigation of one
of his sentences, and retired to Venice ; but, chan¬
ging his quarters backwards and forwards, he was so
reduced in circumstances that he at length took up his
lodgings at the inn to which the Ah he happened to
come. Arcangeli paid such assiduous court to him, that
he entirely gained his eontidence ; and having been fa¬
voured with a sight of the valuable presents which he
Jiad received at Vienna, formed a design to murder and
.roh him. He bought a new sharp knife on purpose ;
and as the Abbe (who had in the most friendly manner
.invited him to Rome) was sitting down in his chair, ear¬
ly in the morning, he threw a rope over his head, and
before he could disengage himself, stabbed him in five
different places. The Abbe had still strength to get
down .to the ground floor, and call for help and being
laid on a bed in the midst of the most violent pain, he
had composure -.nfficient to receive the last sacraments,
and to make his will, in which he appointed Cardinal
Alexander Alb-mi his residuary legatee, and expired in
the afternoon. The murderer was soon after appre¬
hended •, and executed on the wheel opposite the inn,
June 26.
Abbe Winckleman was a middle-sized man j he had
Si very low forehead, sharp nose, and little black hollow
eyes, which gave him an aspect rather gloomy than
otherwise. If he had any thing graceful in Ins physiog-
iDomy, it was his mouth. A fiery and impetuous disposi¬
tion often threw him into extremes. Naturally enthu¬
siastic, he often indulged an extravagant imagination ;
but as he possessed a strong and solid judgment, he knew
how to give things a just and intrinsic value. In conse¬
quence of this turn of mind, as well as a neglected edu¬
cation, a cautious reserve was a quality he little knew.
If he was bold in his decisions as an author, he was still
'.more so in his conversation, and has often made lus
friends tremble for his temerity. If ever man knew
.what friendship was, that man was Mr Winckleman,
who regularly practised all his duties 5 and lor thisjea
•son he could boast of having friends among persons of
(«very r ink and condition.
WIND is a sensible agitation of the atmosphere, oc-
casione d by a quantity of air flowing from one place to
^another. See Meteorology.
JLjf Winds. See Sami el.
)JfriND Flower. See Anemony, Botany Index.
Wind-MM, a kind of mill, the internal parts of
which are much the same with those of a water mill .
.from which, however, it differs, in being moved by
the.impulse of.tke wind .upon its sails or vvanes, which
Windlass,
7 ] WIN
are to be considered as a wheel in axis. See Mecha- Wind
Nics Index.
Wind Gage. See Wind-Gage. __
Wind-Galls. See Farriery Index.
Wind-Gun. See Air Gun, under Science, Amus-
vients of.
Instruments for measuring the strength, velocity, &o.
of the Wind. See Wind-Gage, Anemometer and
Anemoscope.
WiND-Hatrh, in mining, a term used to express the
place at which the ore is taken out of the mines.
WiND-Shock, a name given by our farmers to a dis¬
temper to which fruit trees, and sometimes timber trees,
are subject. It is a sort of bruise and shiver throughout
the whole substance of the tree ; but the bark being of¬
ten not affected by it, it is not seen on the outside, while
the inside is twisted round, and greatly injured. It is
by some supposed to be occasioned by high winds; but
others attribute it to lightning. Those trees are most
usually affected by it whose boughs grow more out on
one side than on the other. The best way of prevent¬
ing this in valuable trees, is to take care in the planta¬
tion that they are sheltered well, and to cut them fre¬
quently in a regular manner while young.
WiND-Taught, in sea language, denotes the same as
stiff in the wind. Too much rigging, high masts, or
any thing catching or holding wind aloft, is said to hold
a ship wind-taught; by which they mean, that she
stoops too much in her sailing in a stiff gale of wind.
Again, when a ship rides in a main stress of wind and
weather, they strike down her top masts, and bring her
yards down, which else would hold too much wind, or
be too much distended and wind-taught.
Wind-Sails, a sort of wide tube or funnel of canvas,
employed to convey a stream of fresh air downward in¬
to the lower apartments of a ship.
This machine is usually extended by large hoops situ¬
ated in different parts of its height, ft is let down per¬
pendicularly through the hatches, being expanded at the
lower end like the base of a cone ; and having its upper-
side open on the side which is placed to windwaid, so as
to receive the full current of wind ; which entering the
cavity, fills the tube, and rushes downwards into the
lower regions of the ship. There are generally three or'
four of these in our capital ships of war, which, together
with the ventilators, contribute greatly to preserve the
health of the crew.
WINDAGE of a Gun, is the difference between
the diameter of the bore and the diameter of the ball.
WINDLASS, a machine used for raising huge
weights, as guns, stones, anchors, &c.
It is very simple, consisting only of an axis or roller,
supported horizontally at the two ends by .two pieces qf
wood and a pulley j the two pieces of wood meet at
top, being placed diagonally so as to prop each other j
the axis or roller goes through the two pieces, and turns
in them. The pulley is fastened at top where the pieces
join. Lastly, there are two staves or handspikes which
go through the roller, whereby r is turned, and the
rope which come.s over the pulley is wound tff and on
the same.
Windlass, in a ship, is an instrument in small ships,
placed upon the deck, just abaft the fore mast. It is'
jnafle of apiece qf timber si^.m eight fqet square, in;
forms
Windlass
II •
'Wine.
€hapt al's
Chemistry,
part iv.
sect. y.
chap. 6,
i
Method of
making
wine.
WIN [71
form of an axletree, whose length is placed horizontal¬
ly upon two pieces of wood at the ends thereof, and
upon which it is turned about by the help of hand-spikes
put into holes made for that purpose. This instrument
serves for weighing anchors, or hoisting of any weight
in or out of the ship, and will purchase much more than
any capstan, and that without any danger to those that
heave ; for if in heaving the windlass about, any of the
handspikes should happen to break, the windlass would
pall of itself.
WINDOW, an aperture or open place in the wall of
a house to let in the light. See Architecture, N° 78.
The word is Welch, uynt dor, signifying the passage
for the wind. Window is yet provincially denomina¬
ted windor in Lancashire } i. e. wind-door, or the pas¬
sage for air, as that for people was peculiarly called the
door.
Before the use of glass became general, which was not
till towards the end of the 12th century, the windows
in Britain seem generally to have been composed of pa¬
per. Properly prepared with oil, this forms no contemp¬
tible defence against the intrusions of the weather, and
makes no incompetent opening for the admission of the
light. It is still used by our architects for the tempo¬
rary windows of unfinished houses, and not unfrequent-
ly for the regular ones of our work shops. But some of
the principal buildings we may reasonably suppose to
have been windowed in a superior manner. They could,
however, be furnished merely with lattices of wood or
sheets of linen, as these two remained the only furniture
of our cathedrals nearly to the eighth century ; and the
lattices continued in some of the meaner towns of Lan¬
cashire to the 18th ; and in many districts of Wales, and
many of the adjoining parts of England, are in use even
to the present moment. These seem all to have been
fixed in frames that were called capsamenta, and now
therefore casements in Wales and Lancashire.
WINDSOR, a borough town of Berkshire, 22 miles
west of London, most remarkable for the magnificent
x-oyal palace or castle situated there on an eminence,
which commands the adjacent country for many miles,
the river Thames running at the foot of the hill. The
knights of the Garter are installed in the royal chapel
here. It sends two members to parliament. The num¬
ber of inhabitants in 1811 was 6155. W. Long. o.
36. N. Lat. 51. 30.
WINDWARD, in the sea language, denotes any
thing towards that point from whence the wind blows,
in respect of a ship : thus windward-tide, is the tide which
runs against the wind.
WINE, an agreeable spirituous liquor, produced by
fermentation from those vegetable substances that con¬
tain saccharine matter. A very great number of vege¬
table substances may be made to afford wine, as grapes,
currants, mulberries, elders, cherries,apples, pulse,beans,
pease, turnips, radishes, and even grass itself. Hence,
under the class of wines or vinous liquors, come not only
wines, absolutely so called, but also ale, cyder, &c.
Wine, however, is in a more particular manner appro¬
priated to the liquor drawn from the fruit of the vine.
The process of making wine is as follows: When the
grapes are ripe, and the saccharine principle is develo¬
ped, they are then pressed, and the juice which flows out
is received in vessels of a proper capacity, in which the
fermentation appears, and proceeds in the following
8 ]
W I N
manner : At the end of several days, and frequently af- tyjn-e
ter a few hours, according to the heat of the atmosphere, < yj,
the nature of the grapes, the quantity of the liquid, and
temperature of the place in which the operation is per¬
formed, a movement is produced in the liquor, which
continually increases ; the volume of the fluid increases j
it becomes turbid and oily ; carbonic acid is disengaged,
which fills all the unoccupied part of the vessel, and the
temperature rises to the 72.5th degree. At the end of
several days these tumultuous motions subside, the mass
falls, the liquid becomes clearer, and is found to be less
saccharine, more odorant, and of a red colour, from the
reaction of the ardent spirit upon the colouring matter of
the pellicle of the grape.
The wine is usually taken out of the fermenting ves¬
sels at the period when all the phenomena of fermenta¬
tion have subsided. When the mass is settled, the co¬
lour of the liquor is well developed, when it has become
clear, and its heat has disappeared j it is put into casks,
where, by a second insensible fermentation, the wine is
clarified, its principles combine more perfectly together,
and its taste and smell become more and more developed.
If this fermentation be stopped or suffocatt d, the gaseous
principles are retained, and the wine is brisker, and more
of the nature of must.
It appears, from the interesting experiments of the
Marquis de Bullion, that the vinous fermentation does
not take place unless tartar be present.
The causes of an imperfect fermentation are the f°l'Causes rf
lowing: 1. If the heat be too little, the fermentation j^pe^fect
languishes, the saccharine and oily matters are not suffi-fermenta-
ciently elaborated, and the wine is unctuous and sweet.b011*
2. If the saccharine body be not sufficiently abundant,
as happens in rainy seasons, the wine is weak, and the
mucilage which predominates, causes it to become sour
by its decomposition. 3. If the juice be too watery,
concentrated and boiling must is added. 4. If the sac¬
charine principle be not sufficiently abundant, the de¬
fect may be remedied by the addition of sugar. Mac-
quer has proved that excellent wine may be made of
verjuice and sugar j and M. de Bullion has made wine
at Bellejames, with the verjuice of his vine rows and
moist sugar.
There have been many disputes to determine whether
grapes should be pressed with the stalks or without.
This depends on the nature of the fruit. When they
are highly charged with saccharine and mucilaginous
matter, the stalk corrects the insipidity of the wine by
its bitter principle: but when, on the contrary, the juice
is not too sweet, the stalk renders it drier, and very
rough. ^
The colouring principle of wine is of a resinous na-Colouring
ture, and is contained in the pellicle of the grape; and matter#*
the fluid is not coloured until the wine is formed j forwine'
until then there is nothing which can dissolve it : and
hence it is that white wine may be made of red grapes,
when the juice of the grape is expressed, and the husk
thrown away. If wine be evaporated, the colouring
principle remains in the residue, and may be extracted
by spirit of wine. Old wines lose their colour ; a pel¬
licle being precipitated, which is either deposited on the
sides of the bottles, or falls to the bottom. If wine be
exposed to the heat of the sun during the summer, the
colouring matter is detached in a pellicle, which falls to
the bottom: when the vessel is opened, the discolouring
is
W I N
[ 7‘
^;„ei 19 more speedy, and it is effected in two or three days
—V——' during the summer. The wine thus deprived of its co¬
lour is not perceptibly weakened,
inous fer- The villous fermentation has been examined with great
■ntation accuracy by M. Lavoisier. According to him, the ve-
plained. ge(;able juice of which wine is to be made consists of
oxygen, hydrogen, and carbone, combined with one an¬
other in different proportions, so as to form chiefly wa¬
ter and sugar. The fermentation produces a separation
of the elements, and a new combination of them ; a
quantity of the oxygen and carbone combine and fly off
in the state of carbonic acid ; part of the carbone, oxy¬
gen, and hydrogen, combine first with each other, and
then all together, to form alcohol; another part forms
acetous acid j the water still remains, and a residuum
falls to the bottom composed of the three elements com-
5 bined in other proportions.
V.redients 'p|ie different kinds of wines produced in Europe and
(;different otiler parts 0f tlie AVorld are many *, the principal of them
and their qualities are well known : a catalogue of them
would serve no purpose here. We shall, however, sub¬
join a table of the quantities of the ingredients of the
principal kinds from Neumann’s Chemistry.
A quart of
Highly
rectified
Spirit.
Thick,
ily, unc¬
tuous, re
sinous
matter.
Aland
Alicant
Burgundy
Carcassone
Champagne
French
Frontignac
Vin Grave
Hermitage
Madeira
Malmsey
Vino de T
Monte >
Pulciano J
Moselle
Muscadine
Neufschatel
Palm Sec
Pontac
Old Rhenish
Rhenish
Salamanca
Sherry
Spanish
Vino Tinto
Tokay
Tyrol red
wine
Red wine
White
•dr.gt
6 oo
6
2
6
5
o
o
o
7
3
o
oz dr.
2
O
4
4
6 oo
}
oo
oo
oo
00
00
oo
00
oo
O 00
2 CO
00
00
oo
00
oo
6
6
4
6
2
2
3
O 3
gr'
00
20
00
10
40
40
00
00
00
00
00
00
20
00
00
00
20
CO
20
00
00
00
00
00
00
4 40
7 00
Gummy
and tar-
tarous
matter.
dr. gr.
5
40
40
20
00
00
20
00
40
00
00
0 2 40
Water.
oz. dr. gr
5 3 0°
6 00
o 20
4 3°
3
2
-9
8
8
8 o 20
4 6 30
9 o (
7 5
4 3
2 8 o 20
4 00
2 00
3 °°
o 10
4 00
7
9 3 20
7 O 00,
The colour of wine is frequently artificial; a deep red
is almost always the effect of artificial additions, as of
9 ] WIN
the red woods, elder berries, bilberries, &c. In France Wine,
no secret is made of these practices, the colouring mat-1 ■■—v -1
ters being publicly thrown out after they have been
used. 6
It is well known to be a common practice amongAdultera-
wine-coopers, innkeepers, and other dealers in wines, to1*011
adulterate bad wine in order to conceal its defects :
for instance, the wine be sour, they throw into it a
quantity of sugar of lead, which entirely takes away the
sour taste. For similar purposes alum is often mixed
with wine. Such substances, however, are well known
to he extremely pernicious to the human constitution $
it becomes of importance therefore to be able to detect
them whenever they happen to be contained in wine.
Several chemists who have turned their attention to this
subject, have furnished us with tests for this purpose. ^
To discover lead dissolved in wine, boil together in a To detect
pint of water an ounce of quicklime and half an ounce in
of flour of brimstone j and when the liquor, which will ^1"^’ora>s
be of a yellow colour, is cold, pour it into a bottle, and chemical
cork it up for use. A few drops of this liquor beingi’ssai/s,
dropt into a glass of wine or cyder containing/earf, willvol. in.
change the whole into a colour more or less brown, ac-l’- 37 s*
cording to the quantity of lead which it contains. If
the wine be wholly free from lead, it will be rendered
turbid by the liquor, but the colour will be rather a
dirty white than a black brown.
By this test, however, iron is also precipitated when
dissolved in wine, and is apt to be taken for lead j a
mistake which has ruined several honest merchants.
The following test is therefore preferable, as not liable
to the same inconvenience. g
Take equal parts of calcined oyster-shells and crude ^110t]ier
sulphur in fine powder, and put them in a crucible, method,
which put into a fire, and raise the heat suddenly till it
has been exposed to a white heat for 1 <; minutes. Then
take it out, let it cool, beat the ingredients to powder,
and put them into a well corked bottle. To prepare
the test liquor, take 20 grains of this powder together
with 120 grains of cream of tartar, and put them into
a strong bottle, fill it up with water, boil it for an hour,
and let it cool. Cork the bottle immediately, and shake
it from time to time. After some hours repose, decant
oil’the clear liquor into an ounce vial, having first put
22 drops of muriatic acid into each vial. Cork these
vials accurately with a little wax mixed up with a little
turpentine. One part of this liquor, mixed with three
parts of suspected wine, will discover the presence of the
smallest quantity of lead or copper, by a very sensible
black precipitate, and of arsenic by an orange precipi¬
tate : but will have no effect on iron, if there be any; * Jowmai
the presence of which, however, may be ascertained by
adding a little potash, which will turn the liquor black
if there be any iron. Pure wine remains limpid after
the addition of this liquor*. 5
As this subject is of importance, we shall add M. State of
Fourcroy’s observations on the state in which lead exists m
in wine, and on the methods of discovering its presence : wme*
“ Of the difl’erent principles which compose wine, there
was no doubt (says he) but that acids were the only
ones which were capable of dissolving oxide (calx) of
lead. But was it the tartareous acid always contained
in larger or smaller quantity in wine, or the acetous
acid developed in those which have become sharp, and
which there is a greater temptation to sweeten ? Expe¬
rience
WIN [ 720 ] WIN
Wine.
10
It forms
-tin aceto-
tartrite of
ftad.
nence Irad proved to me that the acidulous tartrate of
potash, or the cream of tartar, takes oxide of lead from
the acetous acid, and a precipitate of tartrate of lead is
formed ; the pure tartareous acid prepared in Scheele’s
method produces the same effect. In order to under¬
stand how the sharp wine which contains these two acids
can hold the oxide of lead in solution, I made the expe-
Timents which gave me the following results: I. The
acidulous tartrate (jcrem. tart.) has no sensible action
upon the oxides of lead. 2. The pure tartareous acid
has a slight action upon the oxides,and forms on their sur¬
face a little tartrate of lead (tartarisedlead), in a white
powder. 3. Wine which only contains the tartareous
acidule, would not have any action upon the semi-vi-
trous oxide of lead or litharge. 4= Sharp wine which we
attempt to sweeten by this oxide of lead, acts first upon
it by the acetous acid it contaim. 5. When this acetite
«f lead is formed, the tartareous acid precipitates it in
the form of tartrite of lead •, this is proved by the preci¬
pitate which the solution of the acetite of lead or sugar
of lead forms in the wine. 6. But the acetous acid, if
it be in large enough quantity, redissolves the tartrate of
lead in the wine just as distilled water would. Bergman
lias pointed out this solution of tartrite of lead in acetous
acid for distinguishing the tartaveous salt from the sul¬
phate of lead {vitriol of lead). 7. As this solution of tar¬
trate of lead in the acetous acid is much quicker, and
more easy in sharp wines than in distilled w’ater and vi¬
negar, it is probable that the cause of this difference de¬
pends upon the citric and malic acids which I have
found in wine, and which I shall take notice of again
on another occasion. 8. Litharged wine then, or wine
sweetened with lead, contains tartrite dissolved in the a-
cetons acid, and perhaps at the same time in the malic
and! citric acids.
“ It was necessary afterwards to know-the properties
of this combination. What experience has taught me is
as follows: I particularly examined the tartrite of lead
and its solution in acetous acid. The tartrite of lead is
scarcely at all soluble in water; it is in the form of
powder, or of small white grains which have no sensible
taste; when it is dissolved in vinegar, the vinegar is
softened, its sharpness is diminished remarkably, and the
-!?ol-ution takes a slight sweetish taste, much less strong
than that of the pure acetite of lead. This taste proves
that the union of the tartrite of lead with vinegar is not
only a solution like that of salt in water, by which the
properties of the salt are not changed, but a combina¬
tion which gives occasion to new properties. It is a
kind of a triple salt, different from those we have hither¬
to known, formed of two acids and of one base ; where¬
as the other triple salts described hitherto are composed
of one acid and two bases. I name this new triple salt
aceto-tartrite of lead. The acetous acid adheres to it
more than water in a common solution : what is remark-
11
Other me¬
thods of
rleteetm^
this salt.
able in this combination is, that the two acids appear
to adhere to the base with an equal force, although they
have a different attraction for it: nothing is necessary to
produce this equilibrium, but to unite first the oxide
of lead with the acid to which it adheres the most
strongly; and afterwards to put this first compound in
contact with the weaker acid.'
It was necessary, in-order to discover easy and cer¬
tain methods of ascertaining the presence of lead in wine,
to examine with care the properties and phenomena of
5
the decompositions of the aceto-tartrite of lead. Fixed
alkalies and ammoniac {volatile alkali) precipitate from
this salt an oxide of lead, which is of a grayish white
colour; but as they occasion a precipitate in pure wine,
they cannot be of any use. The sulphuric {vitriolic).
acid decomposes the aceto-tartrite of lead, and forms
with it instantly sulphate of lead ; which being very
little soluble, and very heavy, is precipitated. The
o.-alic, or pure saccharine acid, and the acidulous oxa¬
late, or the salt of sorrel of the shops, likewise decom¬
pose this salt, and take from it the lead. The oxalate
of lead is precipitated in great abundance : these two
acids, the suphuric and oxalic acids, not producing any
precipitate in pure wine, are very proper to show the
presence of lead in wine. The sulphate and oxalate of
lead, when they are precipitated from wine, are colour¬
ed, whereas they are very white when they are formed,
in distilled water; but their red or brown colour does
not prevent us from discovering them by a very simple
method. If the precipitates he collected with care, and
are cautiously heated upon a coal with a blow pipe,
they smoke, become white, exhale vapours, pass succes¬
sively through the states of the red and yellow oxides of
lead, and at length are reduced into metallic globules
at the instant they are perceived to be agitated by a
very evident effervescence: if we cease to blow at this
instant, we obtain globules upon the charcoal. In order
to this, it is necessary, however, that the charcoal he
solid, and be not cracked, and that we should not have
blowtd too strongly; otherwise the globules would be
absorbed, and would disappear. The sulphate of lead
requires a longer time to he reduced than the oxalate of
the same metal, and there is a greater hazard of losing
the metallic particles, which, beside, are in small quan¬
tity.
“To these two first processes, already sufficiently cer¬
tain of themselves, I wished to be able to add one which
might be capable of pointing out instantly the presence
of lead, by an appearance belonging exclusively to this
metal, and which might unite to this advantage that of
manifesting very small quantities of it. Distilled water
impi-egnated with sulphurated hydrogenous gas, or he¬
patic gas, extricated from solid alkaline* sulphurets {li¬
vers of sulphur) by acids, presented me with these pro¬
perties. This solution blackens very deeply that of the
aceto-tartrite of lead, and renders of this salt in
water or in wine very sensible. The sensibility of this
reactive is such, that we may dilute litharged wine with
a sufficient quantity of water to take away almost en¬
tirely the colour of the wine, and this reactive will still
produce a very manifest alteration. The sulphurated
water has, besides, the advantage not to occasion any
change in the wines which do not contain a metallic
substance, and it is not precipitated by the acids of wine,
like the solutions of alkaline sulphurets. In order to
procure this reactive pure, it is necessary to prepare it
at the instant of the experiment, by receiving in a vial
full of distilled water, and inverted upon a shelf of a
small hydro-pneumatic apparatus, filled with distilled
water, the sulphurated hydrogenous gas, separated from
the solid sulphuret of potash bythe sulphuric or muriatic
acid, and first filtrated through water in another vial ;
when the second vial contains the third of its volume of
the sulphurated hydrogenous gas, the gas is shaken
strongly with the water, which fills the two-thirds of
Wine.
WIN [ 721 ] WIN
tlie vial *, and when the absorption is over, the test li¬
quor is prepared. This re-active changes very quickly
in the air: it is necessary to make it the moment it is to
be employed, and to keep it in a vessel quite full and
well corked. If there were any fear that the black co¬
lour and the precipitation by the gaseous sulphurated
water should not be sufficient to prove the presence of
lead in spirituous liquors, I would observe, that this fear
would be diminished by employing the three re-actives
mentioned in this memoir, and by depending only on
the correspondent effects of these three re-actives : but
all suspicion would be removed, by reducing the three
precipitates by the blow-pipe, and obtaining globules of
lead from each of them.”
lethod of Some years ago, the Academy of Lyons proposed the
electing following prize-question : What is the best method of
lum dis- ascertaining the presence and the quantity of alum dis-
dved in solved in wine, especially in very deep coloured red
wine? The prize was gained by M. J. S. Beraud. From
bis experiments, it appears that a mixture of lime-water
and wine in any proportion whatever, will at the end of
1201-15 hours furnish a quantity of crystals, which
may be separated by filtration, and that these crystals
will be easiest discovered when the quantities of wine
and lime-water are equal j but that wine containing
alum dissolved in it, will not form crystals, when mixed
with lime-water, but merely deposits a muddy sediment.
To know therefore whether any wine contains alum or
not, we have only to mix a small quantity of it with
lime-water: if crystals are formed, it contains no alum;
if not, it does. Again, if wine contains alum, the re¬
siduum that remains after filtration will, as it dries,
split into quadrilateral segments, which will detach
themselves from the paper which contains them; but if
the wine contains no alum, the residuum, after it is dry,
will remain united and attached to the paper. If one
measure of wine and two-thirds of a measure of lime-wa¬
ter deposit crystals, we are certain that if the wine con¬
tains alum, the proportion of that alum to the wine will
be less than I to 1152; if, when equal parts of wine and
lime-water are mixed, no crystals be deposited, we may
he sure that more thani^th part of the mass of wine
consists of alum.
A great proportion of the wine consumed in this
country is brought from Spain and Portugal; govern¬
ment has always discouraged the importation of French
wines by heavy taxes. \Ve are not sure how far such
conduct is founded on good policy, as the I rench
wines are confessedly the best; and might be the cheap¬
est; but such is the jealousy and enmity that has al¬
ways subsisted between Britain and France, that both
nations have been contented to injure themselves, pio-
vided they could do a greater injury to their neigh¬
bours. Besides, the advantages which Britain derives
from the Portugal trade are very great, and it would
not be easy perhaps to secure them on any other
13 terms.
Aieotions jt may be worti1 to insert here a few directions
ttiiment a^out ^ie treatment of wines after they have been im-
81 mported ported into this country.—On landing, the less they are
v «- exposed the better; for they are affected by the seasons,
and more or less by climate. March and April are the
proper times for shipping wines from France, and they
will be landed in England and Ireland in the same de-
o-ree of temperature. The great art in keeping wines is
C Vol. XX. Part IL t
to prevent their fretting, which is done by keeping Wine,
them in the same degree of heat. In spring and fall, 'v—
the wines in Bourdeaux are subject to changes that
may be dangerous, if not prevented by necessary rack-
ings : these changes are solely the effects of the seasons.
If wines are chilled, and of course turn foul, from be¬
ing shipped and landed in cold weather, they will soon
recover by putting them in a warm vault, well co¬
vered with saw-dust. As soon as they are in the vault,
they ought to be covered up. But if shipped and land¬
ed in summer, if the smallest degree of fermentation be
found on them, it will be requisite to dip the bung
cloths in brandy, and leave the bungs loose for some
days, to give it time to cool ; and if in a fortnight or
three weeks the fermentation do not cease, and the wine
become bright, it will be proper to rack it (matching
the hogsheads well with brimstone), and force it with
the white of eight eggs. If it then becomes fine, bung
it tight, and let it remain so until it is bottled. If
wines new landed are wanted soon for the bottle, it will
be necessary to force them immediately, and let them
remain bunged close for at least a month, to recover
from the forcing, or if two months the better ; for
wines bottled in high order come much sooner into
drinking than if bottled when flat, which all wines are
after forcing. Wine must never be bottled the least
foul, which produces a tendency to fret; and if bottled
in this state, will never come in order, but may possibly
be lost; for this there is no remedy but repeated rack-
ings ; and care must be taken (after rinsing the hogs¬
heads well and drawing them) to burn a good piece of
match in them. This cools the wine, and there is no
danger of hurting the colour, for it recovers it in a
little time : but if it did, it is absolutely necessary; for
if wine is suffered to continue on the fret, it will wear
itself to nothing. Wines bottled in good order may be
fit to drink in six months ; but they are not in perfec¬
tion before twelve : from that to two years they may
continue so; but it would be improper to keep them
longer, for w-ines in general have not the body they had
formerly, from the vines being too much forced.
It sometimes happens that wines scuddy and stubborn
will not fall with one or even two forcings. It will
then be proper to give them five or six gallons of good
strong wine, and force them with the whites of a dozen
eggs, with a tea-spoonful of sand produced from sawing-
marble, or a small spoonful of fine salt. Bottled wine
in winter should be wrell covered with saw-dust, and if
the vaults are cold and damp, strew it deep on the floor;
if saw-dust is thrown upon the hogsheads, and their sides
are bedded some inches thick, it will keep them from
the fret.
The same treatment is to be regarded with white
wines, except that they require to be higher matched,
particularly Muscat wines; such as Frontignac, Beziers,
&c. which being often sweetened with honey, are very
subject to fret; and these only frequent rackings, with
a great deal of brimstone, can cool. Hermitage, from
not being sufficiently dried, and possessing more richness
than claret, is also very liable to come on the fret, and
will require much the same treatment as the Muscat
wines. Attention should be had to bottle in fine wea¬
ther, when the wind is north; but to avoid cold or
frosty weather. The months of April and October are
favourable. The best time to bottle port wine is four
4 Y year*
WIN [ 7^2 ] WIN
Mine, years after the vintage, and to keep them two years in
—v  bottle before you begin to use them. When wines are
racked, and the lees immediately passed through flannel
bags into close-necked jars, and directly bottled, there
will be very little lost by rackings, as the w'ine when
fine may serve for filling up.
When wines are destined for warm climates, it may
be proper to rinse the hogsheads with brandy j and in
bottling many rinse the bottles and corks with it. Wines
that have remained a certain time (three or four months)
in a vault, and made less or more lee, ought never to be
sent into the country without first racking them, other¬
wise they may be liable to fret j and it bottled in that
state, may risk being lost.
Wi nes which may be ordered for immediate drinking
will be forced on the shipping, and in a few weeks after
they are landed will be fr for the bottle. The forcings
proper for claret are the whites of a dozen eggs, beat up
with a tea-spoonful of fine salt, and well worked with a
forcing rod. Take care to use no bad egg. This is for
one hogshead.
The forcing for white wine is isinglass dissolved in
wine. One ounce is sufficient for two hogsheads. No
salt is to be used in forcing the white wines. See Croft
14 on Wines, 8vo, 1788.
Receipt for yye shall insert here the following receipt for making
raifia wine rcn's^n w^ne‘—T° a 20 gallon vessel take ICO pounds of
raisins \ pick off the stalks, chop them grossly, and put
them into an open tub more wide than deep. Add two
parts in three to the water of them, and let them stand
15 days, stirring them well every day. Then strain
and press them, putting aside the liquor that runs from
them. Add the remainder of the water to the raisins
that have thus been pressed, and let it stand upon them
one week, frequently stirring them as before. Then
press off the liquor, and add it to what you first collect¬
ed •, putting both runnings together into your vessel, to¬
gether with one quart of brandy. To colour it, burn
three-fourths of a pound of sugar into a small quantity
of the liquor, and add this to the wine. W hen the li¬
quor in the barrel has done singing, stop the vessel close,
and let it stand till fit to be bottled. The greater the
quantity which the vessel holds, and the longer it is kept
in the wood, the better will it be.
As some of the hints for making wines in Champagne
may be useful in the manufacture of the wines of this
Country, we insert the following abridged account of the
different processes that are followed in making white
and red champagne.
G reat care is necessary for making white wine. The
ripest bunches must be carefully gathered, freed from
rotten, dry, and bruised grapes, put into large baskets
covered with a cloth to keep them from the sun, car¬
ried to the shade, and kept there till the evening, when
they are to be speedily pressed. The grapes being laid
on the bed ol the press, they are covered with three or
four layers of flat stones, and the press turned. The juice
having run for four or five minutes, the press is turned
backward, the stones removed, the grapes which have
protruded thrust into the heap, the stones replaced, and
the press turned again. The juice from three of such
pre ssures, which will not require an hour, is put by it¬
self for the best wine into a vat, where it is left all night
to settle.
The next morning the juice is poured off from the
3
sediment, and put into new well rinsed casks. In these it ’vtlie
ferments violently at first, but afterwards imperceptibly, It
till about the end of December it becomes fine, having Winter,
gone through all the stages of depuration. It is then
racked off in dry weather, on a clear frosty day, and
fined with isinglass. About a pound is sufficient for 40
puncheons. The isinglass being dissolved is well beaten,
diluted with wine taken from the cask, then poured into
it, and the whole u'ell stirred by an instrument introdu¬
ced at the bung-hole. The wine thus left to settle fer¬
ments slightly again, till it be stopped by the cold wea¬
ther, or by time. In a month or six weeks it is racked
oft-again, and has another fining with half the quantity
of isinglass.
For making red wine, the grapes are gathered with
the same precautions as for making white, taking only
the black grapes. These, are biuised in particular ves¬
sels, by men treading on them with strong wooden
shoes : part of the stalks are thrown away, and the must
is left in covered vessels to ferment sufficiently to extract
the colouring matter from the pellicles. In some years,
three or four days are sufficient 5 in others it requires
10, 15, or even 20. When the fermentation begins,
the husks and stalks are forced down so as to lie covered
with the must, either by means of strong poles furnished
with cross pegs, or, which is better, by a couple of
strong men going into the vat, and well treading and
mixing its contents. When the air above the vat ex¬
tinguishes a candle, the stalks and husks rise forcibly,
whatever pains be taken frequently to sink them, that
the must may not acquire a disagreeable taste ; the con¬
tents of the vat experience a degree of ebullition, and the
colouring matter is decomposed. The fermentation must
be made to stop here, that the wine may not acquire a
hard taste, which even time cannot destroy.
About the end of December, when the fermentation
has ceased, the wine is racked off from the lees ; about
the middle of May it is racked off again 5 the barrel*
are fresh hooped, and the wine is put into the cellar.
When it is to be sent to the consumer, it is racked a
third time; the whites of five or six fresh eggs are well
beaten up in a pint of water, tor every puncheon hold¬
ing 240 bottles. Good red champagne will keep in
bottles from six to twelve years.
Wine-Press, a machine contrived to squeeze th«
juice out of grapes, and consisting ot several pieces of
timber, variously disposed, which compose three bodies
of timber-work, closely united to the axis, which serves
as a swing whereby it may be moved by the vice. Of
these there are different sizes as well as different con¬
structions ; for an account of which, illustrated by fi¬
gures, see Miller’s Gardener’s Dictionary, article WINM-
Press.
Spirit of Wine, or Alcohol, a name given by chemists
to every ardent spirit produced by distillation. See
Chemistry Index.
WING, that part of a bird, insect, &c. whereby it
is enabled to fly. See Bird and Ornithology.
WlNGS, in military affairs, are the two flanks or ex¬
tremes of an army, ranged in form of a battle; being
the right and left sides thereof.
WINTER, one of the four seasons or quarters of the
year. See Season, &c.
Winter commences on the day when the sun’s distance
from the zenith of the place is greatest, and ends on the
day
W I R
[ 723 ]
W I T
Winter
I!
Wire.
day when its distance is at a mean between the greatest
and least.
Under the equator, the winter as well as other seasons
returns twice every year $ but all other places have only
one winter in the year : which in the northern hemi¬
sphere begins when the sun is in the tropic ot Capricorn,
and in the southern hemisphere when in the tropic of
Cancer; so that all places in the same hemisphere have
their winter at the same time.
Winter- Berry. See Physalis, Botany Index.
"WINTERA, a genus of plants of the class of poly-
andria, and in the natural system arranged under the
12th order, Holoracece. See Botany and Materia
Medica Index.
WIN TON, Andrew, a Scottish poet and historian
of the 14th century; but very little is known ol his
life. He was a canon regular of St Andrews, and rvas
prior of the monastery of St Serf in the island ol Loch
Leven in Kinross-shire ; for in the chartulary of the
priory of St Andrews there are several public instru¬
ments of Andrew Winton, as prior of Loch Leven.
They are dated between the years 1395 and 1413, so
that Winton must have been cotemporary with Bar¬
bour, whose merits are on several occasions celebrated
by h im. Winton is best known as tbe author ol the
On/gyncile Cronykill of Scotland. This work was under¬
taken at tbe request of Sir John Wemyss, the ancestor
of the noble family of that name. It remained neglect¬
ed for several centuries, but in 1795 a splendid edition
of that part of it relative to Scottish affairs, was publish¬
ed by Mr Macpherson. The time of Winton’s death
is unknown ; but, as he mentions the death of Robert
duke of Albany, which happened in 1420, the historian
must have been alive at that time.
WIRE, a piece of metal drawn through the hole of
an iron into a thread of a fineness answerable to the hole
it passed through.
Wires are frequently drawn so fine as to be wrought
along with other threads of silk, wool, flax, &c.
Tbe metals most commonly drawn into wire are gold,
silver, copper, and iron. Gold-wire is made of cylindri¬
cal ingots of silver, covered over with a skin of gold,
and thus drawn successively through a vast number ot
holes, each smaller and smaller, till at last it is brought
to a fineness exceeding that of a hair. I hat admirable
ductility which makes one of the distinguishing charac¬
ters of gold, is nowhere more conspicuous than in this
gilt wire. A cylinder of 48 ounces of silver, covered
with a coat of gold, only weighing one ounce, as Hr
Halley informs us, is usually drawn into a wire, two
yards of which weigh no more than one grain ; whence
98 yards of tbe wire weigh no more than 49 grains, and
one single grain of gold covers the 98 yards; so that the
ten-thousandth part of a grain is above one-eighth of an
inch long.
In 1784, Mr Roswag of Strasbourg presented to the
board of trade some gauze made of iron wire, for which
he received a reward ; and the loom he invented for
making it tvas lodged in the collection of machines at
Vaucanson. In 1799 Mr Rochon made others, and
coated them with a transparent glue, to be substituted
instead of horn for ship lanterns, to be used between
decks, and in engagements by night. He has since
conceived, that with a thin coating of plaster they
might be employed to preserve ships from fire, and Ww*
buildings on shore still more easily ; or at least that II
they might render the ravages of fire less frequent, and , ^*t'
less terrible. These gauzes might be very useful too
for theatrical decorations, which would not be liable to
take fire. Their only inconvenience is their being so
little flexible ; but Mr Rochon does not despair of
means being found by chemistry to remedy this imper¬
fection, and it was with a view of calling attention to
this subject, that he read a paper on it to the class.
IFire of Lapland. The inhabitants of Lapland
have a sort of shining slender substance in use among
them on several occasions, which is much of the thick¬
ness and appearance of our silver wire, and is therefore
called, by those who do not examine its structure or
substance, Lapland wire. It is made of the sinews of
the rein deer, which being carefully separated in the
eating, are, by the women, after soaking in water and
beating, spun into a sort of thread, of admirable fine¬
ness and strength, when wrought to the smallest fila¬
ments ; but when larger, is very strong, and fit for the
purposes of strength and force. Their wire, as it is
called, is made of the finest of these threads covered
with tin. The women do this business ; and the way
they take is to melt a piece of tin, and placing at the
edge of it a horn, with a hole through it, they draw
these sinewy threads, covered with the tin, through the
hole, which prevents their coming out too thick cover¬
ed. This drawing is performed with their teeth ; and
there is a small piece of bone placed at the top of the
hole, where the wire is made fiat; so that we always
find it rounded on all sides but one, where it is flat.
This wire they use in embroidering their clothes, as
we do gold and silver ; they often sell it to strangers,
under the notion of its having certain magical virtues.
WISDOM, usually denotes a higher and more re¬
fined notion of things immediately presented to the mind,
as it were, by intuition, without the assistance of ratio¬
cination.
Sometimes the word is more immediately used, in a
moral sense, for what we call prudence, or discretion,
which consists in the soundness of the judgment, and a
conduct answerable thereto.
Wisdom of Solomon, one of the books of the Apo¬
crypha. It abounds with Platonic language, and wa*
probably written after the Cabalistic philosophy was in¬
troduced among the Jews.
WIT , is a quality of certain thoughts and expressions,
much easier perceived than defined. Accoiding to Mr
Locke, wit lies in the assemblage of ideas, and putting
those together with quickness and variety, wherein can
be found any resemblance or congruity, thereby to
make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions to the
fancy. Mr Addison limited this definition consider¬
ably, by observing, that every resemblance of ideas
does not constitute wit, but those only w'hich produce
delight and surprise. Mr Pope defined wit to be a
quick conception and an easy delivery i while, accord¬
ing to a late writer, it consists in an assimilation of di¬
stant ideas.
The word wit originally signified wisdom. A witte
was anciently a wise man : the wittenagemot, or Saxon
parliament, an assemblage of wise men. So late as the
reign of Elizabeth, a man of pregnant wit, of great
4 Y 2 wit.
Wit.
WIT [ 724
wit, was a man of vast judgment. We still say, injiis
wits, out of his wits, for in or out of sound mind.
; , ^ • i- » •   i-
]
WIT
The
word, however, is now applied in a more limited sense.
Without attempting to expose the inaccuracy of the
definitions above mentioned, or hazarding a definition of
our own where so many eminent men have failed, we
shall endeavour to show in what true wit consists.
It is evident that wit excites in the mind an agree¬
able surprise, and that this is owing entirely to the
strange assemblage of related ideas presented to the
mind. This end is effected, 1. By debasing things pom¬
pous or seemingly grave \ 2. By aggrandizing things
little or frivolous ; 3. By setting ordinary objects in a
particular and uncommon point of view, by means not
Campbell's only remote but apparently contrary. Of so much
Philosophy consequence are surprise and novelty, that, nothing is
more tasteless, and sometimes disgusting, than a joke
that has become stale by frequent repetition. For the
same reason, even a pun or happy allusion will appear
excellent when thrown out extempore in conversation,
which would be deemed execrable in print. In like
manner, a witty repartee is infinitely more pleasing
than a witty attack: for though, in both cases, the
thing may be equally new to the reader or hearer, the
effect on him is greatly injured, when there is access to
suppose that it may be the slow production of study and
premeditation. This, however, holds most with regard
to the inferior tribes of witticism, of which their readi¬
ness is the best recommendation.
We shall illustrate these observations by subjoining a
specimen or two of each of these sorts of wit:
Of the first sort, which consists in the debasement
of things great and eminent, Butler, amongst a thou¬
sand other instances, hath given us those which follow :
And now had Phoebus in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap :
And, like a lobster boil’d, the morn
From black to red began to turn.
Hudibras, part ii. canto 2.
Hei’e the low allegorical style of the first couplet, and
the simile used in the second, afford us a just notion of
this lowest species, which is distinguished by the name
of the ludicrous. Another specimen from the same au¬
thor you have in these lines :
Great on the bench, great in the saddle,
That could as well bind o’er as swaddle,
Mighty he was at both of these.
And styl’d of war, as well as peace :
So some rats of amphibious nature,
Are either for the land or water.
Ibid, part i. canto 1.
Surveys around her in the blest abode,
An hundred sons, and every son a god :
Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown’d,
Shall take thro’ Grubstreet her triumphant round j
And her Parnassus glancing o’er at once,
Behold a hundred sons, and each a dunce.
This .whole similitude is spirited. The parent of the
celestials is contrasted by the daughter of night and
chaos j heaven by Grubstreet $ gods by dunces. Be¬
sides, the parody it contains on a beautiful passage in
Virgil adds a particular lustre to it. This species we
may term thrasonical, or the mock-majestic. It affects
the most pompous language, and sonorous phraseology,
as much as the other affects the reverse, the vilest and
most grovelling dialect.
To this class also we must refer the application of
grave reflections to mere trifles. For that great and
serious are naturally associated by the mind, and like¬
wise little and trifling, is sufficiently evinced by the
common modes of expression on these subjects used in
every tongue. An apposite instance of such an appli¬
cation we have from Philips :
My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter’s fury and encroaching frosts,
By time subdu’d, (What will not time subdue!')
An horrid chasm disclose. Splendid Shilling.
Of the third species of wit, which is by far the most
multifarious, and which results from what may be cal¬
led the queerness or singularity of the imagery, we
shall give a few specimens that will serve to mark some
of its principal varieties. To illustrate all would be
impossible. The first shall be where there is an appa¬
rent contrariety in the things she exhibits as connected.
This kind of contrast we have in these lines of Garth :
Then Hydrops next appears amongst the throng 5
Bloated and big she slowly sails along :
But like a miser in excess she’s poor,
And pines for thirst amidst her wat’ry store.
Dispensary.
A second sort is, where the things compared are
what with dialecticians would come under the denomi¬
nation of disparates, being such as can be ranked under
no common genus. Of this we shall subjoin an ex¬
ample from Young.
Health chiefly keeps an Atheist in the dark 5
A fever argues better than a Clarke;
Let but the logic in his pulse decay,
The Grecian he’ll renounce, and learn to pray.
Universal Passion.
In this coarse kind of drollery, those laughable transla¬
tions or paraphrases of heroic and other serious poems,
wherein the authors are said to be travestied, chiefly
abound.
The second kind, consisting in the aggrandisement
of little things, which is by far the most splendid, and
displays a soaring imagination, these lines of Pope will
serve to illustrate :
As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie
In homage to the mother of the sky,
A third variety in this species springs from confound¬
ing artfully the proper and the metaphorical sense of an
expression. In this way, one will assign as a motive
what is discovered to be perfectly absurd, when but
ever so little attended to ; and yet from the ordinary
meaning of the words, hath a specious appearance on a
single glance. Of this kind we have an instance in the
subsequent lines :
While thus the lady talk’d, the knight
Turn’d th’ outside of his eyes to white,
As
W I T
[ 725 ]
W I T
As men of inward light are wont
To turn their optics in upon’t.
Hudibras, part iii. canto I.
For whither can they turn their eyes more properly
than to the light ?
A fourth variety, much resembling the former, is
when the argument or comparison (for all argument is
a kind of comparison) is founded on the supposal of cor¬
poreal or personal attributes in what is strictly not sus¬
ceptible of them } as in this,
But Hudibras gave him a twitch
As quick as lightning in the breech,
Just in the place where honour’s lodg’d,
As wise philosophers have judg’d :
Because a kick in that place more
Hurts honour than deep wounds before.
Ibid, part ii. canto 3.
The fifth, and only other variety which w'e shall
mention, is that which arises from a relation, not in the
things signified, but in the signs of all relations, no
doubt the slightest. Identity here gives rise to puns
and clinches; resemblance to quibbles, cranks, and
rhimes : Of these it is quite unnecessary to exhibit spe¬
cimens.
Wit, John de, a celebrated pensionary of Holland,
and one of the greatest politicians of his time, was the
son of Jacob de Wit, burgomaster of Dort, and was
born in 1625. He became well skilled in civil law, po¬
litics, mathematics, and other sciences ; and wrote a
treatise on the Elements of Curved lines, published by
Francis Schooten. Having taken his degree of doctor
of law, he travelled into foreign courts, where he be¬
came esteemed for his genius and prudence. At his re¬
turn to his native country in 1650, he became pension¬
ary of Dort, then counsellor-pensionary of Holland and
West Friesland, intendant and register of the fiefs, and
keeper of the great seal. He was thus at the head
of affairs in Holland j but his opposition to the re¬
establishment of the office of stadtholder, which he
thought a violation of the freedom and independence of
the republic, cost him his life, when the prince of
Orange’s party prevailed. He and his brother Corne¬
lius were assassinated by the populace at the Hague in
1674, aged 47. _ „ . ,
WITCH a person guilty of witchcraft.
WITCHCRAFT, a supernatural power which per¬
sons were formerly supposed to obtain the possession of
by entering into a compact with the devil. They gave
themselves up to him body and soul 5 and he engaged,
that they should want for nothing, and that he would
avenge them upon all their enemies. As soon as the
bargain was concluded, the devil delivered to the witch
an imp, or familiar spirit, to be ready at a call, and do
whatever it was directed. By the assistance of this imp
and the devil together, the witch, who was almost al¬
ways an old woman, ivas enabled to transport herself in
th* air on a broomstick or a spit to distant places to at¬
tend the meetings of the witches. At these meetings
the devil always presided. They were enabled also to
transform themselves into various shapes, particularly
to assume the forms of cats and hares, in which they
most delighted j to inflict diseases on whomsoever they
thought proper j and to punish their enemies in a Witchcraft,
variety of ways. ' V 1 *
The belief that certain persons were endowed with
supernatural power, and that they were assisted by in¬
visible spirits, is very ancient. The sag# of the Ro¬
mans seem rather to have been sorcerers than witches ;
indeed the idea of a witch, as above described, could
not have been prevalent till after the propagation of
Christianity, as the heathens had no knowledge of the
Christian devil.
Witchcraft was universally believed in Europe till the
16th century, and even maintained its ground with to¬
lerable firmness till the middle of the 17th. Vast num¬
bers of reputed witches were convicted and condemned
to be burnt every year. The methods of discovering
them were various. One was. to weigh the supposed prov{nc{cj
criminal against the church bible, which, if she was clotsary.
guilty, would preponderate : another, by making her
attempt to say the Lord’s Prayer 5 this no witch was
able to repeat entirely, but would omit some part or
sentence thereof. It is remarkable, that all witches did
not hesitate at the same place j some leaving out one
part, and some another. Teats, through which tha
imps sucked, were indubitable marks of a witch : these
were always raw, and also insensible; and if squeezed,
sometimes yielded a drop^of blood. A witch could not
weep more than three tears, and that only out of the
left eye. This want of tears was, by the witch-finders,
and even by some judges, considered as a very substan¬
tial proof of guilt. Swimming a witch was another
kind of popular ordeal generally practised ; for this she
was stripped naked, and cross-bound, the right thumb
to the left toe, and the left thumb to the right toe.
Thus prepared, she was thrown into a pond or river, in
which, if guilty, she could not sink 5 for having, by
her compact with the devil, renounced the benefit of the
water of baptism, that element, in its turn, renounced
her, and refused to 1’e.ceive her into its bosom. Sir Ro¬
bert Filmer mentions two others by fire : the first, by
burning the thatch of the house of the suspected witch ;
the other, burning any animal supposed to be bewitched
by her, as a hog or ox. These, it was held, would
force a witch to confess.
The trial by the stool was another method used for
the discovery of witches. It was thus managed : Hav¬
ing taken the suspected witch, she was placed in the
middle of a room upon a stool or table, cross-legged, or
irt some other uneasy posture 5 to which if she submitted
not, she was then bound with cords \ there she was
watched, and kept without meat or sleep for the space
of 24 hours (for, they said, within that time they should
see her imp come and suck). A little hole was like¬
wise made in the door for imps to come in at } and lest
it should come in some less discernible shape, they that
watched were taught to be ever and anon sweeping the
room, and if they saw any spiders or flies, to kill them:
if they could not kill them, then they might be sure
they were imps. If witches, under examination or tor¬
ture, would not confess, all their apparel was changed,
and every hair of their body shaven off with a sharp
rasor, lest they should secrete magical charms to pre¬
vent their confessing. Witches were most apt to con¬
fess on Fridays.
Bv such trials as these, and by the accusation of chil¬
dren.
WIT [ 726 ] WIT
Witchcraft. <Iren, old women, and fools, were thousands of unhappy
'""“"V 1 J women condemned for witchcraft, and burnt at the
stake. In the 18th volume of the Statistical Account
of Scotland there is the trial of two witches, William
Coke and Alison Dick, in Kirkaldy, in 1636. The
evidence on which they were condemned is absolutely
ridiculous : they were, however, burnt for witchcraft.
The expences which the town and kirk-session were put
to on this occasion were as follows :
Inpnmis.—To Mr James Miller, when
he went to Prestowne for a man to
try them, 47s. - - L.2 7
Item.—To the man of Culross, (the
executioner), when he went away the
first time, 12s. - - O 12
Item.—For coals for the witches, 24s. I 4
Item.—In purchasing the commission, p 3
Item.—For one to go to Finmouth for
the laird to sit upon their assize as
judge, - - - 06
Item.—For harden to he jumps to them, 3 10
Item.—For making of them, - 08
Summa for the kirk’s part L. 17 10 Scots.
The town’s part of expences debursed extraordinarily
upon William Coke and Alison Dick.
In pnmis.—For 10 loads of coals to
burn them, 5 merks, - L.3 6
Item. For a tar barrel, 14s. - o 14
Item.—For towes, - - 06
Item.—To him that brought the
executioner, - - 2 18
Item.—To the executioner for his
pains, - - - 8 14
Item.—For his expences here, o 16
Item.—For one to go to Finmouth
for the laird, - - 06
8
o
o
o
o
4
o
Summa town part, L.17 1 o Scots.
Both, L.34 11 o
Or L. 2 17 7 Ster.
Th-Ferriar, For a considerable time after the inquisition was
Manchester erecteA, the trials of witches (as heretics) were confined
Tran*. j-0 tribunal } but the goods of those who were con-
T * ^ demned being confiscated to the holy office, its ministers
were so active in discovering sorcerers, that the differ¬
ent governments found it necessary to deprive them of
the cognisance of this crime. On the continent, com¬
missioners were then appointed for the discovery and
conviction of witches, who, though less active than the
inquisitors, were but too zealous in prosecuting their
function. In 1494, Sprengerand Institor, two persons
employed in this commission, published a collection of
trials, most of which had come before themselves, under
the title of Malleits Malejiccirum : this served as a kind
of institute for their successors.
The first writers against witchcraft were stigmatized
as Atheists, though they only endeavoured to prove the
imbecility of the persons accused, and the infatuation or
the knavery of their accusers. Such were the epithets
bestowed by Dr Henry More, and even by Cud worth
himself. AVierus, the disciple of the celebrated Agrip-
pa, gave rise to the first great controversy on this sub-Witchewft,
ject. His master had taught him humanity; and hey-
endeavoured, but with too feeble a hand, to stop the
bloody proceedings of the judges. Wierus appears to
have been a well-disposed, weak man, with extensive
reading on his subject, but too narrow-minded to com¬
prehend it thoroughly. He involved himself in un¬
speakable difficulties, by admitting the action of super¬
natural powers in certain diseases, and in possessions,
while he denied that witches had any concurrence in
them. These appearances (said be) are illusions of the
devil, who persuades simple and melancholy persons that
the mischief he himself performs, is done by them, and
at their pleasure. He was weak enough to attempt the
explanation of every story alleged by his antagonists,
without questioning the truth of the facts.
Bodinus, a French lawyer of eminence, who had as¬
sisted at several trials of witches, wrote against Wierus,
in his Demonomania. He urged the concurrent testimo¬
nies of sufficient witnesses, and the confessions of the
witches themselves, to establish the existence of sorcery.
Wierus owned that the unhappy persons believed them¬
selves to be guilty of the crimes alleged against them,
but that they were deceived by the devil. But what do
you make of the witches meetings, cried Bodinus? The
witches (replied his antagonist) are atrabilious. This
explanation was so unsatisfactory that Wieius passed for
a magician, whom the devil had furnished with specious
arguments to save others from punishment. Lerchemer
Godelmann, Ewichius, F.waldus, and some others, fol¬
lowed him, notwithstanding this stigma; but they were
opposed by men of more acuteness and consistency than
themselves; bv Kemigius, who had condemned several
hundreds of sorcerers to the flames; Delrio, whose book
is a complete Corpus Maojae; Cujas, Erastus, Scribo-
nius, Camerarius, and a crowd of others.
In this country, while the belief in witchcraft was
supported by royal authority (for James Eis universally
known to have written on demonology) countenanced
by Bacon, and generally adopted among the people, only
one writer was hardy enough to oppose it. This was
Reginald Scott, who published a collection of impos¬
tures detected, under the title of Discoveries of Witch¬
craft. James ordered the book to be burnt by the com¬
mon executioner, and the judges continued to burn
witches as usual. During the civil wars, upwards of
eighty were hanced in Suffolk, on the accusations of
Hopkins the witch-finder. Webster was the next writer
against witchcraft; hut he had a different late from that
of Scott, for most of his arguments were refuted by
Glanville. This verv acute writer was induced to pub¬
lish his Philosophical Considerations about Witchcraft,
hy the apprehension, that the increasing disbelief of
witches and apparitions tended to affect the evidences of
religion, and even of a Deity. In respect of argument,
he was certainly superior to his adversaries ; his reason¬
ing is perspicuous, though sometimes subtle, rested on
the most specious foundations of evidence, and arranged
with great skill.
On the continent, this controversy seemed almost for¬
gotten, till Bekker published his Monde Enchantee, in
which he denied the existence of witches, on the Carte¬
sian principle, that the Deity is the source of all action,
consequently actions so opposite to his nature and attri¬
butes cannot be supposed to exist. He was answered by
Frederick
WIT [ 727 ] W O A
itelicraft Frederick Hoffman, the father of the modern theory
0 and practice of medicine, in his dissertation De Diaboli
'itness. p0fentia in Corpora.
The latest witchcraft frenzy was in New England,
about 1692, when the execution of witches became a
calamity more dreadful than the sword or the pestilence.
The accusers became so daring, that neither civil nor
religious authority would have proved a security against
their attacks, if all the prosecutions had not been sud¬
denly dropped, and the prisoners set at liberty. So far
did those wretches proceed in absurdity, that a dog was
accused of throwing persons into fits by looking at them.
As soon as the prosecutions were stopped, all reports of
witchcraft ceased.
It would be ridiculous to attempt a serious refutation
of the existence of witches; and at present, luckily, the
task is unnecessary. In this country, at least, the dis¬
couragement long given to all suspicion of witchcraft,
and the repeal of the statutes against that crime, have
very much weakened, though perhaps they have not
entirely eradicated, the persuasion. On the continent,
too, it is evidently on the decline ; and notwithstanding
the exertions of Dr De II aen, and of the celebrated
Lavater, we have little doubt but that in a short time
posterity will wonder at the credulity of their ancestors.
That there ever were witches, is an opinion that cannot
for a moment be believed byr a thinking man. The
actions imputed to them were either absurd or impossi¬
ble ; the witnesses by whose evidence they were condem¬
ned, either weak enthusiasts or downright villains : and
the confessions ascribed to the witches themselves, effects
of a disordered imagination protluced by cruel treatment
and excessive watchings. As to the nightly meetings,
demonologists themselves have been obliged to confess,
that they were nothing else but uneasy dreams, often
produced by soporific compositions. The facts which
have been brought forward by the advocates for witch¬
craft bear in their front the most evident marks of trick
and imposture; and this has'constantly been found out
whenever these facts have been properly examined.
See Sorcery.
WI'I’ENA MOT, or Witena Gemot, among the
Anglo-Saxons, was a term which literally signified the
assembly of the wise men ; and was applied to the
great council of the nation, of latter^days called the
parliament.
WITHERS of a Horse, the juncture of the shoul¬
der-bones at the bottom of the neck and mane, towards
the upper part of the shoulder.
WITNESS, in Law, a person who gives evidence
in any cause, and is sworn to speak the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth.
Trial by Witness, a species of trial without the
intervention of a jury. This is the only method of trial
known to the civil law, in which the judge is left to
form in his own breast his sentence upon the credit of
the witnesses examined : hut it is very rarely used in the
English law, which prefers the trial by jury before it in
almost every instance. Save only that when a widow
brings a writ of dower, and the tenant pleads that the
husband is not dead ; this being looked upon as a dila¬
tory plea, is in favour of the widow, and lor greater ex¬
pedition allowed to be tried by witnesses examined be¬
fore the judges : and so, saith Finch, shall no other case
ia our law. But Sir Edward Coke mentions some
others ; as, to try whether the tenant in a real action Witues#
was duly summoned, or the validity of a challenge to a II
juror : so that Finch’s observation must be confined to. ^oa^C0,
the trial of direct and not collateral issues. And in every
case Sir Edward Coke lays it down, that the affirmative
must be proved by two witnesses at the least.
WIT I'ENBERG, a city of Germany, capital of the
circle of Upper Saxony, 50 miles north of Dresden.
The town is not large; but is well fortified, and con¬
tains a famous university, in which Melancthon was a
professor. In this place Martin Luther first began to
preach against the pope’s indulgences ; and in the
cathedral of All Saints he is said to have been buried.
In the old citadel of this town the ancient Saxon
electors used to reside. Besides the university, there
is a Latin school in the town, with six masters. The
library belonging to the university is said to be very
valuable. In 1756, the Prussians being masters of the
town, destroyed a part of its fortifications. This town
belonged to the elector, now king of Saxony, but was
included in the country which he was compelled to cede
to Prussia in 1814. E. Long. 12. 47. N. Lat. 51. 49.
WO AD. See Isatis, Botany Index; see also
Dyeing.
The preparation of woad for dyeing, as practised in
France, is minutely described by Astruc, in his Me¬
moirs for a Natural History of Languedoc. The plant
puts forth at first five or six upright leaves, about a foot
long and six inches broad : when these hang dotvn-
wards, and turn yellow, they are fit for gathering : five
crops are gathered in one year. The leaves are carried
directly to a mill, much resembling the oil or tan mills,
and ground into a smooth paste If this process was de¬
ferred for some time, they would putrefy, and send forth
an insupportable stench. The paste is laid in heaps,
pressed close and smooth, and the blackish crust, which
forms on the outside, reunited if it happens to crack : if
this was neglected, little worms would be produced in
the cracks, and the woad would lose a part of its
strength. Alter lying for fifteen days, the heaps are
opened, the crust rubbed and mixed with the inside, and
the matter formed into oval balls, which are pressed
close and solid in wooden moulds. These are dried up¬
on hurdles : in the sun, they turn black on the outside;
in a close place, yellowish, especially if the weather be
rainy. The dealers in this commodity prefer the first,
though it is said the workmen find no considerable dif¬
ference betw.xt the two. The good balls are distinguish¬
ed by their being weighty, of an agreeable smell, and
when rubbed, of a violet colour within. For the use of
the dyer, these balls require a farther preparation : they
are beat with wooden mallets, on a brick or stone floor,
into a gross powder ; which is heaped up in the middle
of the room to the height of four feet, a space being left
for passing round the sides. T he powder, moistened with
water, ferments, grows hot, and throws out a thick fetid
fume. It is shovelled backwards and forwards, and
moistened every day for twelve days ; after which it is
stirred less frequently, without watering, and at length
made into a heap for the dyer.
WOAHOO, one of the Sandwich islands, lying to
the north-west of Morotoi, at the distance of seven
leagues. From the appearance of the north-east and
north-west parts, it is the finest island of the group.
Nothing can exceed the verdure of the hills, the variety
Woaiioo
u
Wodrow.
W O D [ 728 ] w O D
of wood and lawn, and rich cultivated valle}-s, which
the whole face of the country displays. A bay is form¬
ed by the north and west extremities, into which a fine
river empties itself, through a deep valley ; but as the
water is brackish for 200 yards from the entrance, wa¬
tering in it is not convenient. It contains about 60,OOO
inhabitants. Lieutenant Hergest, commander of the
Dsedalus store-ship, who had been sent from England,
in 1791, to New South Wales, and thence to the
Southern Pacific ocean, with a supply of provisions for
the Discovery sloop, Captain Vancouver, then on a voy¬
age of discovery, was here surprised and murdered by
the natives, together with Mr Gooch, the astronomer.
W. Long. 157. 51. N. Lat. 21. 43.
WODEN. See Odin, and Mythology, N° 40.
WODEVILLE, Anthony, earl of Rivers, brother
to the queen of Edward IV. was born in the end of
1442, or in the beginning of 1443. Though one of
the most accomplished men of his age, very little is
known of his private history. He was early and con¬
stantly employed either in the tumults of those turbulent
times, or in discharging the duties of some of the
highest offices of the state, with which he was invested.
Yet he found leisure to cultivate letters, and to be the
author of works which, though of little value now,
made some noise in that age, when learning was at a
low ebb in England. These consisted chiefly of trans¬
lations from the French •, and his lordship and his
printer Caxton, were the first English writers who had
the pleasure to see their works published from the press.
This accomplished, brave, and amiable nobleman ivas
treacherously imprisoned by Richard III. in Pomfret
castle, where, during his confinement, he composed a
short poem, which has been preserved by John Rous of
Warwick, and breathes, says Dr Henry, a noble spirit
of pious resignation to his approaching fate. He was
beheaded on the 23d of June 1483, in the 41st year of
his age.
WDDROW, Robert, a clergyman of the west of
Scotland, who lived in the beginning of the 1 8th century,
well known as the author of an Ecclesiastical History of
that kingdom during the latter part of the preceding cen¬
tury. His father, Mr James Wodrow, was a man of
learning and piety. He preached occasionally to the per¬
secuted presbyterians, and taught a littleacademyoftheir
students of philosophy and theology at Glasgow, before
the Revolution. About that time he was ordained one
of the ministers of that city, continuing his connexion
with the academy till he was elected professor of theo-
logy by the university in the year 1692. He taught
with reputation and success till his death in 1708.
His son Robert was born in the year 1679 5 his mo"
ther being then in the 51st year of her age. Her death
fthough it did not happen till several years after), was
then fully expected j and his father, obnoxious to a ty¬
rannical government, narrowly escaped imprisonment,
or something worse, by attempting to obtain a last short
interview with her. As he passed the town guard¬
house, he was marked, and soon followed by the soldiers
into his own house, and even into his wife’s bedcham¬
ber, where he was concealed. Their officer checked
this violence; sent them out of the room, and left the
house himself; placing, however, centinels both within
and without, till the birth should be over. In half an
hour after, Mr Wodrow at his wife’s suggestion as¬
sumed the bonnet and great-coat of the servant of the Wodrow.
physician then in attendance; and carrying the lantern y-—J
before him, made an easy escape through the midst of
the guards. They soon renewed their search with
marks of irritation, thrusting their swords into the very
bed where the lady lay ; who pleasantly desired them
to desist, “ for the bird (said she) is now flown.”
His son Robert went through the usual course of lite¬
rary education at Glasgow, entered the university in
1691 ; and prosecuted the study of the languages and
the different branches of philosophy, till he became a
student of theology under the tuition of his father. He
was chosen librarian to the university in the year 1698,
and continued in that office four years. There he be¬
gan his researches into every thing connected with the
ecclesiastical history of his country, which he continued
to pursue to the end of his life ; and also imbibed his
taste for medals, inscriptions, and whatever seemed cu¬
rious or illustrative of Roman, Celtic, and British anti¬
quities.
He rvas among the first in Scotland who attended to
the study of natural history. From a great number of
letters in his own hand-writing, begun about this time,
it appears that he was in habits of the utmost intimacy
with a select number of literary gentlemen, animated
with the same ardour of research; that they corresponded
regularly with one another, made collections of singular
stones, of fossils, petrified plants, fishes, &c. and ex¬
changed what they could spare from their respective
stores. Among his correspondents were Mr William
Nicolson, archdeacon, afterwards bishop of Carlisle, and
at last of Derry, author of the Historical Libraries;
Mr Edward Lhwyd keeper of the Ashmolean closet at
Oxford ; Sir Robert Sibbald, physician in Edinburgh,
author of a natural history of Scotland, and another of
Fife ; Lord Fitmedan ; Messrs James Sutherland,
Laughlan Campbell minister of Campbelton, and others.
In a letter to Mr Lhwyd, dated August 1709, Mr
Wodrow tells him his manse was but at a little distance
from a place where they had been lithoscoping together,
during a visit of Mr Lhwyd to Scotland. “ My paro¬
chial charge (he continues) does not allow me the same
time I had then for those subterranean studies; but my
inclination is equally strong, perhaps stronger. I take
it to be one of the best diversions from serious study, and
in itself a great duty, to admire my Maker’s works. I
have gotten some store of fossils here from our marie,
limestone, &c. and heartily wish I had the knowing
Mr Lhwyd here to pick out what he wants, and help
me to class a great many species which I know not what
to make of.” He informs him, in the end of the letter,
that he had 500 or 600 species of one thing or another
relative to natural history.
Mr Wodrow, when he left Glasgow, resided a short
time in the neighbourhood, in the house of a very distant
relation, Sir     Maxwell of Nether Pollock, then
one of the Scots judges. It being within the bounds of
the presbytery of Paisley, he oflered himsell to them
for probationary trials, and obtained their licence to
preach the gospel in March 1703. In the summer fol¬
lowing, the parish of Eastwood, where Lord Pollock
lived, becoming vacant, by the death of Mr Matthew
Crawford (another Scots historian), a petition, with an
unanimous ca/l or invitation from the parish to Mr
Wodrow to be their minister, was presented to the
presbytery j.
W O D
presbytery ; and they, waving part of the usual second
J trials, in order to expedite the business, ordained Mr
Wodrow to be minister of Eastwood on the 28th of
October I7°3’ this charge he continued-to the end
of his life. Notwithstanding his ministerial duty, he
still found some time to gratify the early bent of his
mind towards natural history, and his curiosity to learn
every thing in his power, not only at home, but concern¬
ing the natural productions of other countries, and the
opinions, customs, manners, and way of living of their
inhabitants. In his farewell letters to his friends, about
to sail to the Scottish settlement of Darien or to the
coast of Africa, &c. he directed their attention and en¬
quiries to these subjects 5 and something similar he sug¬
gested to other friends going to reside in remote places
of the Highlands, or even on the continent of Europe.
The collection of his MS. letters bound tip in five or
six thick 8vo volumes, though reaching nearly to the
end of his life, seems to consist only of the first draught
of his own letters to his friends, not a single scrap is
now to be found of their answers to him.
After his ordination, however, this worthy man, con¬
sidering the duties of his office as his principal and only
proper business, rose into distinguished reputation and
usefulness as a preacher, and was looked upon as one
of the first clergymen in the west of Scotland. Hum¬
ble and unambitious of public notice, he was well entit¬
led to it, by his conscientious and exemplary piety, his
learning, not only in professional, but in other branches
of knowledge, his natural good sense and solid judgment,
his benevolent obliging spirit to all, his warm attach¬
ment to his friends, who formed a wide circle around
him, and especially his deep concern for the best inter¬
ests ot his people, and active exertions for their instruc¬
tion and improvement. His weekly sermons were all
distinctly written out in long hand, and even his lectures
in short-hand. Accustomed to regular composition, he
had acquired an uncommon facility in it. His counte¬
nance and appearance in the pulpit was manly and dig¬
nified ; his voice clear and commanding, his manner se¬
rious and animated : these things, joined with the gene¬
ral prejudice in his favour, added to the impression of
the plain edifying discourses he delivered, without pa¬
pers, to his hearers ; and living in the near neighbour¬
hood of Glasgow, his little church was often crowded,
especially when he dispensed the Lord’s Supper, con¬
sidered in Scotland as the principal religious solemnity.
Yet tfiese talents, and this merited popularity which
followed them, made little impression on his own modest
conscientious mind 5 for he chose to continue in the
obscure country parish with which he was first con¬
nected, resisting all the attempts made by his friends or
by strangers to get him translated into several other
more honourable and opulent parishes, who were de¬
sirous of the benefit of his ministry, however convenient
the change might have proved for the education of his
family. In the year 1712, the magistrates of Glasgow
invited him to be one of the ministers of that city ;
and in January 1717, a deputation from the town of
Stirling did the same. On the other hand, the patron,
heritors, and elders of his own parish, strenuously oppos¬
ed the translation. The presbytery, who had it in their
power to have appointed it, found great difficulties in
both cases on the plea of the majua b mum ecclesiie ; re-
ferred'the decision in the first case to the svnod, and in
Vol. XX, Part II.
t 729 1
W O D
the last to the commission of the General Assembly, and
these courts thought proper to put no restraint on the
minister’s judgment or inclination, as he himself was
certainly the best judge ot his comparative usefulness in
two different situations.
Mr Wodrow was equally conscientious and assiduous
in the business of the ecclesiastical courts, as in his pa¬
rochial duty. Notwithstanding his studious turn, he
punctually attended the meetings of Presbytery, Synod,
and General Assembly, when elected, as he often was, a
member of that court j and also the commissions in No¬
vember and March, winch regularly met during that
period of the church. His connexion with Lord Pol¬
lock made his journeys to Edinburgh easy: and after he
began to collect materials for his voluminous history, his
personal inspection of the public records and of the vari¬
ous MSS. accumulated in the Edinburgh libraries,
made his visits to that capital frequent and necessary.
In common with the great body of the Presbyterians,
he bad strongly imbibed what are called Whig princi¬
ples ; in other words, be was warmly attached to the
constitutional liberties of the people, as established by
the revolution settlement. No wonder! The dreadful
persecution and oppression they had suffered during the
two preceding reigns were still fresh and galling to their
minds : they considered the elevation of King William
to the throne, and the Hanover succession, as the two
chief bulwarks raised up by Providence, for the security
both of their religion and liberty. They trembled at
every dark appearance threatening to this security, such
as the death of King William. That cloud, however,
was soon dissipated by the perseverance of the queen’s
ministers in his views and measures, and the splendid
victories of Marlborough and his allies over the armies
of Louis XIV. But the elevation of the Tory ministry
in the latter part ef the queen’s reign was a severe trial
to the Scottish Presbyterians, and involved the conscien¬
tious part of the clergy in very serious difficulties and
dangers. The oath of abjuration required at that time
from clergymen, and enforced by civil penalties, and
even the royal proclamation fora national thanksgiving,
after the peace of Utrecht, pressed hard upon the scru¬
pulous consciences of many of the clergy. The very
language of the oath seemed to them dubious and jesui-
tical, hostile to the elector of Hanover’s newly acquired
right to the crown, conferred on him by the parliament
and the people ; and, as to the other point, they had not
freedom to lead their people, in a solemn thanksgiving
to Heaven for a peace, termed safe and honourable,
which they and the generality of their hearers consider¬
ed as dangerous and disgraceful. Mr Wodrow, as
might be expected, was one of the recusants of the
oath: for nothing could move him to shuffle with his
conscience. At the same time the liberality and equity
of his mind led him to judge candidly of the consciences
of others. Accordingly, he made every effort in his
power to reconcile his clerical brethren, and his own
people, to such of the clergy as bad the freedom to take
it, and by so doing, bad rendered themselves obnoxious
to popular prejudice and odium. With such, this good
man still continued to live, not only in Christian, but
ministerial communion ; endeavouring to soften and re¬
move the prejudices against them, and, in as far as his
influence reat bed, to revive and cherish a spirit of mu¬
tual forbearance. Many proposals he made, and private
4 ^ meetings
\tfotb
W O D [ 7
meetings and conferences he held with his brethren, to
prevent their differences from rising, as they threatened
to do, into a schism 5 to prevent them especially from en¬
tering at all into the church courts •, justly afraid of the
sparks of animosity too apt to be kindled there. His
endeavours and those of his friends were seconded by the
prudence of the superior courts, especially the commis¬
sion of the General Assembly. Whatever passed there
in the way of admonition to the rest of the church,
breathed the spirit of mutual forbearance and love. How
he managed the other difficult and delicate point, the
Thanksgiving, in a consistency with his duty, does not
appear in his letters •, nor is it now worth while to in¬
vestigate this as a trait of his character, which might
be done, perhaps, from his MS. sermons preached at the
time. Only it is pleasing to remark from the letters,
that the same spirit of wisdom and mild forbearance
which animated the majority of the clergy in the west,
seems also to have pervaded the officers of the crown,
justices of the peace, and other civil magistrates in
Scotland at the time. The oath was not pressed on the
recusants, and the exeention of the legal penalties in¬
curred by the neglect of it avoided ; for their general
loyalty was undoubted.
A more severe stroke was inflicted on their adver¬
saries by the Tory ministry in the year 1710, by an act
of the British parliament which restored patronage to its
former full force. An act of the Scotch parliament
passed after the Revolution had extracted the chief sting
of that grievance, by placing the election of the minister
of every parish in the hands of the landed proprietors,
tailed heritors, in conjunction with the elders, or mem¬
bers of the kirk-session. A majority of that joint body,
at a meeting appointed for the purpose, drew up a call
er written invitation, which they subscribed, to a parti¬
cular candidate to be their minister. This was presented
to the presbytery of the hounds, the proper judges of his
learning and moral character*, and if these were found
unexceptionable, he was ordained, or solemnly conse¬
crated and installed into the office. This Scotch act
having continued in force for twenty years, and being
conceived to have become perpetual by the articles of
the Union, was now repealed ; and the choice of a mi¬
nister to every parish was in effect placed in the power
of a single person, a patron, because he had in fact the
sole power of nominating the only candidate who could
enjoy the benefice.
Mr Wodrow was exceedingly averse from the revi¬
val of the power of patronage ; and in this he was in¬
fluenced both by his political and religious principles.
In his letters, he seems to have looked upon a patron of
a parish, as a kind of hereditary despot; or at least
like a prince, who had no restraints laid on his prero¬
gative, to prevent or check the abuse of it. The para¬
mount power or trust committed to a patron, this con¬
scientious minister could not reconcile with the apostoli¬
cal counsels, to commit the keeping of religious truth to
faithful men, ahle also to instmict others. He thought it
very improper to leave the choice of a religious instruc¬
tor, in the first instance, to any single person whatever,
especially to one generally a stranger to the circum¬
stances of the parishioners *, one who had little know¬
ledge, and therefore little sympathy with them in their
•religious sentiments and feelings. He was persuaded
that the purposes of edification, and the peace of the
50 ] W O D
country, circumstanced as Scotland then was, were
much better secured by the restraints laid on a patron
in the act 1690, that is, by admitting the two principal
bodies of the parish to a participation with him in his
choice, than by trusting it wholly to himself j and he
threw out many judicious hints in his letters, and evea
schemes or proposals to his brethren, on this difficult and
important subject.
On the other hand, he wished nothing to be attempt¬
ed but in a constitutional way, in harmony with the ci¬
vil power. Few men were so sensible as he was of the
abuses incident to popular government, either in church
or state, and of the danger of resisting, even unjust and
oppressive laws, in a tumultuous or disorderly manner.
The Presbyterian church, in the outward order or form
of it, he viewed as a well regulated republic. He did
not consider the people in their individual capacity, as
qualified to vote even on the choice of their own mini¬
ster. The elders of the parish he looked upon as the
representatives of the people in the ecclesiastical courts j
and their number, in his own congregation, he restiicted
to a very few, four or five at most, fit to assist him in
the exercise of church discipline within the parish. The
rest of his session were deacons, w’hose jurisdiction was
confined to the care of the poor, visiting the sick, and
distributing the bread and wine at the communion, but
could not, like the former, be chosen to represent the
parish in the presbytery and superior courts. lu this
sense of the necessity of order and subordination, he per¬
severed to the end of his life. When, contrary to his.
judgment or vote, an unpopular brother was to be or¬
dained in a parish within twelve or fifteen miles distant
from Eastwood, in consequence of a sentence of the Ge¬
neral Assembly, to be executed, perhaps with military
assistance *, this aged minister thought it his duty, re¬
gardless of personal danger or odium, to countenance
the young brother, by joining with the rest of the
clergy in laying their hands on him, inviting him after¬
wards to his pulpit, and exerting any influence he had
to conciliate the irritated minds of that parish.
The only publication for which the world is indebted
to Mr Wodrow, is The History of the Singular Suf¬
ferings of the Church of Scotland during the tvventy-
eight years immediately preceding the Revolution. It
was written at a proper distance of time from the events
it records; and printed at Edinburgh in the year 1721,
in two large folio volumes, with two appendixes consist¬
ing of copies of the public records, and of many private,
family, and personal papers, letters, &c. inserted as
vouchers of the historical facts. In collecting this great
body of information, the author was assisted by his
friends, who cheerfully seconded his own almost intre-
dible industry and patience of research. In consequence
of this, the book has more the appearance of a biogra¬
phical, than of a historical work. It has, however, the
form, and all the essentials of a regular history, divided
into books, chapters, and sections, with proper margins
and indexes; written in a plain, rather too familiar
style, unavoidably interspersed with Scoticisms, yet these
sufficiently intelligible to an English reader. It exhi¬
bits a distinct sketch of the characters both of the prin¬
cipal sufferers, and of their persecutors ; of the springs of
the persecution, in the unjustifiable plans and measures
of an arbitrary government ; with the motives of the
advisers and executors ol them* The unfortunate and
innocent
w O B r 731 ] W O D
fodrow. innocent sufferers, our author viewed in the light, not of
  a set of wild fanatics, as they were called by their con¬
temporaries, and frequently too by later historians j
many of them were most respectable for their rank in
their country, as well as for their talents and virtues j but
even those in the lower ranks of society, our author
thought worthy of some public notice, as confessors and
martyrs in the noble cause which they had espoused, the
support of the rights of conscience,and of national liberty.
The subject of the history is the most melancholy
that could be chosen j a long and severe persecution of
a people, who had been guilty of nothing undutiful to
their civil or ecclesiastical rulers j a series of open acts of
injustice and tyranny, perpetrated under the colour of
law, and this with such an increasing and merciless vio¬
lence, as to sink the usual spirit of a free people, and
easily quash one or two feeble ill-timed attempts to resist
their oppressors. No wonder that the continued view
of such a wretched and melancholy scene, without any
thing joyful to interrupt it, should give a melancholy
tinge to the mind of the writer, easily communicated to
his readers. On the other hand, some things have hap¬
pily an opposite tendency. The mass of biographical
intelligence, though it must be confessed it is much too
voluminous, and too minute for the management of any
historian whatsoever, yet furnishes a variety of anec¬
dotes, which give some needful relaxation or relief to
the sympathy of the reader. These indeed are in part
the simple annals of the poor, without the varnish or
easy elegance of polished life ; but even in this shape
they are not destitute, both of entertainment and in¬
struction ; and then the minuteness in the detail of
names, of persons, places, and other particular circum¬
stances, adds to the impression of the facts, by placing
their certainty beyond all reasonable doubt.
If faithfully to record past facts, and transmit the
knowledge of them to posterity, be the principal duty of
a historian, this Wodrow has certainly aimed at •, and
also to repress any feelings hostile to his fidelity and im¬
partiality j in short, to come as near as he was able to
the motto prefixed to his volumes, Nec studio, nec odio.
Doubtless, like all other men, he had some political,
and many theological prejudices, the last chiefly imbib¬
ed from education, and confirmed by too high a venera¬
tion for the characters of our first reformers;—prejudices
which warped his personal opinions and feelings on
both subjects. But he seems to have made a consider¬
able effort to prevent his party prejudices from warping
or perverting his judgment of the truth or falsehood
of stubborn historical facts. Nothing almost oratorial
enters into his narratives, though there is room for admi¬
ration, and much scope for just indignation ; no exagger¬
ated encomiums on his friends, or strong opprobrious
language in speaking of his and their enemies, the un¬
provoked persecutors of his church. He allows the
facts which he has recorded to speak for both, and
transmit to posterity a memorial to their honour or
their infamy.
The chief fault of this historical collection already
hinted at, is its minuteness, and excessive copiousness.
The prodigious multitude of facts jt embraces, though
difl’erent from one another in their circumstances, are in
other respects somewhat similar. This must necessarily
occasion some repetition and satiety, especially to a fasti¬
dious reader, who has it, however, in his power to gra¬
tify his taste by selecting what is most agreeable to it. tVodrow.
Nevertheless a candid and patient reader can be at no —vr-—
loss to form a proper judgment of the principal trans¬
actions of the period, from the authentic accounts of
them before him, to appreciate the true characters of
the actors, or of the motives and views from which they
acted. And an inquisitive and penetrating reader will
be gratified by seeing not a little of the peculiar prin¬
ciples, opinions, sentiments, habits, and manners of that
age, as distinguished from the present; and may thus
estimate the gradual progress towards much noble and
useful improvement; and on the other hand, the pro¬
gress towards a very hurtful corruption and degeneracy
of manners, which have both taken place during the last
hundred and twenty years.
At the time of its first publication, the book met
with less general attention than might have been ex-f
pected in Scotland, and scarcely any attention in Eng¬
land, except from professed readers. As it came to be
more studied, it was the more valued, except where
there was an evident bias on the opposite side. Few can
be at a loss to see why such historians as Hume, Mac-
pherson, and Dalrymple should neglect or undervalue
such a book. Our later Scotch historians, Somerville
and Laing, have done it more justice. In truth, there
is a very near coincidence in their estimates of the cha¬
racters they draw, and their accounts of the facts they
relate, in common with Wodrow. But especially our
late illustrious patriot Charles Fox, whose high abilities,
uncommon candour, and sweetness of disposition, almost
remove the suspected bias of his party spirit—Mr Fox
has, in the historical fragment published since his death,
given a very honourable testimony to the fidelity and
accuracy of our historian. After mentioning the exe¬
cution of three females, he adds, page 131. “To relate
all the instances of cruelty which occurred would be
endless. But it may be necessary to remark, that no
historical facts are better ascertained, than the accounts
of them which are to be found in Wodrow. In every
instance, where there has been an opportunity of com¬
paring these accounts with the records, and other au*
thenlic monuments, they appear to be quite correct.”
The collection of the materials for writing the church
history from the public records, and many other authen¬
tic sources, must have cost the author a prodigious la¬
bour and time. The pecuniary expence incurred was
considerable, and scarcely refunded from the sale of the
hook. The only neat profit, he has been heard to say,
which accrued from it, was one or two hundred pounds
that he received from the king, to whom it was dedi¬
cated.
The last twelve years of Mr Wodrow’s life were
chiefly occupied in drawing up a biography of the prin¬
cipal persons concerned in introducing the reformation
of religion into Scotland, and settling the different
forms or modes of ecclesiastical government attempted to
be established there from the beginning to the end of that
period, namely from about the year 1560 to 1660, when
the printed history of the sufferings commences. Had
it pleased God to continue his useful life till this larger
work was finished, public curiosity would have been
much gratified ; for it contains the lives, not only of
John Knox, George Buchanan, and others already well
known, but the lives of a great number more, very
learned, ingenious, respectable, and worthy men, scarce-
v > 4 Z 2 ly
W O D [ 732 ] W O D
Wodrow. Iy all known to the literary world ; besides a variety
  v ' ot anecdotes naturally entering into such a work, illu¬
strative oi’ the history and the living manners of that
age. Happily these manuscript lives are still preserved,
all written with his own pen, and some of the longest of
them copied, probably during his last long illness, in a
more legible iiand. Whatever important or curious in¬
formation they may contain, they are not fit for the
press in their present state. They are now deposited
in the library of the university of Glasgow.
Besides writing the history and the biography, both
extended by himself for publication, and two days every
week regularly appropriated to his preparation for the
pulpit, much ot his time must have been occasional¬
ly spent in writing letters, some of them like disserta¬
tions, on theological and other literary subjects 5 for he
corresponded with a very wide circle of acquaintances
and friends in Scotland, England, and Ireland, and
with a few on the continent and in North America.
His constitution in the first part of life was robust and
strong, his health in general good 5 but his studious ha¬
bits or constant reading, and especially incessant writing,
it is supposed, may have brought on the bodily com¬
plaint which occasioned his death. In the latter end of
the year 1731, a swelling about the size of a small
chesnut appeared on his breast, near the collar bone.
It was on the same place where a spark of fire had fallen
when he was a child, and had then left a little lump
and hardness like a large pea. About a month after the
swelling began, it had increased to the size of a plumb,
and in April 1732 was as large as a man’s fist. It was
attempted to be removed by caustic j the attempt failed.
His body became greatly emaciated, and he gradually
declined till his death, which happened on the 21st of
March I734* Supported by the testimony of a good
conscience, joined with the strong consolation and well-
founded hope of the gospel, he bore this' long continued
severe distress with admirable fortitude, unabated piety
and resignation; never uttering a murmur, but behaving
to his friends who came to see him, and to all about him,
with much ease and affection ; thus leaving, both in the
active exertions of a useful life, and in his patient suf¬
ferings at the close of it, a very edifying example to his
family and his flock. The day before his death, he
gathered his children around his bed, gave each of them
his dying blessing, with counsels suitable to their ages
and circumstances ; last of all two boys, neither of them
four years old, too young to understand and feel these
marks of his affection, yet, after the example of the ve¬
nerable patriarch, Gen. xlviii. 15. even them he drew
to him, laid his hands upon their heads, and devoutly
prayed, that the God oj Ins fathers, the angel who had
redeemed him from all evil, would bless the lads.
Mr Wodrow was married in the end of 1708, to
Margaret Warner, grand-daughter of the reverend Mr
William Guthrie of Fenwick, well known in Scotland
bv bis writings, and daughter of the reverend Patrick
Warner, then living-on his estate of Ardeer in Ayrshire.
Mr Warner, in the early part of his life, had been chap¬
lain to the East India Company at Madras. After his
return home, he was driven from his ministry and from
the kingdom, by the persecution of the privy council;
but returned in consequence of King James’s indulgence,
and became minister of Irvine. He bad a personal in¬
terview on Ins last return with the prince of Orange at
the Hague, a short time before the Bevolution, an ac¬
count of which appears in the history, vol. ii. p. 604. Wodraw
Mr Wodrow had a f amily of 16 children, nine of whom, R
with his widow, survived him in decent circumstances, V'olfe.
without any breach among them for above 25 years. v
Three of his sons were clergymen of the church of Scot¬
land ; one was minister of the parish of Cumbray, ano¬
ther of Tarbolton ; and the third, the late Dr James
Wodrow, author of the life of Dr Leechman of Glas¬
gow, was minister of Stevenston in Ayrshire.
Besides his collection of fossils, and a few Roman and
British medals, Mr Wodrow left a valuable library of
books, many volumes of pamphlets and also of manu¬
scripts written by others, sent to him in presents, or co¬
pied by his orders. The most valuable part of them is
now in the advocates library, and in the repositories of
the church at Edinburgh. His own manuscript bio¬
graphy, as has been already said, is in the library of the
university of Glasgow.
WOLAW, a town in Germany, in Prussian Silesia,
and capital of a duchy of the same name. It is sm>
rounded with strong walls and a morass, and one part
of the houses are built with stone. The castle is also
encompassed with deep ditches, and the greatest part
of the inhabitants are employed in a woollen manufac¬
tory. In 1709 a Protestant church was allowed to be
built here. It is seated on the river Oder, 20 miles
north-west of Breslau, and 32 south-east of Glogau.
E. Long. 16. 54. N. Lat. 51. 18.
WOLD, Weld, Dyers Weed. See Reseda, Bo¬
tany Index, and Dyeing.
WOLF. See Can is, Mammalia Index.
WoLF-Fish, or Sea-Wolf. See Anarrhicas, Ich¬
thyology Index.
Wolf or Woolf Poison. See Poison.
WOLFE, Major-general James, was born at
Westerham in the county of Kent, about the beginning
of the year 1726. His father was Lieutenant-general
Edward Wolfe. He went into the army when very
young; and applying himself with unwearied assiduity
to the study of his profession^ soon became remarkable
for his knowledge and his genius. He distinguished
himself at the battle of Lafelt when little more than
20, and received the highest encomiums from the com¬
mander in chief. After the peace he still continued to
cultivate the art of war. He contrived to introduce
the greatest regularity and the exactest discipline into his
corps, and at the same time to preserve the aflection of
every soldier. In 1758 he was present as a brigadier-
general at the siege of Louisbourg. He landed first on
the island at the head of division ; and in spite of the
violence of the surf, and the force and well directed fire-
of the enemy, drove them from their post with great
precipitation. The surrender of the town which hap¬
pened soon after, was in a great measure owing to his
activity, bravery, and skill. The fame which he ac¬
quired during this siege pointed him out to Mr Pitt,
who was then minister, as the properest person to com¬
mand the army destined to attack Quebec. This was
the most difficult and the most arduous undertaking of
the whole wrar. Quebec was the capital of the French
dominions in North. America ; it was well fortified,
situated in the midst of a hostile country, and defended
by an army of 20,000 men, regulars and militia, besides
a considerable number of Indian allies. 'I he troops
destined for this expedition consisted of ten battalions,
making up altogether about ‘jooo men. Such was the
army
W O L
[ 733 ]
W O L
Wolfe.
Hmn, qf
army ilestlned to oppose three times their own number,
defended by fortifications, in a country altogether un¬
known, and in a late season in that climate for military
operations. But this little army, says an officer who
was present at that expedition, and who has been so
obliging as to communicate all the information we de¬
sired, was always sanguine of success j for they were
commanded by General Wolfe, who, by a very uncom¬
mon magnanimity and nobleness ot behaviour, had at¬
tached the troops so much to his person, and inspired
them with such resolution and steadiness in the execu¬
tion of their duty, that nothing seemed too difficult for
them to accomplish. The admirable skill with which
bis measures were planned, and the prudence and vigour
with which they were executed, are well known. He
landed his army on the northern shore of the river St
Lawrence in spite of the enemy, and forced them to a
battle, in which they were completely defeated. The
consequence of this battle was the reduction of Quebec,
and the conquest of Canada. In the beginning ot the
battle General Wolfe was wounded in the wrist by a
musket-ball : he wrapt his handkerchief round it, con¬
tinued to give his orders with his usual calmness and
perspicuity, and informed the soldiers that the advanced
parties on the front had his orders to retire, and that
they need not be surprised when it happened. lo-
wards the end of the battle he received a new wound
in the breast", he immediately retired behind the rear-
rank supported by a grenadier, and laid himself down on
the ground. Soon after a shout was heard j and one of
the officers who stood by him exclaimed, “ See how
they run !” The dying hero asked with some emotion,
“ Who run P” “ The enemy (replied the officer) ; they
give way every where.” The general then said, “ Pray,
do one of you run to Colonel Burton, and tell him to
march Webb’s regiment with all speed down to Charles
river, to cut off the retreat of the fugitives from the
bridge. Now, God be praised, I shall die happy !” He
then turned on bis side, closed his eyes, and expired. .
The death of General Wolle was a national loss uni¬
versally lamented. He inherited from nature an ani¬
mating fervour of sentiment, an intuitive perception, an
extensive capacity, and a passion for glory, which sti¬
mulated him to acquire every species of military know¬
ledge that study could comprehend, that actual service,
could illustrate and confirm.. Ibis noble warmth of
disposition seldom fails to call forth and unfold all the
liberal virtues of the soul. Brave above all estimation
of danger j generous, gentle, complacent, and humane j
the pattern of the officer, the darling of the soldier.
There was a sublimity in his genius which soared above
the pitch of ordinary minds 5 and had his faculties been
exercised to their full extent by opportunity and action,
had his judgment been fully matured by age and expe¬
rience, he would, without doubt, have rivalled in repu¬
tation (he most celebrated captains of antiquity. His
body was brought to England, and buried with military
honours in Westminster abbey, where a magnificent
monument is erected to his memory.
Wolfe, Christian^ a celebrated German philosopher,
was born at Breslau in 1679. After having been well
instructed in the rudiments of learning and science in nis
own country, Wolfe pioseeuted his studies successively
in the universities ot Jena, Hamburgh, and Leipsic.
iVirts h in tlie wuversiues 01 aena, -iActuiuu»gn, ......
to] i/^ At the age of 26 he had acquired so much distinction,
that he was appointed professor of mathematics, and soon
afterwards of philosophy in general, in the university of
Hall. After Leibnitz had published his Theodiceu, t_
Wolfe, struck with the novelty of the edifice which
that philosopher had raised, assiduously laboured in the
investigation of new metaphysical truths. He also di¬
gested the Elements of Mathematics in a new method,
and attempted an improvement of the art of reasoning,
in a treatise On the Powers of the Human Understand¬
ing. Upon the foundation of Leibnitz’s doctrine of
Monads, he formed a new system of Cosmology and
Pneumatology, digested and demonstrated in a mathe¬
matical method. His work, entitled Thoughts on
God, the World, and the Human Soul, was published
in the year 1719; to which were added, in a subse¬
quent edition, Heads of Ethics and Policy.
Wolfe was now rising towards the summit of philo¬
sophical reputation, when the opinion which lie enter¬
tained on the doctrine of necessity being deemed by his
colleagues inimical to religion, and an oration which he
delivered in praise of the morality of the Chinese having
given much offence, an accusation of heresy was public¬
ly brought against him j and, though he attempted to
justify himself in a treatise which he wrote on the ob¬
ject of fatality, a royal mandate was issued in November
1723, requiring him to leave the Prussian dominions.
Having been formerly invited by the landgrave of
H esse-Cassel to fill a professor’s chair in the university
of Cassel, Wolfe now put himself under the patronage
of that prince, who had the liberality to afford him a
secure asylum, and appointed him professor of mathema¬
tics and philosophy. The question concerning the
grounds-of the censure which had been passed upon.
Wolfe was now every where freely canvassed ; almost
every German university was inflamed with disputes on
the subject of liberty and necessity j and the names of
Wolfians and Anti-Wolfians were every where heard.
After an interval of nine years, the king of Prussia re¬
versed his sentence of exile, and appointed him vice-
chancellor of the university of Hall ; where his return
was welcomed with every expression of triumph. From,
this time he was employed in completing his Institutes
of Philosophy, which he lived to accomplish in every
branch except policy. In 1745 he was created a baron
by the elector of Bavaria, and succeeded Ludowig in
the office of chancellor of the university. He conti¬
nued to enjoy these honours till the year 1754, when he
expired. He possessed a clear and methodical under¬
standing j which, by long exercise in mathematical in¬
vestigations, was particularly fitted for the employment
of digesting the several branches of knowledge into re¬
gular systems', and his fertile powers of invention en¬
abled him to enrich almost every field of science in
which he laboured, with some valuable additions. Thu
lucid order which appears in all his writings enables
his reader to follow his conceptions with ease and cer¬
tainty, through the longest trains of reasoning.
WOLFENBUTTLE, a considerable town of Ger¬
many, in the circle of Lower Saxony, and duchy of
Brunswick, with a castle, where the duke of Brunswick
Wolfenbuttle resides. It is one of the strongest places
in Germany, though the fortifications want repairing in
several places. There is an excellent library, kept in a
building lately erected for that purpose, consisting of
IJ 6,000 printed: hooks, and 2000 uncommon hooks,
with
Wolfe,
Wollen-
buttle.
W O L [ 734 ] WOO
Wolfen- with a cabinet of curiosities, relating to natural history,
buttle jt js geatecj on river Ocker, five miles south of
A^olsey. Brunswick, and 30 west of Halberstadt. E. Long. 10.
v—— 25. N. Lat. 52. IO.
WOLFRAM, or Tungsten. See Tungsten,
Chemistry and Mineralogy Index.
W OLFSPERG, a town of Germany, in Lower Ca-
rinthia, with a castle, on which the district about it de¬
pends, which is 20 miles in length, and 10 in breadth.
It is seated on the river Lavand, at the foot of a moun¬
tain covered with wood, and full of wolves, from whence
the town took its name. It is 36 miles east of Clagen-
furt. E. Long. 15. o. N. Lat. 46. q6.
W OLGAST, a considerable town of Germany, in
the circle of Upper Saxony, and in Pomerania, capital
of a territory of the same name, with a castle, and one
of the best and largest harbours on the Baltic sea. It
is a well built place, subject to Prussia, and seated on
the river Psin. E. Long. 13. 42. N. Lat. 54. 4.
WOLLASTON, William, descended of an an¬
cient family in Staffordshire, was born in 1659. He was
in 1674 admitted a pensioner in Sidney college, Cam¬
bridge, where, notwithstanding several disadvantages, he
acquired a great degree of reputation. In 1682, seeing
no prospect of preferment, he became assistant to the
head master of Birmingham school. Some time after,
he got a small lecture about two miles distant, but did
the duty the whole Sunday 5 which, together with the
business of a great free-school for about four years, be¬
gan to break his constitution. During this space he
likewise underwent a great deal of trouble and uneasi¬
ness, in order to extricate two of his brothers from some
inconveniences, to which their owm imprudence had sub¬
jected them. In 1688 affairs took a new’ turn. He
found himself by a cousin’s will entitled to a very ample
estate : and came to London that same year, where he
settled ; choosing a private, retired, and studious life.
Not long before his death, he published his treatise, en¬
titled The Religion of Nature Delineated ; a work for
which so great a demand wTas made, that more than
10,000 were sold in a very few years. He had scarcely
completed the publication of it, when he unfortunately
broke an arm •, and this adding strength to distempers
that had been growing upon him for some time, accele¬
rated his death ; which happened upon the 29th of
October I724’ He was a tender, humane, and in all
respects worthy man 5 but is represented to have had
something of the irascible in his constitution and tem¬
perament. His Religion of Nature Delineated exposed
him to some censure, as if he had put a slight upon
Christianity, by laying so much stress, as he does in this
work upon the obligations of truth, reason, and virtue ;
and by making no mention of revealed religion. But
this censure must have been the offspring of ignorance
or envy, since it appears from the introduction to his
work, that he intended to treat of revealed religion in
a second part, which he lived not to finish.
*WOLSEY, Thomas, a famous cardinal and arch¬
bishop of York, is said to have been the son of a butcher
at Ipswich. He studied at Magdalen college. Oxford,
where he became acquainted with the learned Erasmus j
and in the year 1500 became rector of Lymington in
Somersetshire: he was afterwards made chaplain to
King Henry VIII. and obtained several preferments.
Having gradually acquired an entire ascendency over
5
the mind of Henry VIII. he successively obtained se- Wolsey
veral bishoprics, and at length was made archbishop of ||
York, lord high-chancellor of England, and prime mi- Wood-
nister *, and was for several years the arbiter of Europe.
Pope Leo X. created him cardinal in 1315, and made
him legate a latere ; and the emperor Charles V. and
the Irench king Francis 1. loaded him with favours, in
order to gain him over to their interest j but after ha¬
ving first sided with the emperor, he deserted him to
espouse the interest of France. As his revenues were
immense, his pride and ostentation were carried to the
greatest height. He had 500 servants; among whom
were 9 or 10 lords, 15 knights, and 40 esquires. His
ambition to be pope, his pride, his exactions, and his
political delay of Henry’s divorce, occasioned his dis¬
grace. In the earlier part of his life he seems to have
been licentious in his manners; it was reported, that
soon after his preferment to the living of Lyroington in
Somersetshire, he was put into the stocks by Sir Amias
Paulet, a neighbouring justice of the peace, for getting
drunk and making a riot at a fair. This treatment
Wolsey did not forget when he arrived at the high sta¬
tion of lord-chancellor of England ; but summoned his
corrector up to London, and, after a severe reprimand,
enjoined him six years close confinement in the Temple.
Whatever may have been his faults, there can be no
doubt of their having been aggravated both by the zea¬
lous reformers and by the creatures of Henry VIII. who
was himself neither Papist nor Protestant; for there is
every reason to believe that the cardinal was sincere in
his religion ; and sincerity, or at least consistency, was
then a crime. Wolsey was the patron of learned men ;
a judge and munificent encourager of the polite arts;
and ought to be considered as the founder of Christ¬
church college, Oxford; where, as well as in other
places, many remains of his magnificent ideas in archi¬
tecture still exist. He died in 1530.
W7OLVERENE. See Ursus, Mammalia Index.
WOLVES teeth, of a horse. See Farriery.
W OMAN, the female of the human species. See
Homo.
WOMB, or Uterus. See Anatomy, N° 108.
WOMBAT, an animal lately discovered in New
South Wales. See Dasyurus, Mammalia Index.
WOOD, Anthony, an eminent biographer and an¬
tiquarian, was the son of Thomas Wood, bachelor of
arts and of the civil law, and was born at Oxford in
1632. He studied at Merton college, and in 1655
took the degree of master of arts. He wrote, 1. The
History and Antiquities of the University of Oxford;
which was afterwards translated into Latin by Mr Wase
and Mr Peers, under the title of Historia et Antiquitates
Universitatis Oxnniensis, 2 vols folio. 2. Athena; Oxoni-
enses ; or an exact Account of all the Writers and Bi¬
shops who have had their education in the University
of Oxford, from the Year 1500 to 1600, 2 vols folio ;
which was greatly enlarged in a second edition publish¬
ed in 1721 by Bishop Tanner. Upon the first publica¬
tion of this work the author was attacked by the uni¬
versity, in defence of Edward earl of Clarendon, lord
high chancellor of England, and chancellor of the uni¬
versity, and was likewise animadverted upon by Bishop
Burnet; upon which he published a Vindication of the
Historiographer of the University of Oxford. He died
at Oxford in 1695.
Wood,
Wood
WOO [ 735 ] WOO
Wood, a substance whereof the trunks and branches
of trees consists. It is composed of a number of con¬
centric circles off zones, one of which is formed every
year; consequently their number corresponds to the age
of the tree. These zones vary in thickness according
to the degree of vegetation that took place the year of
their formation. They are also of different degrees of
thickness in different parts, that part of the tree which
is most exposed to the sun and best sheltered growing
fastest; hence in this country that part of the zone
which looked towards the south while the tree was grow¬
ing is generally thickest. The innermost circle or zone
is the one which was first formed, the outermost was
formed the year before the tree was cut down. These
zones are at first very soft and tender, and harden by
degrees as the tree becomes older : this is the reason
that the middle of a tree is so often much better wood
than the outside of it.
The proper ligneous part of the wood consists of lon¬
gitudinal fibres, disposed in fasciculi, and possessed of
considerable hardness. It is this longitudinal direction
of the fibres that renders it so much easier to cleave
wood lengthwise, than across the tree, or in any other
direction. See Plant and Vegetable Physiology.
For an account of the ingredients which enter into
the composition of wood, see Chemistry Index.
For the Method of Staining or Dyeing Wood, see
Turning.
For more complete information concerning wood, see
also Tree, and Strength of Materials.
Fossil Wood. Fossil wood, or whole trees, or parts
of them, are very frequently found buried in the earth,
and that in different strata ; sometimes in stone, but
more usually in earth ; and sometimes in small pieces
loose among the gravel. These, according to the time
they have lain in the earth, or the matter they have
lain among, are found differently altered from their
original state ; some of them having suffered very little
change ; and others being so highly impregnated with
crystalline, sparry, pyritical, or other extraneous mat¬
ter, as to appear mere masses of stone, or lumps ot the
common matter of the pyrites, &c. ol the dimensions,
and, more or less, of the internal figure, of the ve¬
getable bodies into the pores of which they have made
their way.
The fossil woods have been arranged by Dr Hill in¬
to three kinds : I. The less altered ; 2. The pyritical ;
and, 3. The petrified.
Of the trees, or parts of them, less altered from their
original state, the greatest store is found in digging to
small depths in hogs, and among what is called peat or
turf earth, a substance used in many parts of the king¬
dom for fuel. In digging among this, usually very near
the surface, immense quantities ot vegetable matter of
various kinds are found buried ; in some places there
are whole trees scarce altered, except in colour; the
oaks in particular being usually turned to a jetty black ;
the pines and firs, which are also very frequent, are
less altered, and are as inflammable as ever, and of¬
ten contain between the bark and wood a black resin.
Large parts of trees have also been not unfrequently
met with unaltered in beds of another kind, and at
much greater depths, as in strata of clay and loam,
among gravel, and sometimes even in solid stone.
Besides these harder parts of trees, there are frer
quently found also in the peat earth vast quantities of Wood,
the leaves and fruit and catkins of the hazel and simi- ——y—«
lar trees ; these are usually mixed with sedge and roots
of grass, and are scarce at all altered from their usual
texture. The most common of these are hazel nuts ;
but there are frequently found also the twigs and leaves
of the white poplar ; and a little deeper usually there
lies a cracked and shattered wood, the crevices of
which are full of a bituminous black matter : and a-
mong this the stones of plums and other stone-fruits are
sometimes found, but more rarely.
In this state the fruits and larger parts of trees are
usually found : what we find of them more altered, are
sometimes large and long, sometimes smaller and shorter
branches of trees; sometimes small fragments of branches,
and more frequently small shapeless pieces of wood. The
larger and longer branches are usually found bedded in
the strata of stone, and are more or less altered into
the nature of the stratum they lie in. The shorter and
smaller branches are found in vast variety in the strata
of blue clay used for making tiles in the neighbourhood *
of London. These are prodigiously plentiful in all the
clay-pits of this kind, and usually carry the whole ex-,
ternal resemblance of what they once were, but nothing
of the inner structure ; their pores being wholly filled,
and undistinguisbably closed, by the matter of the
common pyrites, so as to appear mere simple masses of
that matter. These fall to pieces on being long expo¬
sed to moisture ; and are so impregnated with vitriol
that they are what is principally used for making the
green vitriol or copperas at Deptford and other places.
The irregular masses or fragments of petrified wrood
are principally of oak, and are most usually found among
gravel ; though sometimes in other strata. These are
variously altered by the insinuation of crystalline and
stony particles ; and make a very beautiful figure when
cut and polished, as they usually keep the regular grain
of the wood, and show exactly the several circles which
mark the different years growth. These, according to
the different matter which has filled their pores, assume
various colours, and the appearance of the various fossils
that have impregnated them ; some are perfectly white,
and but moderately hard; others of a brownish black,
or perfectly black, and much harder ; others ol a red¬
dish black,others yellowish, and others grayish, and some
of a ferruginous colour. They are of different weights
also and hardnesses, according to the nature and quanti¬
ty of the stony particles they contain: of these some
pieces have been found with every pore filled with pure
pellucid crystal; and others in large masses, part of
which is wholly petrified and seems mere stone, while
the rest is crumbly and is. unaltered wood. That this
alteration is made in wood, even at this time, is also
abundantly proved by the instances of wood being put in¬
to the hollows of mines, as props and supports to the roofs, ,
which is found after a number of years as truly petrified
as that which,is dug up from the natural strata ol the
earth. In the pieces of petrified wood found in Ger¬
many, there are frequently veins of spar or of pure
crystal, sometimes of earthy substances, and often of
the matter of the common pebbles : these fragments of
wood sometimes have the appearance of parts ot the
branches of trees in their natural state, hut more fre¬
quently they resemble pieces ot broken boards; these
are usually capable of a high and elegant polish.
Many y
’Wood.
WOO [ 736 ] woo
Many substances, it is certain, have been preserved
' in the cabinets of collectors, under the title of petrified
wood, which have very little right to that name. But
where the whole outer figure of the wood, the exact li¬
neaments of the bark, or the fibrous and fistular tex¬
ture of the strite, and the vestiges of the utriculi and
tracheae or air-vessels, are yet remaining, and the seve¬
ral circles yet visible which denoted the several years
growth of the tree, none can deny these substances to
be real fossil wood. See Petrifaction.
Dr Parry of Bath has recently investigated the causes
of the decay of wood, and the means of preventing it.
For this purpose he recommends the application of a pre¬
paration of the resinous kind, mixed with a certain por¬
tion of bees-wax. The proportion of the ingredients
and the mode of mixing them are as follows: Take 12
ounces of rosin and 8 ounces of roll brimstone, each
coarsely powdered, and 3 gallons of train oilj beat them
slowly, gradually adding 4 ounces of bees-wax, cut into
small bits. Frequently stir the liquor, which, as
soon as the solid ingredients are dissolved, will be fit for
use. It is recommended to dress every part of the wood¬
work with this composition twice over before the parts
are put together, and once afterwards 5 and a higher
state of preservation is promised from its use than has
yet been attained. It should be observed, that in pre¬
paring this varnish, it is advisable, in order to prevent
accidents, to use an earthen vessel, and to make the fire
in the open air.
Wood (sy/va), in Ancient Geography, a multitude of
trees extended over a large continued tract of land, and
propagated without culture. The generality of woods
only consist of trees of one kind.—The ancient Saxons
had such a veneration for woods, that they made them
sanctuaries.—It is ordained, that none shall destroy any
Wood, by turning it into tillage or pasture, &.c. where
there are two acres or more in quantity, on pain of for¬
feiting 40s. an acre, by 35 Henry VIII. c. 17. All
woods that are felled at 14 years growth, are to be
preserved from destruction for eight yearsj and no cat¬
tle put into the ground till five years after the felling
thereof, &c. 13 Eliz. c. 25. The burning of woods
or underwood is declared to be felony 5 also those
persons that maliciously cut or spoil timber-trees, or
any fruit-trees, &c. shall be sent to the house of cor¬
rection, there to be kept three months, and whip! once
a month.
Wood, Engraving on, is commonly executed on box;
and in many cases, engravings of this kind are used with
advantage instead of copperplates. The ait of cutting
or engraving on wood is of very high antiquity } for
Chinese printing is a specimen of it. Even in Europe,
if credit be due to Papillon, this art was practised at a
very remote period j for he mentions eight engravings
on wood, entitled, “ A representation of the warlike
actions of the great and magnanimous Macedonian king,
the bold and valiant Alexander ; dedicated, presented,
and humbly offered, to the most holy father, Pope PIo-
norius IV. by us Alexander Arberic Cunio Chevalier,
and Isabella Cunio, &c.” This anecdote, if true, car¬
ries the art of cutting in wood back to 1284 or 1285 ;
for Honorius occupied the papal throne only during
these two years. But this is not the remotest period to
which some have carried the art in Europe : for the use
of seals *r signets being of very high antiquity, they
4
imagine that the invention of wood-cuts must be coeval
with them. The supposition is certainly plausible, but
it is not supported by proof. The earliest impression of
a wooden-cut, of which there is any certain account, is
that of F.t Christopher carrying an infant Jesus through
the sea, in which a hermit is seen holding up a lanthorn
to shew him the way ; and a peasant, with a sack on
his back, climbing a hill, is exhibited in the back
ground. The date of this impression is 1423. In the
year 1430 was printed at Haerlem, “ The history of 8t
John the evangelist and his revelation, represented in 48
figures in wood, by Lowrent Janson Coster-,” and, in
1438, Jorg Schappf of Augsburg cut in wood the hi¬
story of the Apocalypse, and what was called The poor
man's hible.
A folio chronicle, published 1493 by Shedal, was
adorned with a great number of wooden-cuts by Wil¬
liam Plydenwurff and Michael Wolgemut, whose en¬
gravings were greatly superior to any thing of the kind
which had appeared before them. The latter was the
preceptor of Albert Durer, whose admirable perform¬
ances in this department of art are justly held in the
highest esteem even at the present day.
About this period it became the practice of almost
all the Oerman engravers on copper to engrave likewise
on wood ; and many of their wood cuts surpass in beauty
the impressions of their copperplates. Such are the
wood-cuts of Albert Aldtorfer, Hisbel Ben, Virgil
Soles, Lucas Van Cranach, and Lucas Van Leyden,
the friend and imitator of Albert Dnrer, with several
others.
The Ge rmans carried this art to a great degree of
perfection. Hans or John Holbein, who flourished in
1500, engraved the Dance of Death, in a series of
wooden-cuts, which, for the freedom and delicacy of
execution, have scarcely been equalled, and never sur¬
passed. Italy, France, and Holland, have produced
capital artists of this kind. Joan. Tornsesium printed a
bible at Leyden, in 1554, with wooden-cuts of excel¬
lent workmanship. Christopher Jegher of Antwerp,
from his eminence in the art, was employed by Kubens
to work under his inspection, and he executed several
pieces which are held in much estimation; they are par¬
ticularly distinguished for boldness and spirit.
The next attempt at improvement in this art was by
Hugo da Carpi, to w'hom is attributed the invention of
the chiaro scvro. Carpi was an Italian, and of the 16th
century ; but the Germans claim the invention also, and
produce in evidence several engravings by Mair, a di»-
ciple of Martin Schoen, of date 1499. His mode of
performing this was very simple. He first engraved the
subject upon copper, and finished it as much as the ar¬
tists of his time usually did. He then prepared a block
of wood upon which he cut out the extreme lights, and
then impressed it upon the print; by which means a
faint tint was added to nil the rest of the piece, except¬
ing only in those parts where the lights were meant to
predominate, which appear on the specimens extant to
be coloured with white paint. The drawings for this
species of engraving were made on tinted paper with a
pen, and the lights were drawn upon the paper with
white paint.
But there is a material difference between the chiaro
scuro of the old German masters and that of the Ita¬
lians. Mair and Cranach engraved the outlines and
deep
' . '
WOO [ 737 ] WOO
iVooil. ^eeP shadows upon copper. The impression taken in
•—v-“—' this state was tinted over by means ot’ a single block of
wood, with those parts hollowed out which were de¬
signed to be left white upon the print. On the con¬
trary, the mode of engraving by Hugo da Carpi was,
to cut the outline on one block of wood, the dark sha¬
dows upon a second, and the light shadows, or half¬
tint, upon a third. The first being impressed upon the
paper, the outlines only appeared : this block being
taken away, the second was put in its place, and being
also impressed on the paper, the dark shadows were
added to the outlines 5 and the third block being put
in the same place upon the removal of the second, and
also impressed upon the paper, made the dim tints,
when the print was completed. In some instances, the
number of blocks was increased, but the operation was
still the same, the print receiving an impression from
every block.
In 1698, John Baptist Michael Papillon practised en¬
graving on wood with much success, particularly in or¬
namental foliage and flowers, shells, &c. In the opi¬
nion, however, of some of the most eminent artists, his
performances are stiff and cramped. From that period
the art of engraving on wood gradually degenerated,
and may be said to have been wholly lost, when it was
lately re-invented by Mr Bewick of Newcastle. This
eminent artist was apprentice to Mr Bielby, a respec¬
table engraver on metal. Mr Bielby, who was accus¬
tomed to employ his apprentices in engraving on wood,
was much gratified with the performance of Thomas
Bewick, and therefore advised him to prosecute engra¬
ving in that line. The advice was followed^ and young
Bewick inventing tools, even making them with his
own hands, and sawing the wood on which he was to
work into the requisite thickness, proceeded to improve
upon his own discoveries, without assistance or instruc¬
tion of any kind. When his apprenticeship expired, he
went to London, where the obscure wood engravers of
the time wished to avail themselves of his abilities, while
they were determined to give him no insight into their
art. During his apprenticeship, he received from the
Society for the Encouragement of Arts, &c. a premium
of considerable value for the best engraving on wood.
The cut which obtained the premium was one of a series
for an edition of (Jay’s Fables. Having remained some
years in London, he returned to Newcastle, and entered
into copartnership with his old master 5 and established
his reputation as an artist by the publication of his ad¬
mirable History of Quadrupeds. This was followed by
his History of Birds, in 2 vols. The greater part of the
volume on Quadrupeds, and the whole of the first volume
of the work on Birds, was composed by Mr Bielby.
John Bewick, brother to Thomas, learned the art of
- him, and practised it for several years in London with
great applause. His abilities, however, though respec¬
table, were not, by the best judges, deemed so brilliant
as his brother’s 3 and owing to bad health, and the na¬
ture of his connection with the booksellers and others,
he seems not to have advanced the art beyond the stage
at which he received it. He died, some years ago, at
Newcastle.
Mr Nesbit, w’ho executed the admirable cuts from
designs by Thornton, for an edition of Hudibras, as
well as the cuts for editions of Shakespeare and Thom¬
son’s Seasons, and Mr Anderson, whose beautiful cuts
VOL. XX. Fart II. f
adorn the poem entitled Grove Hill, have been the most Wootf.
successful of Thomas Bewick’s pupils, who have appear- —y—
ed before the public as artists. It appears, that the me¬
thod practised by the ancient engravers on wood, whose
works are still admired, must have been different from
that of Bewick and his pupils. What that method was
seems to be altogether unknown. Papillon, who writes
the best history extant of the art, guesses indeed in what
manner the old engravers proceeded, so as to give to
their works the spirit and freedom for which they are
famed; but that his guesses are erroneous seems evident
from the stiffness of his own works. The principal cha¬
racteristic in the mechanical department of the produc¬
tions of the ancient masters is the crossing of the black
lines, which Papillon has attempted with the greatest
awkwardness, though it seems to have been accomplish¬
ed by them with so much ease, that they introduced it
at random, even where it could add nothing to the
beauty of the piece. In Bewick’s method of working,
this cross hatching is so difficult and unnatural, that it
may be considered as impracticable. Mr Nesbit has in¬
deed introduced something of it into two or three of his
pieces 3 but so great was the labour, and so little the
advantage of this improvement, if such it can be called,
that probably it will not be attempted again.
The engravers of Bewuck’s school work on the end
of the wood, which is cut across the trunk of the tree,
in pieces of the pi'oper thickness. As wood cuts are
generally employed in the printer’s press amidst a form
of types, this thickness must be regulated by the height
of the types with which they are to be used. The tools
employed are nearly the same with those used in copper¬
plate engraving, being only a little more deep, or lo¬
zenge, as engravers call it. They must have points of
various degrees of fineness for the different purposes to
which they are applied, some of them being so much
rounded off at the bottom as to approach to the nature
of a goodge, whilst others are in fact little chissels of
various sizes. These chissels and goodges, to which
every artist gives the shape which he deems most con¬
venient, are held in the hand in a manner somewhat
different from the tool of the engraver on copper, it be¬
ing necessary to have the pow’er of lifting the chips up¬
wards with ease. To attempt a description of this in
writing would be in vain 3 but it is easily acquired, we
are told, by practice.
The pupils of the school of Bewick consider it as
quite improper to speak of his invention as a revival of
the ancient art. Some old prints, it is true, have the
appearance of being executed in the same way with his;
but others have certainly been done by a method very
different. It is therefore not fair to appreciate the pre¬
sent art by what has been done, but by what may be
done; and that remains yet to be shewn. The art is
in its infancy 3 and those who are disposed to com¬
pare it with the art of engraving on copper, ought to
look back to the period when copperplate engraving
was of as recent invention as Bewick’s method of en¬
graving on wood. Marc Antonio, who engraved un¬
der the direction of the great painter Raphael, thought
it no mean proof of his proficiency in his art, that he
was able to imitate on copperplates the wood-cuts of
Albert Durer 3 and Papillon is highly indignant that
there should have been persons so very blind as to mis¬
take the copies for the originals. If copper has its ad-
5 A vantages
w o o
[ 733 }
woo
vantages over wood in point of delicacy and minute¬
ness, wood lias, in its turn, advantages not inferior in
regard to strength and richness. Those prints which
were executed under the auspices of Titian and Ru¬
ben^, will always remain a monument of the spirit and
vigour natural to wood-engraving; and if there be not
found in them all the attention to chiaro scuro, which
the present age demands, it must not be attributed ei¬
ther to defect in the art, or to want of abilities in the
artists, but to the taste of the times, when chiaro scuro
was little understood. It remains for some enterprising
artist to shew that the vigour of the ancient art may be
attained by the present one, and at the same time to
add to that vigour those gradations of shade which are
so much admired in good copperplates. As there seems
to be a more perfect, or at least a more pleasant black
produced by wood than by copperplate printing, and
certainly a more perfect white (a), who will say that
any intermediate shade whatever may not be produced
bv wood cuts ? To attempt this on a small scale would
indeed be vain, because the slightest variation, produced
by a little more or less ink, or a harder pressure in
printing, bears such a proportion to a very short line, as
must necessarily render the attempt abortive.
Wood-engraving, therefore, must always appear to
disadvantage while it is confined to small subjects, and
will never reach its station as a fine art, till those who
are engaged in its cultivation improve upon the disco¬
veries of one another, and apply to subjects to which it
is properly adapted. As an economical art for illustrat¬
ing mechanics, various branches of natural history, and
other subjects of science, it is too little employed even
in its present state.
The works of Bewick and his pupils, which have hi¬
therto been published, are not numerous. Besides his
quadrupeds and birds, the Hudibras, and the cuts for
some editions of Shakespeare and Thomson’s Seasons,
by Neshit, and the Grove Hill by Anderson, already
noticed, there are also some others of less note.—Gold¬
smith’s Traveller and Deserted Village with elegant
plates, are all executed by Thomas Bewick, except one
or two which were executed by John ; Somerville’s
Chace by the same artists, executed in a style of ele¬
gance which perhaps has never been surpassed ; a View
of St Nicholas’s Church, Newcastle, 15 inches long, by
Mr Neshit, who received for it a silver medal from the
Society for the Encouragement of Arts.
Wood, Hot ten, Illumination of. This is a subject
which has often been discussed by naturalists. Spallan¬
zani maintained, that there is a perfect analogy between
the illumination of rotten wood, and artificial phos¬
phorus ; and he imagines, that in the putrid fermenta¬
tion, the hydrogen and the carbone of the wood come
more easiiy in contact with the oxygen of the atmo¬
sphere, by which combination a slow combustion, and
the illumination of the wood, is produced ; and he
thinks that this process cannot proceed in the irrespira-
hle kinds of gases. Rotten wood also, in which the ne¬
cessary quantity of hydrogen and carbone is not at the
same time disengaged, does not obtain the property of
illuminating. Mr Corradori, however, objects to this
theory, that the slow combustion does not take place
according to the above theory, as the wood, at the time
when it begins to illuminate, is mostly deprived of its
resinous particles, and consequently contains but very
little hydrogen and carbone ; and it appears to him
more probable, that the more it loses of combustible
matter, the more it obtains the property of illuminating.
There is, he thinks, a very great difference between
this natural and the artificial phosphorus. Mr Hum¬
boldt concludes, from his experiments, that the illumi¬
nation of rotten wood takes place only when it gets into
contact with oxygen ; and when it has lost the property
of emitting light in irrespirable gases, it recovers it
again by exposing it to oxygen gas. Dr Gartner, how¬
ever, is of opinion, that, according to his experiments,
a certain degree of humidity is always requisite, and he
thinks that oxygen gas is not quite necessary though the
illumination he increased by it. This phenomenon,
however, being so very different from all known pro¬
cesses of combustion, where light is disengaged, Dr
Gartner asks, whether it be not more agreeing with the
animal process of respiration, than with atruecomhustion,
or whether the illumination of the wood be produced
by phosphorus and carbone in a proportion hitherto un¬
known. Dr Gartner is, on the whole, inclined to
think, that it is at present impossible to give a satisfac¬
tory explanation of all the phenomena that occur in this
process. Beckmann has made numerous experiments on
the illumination of rotten wood, in different gases and
fluids, in order to throw some light on the ideas of the
above naturalists. The results of these experiments dif¬
fer in some points from what the experiments of those
gentlemen have shewn, which, however, Beckmann
ascribes to the nature of rotten wood, as a substance
that is not always of the same kind, and has not always
an equal degree of putrefaction and humidity. It seems
also to differ materially from the artificial phosphorus iu
the following particulars. I. It shines in oxygen gas at
a very low temperature. 2. It emits light in all irre-
spirable gases, at least for a short time. 3. In muriatic
acid gas its light is suddenly extinguished. 4. It shines
in a less degree in air rarefied by the air-pump. 5. Ac¬
cording to Mr Corradori, it even shines in the torricel-
lian vacuum. 6. Its illumination is extinguished in oxy¬
gen gas, as well as in other kinds of gases, when they
are heated. 7. By its illumination in oxygen gas, car¬
bonic acid gas is produced. 8. One may sufi’er the rotten
wood to he extinguished several times, one after an¬
other, in irrespirable gases, without depriving them of
the property of making new pieces of rotten wood shine
again. 9. Humidity greatly promotes the illumination,
and even seems to be necessary in producing it. 10. The
rotten wood continues to shine under water, oil, and
other fluids, and in some of them its light is even in¬
creased. All this seems to shew, that the extinction of
rotten wood, in different media, does not immediately
depend on a want of oxygen, hut rather on a particular
change, to which the wood itself has been exposed.
Wood-Cock. See Scolopax, Ornithology Index.
WooD-Goat. See Capra, Mammalia Index.
Woon-Louse. See Oniscus, Entomology Index.
Wood-
Wood.
11
Wood-
louse.
(a) The parts of the print intended to be white are not even touched by the wood block.
"Wood¬
pecker
II
Wool.
Tol.
xf>- P' 57
* WOO r?3
WooD-Pecker. See Picus, Ornithology Index.
WOOD MOTE. See Forest Courts.
WOODSTOCK, a town of Oxfordshire, in England,
pleasantly seated on a rising ground, and on a rivulet j a
well compacted borough-town, and sends two members
to parliament } but is chiefly noted for Blenheim-house,
a fine palace, built in memory of the victory obtained
by the duke of Marlborough over the French and Bava¬
rians in August 1704. It was erected at the public
expence, and is one of the noblest seats in Europe. One
of the passages to it is over a bridge with one arch, 190
feet in diameter, resembling the Rialto at Venice. The
gardens take up too acres of ground ; and the offices,
which are very grand, have room enough to accommo¬
date 300 people. The apartments of the palace are
magnificently furnished j and the staircases, statues,
paintings, and tapestry, surprisingly fine. The town is
about half a mile from the palace, having several good
inns ; and a manufacture of steel chains for watches, and
excellent gloves. A steel chain has been made at this
place which sold forgot.—The population in 1811
was 1419 persons. It is eight miles north of Oxford,
and 60 west-north-west of London. W. Long. 1. 30.
N. Lat. 51. 52.
WOODWARD, Dr John, was born in 1665, and
educated at a country school, where he learned the La¬
tin and Greek languages, and was afterwards sent to
London, where he is said to have been put apprentice to
a linen-draper. lie was not long in that station, till he
became acquainted with Dr Peter Barwick, an eminent
physician, who took him under his tuition and into his
family. Here he prosecuted with great vigour and suc¬
cess the study of philosophy, anatomy, and physic. In
1692, Dr Stillingfleet quitting the place of professor of
physic in Gresham college, our author was chosen to
succeed him, and the year following was elected f. R. S.
In 1695 he obtained the degree of M. D. by patent
from Archbishop Tennison ; and the same year he pub¬
lished his Essay towards a Natural History of the Earth.
He afterwards wrote many other pieces, which have
been well received by the learned world, tie founded
a lecture in the university of Cambridge, to be read
there upon his Essay, &c. and handsomely endowed it.
He died in 1728.
■ WOOF, among manufacturers, the threads which the
weavers shoot across with an instrument called the shut¬
tle. See Cloth.
W700KEY or Okey Hole, a remarkable cavern two
miles from the city of Wells in Somersetshire j for an
account of which, see the article Grotto.
WOOL, the covering of sheep. See Ovis and
Sheep.
Wool resembles hair in a great many particulars 5 but
besides its fineness, which constitutes an obvious differ¬
ence, there are other particulars which may serve also to
distinguish them from one another. Wool, like the hair
' of horses, cattle, and most other animals, completes its
growth in a year, and then falls olf as hair does, and is
succeeded by a fresh crop. It differs from hair, however,
in the uniformity of its growth, and the regularity of its
shedding. Every filament of wool seems to keep exact
pace with another in the same part of the body of the
animal ; the whole crop springs up at once 5 the whole
advances uniformly together $ the whole loosens from the
skin nearly at the same period, and thus falls off, if pot
9 1
WOO.
previously shorn, leaving the animal covered with a short
coat of young wool, which in its turn undergoes the same *-
regular mutations.
Hairs are commonly of the same thickness in every
part; but wool constantly varies in thickness in differ¬
ent parts, being generally thicker at the points than at
the roots. That part of the fleece of sheep which grows
during the winter is finer than what grows in summer.
This was first observed by Dr Anderson, the editor of
the Bee, and published in his Observations on the Means
of exciting a Spirit of National Industry.
While the wool remains in the state it was first shorn
off the sheep’s back, and not sorted into its different
kinds, it is called fleece. Each fleece consists of wool
of divers qualities and degrees of fineness, which the
dealers therein take care to separate. The French and
English usually separate each fleece into three sorts, viz.
1. Mother-wool, which is that of the back and neck.
2. The wool of the tails and legs. 3. I hat of tlrte
breast and under the belly. The Spaniards make tire
like division into three sorts, which they call prime, se¬
cond, and third; and for the greater ease, mark each
bale or pack with a capital letter, denoting the sort.
If the triage or separation be well made, in 15 bales
there will be 1 2 marked R, that is, refine, or prime j
two marked F, for fine, or second} and one S, for
thirds.
The wools most esteemed are the English, chiefly
those about Leominster, Cots wold, and the isle of Wight;
the Spanish, principally those about Segovia ; and the
French, about Berry: which last are said to have this
peculiar property, that they will knot or bind with any
other sort ; whereas the rest will only knot with their
own kind.
Among the ancients, the wools of Attica, Megara,
Laodicea, Apulia, and especially those of Tarentum,
Parma, and Altino, were most valued. Varro assures
us, that the people there used to clothe their sheep with
skins, to secure the wool from being damaged.
Of late a great deal of attention has been paid to wool
in this country, as well as several others. Several very
spirited attempts have been made to improve it, by in¬
troducing superior breeds of sheep, and better methods
of managing them. lor this purpose has been formed
the
British JFool Society, an association formed for the
purpose of obtaining the best breeds of fine-woolled
sheep, with a view of ascertaining, by actual experi¬
ments, how far each species or variety is calculated for
the climate of Great Britain ; the qualities of their wool
respectively ; the uses to which each kind of wool could
be most profitably employed in different manufactures ;
and the comparative value of each species of sheep, so
far as the same can be determined.
Attention had for some time been paid by the High¬
land Society to a famous breed of fine-woolled sheep in
Shetland ; but it occurred to Sir John Sinclair of Fib¬
ster, baronet, and to Dr James Anderson, well known
as the author of many useful publications, that the im¬
provement of British wool was a matter of too much
importance to be entrusted to a society which is obliged
to devote its attention to such a variety of objects as
the general improvement of the Highlands of Scotland.
The latter of these gentlemen, therefore, in an Appen¬
dix to the Report of the Committee of the Highland
5 A 2 Society
Wool.
WOO [ 740 ] woo
Wool. Society of Scotland, for the year 1790, proposed the
v— )plan of a patriotic association for the improvement of
British wool; and the former, who was convener of the
committee to whom the subject of Shetland wool had
been referred, wrote circular letters, recommending the
plan. The consequence of which was, that on the 31st
of January 1791, several noblemen and gentlemen of
the highest respectability met in Edinburgh, and con¬
stituted themselves into a Society for the Improvement
of British Wool. Of this society Sir John Sinclair was
elected president; after which, in an excellent speech,
he pointed out to the members the objects of the insti¬
tution, the means by which those objects could be at¬
tained, and the advantages which would result from
their united labours. This address was afterwards print¬
ed by order of the society.
The particular breeds of sheep to which the society
proposed to direct its attention, were sheep for the hilly
parts of Scotland ; sheep for the plains, or the Lowland
breed ; and sheep for the islands. They were to try
experiments also with sheep from foreign countries, di¬
stinguished by any particular property.
The principal objects which the members had in
view, during the first year of their association, were, 1.
To collect specimens of the best breeds which Great
Britain at that period afforded, in order to ascertain the
degree of perfection to which sheep had already been
brought in this kingdom. 2. To procure from every
country, distinguished for the quality of its sheep and
wool, specimens of the different breeds it possessed, in
order to ascertain how far the original breed, or a mix¬
ed breed from it and the native sheep of the country,
could thrive in Scotland. 3. To disperse as much as
possible all these breeds, both foreign and domestic, over
the whole kingdom, wherever proper persons could be
found to take charge of them, in order to try experi¬
ments on a more extensive scale than the society itself
could do ; to spread information, and to excite a spirit
for the improvement of sheep and wool in every part of
the country.
Sir John Sinclair had previously collected a flock,
consisting of sheep of the Spanish, Herefordshire, South-
down, Cheviot, Lomond hills, and Shetland breeds, and
of a mixed breed from these different sheep. This flock
amounted to no rams, ewes, and lambs. M. d’Auben-
ton, in consequence of a correspondence with Sir John
Sinclair, sent over to the society ten rams and five
ewes, of real Spanish breed, which had been originally
entrusted to his care by the late king of France: these,
after encountering a number of obstacles, and after be¬
ing stopped and threatened to be slaughtered at the cu¬
stomhouse of Brighthelmstone for the use of the poor,
arrived safe at Leith. Lord Sheffield, at the same time,
sent to the society four rams and six ewes of the South-
down and Spanish breeds. Mr Bishton of Kilsall, in
Shropshire, presented them with three Hereford rams,
reckoned by many the best breed in England 5 the so¬
ciety at the same time ordered 150 ewes of the same
breed, and two ewes of the Long Mountain breed, rec¬
koned the best in Wales, to be sent along with them.
They purchased 57 rams and 173 ewes of the Cheviot
breed, reckoned the best in Scotland, for the hilly parts
of the country. Lord Daer sent them 20 ewes of an
excellent breed, which existed at Mochrum in Gallo-
way. The late earl of Oxford sent them in a present
three rams of the Norfolk crossed by the Cape of Good
Hope breed. Mr Isaac Grant junior of Leghorn, in
conjunction with Mr Sibbald, merchant at Leith, pre¬
sented them an Apulian ram and ewe j the ram arrived
in safety, but the ewe unfortunately died on the passage.
Mr Baron Seton of Preston, in Linlithgowshire, sent
them a ram and two ewes of a Spanish breed, which
had been for some time kept in Sweden unmixed with
any other. They purchased 100 ewes of a small breed
existing in the parish of Leuchars in Fife, much resem¬
bling the Shetland. The Bight Honourable William
Conynghame. of Ireland sent them 1 x Spanish rams,
seven Spanish ewes, 15 three-fourth breed and 16 one-
half breed Spanish and Irish ewes. Lord Sheffield sent
them eight rams and 18 ewes; and his majesty made
them a present of two rams.
Thus, in the course of one year, the society acquired
by donation or purchase about 800 sheep of different
sorts and ages, and many of them from foreign coun¬
tries : about 500 of these were distributed over difl'erent
parts of Scotland, the greater number of which were
sold to gentlemen anxious to promote the views of the
society, and well qualified to make experiments on the
different breeds which they had obtained. The great¬
est part of the remainder were taken by different gen¬
tlemen, who kept them for the society, and according
to their directions, without any expence.
It is impossible to produce an instance of so much
having been accomplished by a society of private indi¬
viduals in so short a time. Nor was this all ; the same
year Mr Andrew Kerr, a very intelligent sheep-farmer
on the borders of England, was sent, at the expence of
the society, to examine the state of sheep-farming along
the east coast of Scotland and the interior parts of the
Highlands. His tour wTas printed by order of the so¬
ciety, and contains the first intimation of the possibili¬
ty of the Cheviot breed thriving in the north of Scot¬
land.
In the year 1792, Messrs Redhead, Laing, and Mar¬
shall were sent by the society, to make a survey of the
state of sheep-farming through some of the principal
counties of England ; the result of which was also pub¬
lished by the society, and contains more information on
the subject of the different breeds of England than any
work hitherto published; and in 1794, Mr John Nai-
smyth was sent on a tour through the southern districts
of Scotland, which completed the circuit of almost the
wdiole kingdom.
Thus a few private individuals, unaided by the public
purse, had boldness enough to undertake ascertaining
the comparative value of the different kinds of sheep in
their own country, and to introduce some of the most
celebrated breeds of other countries, and succeeded in
the spirited attempt. It is impossible in this place to
state more minutely the various other transactions of
the society ; to enter into any detail of the premiums
given by this respectable institution for the improve¬
ment of the celebrated Shetland breed ; or to explain
how, as if it were by magic, in a country where the
manufacture of wool was little known, articles manu¬
factured of that material were made, rivalling, and in
some cases surpassing, the most celebrated fabrics of
other countries. A war having unfortunately arisen,
it became impossible to pay the same attention, or to
carry on with the same success, novel enterprises ; even
Wool,
Wool-
:ombing.
Plate
rixvHi.
tff. x.
Fi| 2.
FU-
WOO [74
old establishments often fall a sacrifice amidst the hor¬
rors of war. The utmost that the British Wool Socie¬
ty could expect to do, was to preserve the institution in
such a state, that when peace shall be happily restored
it may revive with double energy and spirit.
It is a curious fact that the Romans, during their re¬
sidence in Britain, established a manufactory of woollen
cloth at Winchester, which was so extensive as to sup¬
ply their army; and there is reason to believe that the
trade which they introduced into Britain, was not ne¬
glected by the native inhabitants, for the first 900
years of the Christian era. The long Spanish wool was
imported into this country so early as the x 2th century,
and we find that since the days of Edward III. British
fleeces were admirably adapted to the kind of cloth
which was in greatest request, though now they are ge¬
nerally unequal to the production of that which is
sought after.
TFoOL-Combing, a well known operation, which,
when performed by the hand, is laborious, tedious, and
expensive. The expence of it through all England has
been calculated at no less a sum than 8oo,oool. ; and
to lessen this expence, the Rev. Edmund Cartwright of
Doncaster in Yorkshire bethought himself, some years
ago, of carding wool by machinery. After repeated
attempts and improvements, for which he took out
three patents, he found that wool can be combed in per¬
fection by machinery, of which he gives the following
description.
Fig. 1. is the crank lasher. A is a tube through
, which the material, being formed into a sliver, and
slightly twisted, is drawn forward by the delivering
rollers; B, a wheel fast upon the cross bar of the
crank ; C, a wheel, on the opposite end of whose axis
is a pinion working in a wheel upon the axis of one of
the delivering rollers.
Note. When two or more slivers are required, the
cans or baskets, in which they are contained, are placed
upon a table under the lasher (as represented at D),
which, by having a slow motion, twists them together
as they go up.
Fig. 2. is the circular clearing comb, for giving work
in the head, carried in a frame by two cranks. Fig. 3.
the comb-table, having the teeth pointing towards the
centre, moved by cogs upon the rim, and carried round
upon trucks like the head of a windmill, a, b, '1 he
drawing rollers, c, cl, Callendar, or conducting rollers.
Note. Underneath the table is another pair of rollers,
for drawing out the backings.
In the above specification, we have omitted the frame
in which the machine stands, the wheels, shafts, &c.
Had these been introduced, the drawing would have
been crowded and confused ; besides, as matters of in¬
formation, they would have been unnecessary, every me¬
chanic, when he knows the principles of a machine, be¬
ing competent to apply the movements to it.
The wool, if for particularly nice work, goes through
three operations, otherwise two are sufficient: the first
operation opens the wool, and makes it connect to¬
gether into a rough sliver, but does not clear it. T-he
clearing is performed by the second, and, if necessary, a
third operation. Aset of machinery, consisting of three
machines, will require the attendance of an overlooker
and ten children, and will comb a pack, or 2401b. in
twelve hours. As neither fire nor oil is necessary for
« ]
W O R
machine-combing, the saving of those articles, even the Wool-
fire alone, will, in general, pay the wages of the over- combing
looker and children; so that the actual saving to the ^y01.J!ester
manufacturer is the whole of what the combing costs, . . .*
by the old imperfect mode of hand-combing. Machtne-
combed wool is better, especially for machine-spinning,
by at least 12 per cent, being all equally mixed, and the
slivers uniform, and of any required length.
WOOLSTON, Thomas, an English divine, was
born at*Northampton in 1669, and educated at Cam¬
bridge. His first appearance in the learned world was
in 1705, in a work entitled, The Old Apology for the
Truth of the Christian Religion, against the Jews and
Gentiles, revived. He afterwards wrote many pieces :
but what made the most noise, were his six Discourses
on the Miracles of Christ; which occasioned a great
number of books and pamphlets upon the subject, and
raised a prosecution against him. At his trial in Guild¬
hall, before the lord chief justice Raymond, he spoke
several times himself; and urged, that “ he thought it
very hard that he should be tried by a set of men who,
though otherwise very learned and worthy persons, were
no more judges of the subjects on which he wrote, than
himself was a judge of the most crabbed points of the
law.” He was sentenced to a year’s imprisonment, an
to pay a fine of look He purchased the liberty of the
rules of the King’s bench, where he continued after the
expiration of the year, being unable to pay the fine.
The greatest obstruction to his deliverance from con¬
finement was, the obligation of giving security not to
offend by any future writings, he being resolved to
write again as freely as before. Whilst some supposed
that this author wrote with the settled intention of sub¬
verting Christianity under the pretence of defending it,
others believed him disordered in his mind ; and many
circumstances concurred which gave countenance to
this opinion. He died, January 27. 1732-3, after an
illness of four days ; and, a few minutes before his
death, uttered these words : “ This is a struggle which
all men must go through, and which I bear not only
patiently, but with willingness.” His body was interred
in St George’s church-yard, Southwark.
WOOLWICH, a town in Kent, with a market on
Fridays. It is seated on the river Thames, and of great
note for its fine docks and yards, where men of war are
built; as also for its vast magazines of great guns, mor¬
tars, bombs, cannon-balls, powder, and ether waidike
stores. It has likewise an academy, where young offi¬
cers are instructed in the military art; the population
in 1801 exceeded 9000. It is nine miles east of Lon¬
don. E. Long. o. 10. N. Lat. 51. 30.
WORCESTER, in Latin Wigornia, the capital of a
county of England of the same name, stands on the
river Severn, but so low that it can hardly be seen till
one is close upon it. It is supposed to be the Brano-
nium of Antoninus, the Branogenium of Ptolemy, and
to have been built by the Romans to awe the Britons
on the other side of the Severn. It was made an epis¬
copal see about the -year 680 by Sexulphus bishop of
the Mercians; but the present cathedral was begun by
Wulston in the year 1084. The town hath been seve¬
ral times burnt down; first, in 1041, by Hardicanute,
who also massacred the citizens ; secondly, not long af¬
ter William Rufus’s time; and a third time, when King
Stephen besieged and took it. Here, in latter times,
was
W O K [ 742 ] \V O R
Werccster. was fouglit that battle, in which Charles II. with his
' ; Scots army, was defeated by Cromwell. In a garden
near the south gate of the city, where the action was
hottest, the hones of the slain are often dug up. It
had formerly strong walls and a castle ; but these have
been demolished long ago. It is now a large city, the
streets broad and well paved, and some of them
very regular and well built, particularly Foregate-
street j so that in general it is a very agreeable place.
The cathedral is a stately edifice, and among other mo¬
numents in it are those of King John, of Arthur, elder
brother to Henry VIII. and of the countess of Salis¬
bury, who gave occasion to the institution of the order
of the Gaiter. There are seven or eight hospitals in
and about the city ; of which that built and endowed
by Robert Berkley of Spetcbley, Esq. is a very noble
one. There is a school founded by Henry VIII. three
other schools, and six charity-sohools. The churches,
St Nicholas and All-Saints, have been lately rebuilt,
and are handsome edifices. The city carries on a great
trade ; for which it is chiefly indebted to its situation
upon the Severn. The population in 1801 was estimated
at 1 x,ooo, a large proportion of which is employed in the
manufacture of broad cloth and gloves. The Welch in¬
habit a part of it, and speak their own language. Its
market is well supplied with provisions and cattle, and
its quay is much frequented by ships. By a charter from
James I. it is governed by a mayor, six aldermen who
are justices of the peace, and chosen out of 24 capital
citizens ; a sheriff, the city being a county of itself; a
common council, consisting of 48 other citizens, out of
which two chamberlains are yearly chosen *, a recorder,
town-clerk, two coroners, a sword-bearer, 13 constables
and four Serjeants at mace. Of the bishops of this see,
there have been, it is said, one pope, four saints, seven
lord high chancellors, 11 archbishops, two lord treasu¬
rers, one chancellor to the queen, one lord president of
Wales, and one vice-president. The city at present
gives title of earl and marquis to the duke of Beaufort.
W. Long. 1. 55. N. Lat. 52. 10.
Worcester, Edward Somerset, Marquis of, was a
distinguished political character in the time of Charles I.
by whom he was created earl of Glamorgan, while heir
apparent to the marquis of Worcester. This no bleman
flourished chiefly in the reign of Charles I. and seems to
have been a most zealous adherent to the cause of that
unfortunate monarch, on whose account it is said that
he and his father wasted an immense sum. Of this the
king was so sensible, that he granted to the earl a most
extraordinary patent, the chief powers of which were,
to make him generalissimo of three armies, and admiral
with nomination of his officers ; to enable him to raise
money by selling his majesty’s woods, wardships, cus¬
toms, and prerogatives 5 and to create by blank patents,
to be filled up at Glamorgan’s pleasure, from the rank
of marquis to baronet. If any thing, says Lord Orford,
could justify the delegation of such authority, besides
his majesty having lost all authority, when he conferred
it, it was the promise with which the king concluded,
of bestowing the princess Elizabeth on Glamorgan's
son. This patent was given up by the marquis to the
house of peers after the restoration. He died not long
after that era, in 1667, after he had published what
Lord Orford calls the following amazing piece of folly.
“ A century of the names and scantlings of such in-Wormier.
ventions, as at present I can call to mind to have tried 1 v—-
and perfected, which (my former notes being lost^) I
have, at the instance of a powerful friend, endeavoured
now in the year 1655, to set these down in such a way
as may sufficiently instruct me to put any of them in
practice.”
Some of the inventions referred to in this work are
the following. A ship-destroying engine, a coach-stop¬
ping engine, a balance water-work, a bucket fountain,
an ebbing and flowing castle clock, a tinder-box pistol,
a pocket ladder, a most admirable way to raise weights,
a stupendous water-work. For the last contrivance the
marquis procured an act of parliament in 1663, for
the sole benefit arising from it, one-tenth of it being ap¬
propriated to Charles II. and his successors.
In a manuscript addition to a copy of the Century of
Invention*, the stupendous or water-commanding engine
is described as boundless for height or quantity, requir¬
ing no external, or even additional help or force to be
set or continued in motion, but what intrinsically is af¬
forded from its own operation, n^r yet the twentieth
part thereof, and the engine consisteth of the following
particulars. 1. A perfect counterpoise for what quanti¬
ty soever of water. 2. A perfect countervail, for what
height soever it is to be brought unto. 3. A primura
mobile, commanding both height and quantity, regula¬
tor-wise. 4. A vicegerent or countervail, supplying the
place, and performing the full force of man, wind,
beast, or mill. 5. A helm or stern, with bit and reins,
wherewith any child may guide, order, and controul
the whole operation. 6. A particular magazine for
water, according to the intended quantity or height of
water. 7. A place for the original fountain, or even
river to run into, and naturally of its own accord incor¬
porate itself with the rising water and at the very bot¬
tom of the same aqueduct, though never so big or high.
Various and very opposite opinions have been held
with regard to the title of this nobleman to be consider¬
ed as a mechanical genius. Lord Orford has pronoun¬
ced his work an amazing piece of folly 5 and Mr Hume,
speaking of his political conduct, says, “ That the king
judged aright of this nobleman’s character, appears
from his Century of Arts, or Scantling of inventions,
which is a ridiculous compound of lies, chimeras, and
impossibilities, and shows what might be expected from
such a man.” Hist, of England. It may be fairly
presumed from the quotations now made, that neither
Lord Orford nor Mr Home was qualified to judge of
the marquis’s work, otherwise a more temperate or a
more modified opinion would have been given. By
others, the author of the inventions has been regard¬
ed as one of the greatest mechanical geniuses, and is
to be considered as the inventor of the steam-engine,
which he denominates a stupendous water-work. There
seems to be no reason to suppose that any steam-engine
was erected by the marquis himself j but it is said that
Captain Savary, after reading the marquis’s books,
tried many experiments upon the power and force of
steam, and at last fell upon a method of applying it to
raise water and having bought up and destroyed all
the marquis’s books that could be got, claimed the
honour of the invention to himself, and obtained a pa¬
tent for it.
The
Worcester
Word.
WOR [ 743 ] W O R
The marquis of Worcester is sometimes confounded
with John Tiptoft, earl of Worcester, a very accomplish¬
ed literary character, who lived in the times of Henry
VI. and Edward IV. Being attached to Edward, he
absconded during the short restoration of Henry, and
being taken concealed in a tree in Waybridge forest in
Huntingdonshire, he was brought to London, accused
of cruelty in his administration of Ireland, and con¬
demned and beheaded at the Tower in the year 1470.
This nobleman translated Cicero de Amicitia, some
parts of Caesar’s Commentaries, and was the author of
several other works.
WORCESTERSHIRE, a county of England,
bounded by Warwickshire on the east, by Gloucester¬
shire on the south, by the counties of Hereford and Sp-
lop on the west, and on the north by Staffordshire. Ac¬
cording to Templeman, it is 36 miles in length, 28 in
breadth, and about 130 in circumference, within which
it contains seven hundreds, and a part of two others,
11 market towns, of which three are boroughs, one
city, namely Worcester, 152 parishes, about 540,000
acres, and in 1811, 160,546 inhabitants.
This being an inland county, well cultivated, and
free from lakes, marshes, or stagnant waters, the air is
very sw’eet and wholesome all over it. The soil in ge¬
neral is very rich, producing corn, fruit, especially pears,
of which they make a great deal of perry j hops and
pasture. The hills are covered with sheep, and the
meadows with cattle. Hence they have wool, cloth,
stuffs, butter, and cheese in abundance. They are also
well supplied with fuel, either wood or coal, and salt
from their brine pits and salt springs. Of the last they
have not only enough for themselves, but export large
quantities by the Severn ; which noble river, to the
great convenience and emolument of the inhabitants,
runs from north to south through the very middle of the
county, enriching the soil, and yielding it plenty of ksh,
and an easy expeditious conveyance of goods to and
from it. It is also watered by the Stour, Avon, Teme,
&c. It sends nine members to parliament, viz. two
for the county, two for the city of Worcester, two for
Droitwich, two for Evesham, and one for Bewdley •, and
lies in the diocese of Worcester, and Oxford circuit.
See Worcestershire, Supplement.
WORD, in language, an articulate sound designed
to represent some idea or notion. See Grammar and
Language. See also Logic, Part I. chap. i.
Word, or Watch-word, in military affairs, is some
peculiar word or sentence, by which the soldiers know
and distinguish one another in the night, &c. and by
which spies and designing persons are discovered. It is
used also to prevent surprises. The word is given out
in an army every night to the lieutenant or major-ge¬
neral of the day, who gives it to the majors of the
brigades, and they to the adjutants ; who give it first
to the field-officers, and afterwards to a serjeant of
each company, who carry it to the subalterns. In
garrisons it is given after the gate is shut to the town-
major, who gives it to the adjutants, and they to the
serjeants.
Words of Command. See Exercise and Ma¬
nual.
Signals by the Drum, made use of in exercising of
the Army, instead of the Word of Command, vi%.
Signals by the drum.
A short roll,
A flam.
To arms,
The mai'ch,
The quick march,
The point of war,
The retreat,
Drum ceasing,
Two short rolls.
The dragoon march.
The grenadier march,
The troop,
The long roll,
The grenadier march,
The preparative,
The general,
Two long rolls,
Operations.
To caution.
To perform any distinct thing.
To form the line or battalion.
To advance, except when in¬
tended for a salute.
To advance quick.
To march and charge.
To retreat.
To halt.
To perform the flank firing.
To open the battalion.
To form the column.
To double divisions.
To form the square.
To reduce the square to the co¬
lumn.
To make ready and fire.
To cease firing.
To bring or lodge the colours..
Word
WORK, in the manege. To work a horse, i> to
exercise him at pace, trot, or gallop, and ride him at
the manege. To work a horse upon volts, or head and
haunches in or between two heels, is to passage him, or
make him go sideways upon parallel lines.
To Work, in sea language, is to direct the move¬
ments of a ship, by adapting the sails to the force and
direction of the wind. See Seamanship.
Work, Carpenters, Clock, Crown, Field, Fire, Fret,
Grotesque, Horn, Mosaic. See the several articles, to¬
gether with Fortification and Pyrotechny.
Work-Housc, a place where indigent, vagrant, and
idle people, are set to work, and supplied with food and
clothing.
Work-houses are of two kinds, or at least are em¬
ployed for two different purposes. Some are used as pri¬
sons for vagrants or sturdy beggars, who are there con¬
fined and compelled to labour for the benefit of the so¬
ciety which maintains them ; whilst others, sometimes
ca\\ed poor-houses, are charitable asylums for such indi¬
gent persons as through age or infirmity are unable to
support themselves by their own labour. The former
kind of work-house, when under proper management,
may be made to serve the best of purposes ; of the latter
we are acquainted with none which entirely commands
our approbation.
To make confinement in a work-house operate to the
correction of vagrants and disorderly persons (and if it
produce not this effect it can hardly be considered as a
beneficial institution), the prisoners should be shut up in
separate cells, and compelled to labour for their own
subsistence. A crew of thieves and vagabonds associat¬
ing with each other is a hell upon earth, in which every
individual is hardened in his crimes by the countenance
and conversation of his companions ; and wretches who,
when at liberty, choose to beg or steal rather than to
earn a comfortable livelihood by honest industry, will
submit to any punishment which a humane overseer can
inflict rather than work for the benefit of others. No
punishment indeed will compel a vagrant to labour. He
may assume the appearance of it, but he will make no
progress ; and the pretext of sickness or weakness is ever
at hand for an excuse. Hence it is that thieves and
4 strumpets
WOK, [ 744 1 W O K
"Work- strumpets are too often dismised from work-houses and
house. bridewells ten times more the children of the devil than
1 when they entered them.
To'remedy these evils, we can think of no better me¬
thod than to confine each prisoner in a cell by himself,
and to furnish him daily with such an allowance of
bread and water as may preserve him from immediate
death ; for the only compulsion to make such men work
seriously is the fear of want, and the only way to reform
them is to leave them to their own meditations on the
consequences of their past conduct. There are surely
very few persons, if any, whose aversion from labour
would not be conquered by the pinchings of hunger and
the certain prospect of perishing by famine j and it is to
be hoped that there are not many so totally divested of
every latent principle of virtue, as not to be brought by
such solitude to a due sense of their former wickedness.
Should one or two, however, be occasionally found so
very obdurate as to suft'er themselves to perish rather
than work, their deaths would prove a salutary beacon
. to others, and their blood would be on their own
heads; for we have the express command of St Paul him¬
self, that “ if any will not work, neither should he eat.”
No doubt it would be proper that the meditations of
vagabonds confined in a work-house should be directed
by the private admonitions of a pious and intelligent
clergyman 5 but it is not every clergyman who is quali¬
fied to discharge such a duty. If he be actuated by a
zeal not according to knowledge, or if he have not with
equal care studied human nature and the rvord of God,
his admonitions will be more likely to provoke the pro¬
fane ridicule of his auditor, and harden him in his wic¬
kedness, than to excite in his breast such sorrow for his
sins as shall “ bring forth fruits meet for repentance.”
To render the instruction of thieves and vagrants of any
use, it must be accurately adapted to the case of each
individual ; and however excellent it may be in itself,
it will not be listened to unless offered at seasons of un¬
common seriousness, which the instructor should there¬
fore carefully observe.
That such wholesome severity as this would often re¬
form the inhabitants of work-houses, appears extremely
probable from the effects of a similar treatment of com¬
mon prostitutes mentioned by Lord Karnes in his
Sketches of the History of Man : “ A number of those
wretches were in Edinburgh confined in a house of cor¬
rection, on a daily allowance of threepence, of which
part was embezzled by the servants of the house. Pinch¬
ing hunger did not reform their manners } for being ab¬
solutely idle, they encouraged each other in vice, wait¬
ing impatiently for the hour of deliverance. Mr Stir¬
ling the superintendant, with the consent of the magi¬
strates, removed them to a clean house ; and, instead of
money, appointed for each a pound of oatmeal daily,
with salt, water, and fire for cooking. Believed now
from distress, they longed for comfort. What would
they not give for milk or ale ? Work (says he) will pro¬
cure you plenty. To some who offered to spin, he gave
flax and wheels, engaging to pay them half the price
of their yarn, retaining the other half for the materials
furnished. The spinners earned about ninepence week¬
ly *, a comfortable addition to what they had before.
The rest undertook to spin, one after another ; and be¬
fore the end of the first quarter they were all of them in-
4eot upon work. It was a branch of his plan to set free
i
such as merited that favour; and some of them appear- Work¬
ed to be so thoroughly reformed as to be in no danger hoa^e,
of a relapse.”
Work-houses erected as charitable asylums appear to
us, in every view that we can take of them, as institd-
tions-wbrch can serve no good purpose. Economy is
the great motive which inclines people to this mode of
providing for the poor. There is comparatively but a
very small number of mankind in any country so aged
and infirm as not to be able to contribute, in some de¬
gree, to their subsistence by their own labour j and in
such houses it is thought that proper work may be pro¬
vided for them, so that the public shall have nothing to
give in charity but what the poor are absolutely unable
to procure for themselves. It is imagined likewise, that
numbers collected at a common table, can be maintain¬
ed at less expence than in separate houses ; and foot
soldiers are given for an example, who could not live on
their pay if they did not mess together. But the cases
are not parallel. “ Soldiers having the management of
their pay, can club for a bit of meat 5 but as the inha¬
bitants of the poor-house are maintained by the public,
the same quantity of provisions must be allotted to each.
The consequence is what might be expected : the bulk
of them reserve part of their victuals for purchasing ale
or spirits. It is vain to expect work from them : poor
wretches void of shame will never v/ork seriously, where
the profit accrues to the public, not to themselves.
Hunger is the only effectual means for compelling such
persons to work * Karnes’1
The poor, therefore should be supported in their
own houses ; and to support them properly, the first
thing to be done is, to estimate what each can earn by
his own labour j for as far only as that falls short of
maintenance, is there room for charity. In repairing
those evils which society did not or could not prevent,
it ought to be careful not to counteract the wise pur¬
poses of nature, nor to do more than to give the poor
a fair chance to work for themselves. The present di¬
stress must be relieved, the sick and the aged provided
forj but the children must be instructed j and labour,
not alms, offered to those who have some ability to
work, however small that ability may be. They will
be as industrious as possible, because they work for
themselves j and a weekly sum of charity under their
own management will turn to better account than in a
poor-house under the direction of mercenaries. Not a
penny of it will be laid out on fermented liquors, unless
perhaps as a medicine in sickness. Nor does such low
fare call for pity to those who can afford no better. Ale
makes no part of the maintenance of those who, in many
parts of Scotland, live by the sweat of their brows j and
yet the person who should banish ale from a charity
work-house, would be exclaimed against as hard-heart¬
ed, and even void of humanity.
That such a mode of supporting the poor in their
own houses is practicable, will hardly admit of a dis¬
pute; for it has been actually put in practice in the city
of Hamburgh ever since the year 1 788. At that pe¬
riod such revenues as had till then been expended in
alms by the several church-w’aidens, and those of which
the administration had been connected with the work¬
house, were united under one administration with such
sums as w’ere collected from private benevolence. The
city was divided into sixty districts, containing each an
Work*
house.
WOR [ 745 ] WOE
equal number 6f poor; and over tbese 180 overseers
Were appointed. Actual relief was the first object; but
at the very moment that this provision wras secured,
measures were taken to prevent any man from receiving
a shilling which he could have been able to earn for him¬
self. By these methods, which our limits will not permit
us to state, the overseers were able to make a calcula¬
tion tolerably exact of what each pauper wanted for
bare subsistence, in addition to the fruits of his own la¬
bour. A flax-yarn-spinning manufacture was establish¬
ed, in which the yarn is paid for, not by its weight,
but by its measure. The clean flax is sold to the poor at
a low price, and a certain measure of yarn again bought
from them at 30 per cent, above the usual price ; so
that the overseers are sure that all the yarn spun by the
poor will be brought into their office. Every pauper
brings with him a book in which the quantity delivered
is carefully noted down, which furnishes the overseers
with a continual average of the state of industry among
their poor.
As soon as this institution was established, the over¬
seers went through their districts, and asked, in all such
mansions as could be supposed to harbour want, if the
inhabitants stood in need of support ? The question to
all such poor as wished for relief, and were able to spin,
was. Whether they did earn by their work is. 6d. a-
week ? for experience had taught the inhabitants of
Hamburgh, that many poor live upon that sum ; and
they knew enough of their poor to suppose, that is. 6d.
avoived earning was equal to something more. If the
answer was affirmative, the pauper stood not in need of
weekly assistance. If it was negative, work was given
him, which, by being paid 30 per cent, above its value,
afforded him is. 6d. a-week easily, if he was even an
indifferent hand. The far more frequent cases were
partial inability by age, or weakness, or want of skill.
For poor of the latter description a school was opened,
and in three months time the business was easily learnt.
During that time, the pauper got first 2s. a-week, and
«very week afterward 2d. less, till in the twelfth week
he got nothing at all but his earnings, and was dismis¬
sed, with a wheel and a pound of flax gratis.
The quantity of work which disabled poor were ca¬
pable of doing in a week was easily and accurately as¬
certained by a week’s trial in the spinning-school. The
result was produced weekly before appointed members
of the committee, and the sum which the poor could
earn was noted down in their small books. The over¬
seer was directed to pay them iveekly what their earn¬
ings fell short of is. 6d. in every such week, when it
appeared from their books that they had earned to the
known extent of their abilities. From that moment ap¬
plications became less frequent; and the committee had
an infallible standard for distinguishing real want: for
whenever the pauper, if in health (if not, he rvas pecu¬
liarly provided for), had not earned what he could,
then he had either been lazy, or had found more lucra¬
tive work ; in either case, he was not entitled to a re¬
lief for that week, whatever he might be for the fol¬
lowing.
Th is mode of providing for the poor, which attracted
the notice and obtained the eulogium of the minister
and the British house of commons, has for six years
been in Hamburgh attended with the happiest conse¬
quences, In the streets of that city a beggar is rarely
Vol. XX. Part IL f
to be seen,.whilst those who stand in need ofrthe chari- Work¬
table contributions of the rich, are much more comfort- bouse
ably, as well as at much less expence, maintained at 11
home, with their children about them, than they could Worniillg-,
be in work-houses, under the management ol mercenary y “‘■J 1
overseers. For a fuller account of this judicious insti¬
tution, we must refer our readers to Voght’s Account of
the Management of the Poor in Hamburgh, since the
year 1788, in a Letter to some Friends of the Poor in
Great Britain.
M OULD, the assemblage of parts which compose
the globe of the earth. See Geography and Astro¬
nomy.
WORM, in Gunnery, a screw of iron, to be fixed on
the end of a rammer, to pull out the wad of a firelock,
carabine, or pistol, being the same with the wad-hook,
only the one is more proper for small arms, and the
other for cannon.
Worm, in Chemistry, is a long winding pipe, pla¬
ced in a tub ol water, to cool and condense the vapours
in the distillation of spirits.
Blind-Worm, or SIow-JCorm, See Anguis, Erpe-
TOEOGY Index.
Earih-WoRM. See Lumbricus, Helminthology
Index.
GIow-Worm. See Lampyrus, Entomology Index.
Bilk IF orm. See Silk, N° 5.
WORMS, \ermes. See Helminthology and
CONCHOLOGY.
Worms, in the human body. See Medicine,
Worms, in horses. 1 „ T,
Worms! in dogs.
Worms for bait. See Fishing.
Worms, an ancient and famous city of Germany,
with a bishop’s see, whose bishop was formerly a sove¬
reign and prince of the empire. It is a free and impe¬
rial city, and the inhabitants are Protestants. It is fa¬
mous for a diet held here in 1521, at which Luther as¬
sisted in person, in memory of which the Protestants
built a handsome church, where Luther is represented
as appearing at the diet. It is noted for the excellent
wine that grows in the neighbourhood, which they call
our Lady's milk. In the campaign of 1743, King Geo.
II. took up his quarters in this city, and lodged at the
bishop’s palace after the battle of Dettingen. Worms
fell into the hands of the French in 1794, and was in¬
cluded in the department of Mont Tonnere. It conti¬
nued in their possession till 1814, when it was united
to the territories of the duke of Hesse Darmstadt. It
is seated on the western bank of the Rhine, 20 miles
south-east of Mentz, and 32 south-west of Frankfort.
E. Long. 8. I 5. N. Lat. 49. 32.
W ORMING of Dogs. All dogs have certain
strings under their tongues, by most called a worm ;
this must be taken out when they are about two months
old, with the help of a sharp knife to slit it, and a shoe¬
maker’s awl to raise it up; you must be careful to take
all out, or else your pains is to little purpose ; for till
then he will be hardly ever fat and right, in regard the
worm or string will grow foul and troublesome, and
hinder his rest and eating. This cruel operation is ge¬
nerally recommended as a preventive of madness in
dogs, or at least as disabling them, if mad, from biting
in that condition.
In this operation, of which the vulgar account is gi-
S B ven.
won [ 746 ] w o r
Wonning ven above, wliich we have justly denominated a cruel one,
|! it is not a string that is removed, hut the duct by which
Worship (|ie sa][va is conveyed from the gland in which it is se-
creted to the mouth, for the purpose of mixing with the
food and promoting its deglutition and digestion. Now
this operation by no means prevents the animal from
biting, nor can it, in our opinion, obstruct the flow of
the saliva by which the dreadful disease hydrophobia is
communicated.
WORMIUS, Olaus, a learned Danish physician,
born in 1588 at Arhusen in Jutland. After beginning
his studies at home, he studied at several foreign univer¬
sities, and travelled to various parts of Europe lor im¬
provement. He returned to his native country in 1613,
and was made professor of the belles lettres in the uni¬
versity of Copenhagen. In 1615, he was translated to
the chair of the Greek professor ; and in 1624 to the
professorship of physic, which he held to his death.
These occupations did not hinder him from practising in
his profession, and from being the fashionable physician:
the king and court of Denmark always employed him ;
and Christian IV. as a recompense for his services, con¬
ferred on him a canonry of Lunden. He published
some pieces on subjects relating to his profession, several
works in defence of Aristotle’s philosophy, and several
concerning the antiquities of Denmark and Norway j
for which latter he is principally regarded, as they are
very learned, and contain many curious particulars. He
died in 1654.
WORMWOOD. See Artemisia, Botany In¬
dex.
WORSHIP of God {cultus Dei), amounts to the
same with what we otherwise call religion. This wor¬
ship consists in paying a due respect, veneration, and
homage to the Deity, under a certain expectation of re¬
ward. And this internal respect, &c. is to be shown
and testified by external acts j as prayers, sacrifices,
thanksgivings, &c.
The Quietists, and some other mystic divines, set
aside not only all use of external worship, but even the
consideration of rewards and punishments. Yet even
the heathens had a notion that God did not require us
to serve him for nought: “ Dii quamobrem colendi sint
(says Cicero), non intelligo, nullo nec accepto ab illis
nec sperato bono.”
The school-divines divide worship into divers kinds,
viz. latria, that rendered to God ; and inololatria, that
rendered to idols or images. To which the Romanists
add, dvlia, that rendered to saints j and hyperdulia, that
to the Virgin. Some theological writers have observed,
that the Greek word, v^ta-y.vnu, to worship, is not de¬
scriptive only of the honour which is appropriated to
God, but is indifferently used to signify the honour and
respect which are paid to superiors of all kinds in heaven
or on earth. Accordingly, they have distinguished be¬
tween civil and religious worship.
That it is the duty of man to worship his Maker, has
been sufficiently proved under other articles (see Pray¬
er •, and I HEOLOGY, N° 40—45.). It is not indeed
easily to be conceived how any one who has tolerably
just notions of the attributes and providence of God,
can possibly neglect the duty of worship ; and
though we have admitted in the last of the two articles
referred to, that public worship does not seem to be en¬
joined in that system which is called the religion of na-
3
ture, yet it is most expressly commanded by the religion Worship,
of Christ, and will be regularly performed by every ——y—
one who reflects on its great utility.
As the illiterate vulgar cannot form to themselves
correct notions of the divine providence and attributes,
it is obvious, that without the institution of public wor¬
ship, they would never think of worshipping God at all,
unless perhaps occasionally, when under the pressure of
some severe calamity; but occasional worship, the off¬
spring of compulsion, could have little of the resigned
spirit of true devotion. Ignorant, however, as the low¬
est of the vulgar are, and necessarily must be, it cannot
he denied, that in most Christian countries, perhaps in
all, they are more accurately acquainted with the first
principles of religion, and the laws of morality, than
even the leaders of barbarous nations. This superiority
is doubtless owing in some measure to their access to the
Sacred Scriptures, but much more, we are persuaded, to
the instruction which they receive in the assemblies
which they frequent for public worship. If this be ad¬
mitted, public worship may be easily proved to be the
duty of every individual of the community : For were
those, who may be supposed to stand in no need either
of the contagion of society to kindle their own devotion,
or of the preaching of a clergyman to instruct them in
the doctrines and precepts of the gospel, “ to forsake,
on these accounts, the assembling themselves together,
as the manner of some is,” religious assemblies and pub¬
lic worship would very quickly fall into universal disuse.
Man is an animal prone to imitation ; and every order
in society is ambitious of treading in the footsteps of the
order immediately above it. Were the wise and the
good, therefore, permitted to absent themselves from the
assemblies instituted for the public worship of the Crea¬
tor and Redeemer of the world, others would quickly
follow their example j impelled to it not only by this
universal propensity, but by the additional motive of
wishing to appear both to the world and to themselves
as wise and as good as their privileged neighbours. The
consequence is obvious : one man would stay from
church with the serious intention perhaps of employing
the Lord’s day in private devotion and religious study;
another, following his example, would absent himself
upon the same pretence, but would in reality waste tho
day in dozing indolence or in secret sensuality. For
these and other reasons which might be easily assigned,
no sincere Christian will think himself at liberty to dis¬
pute a practice enjoined by the inspired preachers of
his religion, coeval with the institution, and retained
by every sect into which it has since been unhappily di¬
vided.
As Christian worship consists of prayers and praises,
it has been a matter of some debate whether it is most
properly performed by preconcerted forms or liturgies,
or by extemporaneous addresses to the Almighty. Both
these modes have their advantages and disadvantages;
and by the sacred writers neither of them is prescribed
in opposition to the other.
The advantages of a liturgy are, that it prevents ab¬
surd, extravagant, or impious addresses to God, which
the folly or enthusiasm of individuals must always be iu
danger of producing ; it gives the congregation an op¬
portunity oijoining in the prayers which are put up for
them, which they cannot possibly do in a series of ex¬
temporaneous petitions, since before they can assent, to
any
won [ 747 ] WOR
Worship, any one of these and make it their own, their attention
Wort, is necessarily called away to that which succeeds it $
and it relieves the clergyman from the labour of com¬
position, which seems incompatible with that fervour
which constitutes the spirit of devotion.
The disadvantages of a fixed liturgy, which are the
recommendations of extemporary prayer, are principally
two. The forms composed in one age must, by the un¬
avoidable change of language, circumstances, and opi¬
nions, become in some degree unfit for another ; and
the perpetual repetition of the same form of words is
very apt to’produce inattentive lassitude in the congrega¬
tion. Would the clergy of the church of England take
that liberty which is allowed them in the bidding prayer
before sermon, perhaps the service of that church would
unite in itself all the advantages both of liturgic and ex¬
temporary worship. We have only to add on this sub¬
ject, that public prayers, whether precomposed or not,
ought to be compendious ; that they ought to express
just conceptions of the Divine attributes; recite such
wants as the congregation are likely to feel, and no
other j that they ought to contain as few controverted
propositions as possible ; and that, if it can be done
without offence, the pompous style of the state should
be laid aside in our prayers for the king, and all that
are in authority j because in every act which carries the
mind to God, human greatness must be annihilated.
WORT, the infusion of malt, of which beer is made.
See Brewing. The uses of this infusion in common
affairs are well known. By Dr M'Bride it has lately
been found to have a strong antiseptic virtue, and to be
useful in preventing the scurvy and other diseases to
which sailors are liable ; this was confirmed by Cap¬
tain Cook in his voyages. See Mea?is of Preserving
the Health of Seamen.
It is of great importance to the manufacturer to be
able to ascertain with facility and precision the real
strength of worts, or the quantity of saccharine matter
contained in the infusion. This is accomplished by de¬
termining the specific gravity by means of instruments,
which, from the purpose to which they are applied, have
obtained the name of saccharometers. But as these in¬
struments, from the very nature of the material of which
they are constructed, are liable to considerable change,
tire results which they afford cannot always be depended
on. With the view of obviating these inconveniences,
the patent areometrical beads have been invented by
Mrs Loti of Edinburgh. We have already noticed
these beads on account of their accuracy, simplicity,
and facility of application lor ascertaining the specific
gravity, or the real strength and value of spirituous li¬
quors. See vol. xix. p. 599-j and we now recommend
them with greater confidence, from having had oppor¬
tunities of knowing that they are capable of a more ex¬
tended application, as in the manufacture of acids, and
salts of different kinds ; to ascertain the strength of
acids, or that of saline solutions in bleaching } to deter¬
mine the strength of liquids employed in the different
processes of calico printing and dyeing, and not only for
the purpose of examining the strength of the acids em¬
ployed, but also particularly to ascertain the density or
specific gravity of the colouring matters which are used
in these arts, so that the same degree of shade required
maybe always obtained. It has been suggested, that these
beads might be conveniently employed in determining
the strength of mineral waters, which, it is well known, Wort,
vary considerably at different seasons of the year. Wotton.
As thfe patent beads are constructed on the same prin- v
ciple from 800, the specific gravity of alcohol, to 2000,
which is double the specific gravity of water ; and as
they are divided into different series, each of which in¬
cludes a range of specific gravities applicable to the
particular fluids, the density or strength of which is
required, we have no hesitation in asserting that they
will be found extremely convenient and useful to all
manufacturers and dealers, who wish to ascertain with
accuracy the real strength and value of liquids.
It has been objected to the use of these beads, that
they require a longer time than other instruments in
using them. The same objection has been made to the
introduction of other new instruments, the application
of which frequent use has afterwards rendered familiar
arid easy. We have had opportunities of knowing that
this objection is completely obviated by those who have
been accustomed to use the beads. They find that they
can determine the specific gravity of a liquid by means
of the beads w'ith the same facility, and in as short a
time, as with any other instrument.
WOTTON, Sir Henry, an eminent writer, was
the son of Thomas Wotton, Esq. and was born in 1 568.
He studied for some time at New-college, Oxford,
whence he removed to Queen’s-college, where he made
a great progress in logic and philosophy ; wrote a tra¬
gedy for the use of that college, called Tancredo ; and
afterwards received the degree of master of arts. After
this, leaving the university, he travelled into France,
Germany, and Italy j and having spent about nine years
abroad, he returned to England, and became secretary
to Robert earl of Essex, with whom he continued till
that earl was apprehended for high treason. He then
retired to Florence, where he became known to th®
grand duke of Tuscany, who sent him privately with
letters to James VI. king of Scotland, under the name
of Octavio Baldi, to inform that king of a design against
his life. Some months after he went back to Florence ;
but King James coming to the possession of the crown
of England, Mr Wotton returned home, was knighted
by his majesty, and sent ambassador to the republic of
Venice ; and afterwards was employed in many other
embassies to that and other courts \ but the only re¬
ward he obtained for these services was his having the
provostship of Eton conferred upon him about the year
1623, which he kept till his death, which happened in
1639. After his decease some of his manuscripts and
printed tracts were published together in a volume, in-
titled Reliquice Wottoniancv.
Wotton, Hr William, a learned divine and writer,
was the son of Mr Henry Wotton, B. D. rector of
Wrentham in Suffolk, where he was born in 1666.
He was educated by his father, a gentleman well skilled
in the learned languages ; under whom he macle such
amazing proficiency, that at five years of age it is said
he could render several chapters of the gospels out of
Latin and Greek, and many psalms in Hebrew, into his
mother tongue. When he was very young, he remem¬
bered the whole of almost every discourse he had heard $
and often surprised a preacher by repeating his sermon
to him. He was admitted into Catharine-hall in Cam¬
bridge some months before he was ten years old j when
the progress he made in learning in that university en-
J B a gaged
Wotton,
Wounds.
Wounds
which are
W O U [748
gaged Dr Duport, then master of Magdalen college,
and dean of Peterborough, to write an elegant copy of
Latin verses in his praise. In 1679 he took the degree
of bachelor of arts when he was but twelve years and
five months old 5 and the winter following he was in¬
vited to London by Dr Gilbert Burnet, then preacher
at the Rolls, who introduced him to most of the learned
men in that city, and particularly to Dr William Lloyd,
bishop of St Asaph 5 to whom he recommended himself
by repeating to him one of his sermons, as Dr Burnet
had engaged he should. In 1691 he commenced bache¬
lor of divinity. The same year Bishop Lloyd gave him
the sinecure of Llandrillo, in Denbighshire. He was
afterwards made chaplain to the earl of Nottingham,
then secretary of state, who presented him to the rectory
of Middleton Keynes, in Bucks, and to whom he dedi¬
cated his Reflections upon Ancient and Modern Learn¬
ing. In 1705, Bishop Burnet gave him a prebend in
the church of Salisbury ; and in 1707, Archbishop Te-
nison presented him with the degree of doctor of divi¬
nity j but in 1714, the difficulties he laboured under
with respect to his private fortune, obliged him to retire
into South Wales, where he was treated with great
kindness and humanity by the gentlemen of that coun¬
try ; and wrote there the “ Memoirs of the Cathedral
Churches of St David’s and Landaff,” and his “ Mis¬
cellaneous Discourses relating to the Traditions and
Usages of the Scribes and Pharisees j” which were af¬
terwards printed. He died in 1726. This great man
was remarkable for his humanity and friendliness of tem¬
per 5 the narrowness of a party spirit never broke in up¬
on any of his friendships5 and his time and abilities were
at the service of any person who was making advances
in real learning. He wrote, besides the above works,
I. A History of Rome. 2. A Defence of his Reflec¬
tions upon Ancient and Modern Learning. 3. A Dis¬
course concerning the Languages of Babel. 4. Advice
to a young Student, with a Method of Study for the
first four Years ; and other learned pieces.
WOUNDS, in Surgery, have been divided into
simple, contused or lacerated, and gun-shot.
OJ Simple Wounds.—The first thing to be considered
in the inspection of a wound is, whether it be likely to
prove mortal or not. This knowledge can only be had
from anatomy, by which the surgeon will be able to de¬
termine what parts are injured \ and, from the offices
which these parts are calculated to perform, whether the
human frame can subsist under such injuries. It is not,
however, easy for the. most expert anatomist always to
prognosticate the event with certainty *, but this rule he
ought always to lay down to himself, to draw the most
favourable prognosis the case will bear, or even more
than the rules of his art will allow. This is particular¬
ly incumbent on him in sea-engagements, where the
»entence ot death is executed as soon as pronounced,
and the miserable patient is thrown alive into the sea,
upon the surgeon’s declaring his wound to be mortal.
There are, besides, many instances on record, where
wounds have healed, which the most skilful surgeons
have deemed mortal. The following wounds may be
reckoned mortal.
1. 1 hose which penetrate the cavities of the heart,
and all those wounds of the viscera where the large
w o u
not admit of proper applications to restrain the flux of Wound
blood. - 1 ,
aecessanty blood-vessels are opened; because their situation will
2. Those which entirely cut off the passage of the
nervous influence through the body. Such are wounds
of the brain, cerebellum, medulla oblongata, and spinal
marrow. Wounds likewise of the small blood-vessels
within the brain are attended with great danger, from
the e{fused fluids pressing npon the brain. Nor is there
less danger where the nerves which tend to the heart are
wounded, or entirely divided; for, after this, it is im¬
possible for the heart to continue its motion.
3. All wounds which entirely deprive the animal of
the faculty of breathing.
4. Those wounds which interrupt the course of the
chyle to the heartj such are wounds of the receptacle ef
the chyle, thoracic duct, and larger lacteals, &c.
5. There are other wounds which prove fatal if ne¬
glected and left to nature : such are wounds of the lar¬
ger external blood-vessels, which might be remedied by
ligature. Wounds ot such parts generally prove fatal j
and though a few instances may have occurred where
people have recovered after them, yet they are al¬
ways to be considered as extremely dangerous. Por¬
tions of the brain have been destroyed, and wounds have
been made into it, and the patients have lived. It is
possible, too, that the thoracic duct might be wounded
and the patient live j Mr A. Cooper having shown, in
a very ingenious paper in the Medical Records and Re¬
searches, that it may become obstructed, and the chyle
conveyed into the system by anastomosing lympha¬
tics.
In examining wounds, the next consideration is, whe- Symptom*
ther the parts injured are such as may be supposed to?fw.ound5
induce dangerous symptoms, either immediately or at1”^^
some period during the course of the cure. In order to bod/,0
proceed with any degree of certainty, it is necessary to
be well acquainted with those symptoms which attend
injuries of the different parts of the body. If the skin
and part of the cellular substance are only divided, the
first effects are an effusion of blood} the lips of the
wound retract, become tumefied, red and inflamed,
leaving a gap of considerable wideness according to the 3
length and deepness of the wound. If a very consider-Of wound*
able portion of skin and cellular substance is divided, aof ^ie .s1^n
slight fever seizes the patient; the effusion of blood in^JJ.
the mean time stops, and the wound is partly filed upstance.
with a cake of coagulated blood. Below this cake, the
small vessels pour forth a clear liquor, which in a short
time is converted into pus (see the articles Pus and Mu¬
cus). Below this pus granulations of new flesh arise,
the cake of coagulated blood loosens, a new skin covers
the place where the wound was, and the whole is heal¬
ed up ; and there only remains a mark, called a cica-
triv or scar, showing where the iniury had been re¬
ceived. 4
All w'ounds are accompanied with a considerable de-9fl'ltm*8"
gree of pain, especially when the inflammation comes*
on, though the division reaches no farther than the skin
and cellular substance. If the muscular fibres are di¬
vided, the pain is much greater, because the sound part
of the muscle is stretched by the contraction of the
divided part and the action of the antagonist muscle,
which it is now less fitted to bear. The wound also
gapes much more than where the cellular substance is
alone
cles.
\v o u
founds, alone divided, insomuch that, if left to itself, the skin
'—y——^ will cover the muscular fibres, without any intervention
of cellular substance ; and not only a very unsightly ci¬
catrix remains, but the use of the muscle is in some mea¬
sure lost.—If the muscle happens to be totally divided,
its fibres retract to a very considerable distance; and un¬
less proper methods be taken to bring them into contact,
^ the use of it is ever afterwards lost.
Ctlie ar- If by a wound any considerable artery happens to be
twics. divided, the blood flows out with great velocity, and
by starts ; the patient soon becomes faint with loss of
blood; nor does the hsemorrhagy stop until he faints
away altogether ; and if as much vis vitce still remains
as is sufficient to renew the operations of life, he reco¬
vers after some time, and the wound heals up as usual.
The part of the artery which is below the wound in the
mean time becomes useless, so that all the inferior part
of the limb would be deprived of blood, were it not
that the small branches sent otT from the artery above
the wounded place become enlarged, and capable of
carrying on the circulation. Nature also, after a won¬
derful manner, often produces new vessels from the su¬
perior extremity of the divided artery, by which the cir¬
culation is carried on as formerly. The consequences of
such a profuse haemorrhagy may be, however, very dan¬
gerous to the patient, by inducing extreme debility, or
an universal dropsy. This great hsemorrhagy happens
especiallv where the artery is partially divided; because
then the vessel cannot contract in such a manner as to
close the orifice : however, if the wound is but small,
the blood gets into the cellular substance, swelling up
the member to an extreme degree, forming what is cal¬
led a diffused aneurism. Thus the hsemorrhagy soon
stops externally, but great mischief is apt to flow from
the confinement of the extravasated blood, from bring¬
ing on exterior suppuration among the muscles and
bones; and thus not only the use of the limb is entirely
lost, but the patient is brought into great danger of his
life.
Wounds of the ligaments, nerves, and tendons, are
sahnts, likewise attended withbad consequences. When a nerve
nets, and is entirely divided, the pain is but trifling, though the
teijkns. consequences are often dangerous. If the nerve is large,
all the parts to which it is distributed below the wound
immediately lose the power of motion and sensation.
This, however, takes place only when all or the great¬
est part of the nerves belonging to a particular part are
divided. If the spinal marrow, for instance, be divided
near the head, the parts below soon lose their sensation
irrecoverably ; or it the bundle ot nerves passing out of
the axilla be divided, or tied, sensation in the greatest
part of the arm below will be lost. But though a nerve
should be divided, and a temporary palsy be produced,
it may reunite, and perform its former functions. If a
nerve be wounded only, instead of being divided, the
worst symptoms frequently ensue.
Ofth tho- Wounds which penetrate the cavities of the thorax
td the are always exceedingly dangerous, because there is
scarce a possibility of all the viscera escaping unhurt. A
wound is known to have penetrated the cavity of the
thorax principally by the discharge of air from it at
each inspiration, by an extreme difficulty of breathing,
and by coughing up blood. Such wounds, however, are
not always mortal : the lungs have frequently been
wounded, and yet the patient has recovered.—Wounds
[ 749 f
W O U
Ofi
6
ke li-
of the diaphragm are almost always mortal, either by Wounds,
inducing fatal convulsions immediately, or by the ascent ““v— *
of the stomach, which the pressure of the abdominal
muscles forces up through the Avound into the cavity of
the thorax; of this Van Swieten gives several instances.
—Even though the wound do not penetrate into the
cavity of the thorax, the very Avorst symptoms may fol¬
low. For if the Avound descends deeply among the ex¬
ternal muscles, and its orifice lies higher, the extravasa¬
ted blood Avill he therein collected, stagnate, and form
various sinuses ; Avhich after having eroded the pleura,
may at length pass into the cavity of the thorax. The
matter having once found a vent into this cavity, Avill
be continually augmenting from the discharge of the si¬
nuous ulcer, and the lungs Avill at last suffer by the sur¬
rounding matter. If, in cases of Avounds in the thorax,
the ribs or sternum happen to become carious, the cure v
Avill be extremely tedious and difficult. Galen relates
the case of a lad Avho received a blow upon his sternum
in the field of exercise : it was fix-st neglected, and af¬
terwards badly healed ; but, four months aftenvards,
matter appeared at the place Avhich had received the
blow. A physician made, an incision into the part, and
it Avas soon after cicatrized : but in a short time a neAV
collection made its appearance, and upon a second inci¬
sion the Avound refused to heal. Galen found the ster¬
num carious ; and having cut off the diseased paid, the
pericardium itself Avas observed to be corroded, so that
the heart could be seen quite naked ; notwithstanding
Avhich, the Avound Avas cured in no very long time.
There is sometimes difficulty in determining whether
the wound has i-eally penetrated into the thorax or into
the abdomen ; for the former descends much farther to¬
wards the sides than at the middle. But as the lungs
ai-e almost always Avounded when the cavity of the tho¬
rax is penetrated, the symptoms arising from thence can
scarcely be mistaken.—Another symptom which fre¬
quently, though not always, attends Avounds of the tho¬
rax, is an emphysema. This is occasioned by the air
escaping from the Avounded lungs, and insinuating itself
into the cellular substance ; which being pervious to it
over the Avhole body, the tumor passes from one part to
another, till at last every part is inflated to a surprising
degree. An instance is given in the Memoirs of the
Iloyal Academy, of a tumour of this kind, which on
the thorax Avas eleven inches thick, on the abdomen .
nine, on the neck six, and on the rest of the body four;
the eyes Avere in a great measure thrust out of their or¬
bits by the inflation of the cellular substance; and the
patient died the fifth day. This was occasioned by a
stab Avith a sword. g
Wounds of the abdomen ai’e not less dangerous than Of the &b-
those of the thorax, on account of the importance of^®n,?n aIlcl
the viscera Avhich it contains. When the Avound does115 visceii*,‘
not penetrate the cavity, thei’e is some danger of a her¬
nia being formed by the protrusion of the peritonaeum
through the weakened integuments, and the danger is
greater the larger the Avound is. Those wounds Avhich
run obliquely betwixt the interstices of the muscles often
produce sinuous ulcers of a had kind. For as there is a
large quantity of fat interposed everywhere betwixt the
muscles of the abdomen, if a Avound happens to run be¬
tween them, the matter there collected, not meeting
Avith free egress through the mouth of the Avound, often
makes its Avay in a surprising manner through the cellu¬
lar-
w o u
Wounds, lar substance, and forms deep sinuosities between the
muscles j in which case the cux-e is always difficult, and
sometimes impossible.
If a large wound penetrate the cavity of the abdo¬
men, some of the viscera will certainly be protruded
through it; or if the wound is but small, and closed up
with fat so that none of the intestines can be protruded,
we may know that the cavity of the abdomen is pierced,
and probably some of the viscera wounded, by the acute
pain and fever, paleness, anxiety, faintings, hiccough,
cold sweats, and weakened pulse, all of which accom¬
pany injuries of the internal parts. The mischiefs
which attend wounds of this kind proceed not only from
the injury done to the viscera themselves, but from the
extravasation of blood and the discharge of the contents
of the intestines into the cavity of the abdomen ; which,
being of a very putrescent nature, soon bring on the
most violent disorders. Hence wounds of the abdomi¬
nal viscera are very often mortal. This, however, is
not always the case, for the small intestines have been
totally divided, and yet the patient has recovered.
Wounds both of the small and large intestines have
healed spontaneously, even when they were of such
magnitude that the contents of the intestine were freely
discharged through the wound into the abdomen, and
after part of the intestines itself has been protruded
through the wound of the integuments.
When the mesentery is injured, the danger is ex¬
treme, on account of its numerous vessels and nerves.
Wounds of the liver, spleen, and pancreas, are also ex¬
ceedingly dangerous, although there are some instances
of the spleen being cut out of living animals without any
considerable injury.
From the preceding account of the symptoms attend¬
ing wounds in the different parts of the body, the sur¬
geon may be enabled to judge in some measure of the
event; though it must always be remembered, that
wounds, even those which seemed at first to be of the
slightest nature, have, contrary to all expectation, prov¬
ed mortal, chiefly by inducing convulsions, or a locked
jaw ; so that no certain prognostic can be drawn on
sight of recent wounds. We shall now, however, pro-
^ ceed to consider their treatment.
‘JVeatment ^,°r ^ie cure °f wounds, it has been already observed,
®f wounds, that the ancients imagined balsams, the juice of herbs,
&c. to be specifics. In after-ages, and in countries
where balsams are not easily to be procured, salves were
substituted in their place; and even at this day there
are many who reckon a salve or ointment essentially ne¬
cessary for healing the slightest cut. It is certain, how¬
ever, that the cure of wounds cannot be effected, nay,
not even forwarded in the least, by ointments, unless in
particular cases. That power which the human frame
has of repairing the injuries done to itself, which by
physicians is called vis mediccttrix natui-cv, is the sole
agent in curing external injuries ; and without this the
most celebrated balsams would prove ineffectual. When
a wound has been made with a sharp instrument, and
is not extensive, if it be immediately cleaned and all
the extravasated blood sucked (a) out or washed away,
w o u
it will almost always heal by adhesion. When a wound Wounds
does not heal by this process, there are three stages to v-—
be observed in its cure; the first, called suppuration,
which takes place when the ends of the wounded vessels
contract themselves, and pour out the liquor which is
converted into pus. As soon as this appears, the second,
or granulating stage, in which the flesh begins to grow
up, takes place ; and as this proceeds, the edges of
the wound acquire a fine bluish or pearl colour, which
is that of the new skin beginning to cover the wound as
far as the granulations have filled it up. This process
continues, and the skin advances from all sides towards
the centre, which is called the cictitri%ing of the wound.
For the promoting of each of these processes, several
ointments were formerly much in vogue. But it is
now found, that no ointment whatever is capable of
promoting them ; and that it is only necessary to keep
the wound clean, and to prevent the air from having
access to it. This, indeed, nature takes care to do, by
covering the wound with a cake of coagulated blood;
but if a wound of any considerable magnitude should be
left entirely to nature, the pus would form below the
crust of coagulated blood in such quantity, that it would
most probably corrupt, and the wound degenerate into
a corroding ulcer. It is necessary, therefore, to cleanse
the wound frequently; for this purpose it will be pro¬
per to apply a little ointment spread on soft scraped lint.
And, in a healthy body, the wound will heal without
farther trouble. As to the ointment employed, it is al¬
most indifferent what it be, provided it has no acrid or
stimulating ingredient in its composition ; hogs lard or
the simple ointment of the Pharmacopeia will answer
perfectly.
But though, in general, wounds thus easily admit of
a cure, there are several circumstances which require a
different treatment, even in simple divisions of the fleshy
parts, when neither the membranous nor tendinous parts
are injured. These are, I. Where the wound is large,
and gapes very much, so that, if allowed to heal in the
natural way, the patient might be greatly disfigured by
the scar. It is proper to bring the lips of the wound
near to each other, and to join them either by adhesive
plaster or by sutux-e, according as the wound is super¬
ficial, or deep. 2. When foreign bodies ai-e lodged in
the wound, as when a cut is give1? by glass, &c. it is
necessary to extract them, before the wound is dressed:
for it will never heal until they ai’e discharged. When
these bodies ai’e situated in such a manner as not to La
capable of being extracted without lacerating the ad¬
jacent parts, which would occasion violent pain and
other bad symptoms, it is necessary to enlarge the
wound, so that these offending bodies may be easily re¬
moved. This treatment, however, is chiefly necessary
in gunshot wounds, of which we shall afterwards
speak. 3. When the wound is made in such a man¬
ner that it runs for some length below the skin, and the
bottom is much lower than the orifice, the matter col¬
lected from all parts of the wound will be lodged in the
bottom of it, where, corrupting by the heat, it will de¬
generate into a fistulous ulcer. To prevent this, we
must
[ 75o ]
(a) See an account of the method of sucking wounds, in Mr John Bell’s T)xscourses on Wounds, Part I. dis¬
course v. p. 215.
w o u
[
Von ini?
*fee
Mod,
»i9.
Of jse re_
«!4 of
ts iu
w#.iKs.
must use compresses, applied so that the bottom of the
wound may suffer a more considerable pressure than the
upper part of it. Thus the matter formed at the bot¬
tom will be gradually forced upwards, and that formed
at the upper part will be incapable of descending by its
weight 5 the divided parts, in the mean time, easily
uniting when brought close together. Indeed, the
power which nature has of uniting different parts of
the human body is very surprising; for, according to
authors of credit, even if a piece of flesh he totally cut
out, and applied in a short time afterwards to the place
from whence it was cut, it will unite. That a part cnt
out of a living body does not entirely lose its vital
power for some time, is evident from the modern prac¬
tice of transplanting teeth •, and from an experiment of
Mr John Hunter’s, where he put the testicle of a cock
into the belly of a living hen, and the testicle adhered
to the liver, and became connected to it by means of
blood vessels*. We have therefore the greatest reason
to hope, that the divided parts of the human body,
when closely applied to each other, will cohere without
leaving any sinus or cavity between them. However,
if this method should fail, and matter be collected in the
depending part of the wound, it will be necessary to
make an opening in that part in order to let it out;
after which the wound may be cured in the common
way. 4. During the course of the cure, it sometimes
happens that the wound, instead of filling up with gra¬
nulations of a florid colour, shoots up into a glassy-like
substance which rises above the level of the surrounding
skin, while, at the same time, instead of laudable pus, a
thin ill coloured and fetid ichor is discharged. In this
case the lips of the wound lose their beautiful pearl co¬
lour, and became callous and white, nor does the cica¬
trizing of the wound at all advance. When this hap¬
pens in a healthy patient, it generally proceeds from
some improper management, especially the making use
of too many emollient and relaxing medicines, an im¬
moderate use of balsams and ointments. Frequently
nothing more is requisite for taking down this fungus
than dressing with dry lint: at other times desiccative
powders, such as calamine, tutty, calcined alum, &.c.
will be necessary ; and sometimes red precipitate mer¬
cury must be used. This last, however, is apt to give
great pain, if sprinkled in its dry state upon the wound ;
it is therefore most proper to grind it with some yellow
basilicon ointment, which makes a much more gentle,
though at the same time an efficacious escharotic.
Touching the overgrown parts with blue vitriol is also
found very effectual.
Hitherto we have considered the wounded patient as
otherwise in a state of perfect health ; but it must be ob¬
served, that a large wound is capable ol disordering the
system to a great degree. If the patient is strong and
vigorous, and the pain and inflammation of the wound
great, considerable degree of fever may arise, which it
will be necessary to check by bleeding, low diet, and
other parts of the antiphlogistic regimen, at the same
time the inflamed lips of the wound and parts adjacent
are to be treated with emollient fomentations or cata¬
plasms till the pain and swelling abate. On the other
hand, it may happen, when the patient is of a weak and
lax habit, that the vis vitce may not be sufficient to ex¬
cite such an inflammation in the wound as is absolutely
ii€cessary for its cure. In this case, the edges of the
51 ] V/ o u
wound look pale and soft 5 the wound itself ichorous Woniuls
and bloody, without any signs or granulations; or if
any granulations shoot up, they are of the fungous
glassy kind above mentioned. To such wounds all ex¬
ternal applications are vain ; it is necessary to strengthen
the patient by proper internal remedies, among which
the bark has a principal place, until the wound begins
to alter its appearance. In such persons, too, there is
some danger of a hectic fever by the absorption of mat¬
ter ; and this will take place during the course of the
cure, even when the appearances have been at first as
favourable as could he wished. This happens generally
when the wound is large, and a great quantity of mat¬
ter formed 5 for by this discharge the patient is weaken¬
ed •, so that the pus is no sooner formed, than it is re-
conveyed into the body by the absorbent vessels, and
immediately affects the patient with feverish heat.
When this takes place, the best remedy is to exhibit
the bark copiously, at the same time to support the pa¬
tient by proper cordials and nourishing diet. Indeed,
in general, it will be found, that, in the case of w'ounds
of any considerable magnitude, a more full and nourish¬
ing regimen is required than the patient, even in health,
has been accustomed to 5 for the discharge of pus alone,
where the quantity is considerable, proves very debili¬
tating. And it is constantly found, that the cure of
such sores goes on much more easily when the patient
is kept in his usual habit of body, than when his system
is much emaciated by a very low allowance j and, for
the same reason, purgatives, taken more freely than
what is necessary to keep the bowels open, and whatever
else tends to weaken the constitution, are improper in
the cure of wounds. ,,
Hsemorrhagies very frequently happen in wounds, Of hsemw-
either from a division of a large artery, or of a number Eaglet
of small ones. In this case, the first step to be taken
the surgeon is to effect a temporary stoppage of the
blood by means of compression, and he is then to tie up
all the larger vessels according to the methods usually
directed.
When the principal arteries of a wound have been
tied, and a little blood continues to be discharged,
which appears to come from sundry small vessels only,
an experienced surgeon is induced to think, that the
compression of the bandages will in all j>robability
effect a total stoppage of the baemorrbagy. In a gene¬
ral oozing from the whole surface of a sore, and when
no particular vessel can be distinguished, there is a ne¬
cessity for trusting to the bandage or compression j but
whenever an artery can be discovered, of whatever size
it may be, it ought to be secured by a ligature. But it
frequently happens, that considerable quantities of blood
are discharged, not from any particular vessel, but from
all the small arteries over the surface of the wound ; and
in wounds of great extent, particularly after the extir-
pationof cancerous breasts, and in other operations where
extensive sores are left, this species of hsemorrhagy often
proves very troublesome by being exceedingly difficult
to suppress.
In constitutions perfectly healthy, on the occurrence
of wounds even of the most extensive nature, as soon as
the larger arteries are secured, all the small vessels which
have been divided are diminished, not only in their dia¬
meters, but also in their length j in consequence of
■which, they recede considerably within the surface of
th«
W O U [ 752 ] w o u
Wound's. ^ie surrounding parts. This cause of itself would pro-
—-v——' bably, in the greatest number of instances, prove suffi¬
cient for restraining all loss of blood from the smaller
arteries. Another very powerful agent however is pro¬
vided by nature for producing the same ellect. From
the extremities of the divided vessels which at first dis¬
charged red blood, there now, in their contracted state,
oozes out a more thin, though viscid fluid, containing a
great proportion of the coagulable parts of the blood ;
and this being equally distributed over the surface of
the wound, by its agglutinating powers has a very con¬
siderable influence in restraining all such hasmorrhugies.
When a tedious oozing occurs in a patient young and
vigorous, and where the tone of the muscular fibres is
evidently great, the most effectual means of putting a
stop to the discharge is to relax the vascular system,
either by opening a vein in some other part, or, what
gives still more immediate relief, by untying the liga¬
ture on one of the principal arteries of the part, so as to
allow it to bleed freely : those violent spasmodic twitch-
ings too, so frequent after operations in any of the ex¬
tremities, when they do not depend on a nerve being
included in the ligature with the artery, are in this
manner more effectually relieved than by any other
means.
By the same means the patient, from being in a fe¬
brile heat and much confused, soon becomes very tran¬
quil : the violent pulsation of the heart and larger ar¬
teries abates, and the blood not being propelled with
such impetuosity into the smaller vessels of the part,
they are left at more liberty to retract.
The patient ought to he kept exceedingly cool ; wine
and other cordials should be rigidly avoided ; cold tva-
ter, acidulated either with the mineral or vegetable
acids, ought to be the only drink j motion of every
kind, particularly of the part affected, should he guard¬
ed against j and the lip of the wound being drawn to¬
gether by adhesive plaster, and gently covered with
soft charpie, it ought to be tied up with a bandage so
applied as to produce a moderate degree of pressure on
the extremities of the divided parts.
As soon as a sufficient quantity of blood has been dis¬
charged, the wound dressed, and the patient laid to rest,
% dose of opium proportioned to the violence of the
symptoms ought to be immediately exhibited. It ought
to he remarked, however, that in all such circumstances,
much larger doses of this medicine are necessary than in
ordinary cases requiring the use of opiates. Small doses,
instead of answering any good purpose, seem frequently
rather to aggravate the various symptoms; so that
whenever they are had recourse to in such cases, they
ought always to be given in quantities sufficient for the
intended effect.
But haemorrhagies of this nature happen much more
frequently in relaxed enfeebled habits, where the solids
have lost part of their natural firmness, and the fluids
have acquired a morbid tenuity. In this case a mode¬
rate use of generous wine ought to be immediately pre-
•cribed j for nothing tends so much, in such circum-
etances, to restrain hsemorrhagies, as a well directed use
of proper cordials. By tending to invigorate and brace
the solids, they enable the arterial system to give a due
resistance to the contained fluids ; and have also a con¬
siderable influence in restoring to the fluids that viscidi-
2
ty of texture, of which in all such instances-we suppose Wounds
them to be deprived. . ’
A nourishing diet also becomes proper ; the patient
ought to be kept cool; and the mineral.acids, from their
known utility in every species of haimorrhagy, ought
also to be prescribed. Best of body is here also pro¬
per ; and opiates, when indicated either by pain or
spasmodic affections of the muscles, ought never to he
omitted.
Together with these remedies adapted to the general
system, particular dressings, appropi'iated to the state of
the parts to which they are to be applied, have been
found very beneficial. In healthy constitutions, soon
after the discharge of blood is over, the parts are cover¬
ed with a viscid coagulable effusion from the mouths of
the now retracted arteries ; but in constitutions of an
opposite nature, where the solids are much relaxed, the
blood in general is found in such an attenuated state as
to afford no secretion of this nature.
To supply as much as possible the deficiency of this
natural balsam, differentartificial applications have been
invented. Dusting the part with starch or Avheat-flour
has sometimes been found of use, and gum arabic in fine
powder has been known to answer when these failed.
Applications of this kind, indeed, have been used
with success in all such hsemorrhagies, with whatever
habit of body they happen to be connected ; but they
have always proved more particularly serviceable in re¬
laxed constitutions, attended with an attenuated state
of the blood and an enfeebled muscular system. Al¬
cohol, or any other ardent spirits, impregnated with as
great a quantity as they can dissolve of myrrh, or any
other of the heating viscid gums, may he here used with
freedom, though in constitutions of an opposite nature
they ought never to be employed. The bulsamum
traumaticum of the shops, a remedy of this nature, has
long been famous for its influence in such cases : but
that indiscriminate use of this and similar applications
which has long prevailed with some practitioners, has
undoubtedly done much harm 5 for as they are all pos¬
sessed of very stimulating powers, they of course tend
to aggravate every symptom in wounds connected with a
tense state of fibres, or much pain, especially when spas¬
modic muscular affections prevail.
Bv a due perseverance in one or other of the plan*
here pointed out, it will seldom happen that haemorrha¬
gies are not at last put a stop to : but when the contrary
does occur, when, notwithstanding the use of the reme¬
dies recommended, a discharge of blood still continues j
in addition to the means already advised, an equal mo¬
derate pressure ought to be applied over the whole sur¬
face of the sore, to be continued as long as the necessity
of the case seems to indicate.
In finishing the dressings of such wounds, after the
adhesive plaster and compresses have been applied, a
bandage properly adapted to the part ought to be em¬
ployed, and in such a manner as to produce as equal a
degree of pressure over the surface of the wound as pos¬
sible. But it now and then happens that no bandage
can be applied so as to produce the desired effect; and
in such cases the hand of an assistant is the only re¬
source ; which being firmly pressed over the dressings,
will commonly succeed when no other means is found
to have much influence.
Wound*
Wounds.
symptoms
diicli
ometimes
;ucceed
ilood let-
mg.
W O U [
Wounds of the nerves, tendons, and ligaments, are
attended with much more violent symptoms than those
where even considerable arteries are divided, and they
frequently resist every method of cure proposed by the
most skilful practitioners. In the simple process of
blood-letting, it frequently happens that the tendinous
expansion called the aponeurosis of the biceps muscle is
wounded, or even the tendon of that muscle itself is
punctured, by the point of the lancet 5 or sometimes a
nerve which happens to lie in the neighbourhood is
partially divided. Any one of these wounds, though
they are the smallest we can well suppose to be given,
are frequently very dangerous and difficult of cure. It
sometimes immediately happens on the introduction of
the iancet, that the patient complains of a most exqui¬
site degree of painj and when this occurs, we may rest
assured that either a tendon or a nerve has been wound¬
ed. On some occasions, by proper management, such
as evacuating a considerable quantity of blood at the
orifice newly made, by keeping the part at perfect rest,
and preserving the patient in as cool a state as possible,
the pain at first complained of will gradually abate, and
at last go off entirely without any bad consequence. At
other times, however, this pain which occurs instanta¬
neously on the introduction of the lancet, instead of
abating, begins soon to increase ; a fullness, or small
degree of swelling, takes place in the parts contiguous
to the wound •, the lips of the sore become somewhat
hard and inflamed j and, in the course of about 24 hours
from the operation, a thin watery serum begins to be
discharged at the orifice.
If, by the means employed, relief is not soon obtain¬
ed, these symptoms generally continue in nearly the
same state for two or perhaps three days longer. At
this time the violent pain which at first took place be¬
comes still more distressing; but instead of being sharp
and acute as before, it is now attended with the sensa¬
tion of a burning heat, which goes on to increase, and
proves, during the whole course of the ailment, a source
of constant distress to the patient. The fullness and
hardness in the lips of the wound begin to increase, and
the swelling in the neighbouring parts gradually ex¬
tends over the whole members. The parts at last be¬
come exceedingly tense and hard ; an erysipelatous in¬
flammatory colour frequently appears over the whole
member ; the pulse by this time is generally very hard
and quick ; the pain is now intense, the patient ex¬
ceedingly restless ; twitchings of the tendons occur to
a greater or less degree ; on some occasions, a locked
jaw and other convulsive affections supervene ; and all
these symptoms continuing to increase, it most frequent¬
ly happens that the torture under which the patient has
been groaning is at last terminated by death.
Different opinions have prevailed respecting the cause
of these symptoms. By some they have been imputed
to wounds of the tendons. Bv others the tendons are
tHs! S'mP"supposed to be so entirely destitute of sensibility, as to
be quite incapable of producing so much distress ; so
that wounds of the nerves they consider, on all such oc¬
casions, as the true cause of the various symptoms we
have mentioned.
One or other of these ideas continued to be the only
source for explaining the various phenomena found to
occur in this malady, till a different opinion was sug¬
gested by the late ingenious Mr John Hunter of Lon-
Vol. XX. Part II. +
753
]
w o u
1
13
unions
teiu the
Vises of
4
don. Mr Hunter supposed, that all the dreadful symp- Wounds,
toms found now and then to be induced by the opera¬
tion of blood-letting, might be more readily accounted
for from an inflamed state of the internal surface of the jjUMtel..>
vein, than from any other cause. Such a state of the opinion
vein he has often traced in horses that have died of such
symptoms from venesection, and the same appearances
have sometimes occurred also in the human body. And
on other occasions, inflammation having in this manner
been once excited, has been known to terminate in sup¬
puration ; and the matter thus produced being in the
course of circulation carried to the heart, Mr Hunter
supposes that in such cases death may have been indu¬
ced by that cause alone.
There can be no reason to doubt the fact held fortlt
by Mr Hunter, that in such instances the vein in which
the orifice has been made, has frequently after death
been found greatly inflamed : but however ingenious
bis arguments may be for concluding that the state of
the vein is the original cause of all the had symptoms
enumerated, and although wTe must allow that such an
inflammatory affection of a vein must have a consider¬
able influence in aggravating the various symptoms pre¬
viously induced by other causes ; yet we may very fair¬
ly conclude, that it could not probably in any one in¬
stance be able to account with satisfaction for their first
production.
In many cases the patient, at the very instant of
the operation, feels a very unusual degree of pain. In
some cases, the violence of the pain is almost unsupport-
able. Now this we can never suppose to have been pro¬
duced bv the mere puncture of a vein ; for although
the coats of veins are not perhaps entirely destitute of
feeling, yet we know w7ell that they are not endowed
with such a degree of sensibility as to render it probable
that such intense pain could ever be induced by their 15
being punctured in any way whatever. This inflamed n°tjust»
state of the veins therefore, as detected by Air Hunter
after death, must be considered rather as being pro¬
duced by, than as being productive of, such affections ;
and that such ailments should frequently produce an in¬
flammation of the contiguous veins, is a very probable
conjecture. In the course of 48 hours from the opera¬
tion, when the febrile symptoms are just commencing,
such a degree of hardness and evident inflammation is
induced over all the parts contiguous to the orifice, that
it would be surprising indeed if the vein, whic h is thus
perhaps entirely surrounded with parts highly inflamed, I(5
should escape altogether. We shall therefore proceed Really ow-
upnn the supposition of this inflamed state of the veins'<ig to the
beintr a consequence rather than the cause of such ail-Part‘a|.
e i 7- . . e wounding
ments ; and of course we now revert to one or other otof anerv°
the opinions long ago adopted on this subject, that all or tendon.
the train of bad symptoms found on some occasions to
succeed venesection, proceeds either from the wound of
a nerve or of a tendon.
That a partial wound of a nerve will now and then
produce very distressing symptoms, no practitioner will
deny : but it has been attempted to be shown, that
tendons are almost totally destitute of sensibility; and it
has therefore been supposed, that their being wounded
can never account for the various symptoms known to
occur in such cases. There is great reason however to
think, that indifferent instances the same train of symp¬
toms have been induced by different causes; that in one
- 5 C instance
W O U [ 754 ] W O U
Wounds, instance a wounded nerve, and in others pricks of the
v-—v ' tendons, have given rise to them, as we have already
17 supposed.
Method of In order to prevent as much as possible the conse¬
nt) nating „Ucnt inflammation and other symptoms which usually
toms and' a considerable quantity of blood should be imme-
curinglhe diately discharged at the orifice just made : the limb,
wound. for several days at least, ought to be kept in a state of
perfect rest, care being at the same time taken to keep
the, muscles of the part in as relaxed a state as possible :
the patient should be also kept cool, on a low diet •,
and, if necessary, gentle laxatives ought to be admini¬
stered.
When, notwithstanding these means, the symptoms,
instead of diminishing, rather become more violent 5 if
the lips of the orifice turn hard and more inflamed, if
the pain become more considerable, and especially if
the swelling begin to spread, other remedies come to
he indicated. In this state of thecomplaint, topical blood¬
letting, by means of leeches applied as near as possible to
the lips of the wound, frequently affords much relief”,
and when the pulse is full and quick, it even becomes
necessary to evacuate large quantities of blood by open¬
ing a vein in some other part.
The external applications usually employed in this
state of the complaint are warm emollient fomentations
and poultices. In similar affections of other parts no
remedies with which we are acquainted would probably
be found more successful ; hut in the complaint now
under consideration, all such applications, instead of be¬
ing productive of any advantage, rather do harm. The
heat ot the partis here one of the most distressing symp¬
toms } and warm emollient applications rather tend to
augment this source of uneasiness. The lips of the wound
also are rendered still more hard, swelled, and of course
more painful 5 and the swelling of the contiguous parts
is increased. The best external remedies are cooling
astringents, especially the saturnine applications. The
parts chiefly affected being alternately covered over
with cloths wet with a solution of saccharum saturni, and
pledgets spread with Goulard’s cerate, are kept more
cool and easy than by any other remedy hitherto used.
The febrile symptoms which occur must at the same
time be attended to, by keeping the patient cool, on a
low diet, preserving a lax state of the bowels ; and, if
necessary, farther quantities of blood ought to be eva¬
cuated.
On account of the violence of the pain, which is some¬
times so excessive as to destroy entirely the patient’s
rest, opiates ought to be freely exhibited ; and when
Switchings of the tendons and other convulsive symp¬
toms supervene, medicines of this kind become still
more necessary. In order, however, to have a proper
influence in this state of the complaint, opiates ought to
be given in very full doses 5 otherwise, instead of an¬
swering any good purpose, they constantly tend to ag¬
gravate the different symptoms, not only by increasing
the heat and restlessness, but by having an evident in¬
fluence in rendering the system more susceptible than it
was before of the pain and other distressing effects pro¬
duced upon it by the wound.
it often happens, however, either from neglecting the
wound or from improper treatment, that all these reme¬
dies are had recourse to without any advantage what¬
ever . the fever, pain, and swelling of the parts conti-
3
nue, and convulsive affections of the muscles at last oc- Wounds,
cur, all tending to indicate the most imminent danger. —y—1
In this situation of matters, if we have not immediate
recourse to some effectual means, the patient will soon
fall a victim to the disorder j and the only remedy from
which much real advantage is to be expected, is a free
and extensive division of the parts in which the orifice
producing all the mischief was at first made. We know
well, from the experience of ages, that much more pain
and distress of every kind are commonly produced by the
partial division either of a nerve or of a tendon, than
from any of these parts being at once cut entirelyacross.
Now the intention of the operation here recommended,
is to produce a complete division of the nerve or tendon
we suppose to have been wounded by the point of the
lance, and which we consider as the sole cause of all
the subsequent distx-ess.
This operation being attended with a good deal of
pain, and being put in practice for the removal of symp¬
toms from which it is perhaps difficult to persuade the
patient that much danger can occur, all the remedies
we have mentioned should be made trial of before it is
proposed : but at the same time, care ought to be taken
that the disorder is not allowed to proceed too far before
we have recourse to it; for if the patient should be pre¬
viously much weakened by the feverish symptoms having
continued violent for any length of time, neither this
remedy nor any other with which we are acquainted
would probably have much influence* As soon, there¬
fore, as the course already prescribed has been fairly
tried, and is found to be inadequate to the effects expect-
ed from it, we ought immediately to have recourse to a
free division of the parts affected. jg
Wherever a wounded or ruptured tendon may be Treatment
situated, the limb should be placed in such a manner as Ofwoun<fed
will most readily admit of the retracted ends of the ten-
don being brought together; and when in this situation,
the muscles of the whole limb in which the injury has
happened must be tied down with a roller, so as to pre¬
vent them from all kinds of exertion during the cure,
endeavouring at the same time to keep the parts easy and
relaxed. Thus, in a wound or rupture of the tendon of
the rectus muscle of the thigh, the patient’s /eg should
be kept as much as possible stretched out during the cure,
while the thigh should be in some degree bent, to relax
the muscle itself as far as possible.
In similar affections of the tendo achillis, the k/iee
should be kept constantly bent to relax the muscles of
the leg, and the foot should be stretched out to admit of
the ends of the ruptured tendon being brought into con¬
tact. A roller should be applied with a firmness quite
sufficient for securing the muscles and tendons in this
situation; but care must be taken to prevent it from im¬
peding the circulation. With this view, soft fine flannel
should be preferred either to linen or cotton ; for being
more elastic, it more readily yields to any swelling with
which the limb may he attacked.
The late Dr Monro was the first who gave any accu¬
rate directions for the treatment of rupture in the large
tendons ; and it is perhaps given with more precision,
from his having himself experienced the effects of this
misfortune in the tendo achillis.
He used a foot-sock or slipper, made of double quilted
ticking, and left open at the toe; from the heel of
which a strap went up above the calf of the leg. A
strong
W O U [ 755 ] W O U
Wounds, strong piece of the same materials went round the calf,
and was fastened with a lace. On the back part of this
was a buckle, through which the strap of the foot-sock
was passed, by which the calf could be brought down,
and the foot extended at pleasure. Besides there was a
piece of tin applied to the fore part of the leg, to pre¬
vent the foot from getting into any improper posture
during sleep. After proposing to walk, he put on a shoe
with a heel two inches deep ; and it was not till the
expiration of five months that he ventured to lay aside
the tin-plate ; and he continued the use of the high-
heeled shoe for two years.
From this treatment a knowledge may be formed of
the treatment necessary to be followed in the laceration
of tendons of other parts of the body,
bounds of In wounds of the thorax, even though none of the
lie thorax, viscera should be wounded, we may yet reasonably ex¬
pect that a considerable quantity of blood will be extra-
vasated; and this, if very large, must be evacuated if
possible. However, it ought to be particularly ob¬
served, that this extravasated blood should not be dis¬
charged before we are assured that the wounded vessels
have done bleeding. When the pulse appears sufficient¬
ly strong and equal, the extremities warm, no hickup or
convulsion, and the patient’s strength continues, we may
then know that the internal hsemorrhagy has ceased, and
that the means for discharging the blood may now be
safely used. Matter, water, and blood have sometimes
vanished from the cavities of the thorax, and been after¬
wards discharged by sweat, urine, &c. Yet this but'
seldom happens 5 and if we were to trust to nature alone
in these cases, it is certain that many would perish from
a destruction of the vital viscera by the extravasated
blood, who by an artificial extraction of the same blood
ao might have been saved.
rounds of Wounds of the abdomen must be closed as soon as
e abdo- possible, and then treated as simple wounds ; only they
ouo-ht to be dressed as seldom and expeditiously as possi¬
ble. Copious bleeding and a spare diet, with other
parts of the antiphlogistic regimen, are here absolutely
necessary.
It sometimes happens, that, through a large wound
of the abdominal integuments, the intestine comes out
without being injured. Ihe most certain method, in
all such cases, is to return the protruded part as soon as
possible; for although writers in general formerly re¬
commended warm fomentations, &c. to be previously
applied, the latest authors upon this subject consider the
most natural and proper fomentation to be that which is
produced by the heat and moisture of the patient s belly,
and that therefore the intestines, if no mortification has
taken place, are to be cleared from extraneous matter,
and immediately returned.
WFen the wound of the abdomen is large, the in¬
testines easily prolapse, and they are as easily returned.
But when part of an intestine has been forced through a
narrow wound, it is much more dangerous. I or the
prolapsed intestine being distended by flatus, or the in¬
gested aliments driven thither by the peristaltic motion,
it will become inflamed, tumefied, and incapable of
being returned through the stricture of the wound ;
whence gangrene will soon follow. In this case the ut¬
most care is to be taken to reduce the intestine to its na¬
tural size. When this cannot be accomplished by other
means, some practitioners of great eminence have even
advised the puncturing of the intestine in different places vVoundfs.
in order to discharge the flatus. This practice has also  v 
been recommended in an incarcerated hernia, but is ex¬
ceedingly disapproved of by Mr Pott and later writers}
and it seems to be very dubious whether any good can
possibly arise from it. To puncture any part that is al¬
ready inflamed, must undoubtedly add to the inflamma¬
tion } and it is very improbable that the discharge of
flatus procured by the punctures would be at all a re¬
compense for the bad consequences produced by the in¬
creased inflammation. The method of Celsus is much
more eligible: It is to dilate the wound so as to reduce
the intestine with ease.
Sometimes part of the intestine is lost either by suppu¬
ration or gangrene. In this case, all that can be done
is to put a single stitch through the wounded bowel, and
to fix it to the external wound by passing the suture also
through the sides of the wound. The ends of the in¬
testine may perhaps adhere } or at any rate the wound
will continue to perform the office of an anus, out of
which the faeces will continue to be discharged during
life. The directions given by some surgeons about in¬
serting the upper end of the gut into the lower, and
stitching them together, are perfectly impracticable} and
even if they were practicable, would certainly produce
new mortification, which could not but be fatal.
When the omentum appears prolapsed, the same ge¬
neral treatment is to be observed} only that, when it is
mortified, the dead part may be safely extirpated.—We
shall conclude the article of abdominal wounds with a
case from the memoirs of the academy of sciences for
the year 1705, which shows that we ought not lo de¬
spair, even though the most desperate symptoms should
take place. A madman wounded himself in 18 different
places of the abdomen. Eight of these penetrated the
cavity, and injured the contained viscera 5 he had a
diarrhoea, nausea, and vomiting, tension of the abdomen,
with difficult respiration and violent fever, so that his
life was despaired of. During the first four days he was
blooded seven times; and during the greatest part of the
cure his diet consisted almost entirely of flesh-broths,
with the addition of some mild vegetables. By these
means he was not only cured of his wounds, hut restored
to his right senses. Seventeen months after, he went
mad again, and threw himself over a precipice, by which
he was instantly killed. On opening the body, the
wounds were found to have penetrated the middle lobe
of the liver, the intestinum jejunum, and the colon.
Such extraordinary cures are to be imputed, accord¬
ing to the satisfactory explanation of Mr J. Bell, to
the abdomen being perfectly full, and constantly sub¬
jected to strong pressure between the diaphragm and
abdominal muscles ; which keeps the parts contiguous
to a wound closely applied to it, also in some measure
prevents the discharge of faeces or even of blood, and
gives an opportunity for a very speedy adhesion between
the parts. 2r
In wounds of the head, where the cellular membrane Wounds of
only is afiected, and the aponeurosis and pericranium the head,
are untouched, phlebotomy, lenient purges, and the use
of the common febrifuge medicines, particularly those of
the neutral kind, generally remove all the threatening
symptoms. When the inflammation is gone off, it leaves
on the skin a yellowish tint and a dry scurf, which con¬
tinue until perspiration takes them away ; and upon the
j C 2 removal
W G U [ 756 ] W G O
Won ads. removal of the disease, the wound immediately recovers
a healthy aspect, and soon heals without further trouble.
But in the worst kind of these wounds, that is, where a
small wound passes through the tela cellulosa and apo¬
neurosis to the pericranium, the patient will admit of
more free evacuations by phlebotomy than in the iormer.
In both, the use of warm fomentations is required j but
an emollient cataplasm, which is generally forbid in the
erysipelatous swellings, may in this latter case he used to
great advantage. Where the symptoms are not very
pressing, nor the habit very inflammable, this method
will prove sufficient •, but it sometimes happens that the
scalp is so tense, the pain so great, and the symptomatic
fever so high, that by waiting for the slow effect of such
means the patient runs a risk from the continuance of
the fever j or else the injured aponeurosis and pericra¬
nium become sloughy, produce an abscess, and render
the case both tedious and troublesome. A division of
the wounded part, by a simple incision down to the bone,
about half an inch or an inch in length, will most com¬
monly remove all the bad symptoms ; and if it be done
in time, will render every thing else unnecessary.
Wounds cl r|'l3e wounds penetrating into the cavities of the joints
the jo.nts. (j0 no, seern ;lt alarming-, yet, by exposure to the
air, the lining membrane of such cavities acquires such a
degree of sensibility as to endanger life when they are
large. As soon therefore as any extraneous body, push¬
ed into the joint, is removed, the admission ol the ex¬
ternal air is to be guarded against as much as possible.
If the wound be not too large, this may be done by
pulling the skin over the wound of the joint j and, to
prevent its retraction, rather adhesive plaster, with pro¬
per bandaging, is to be used. But when inflammation
has come on, repeated and copious blood-letting, together
with fomentations, becomes necessary j and as the pain,
in these cases, is apt to be violent, opiates must be ad¬
ministered ; but should matter he formed in the cavity
of the joint, free vent must be given to it.
Of contused and lacerated Wounds.—When the small
vessels are ruptured by a blow with any hard instrument
without penetrating the skin, at the same time that
the solid fibres of the part are crushed, the injury is
termed a contusion: and when at the same time the
skin is broken, it is termed a contused and lacerated
2 ^ wound.
Symptoms Every contusion therefore, whether the skin is broken
and effects or not, may be properly reckoned a wound ; where the
ot contu- jnjury is so slight that none of the contents of the small
vessels are extravasated, it scarcely deserves to be men¬
tioned. The immediate consequence of a contusion,
therefore, is a swelling, by reason of the extravasation
just mentioned ; and the skin becomes discoloured by
the blood stagnating under it j but as this fluid, even
though covered by the skin, cannot long remain in the
natural state, it thence happens, that thef contused part
soon loses its florid red colour, and becomes blue or
black the thinner parts being in the mean time gra¬
dually taken up by the absorbent vessels. This at last
happens to the blood itself; the blue disappears, and is
succeeded by a yellowish colour, showing that the blood is
now dissolved j after which, the part recovers its former
appearance, and the ruptured vessels appear to have
united as if no injury had happened.
These are the symptoms which attend the slightest
kind of contusions j but it is evident, that where the
blow is so violent as to rupture the blood-vessels or crush ’vy0Mnds
some of the large nerves, all the bad consequences which ' 1- y
attend simple wounds of those parts will ensue, and they
will not be at all alleviated by the circumstance of the
skin remaining whole. Hence it is easy to see how a
contusion may produce ulcers of the worst kind, gan¬
grene, sphacelus, carious bones, &c.; and if it happen
to be on a glandular part, a schirrus or cancer is very
frequently found to ensue. Even the viscera themselves,
especially of the abdomen, may be injured by contusions
to such a degree as to produce an inflammation, gan¬
grene, or schirrus, nay instant death, without rupturing
the skin.
Of Gun-shot Wounds.—Gun-shot wounds can be
considered in no other light than contused wounds. In
those made by a musket or pistol ball, the first things
to be done are, to extract the ball, or any other ex¬
traneous body which may have lodged in the wound¬
ed part j and to stop the hemorrhagy, if there be an
effusion of blood from the rupture of some considerable
artery.
It is frequently necessary to enlarge the wound in Extractioa
order to extract the ballj and if it has gone quite of t e ball
through (provided the situation of the part wounded 01 other fo-
will admit of its being done with safety),, the wound js reign b»-
to be laid freely open through its whole length ; by
which means any extraneous body vvnl be more readily
removed, and the cure facilitated.
In order to get at the ball, nr any foreign matter, the
probe is to be used as sparingly as possible : and this
must appear evident to anv one who will only consider
the nature of the symptoms attendant on penetrating
wounds of the breast or belly, either from a bullet or
sharp instrument; the thrusting in a probe to parts un¬
der such circumstances being unavoidably a fresh stab
on every repetition. Wherever probing is necessary,
the finger is to be preferred as the best and truest probe,
where it can be used.
If a ball, or any other foreign body, happen to be
lodged near the orifice, or can be perceived by the fin¬
ger to lie under the skin, though at some distance from
the mouth of the wound, we should cut upon it and take
it out: but when it is sunk deep, and lies absolutely be¬
yond the reach of the finger, it must appear evident up¬
on the least reflection, that thrusting, first a long probe
in quest of the bullet, and then, as has been likewise
practised, a long pair of forceps, either with or without
teeth, into a wound of that kind, though with some
certainty to extract it, must either contuse, or irritate
and inflame the parts to a great degree j and consequent¬
ly do as much, or more, mischief as the ball did at
first in forcing its passage to such a length. And should
they at the same time lay hold of any considerable ar¬
tery or nerve along with the ball (which can scarce ever
fail of being the case), what shocking consequences
would attend such a proceeding ! Nor would attempts
of this sort be less injurious, if a bullet should happen to
be lodged in the cavity of the belly or breast. Huoh at¬
tempts are the less necessary, because a great number of
instances have occurred, where balls have been quietly
lodged in several parts of the body, till after many years
they have worked themselves a passage towards the sur¬
face, and were very easily extracted; and many cases also,
where balls have been entirely left behind.
In case the wound be occasioned by a musket or pi¬
stol
W O U t 7:
Wound*. s^0' p*nt^ course he small, it will be necessary to
—^ 1 dilate (he wound without delay, provided the nature of
2* the part will permit of this with safety : for in wounds
°a neai a 01 very membranous or tendinous parts,
iound ^ie knife, as well as forceps, should be put under some
restraint} nor should any more opening be made than
what is absolutely requisite for the free discharge of the
matter lodged within.
Where the wounded person has not suffered any great
loss of blood, and this is generally the case, it will be ad¬
visable to open a vein immediately, and take from the
arm a large quantity 5 and to repeat bleeding as circum-
16 stances may require, the second, and even the third day.
dranta^e Repeated bleedings in the beginning are followed by
^ee(k many advantages. They prevent pain and a good deal
of inflammation, lessen any feverish assaults, and seldom
fail to obviate imposthumations, and a long train of com¬
plicated symptoms which are wont otherwise to inter¬
rupt the cure, miserably harass the poor patient, and
too often endanger his life. Even where the feverish
symptoms run high, and there is almost a certainty that
matter is forming, bleeding, in such a state, is very fre-
27 quently of great advantage,
eguuen. por t|ie j*rS(. twelve days after the wound has been re¬
ceived, it will be proper to observe a cooling regimen,
both in respect of the medicines that may be prescribed,
and the diet requisite for the support of the patient. It
is likewise absolutely necessary that the body be con¬
stantly kept open. Unless, therefore, nature does this
office of herself, a stool should be every day procured,
either by emollient clysters, or some gentle laxative
taken at the mouth j and whenever there is much pain
in the wounded parts, immediate recourse must be had
to opium.
As to external applications, whatever is of a hot spiri¬
tuous nature is remarkably injurious on these occasions,
and what no wounded part can in any degree bear The
plication, wound may be dressed with pledgits of any emollient
ointment-, the whole being covered with a common
poultice, or, in some cases, the preparations of lead may
be used. An opiate should now be administered ; and
the part affected being placed in the easiest and most
convenient posture, the patient should be laid to rest.
The formation of matter, in every contused wound, is an
object of the first importance J for, till this takes place,
there is often reason to suspect that gangrene may hap¬
pen. With a view to hasten suppuration, the warm
poultices should be frequently renewed, and they should
be continued till the tension and swelling, with which
wounds of this kind are usually attended, be removed,
and till the sore has acquired a red, healthy, granula¬
ting appearance, and then it is to be treated like a com¬
mon ulcer.
Gun-shot wounds are commonly covered from the
beginning with deep sloughs, and various remedies are
recommended for removing these. Every appearance,
however, of this kind with which they are attended pro¬
ceeds entirely from contusion j and, excepting the injury
be extensive, the slough is not often perceptible, or it
is so thin as to come away along with the matter at the
first or second dressing. Although emollient poultices
be exlremelv useful, they ought to be no longer conti-
ed than till the effects already mentioned are produced -,
otherwise they will not only relax the parts, but also
produce too copious a discharge of matter, which is
■7 1
w o u
a8
(ternal
sometimes attended with great danger. A too copious
flow of matter may proceed from different causes j but
in whatever way it may have been produced, the prac¬
tice to be adopted must be neaily the same. Every col¬
lection which appears must have a free outlet, and the
limb laid in that posture which will most readily admit
of its running off. In such circumstances, nourishing
diet and Peruvian bark in considerable quantities are
highly useful. When the discharge continues copious,
in spite of every effort to check it, detached pieces of
bone or some extraneous matter are probably the cause.
In such a situation nothing will lessen the quantity of
matter till such substances be removed. The wound
ought therefore again to be examined, and any loose
bodies taken away. Pieces of cloth have been known
to be removed by setons, when that method was practi¬
cable, after every other method bad failed. Opium is
frequently used in checking an excessive discharge
when it happens to be kept up by irritation.
Although no considerable hemorrhagy may happen
on first receiving a gun-shot wound j yet after the sloughs
commonly produced upon such occasions have come off,
some considerable arteries may be exposed, and then a
dangerous hemorrhagy may ensue. The hemorrhagy
is often preceded by a great heat in the injured parts,
and with a throbbing pulsatory pain. At this period it
may frequently be prevented by plentiful blood-letting,
particularly local. But if the hemorrhagy has fairly
taken place, and from arteries of considerable size, no¬
thing will restrain it but the proper application of liga¬
tures. As the discharge in these cases would often
prove dangeious before the surgeon could be procured,
the attendants should be furnished with a tourniquet,
with directions to apply it, upon the first appearance of
blood.
Till of late years the scarifying of gun-shot wounds
was a practice which prevailed very universally among
surgeons; and it was expected by this, that the sloughs
with which wounds are sometimes covered would sooner
separate, and that the cure would thereby be more rea¬
dily performed. It is now, however, known, that this
practice, instead of being useful, very generally does
harm by increasing the inflammation.. It should there¬
fore be laid entirely aside.
When a gun-shot wound cannot easily or safely be laid
open from one end to the other, perhaps it may be pro¬
per to introduce a cord through the sinus. This, how¬
ever, should not be attempted till the first or inflamma¬
tory state of the wound is over : but when a cord cannot
be properly introduced, on account of the situation or
direction of the wound, compression may prove equally
useful here as in cases of punctured wounds.
Mortification happening after gun-shot wounds, is to
be treated in the same manner as if it bad arisen from
any other cause, only bark is . not to be promiscuously
used ; as, in plethoric habits, it may prove hurtful,
though in debilitated relaxed habits it will be extreme¬
ly useful; but even in such it should never be given
while much pain and tension continue.
Of Wounds and Injuries of the Head producing Frac¬
tures and Depressions.—When the brain is compressed,
a set of symptom • ensue, extremely dangerous, though
sometimes they do not make their appearance till
after a considerable interval. But at whatever time
they appear, they are uniformly of the same kind, and
Wounds.
29.
Scarifying
improper..
3°
Morlifiya*
tioa.
3i
Symptoms
ot com pres-
sion ot tli*,.
brain.
W O U [ 758 ] w o u
Wounds, are In general as follows : drowsiness, giddiness, and stu-
'—■—v——' pefaction, dimness of sight, dilatation of the pupil 5 and,
where the injury done to the head is great, there is com¬
monly a discharge of blood from the eyes, nose, or
ears. Sometimes the fractured bone can be discovered
through the integuments, at other times it cannot. There
is an irregular and oppressed pulse, and snoring or apo¬
plectic stertor in breathing. There is likewise nausea
and vomiting, with an involuntary discharge of faeces
and urine. Among the muscles of the extremities and
other parts, there is loss of voluntary motion, convulsive
tremors is some parts of the body, and palsy in others,
especially in that side of the body which is opposite to
the injured part of the head.
Some of the milder of these symptoms, as vertigo, stu¬
pefaction, and a temporary loss of sensibility, are fre¬
quently induced by slight blows upon the head, but com¬
monly soon disappear, either by rest alone, or by the
means to be afterwards pointed out. But when any
other symptoms ensue, such as dilatation of the pupils,
and especially when much blood is discharged from the
eyes, nose, and ears, and that there is an involuntary dis¬
charge of faeces and urine, it may be reasonably conclu¬
ded that compression of the brain is induced.
The cavity of the cranium, in the healthy and natu¬
ral state, is everywhere completely filled by the brain ;
whatever therefore diminishes that cavity, will produce
32 a compression of the brain.
Causes of The causes producing such a diminution may be of
these. various kinds, as fracture and depression of the bones of
the cranium ; the forcible introduction of any extrane¬
ous body into the cavity of the cranium ; effusion of
blood, serum, pus, or any other fluid 5 the thickness and
irregularity of the bones of the cranium in certain dis¬
eases, as in lues venerea, rickets, or spina ventosa ; or
water collected in hydrocephalous cases. The first
set of causes shall be considered in their order. The
four last mentioned belong to the province of the phy¬
sician, and have been considered in a foimier part of
this work.
Fractures of the cranium have been differently dis¬
tinguished by different authors ; but it seems sufficient
to divide them into those attended with depression, and
those which are not.
In fracture and depression of the cranium, the treat¬
ment ought to be,—to discover the situation and extent
of the fracture 5 and to obviate the effects of the injury
done to the brain, by raising or removing all the de-
33 pressed parts of the bone.
Method of When the teguments corresponding to the injury done
thc^skua-S ^ie ^one are cu*; or lacerated, and, as is sometimes
tionoffrac-the case, entirely removed, the state of the fracture is
tures of the immediately discovered j but when the integuments of
«ramutn, skull remain entire, even though the general symp¬
toms of fracture be present, there is sometimes much dif¬
ficulty in ascertaining it. When, however, any exter¬
nal injury appears, particularly a tumor from a recent
contusion, attended by the symptoms already described,
there can be no doubt of the existence of a fracture.
But it sometimes happens thatcompression exists without
the smallest appearance of tumor. In such cases, the
whole head ought to be shaved, when an inflammatory
spot may frequently be observed. Sometimes the place
of the fracture has been discovered by the patient apply¬
ing the hand frequently on or near some particular part Wonmk
of the head. —y——
When the symptoms of a compressed brain are evi¬
dently marked, no time ought to he lost in setting
about an examination of the state of the cranium, where-
ever appearances point out, or even lead us to conjec¬
ture, in what part a fracture may be situated. For
this purpose an incision is to be made upon the spot
through the integuments to the surface of the bone,
which must be sufficiently exposed to admit of a free
examination.
Some authors have recommended a crucial incision j
others one in form of the letter Tj while many advise
a considerable part of the integuments to be entirely re¬
moved. But as it is more agreeable to the present
mode of practice to save as much of the skin as possible,
a simple incision is generally preferred, unless the frac¬
ture run in different directions, and then the incision
must vary accordingly. It will frequently happen, that
a considerable part of the integuments must be separated
from the skull, in order to obtain a distinct view of the
full extent of the fracture ; but no part of the integu¬
ments is to be entirely removed.
When blood-vessels of any considerable size are di¬
vided, either before or in time of the examination, they
ought to he allowed to bleed freely, as in no case what¬
ever is the loss of blood attended with more advantage
than the present. When, however, it appears that the
patient has lost a sufficient quantity, the vessels ought
to be secured.
After the integuments have been divided, if the skull
be found to be fractured and depressed, the nature of
the case is rendered evident j but even wheie there is
no external appearance of fracture, tumor, discoloration,
or other injury, if the patient continue to labour under
symptoms of a compressed brain, if the pericranium has
been separated from the bone, and especially if the bone
has lost its natural appearance, and has acquired a pale
white or dusky yellow hue, the trepan ought to he ap¬
plied without hesitation at the place where these ap¬
pearances mark the principal seat of the injury.
Again, although no mark either of fracture or of any
diseases underneath should appear on the outer table of
the bone, yet there is a possibility that the inner table
may be fractured and depressed. This indeed is not a
common occurrence, but it happens probably more fre¬
quently than surgeons have been aware of; and where
it does happen, the injury done to the brain is as great,
and attended with as much danger, as where the whole
thickness of the bone is beat in. The application of the
trepan is therefore necessary.
But if, after the application of the trepan, it happens
that no mark of injury appears either in the outer or
inner table in that part, or in the dura mater below it,
and that the symptoms of a compressed brain still conti¬
nue, a fracture in some other part is to be suspected ; or
that kind of fracture termed by practitioners counter Jis-
sure, where the skull is fractured and sometimes depres¬
sed on the opposite side to, or at a distance from, the
part where the injury was received. This is fortunately
not a very frequent occurrence, and has even been
doubted by some j but different instances of it have, be¬
yond all question, been found. If therefore the opera¬
tion of the trepan has been performed, and no fracture
34
lethod of
:nioving
id elcva
w O U [ 75
Wounls. is discovered, no extravasation appears on the surface of
——v——' the brain ; and if blood-letting and other means usually
employed do not remove the symptoms of compression,
the operator is to search for a fracture on some other
part. The whole head should again be examined with
much accuracy ; and, by pressing deliberately but firm¬
ly over every part of it, if the smallest degree of sensi¬
bility remains, the patient will show signs of pain, ei¬
ther by moans or by raising his hands, when pressure is
made over the fractured part. In this way fractures
have been frequently detected, which might otherwise
have been concealed.
Having now considered every thing preparatory to
the operation of the trepan, we shall next point out the
  means best adapted for the removal or elevation of a de-
T options Presse^ Porti°n the bone.
thecra-* The first thing to he done is, after shaving the head,
um. to make an incision as deep as the hone, and directly
upon the course of the fracture.
The patient ought to be laid on a table, with a mat¬
tress under him, while his head is placed upon a pillow,
and secured by an assistant. TV hen the extent ot the
fracture has been determined, and the bleeding Irom the
incision stopped, the depressed bone is now to be eleva¬
ted j but previous to this it is necessary to search for
detached pieces. Should any be found, they ought to
he removed by a pair of forceps adapted to this purpose.
Uy the same instrument any splinters of hone which may
have been beaten in may be removed 5 hut when a part
of the bone is beaten in beyond the level of the rest of
the cranium, as much of the pericranium is then to he
removed by a raspatory, as will allowT the trephine to
be applied ; or, if the operator incline, for the sake ot
dispatch, he may use the trepan j or the operation may
be begun and finished with the trephine, while the tre¬
pan may perform the middle and principal part cf the
work. This part of the work is begun by making a
hole with the perforator, deep enough to fix the central
pin of the trephine, in order to prevent the saw from
slipping out of its central course, till it has formed a
groove sufficiently deep to he worked steadily in } and
then the pin is to be removed. If the bone he thick,
the teeth of the saw must be cleaned now and then by
the brush during the perforation, and dipped in oil as
often as it is cleaned, which will considerably facilitate
the motion, and render it more expeditious: making it
at the same time much less disagreeable to the patient,
if he possess his senses. I hat no time may be lost, the
operator ought to be provided with two instruments oi
the same size, or at least to have two heads wnich can
be readily fitted to the same handle.
After having made some progress in the operation,
the groove ought to he frequently examined with a pick-
tooth, or some such instrument, in order to discover its
depth; and if one side happen to he deeper than the
other, the operator ought to press more on that side
which is shallowest. Precautions are more particulaily
necessary when the operation is performed upon a part
of the skull which is oi an unequal thickness, especially
9 1
w o u
after the instrument has passed the diploe. And though Wounds,
it be said by writers in general that the instrument may
be worked boldly till it comes at the diploe (which is
generally known by the appearance of blood), yet the
operator should be upon his guard in this point, examin¬
ing from time to time if the piece be loose, lest through
inadvertence the dura mater he wounded 5 for in some
parts of the skull there is naturally very little diploe,
and in old subjects scarcely any. It ought likewise to
be remembered, that the skulls of children arc very thin.
When the piece begins to vacillate, it ought to be snap¬
ped off with the forceps or levator $ for the sawing
ought by no means to be continued till the hone be cut
quite through, otherwise the instrument may plunge in
upon the brain, or at least injure the dura mater (b).
If the inner edge of the perforation be left ragged, it is
to be smoothed with the lenticular, to prevent it from
irritating the dura mater. Particular care is to be taken
in using the instrument, lest it should press too much
upon the brain.
The next step is to raise the depressed part of the
bone with the levator, or to extract the fragments of
the bone, grumous blood, or any extraneous body. Af¬
ter this, if there appear reason to apprehend that blood,
lymph, or matter, is contained under the dura mater, it
ought to be cautiously opened with a lancet, endeavour¬
ing to avoid the blood-vessels running upon it, or lying
immediately under it.
When the trepan is to he used on account of a fissure
in which the bone will not yield, the instrument should
be applied so as to include part of it, if not directly over
it, as it is most probable that the extravasated fluid v/ili
he found directly under it. And when the fissure is of
great extent, it may be proper to make a perforation at
each end, if the whole can be conveniently brought in¬
to view ; and in some cases several perforations may
become necessary.
When it is proposed to make several perforations to
remove depressed fragments of the bone which are firm¬
ly fixed, and having the internal surface larger than the
external, or to raise them sufficiently, it is necessary to
apply the trepan as near the fractured parts as possible 5
making the perforations join each other, to prevent the
trouble of cutting the intermediate spaces.
When the skull is injured over a suture, and it is not
thought advisable to use the trepan, a perforation ought
to he made on each side of the suture, especially in
young subjects, in which the dura mater adheres more
strongly than in adults ; because there cannot be a free
communication between the one side and the other, on
account of the attachment of that membrane to the su=
ture' . . 35
After the elevation of the depressed pieces, or the re-Treatment
moval of those which are quite loose, the extraction of of the pa-
extraneous bodies, and the evacuation of extravasatedlientaftcr
fluids, &c. the sore is to be dressed in the lightest and^a0Pera‘
easiest manner j all that is necessary being to apply a
pledget of fine scraped lint, covered with simple oint¬
ment, to that part of the dura mater which is laid bare
by
(b) A trepanning instrument has been invented by Mr Rodman, surgeon, Paisley, which has no central pin,
and it is so contrived that any given thickness of bone may be cut, so that the danger from other instruments is
by the use of this entirely avoided. See a more detailed account of this instrument under Abaptiston.
w o u
r 7^0 ]
W R E
Wounds, by the trepan, oi- otherwise ; after which the edges of
~~—v the scalp are to be brought together or nearly so, and
another pledget laid along the whole course of the
wound ; a piece of fine soft linen is to be laid over all,
and the dressings may be retained in their place by a
common night-cap applied close to the head, and pro¬
perly fixed.
The patient is to be placed in as easy a position in
bed as possible, with his head and shoulders elevated a
little more than ordinary. If the operation be attend¬
ed with success, the patient will soon begin to show fa¬
vourable symptoms ; he will soon show signs of increas¬
ing sensibility, and the original bad symptoms will gra¬
dually disappear. After this he ought to be kept as
quiet as possible j proper laxatives are to be administer¬
ed, and such as may be least of a nauseating nature.
His food ought to be simple and easy of digestion, and
his drink of the most diluent kind. If he complain of
the wound being uneasy, an emollient poultice should
be immediately applied, and renewed three or four times
in the twenty-four hours. By these means there will
commonly be a free suppuration from the whole surface
of the sore.
Every time the wound is dressed, the purulent mat¬
ter ought to be wiped off from it with a fine warm
sponge ; and if any degree of sloughiness take place on
the dura mater or parts adjacent, it will then be com¬
pletely separated. Granulations will begin to form,
which will continue to increase till the whole arise to
a level with the surface of the cranium. The edges of
the sore are now to be dressed with cerate straps, and
the rest of it covered with fine soft lint, kept gently
pressed on by the nightcap properly tied, In this way
the cure will go on favourably; luxuriance of granula¬
tions will commonly be prevented } the parts will cica¬
trize kindly ; and as the skin has been preserved in
making the first incision, the cicatrix will be but little
observed.
But things do not always proceed in this favourable
manner. Sometimes in a few hours after the operation
the patient is seized with a kind of x*estlessness, tossing
his arms, and endeavouring to move himself in bed,
while the symptoms of a compressed brain remain nearly
the same as formerly. In this case, especially if the
pulse be quick and strong, the patient ought to be bled
freely, as there will be reason to suspect some tendency
to inflammation in the brain. Sometimes, though the
trepan has been properly applied, the symptoms are not
relieved, on account of extravasated fluids collected in¬
ternally under the dura mater, or between the pia mater
and brain, or in the cavity of the ventricles. The
danger in these cases will be in proportion to the depth
of the collection. Particular attention therefore ought
always to be paid to the state of the dura mater after
the perforation has been made. If blood be collected
below the dura mater, this membrane will be found
tense, dark coloured, elastic, and even livid ; in which
case, an opening becomes absolutely necessary to dis¬
charge the extravasated fluid. Gentle scratches are to
be made with a scalpel, till a probe or ditectory can
be introduced*, upon which the membrane is to be
sufficiently divided in a longitudinal, and sometimes
even in a crucial direction, till an outlet to the fluid be
given.
After the dura mater has been ci t in this m inner,
5
Wounds
!!
Wreck.
3*
there is some danger of the brain protruding at the
opening ; but the danger from this is not equal to the
bad effects arising from effused fluids compressing the
brain.
A troublesome and an alarming appearance now and
then follows the operation of the trepan j namely, the
excrescences called Jungiy formerly supposed to grow Of fangi.
immediately from the surface of the brain, but which, in
general, originate from the surface of the dura mater or
cut edge of the bone granulating too luxuriantly.
It often happens that they possess little sensibility j
and then the best method to prevent their rising to any
great height is to touch them frequently with lunar
caustic : but some cases occur where their sensibility is
so great that they cannot be touched, unless they hang
by a small neck ; and then a ligature may be put round
them, and tightened from time to time till they drop
off, which will commonly be in the course of a few
days. It seldom happens, however, that there is any
occasion for applying such means for the removal of
these tumours, for they generally fall off as the perfora¬
tions of the bone fill up.
If they do not, as the connection between them and
the brain will be then in a great measure intercepted,
they may be with more safety removed, either by exci¬
sion, by caustic, or by ligature.
The cure being thus far completed, only a small ci¬
catrix will remain, and in general the parts will be
nearly as firm as at first : but when much of the inte¬
guments have been separated or destroyed, as they are
never regenerated, the bone will be left covered only
by a thin cuticle, with some small quantity of cellular
substance. When this is the case, the person ought to
wear a piece of lead or tin, properly fitted and lined
with flannel, to protect it from the cold and other ex¬
ternal injuries.
This is the method now commonly practised in cases
of compression ; but it frequently happens, that instead
of compression, such a degree of concussion takes place
that no assistance from the trepan can be attended with
any advantage $ for the effects of concussion are totally
dift’erent from those of compression, and therefore to be
removed in a different manner.
Wounds, in Farriery. See Farriery Index.
WRASSE, or Old Wife. See Labrus, Ichthyo¬
logy Index.
WREATH, in Heraldry, a roll of fine linen or silk
(like that of a Turkish turban), consisting of the co¬
lours borne in the escutcheon, placed in an achievement
between the helmet and the crest, and immediately sup¬
porting the crest.
WRECK, or Shipwreck, the destruction of a ship
by rocks or shallows at sea.
By the ancient common law, where any sffiip was lost
at sea, and the goods or cargo were thrown upon the
land, these goods, so wrecked, were judged to belong
to the king : for it was held, that, by the loss of the
ship, all property was gone out of the original owner.
But this was undoubtedly adding sorrow to sorrow, and
was consonant neither to reason nor humanity. W here-
fore it was first ordained by King Hi nry 1. that it any
person escaped alive out of the ship, it should be no
wreck ", and afterwards King Henry 11. by his charter,
declared, that if on the coasts of either England, Poic-
tou, Oleron, or Gascony, any ship should be distressed,
and
W R E [ 761 ] . W R E
and either man or beast should escape or be found there¬
in alive, the goods should remain to the owners, if they
claimed them within three months; hut otherwise should
be esteemed a wreck, and should belong to the king, or
other lord of the franchise. This was again confirmed
with improvements by King Richard I. ; who, in the
second year of his reign, not only established these con¬
cessions, by ordaining that the owner, if he was ship¬
wrecked and escaped, omnes res suas liberas et (jiiietas
haberet, but also, that if he perished, his children, or, in
default of them, his brethren and sisters, should retain
the property : and in default of brother or sister, then
the goods should remain to the king (a). And the
law, as laid down by Bracton in the reign of Henry III.
seems still to have improved in its equity. For then, if
not only a dog (for instance) escaped, by which the
owner might be discovered, but if any certain mark
were set on the goods, by which they might be known
again, it was held to be no wreck. And this is cer¬
tainly most agreeable to reason ; the rational claim of
the king being only founded upon this, that the true
owner cannot be ascertained. Afterwards, in the first
statute of Westminster, the time of limitation of claims,
given by the charter of Henry II. is extended to a year
and a day, according to the usage of Normandy : and
it enacts, that if any man, a dog, or a cat, escape alive,
the vessel shall not be adjudged a wreck. These ani¬
mals, as in Bracton, are only put for examples; for it
is now held, that not only if any live thing escape, but
if proof can be made of the property of any of the goods
or lading which come to shore, they shall not be for¬
feited as wreck. The statute further ordains, that the
sheriff of the county shall be bound to keep the goods a
year and a day (as in France for one year, agreeable to
the maritime laws of Oleron, and in Holland for a year
and a half), that if any man can prove a property in
them, either in his own right or by right of representa¬
tion, they shall be restored to him without delay ; but
if no such property be proved within that time, they
then shall be the king’s. If the goods are of a perish¬
able nature, the sheriff may sell them, and the money
shall be liable in their stead. This revenue of wrecks
is frequently granted out to lords of manors as a royal
franchise; and if any one be thus intitled to wrecks in
his own land, and the king’s goods are wrecked there¬
on, the king may claim them at any time, even after
the year and day.
It is to be observed, that, in order to constitute a le¬
gal wreck, the goods must come to land. If they con¬
tinue at sea, the law distinguishes them by the barbarous
and uncouth appellations of jetsam, flotsam, and ligan.
Jetsam is where goods are cast into the sea, and there
sink and remain under water: flotsam is where they
continue swimming on the surface of the waves: ligan
is where they are sunk in the sea, but tied to a cork or
buoy, in order to be found again. These are also the
king’s, if no owner appears to claim them ; but if any
owner appears, he is intitled to recover the possession.
lor even if they be cast overboard, without any mark
or buoy, in order to lighten the ship, the owner is not
by this act of necessity construed to have renounced his
property: much less can things ligan be supposed to be
abandoned, since the owner has done all in his power to
assert and retain his property. These three are there¬
fore accounted so far a distinct thing from the former,
that by the king’s grant to a man of wrecks, things jet¬
sam, flotsam, and ligan, will not pass.
Wrecks, in their legal acceptation, are at present not
very frequent; for if any goods come to land, it rarely
happens, since the improvement of commerce, naviga¬
tion, and correspondence, that the owner is not able to
assert his property within the year and day limited by
law. And in order to preserve this property entire for
him, and if possible to prevent wrecks at all, our laws
have made many very humane regulations ; in a spirit
quite opposite to these savage laws which formerly pre¬
vailed in all the northern regions of Europe, and a few
years ago were still said to subsist on the coasts of the
Baltic sea, permitting the inhabitants to seize on what¬
ever they could get as lawful prize; or, as an author
of their ovrn expresses it, “ in navfragorvm miseria et
calamitate tanquam vultures adpreetlam currcre?'' For
by the statute 27 Edw. III. c. 13. if any ship be lost on
the shore, and the goods come to land (which cannot,
says the statute, be called wreclt), they shall be pre¬
sently delivered to the merchants, paying only a reason-*
able reward to those that saved and preserved them,
which is intitled salvage. Also by the common law, if
any persons (other than the sheriff) take any goods so
cast on shore, which are not legal wreck, the owners
might have a commission to inquire and find them out,
and compel them to make restitution. And by 12 Ann.
stat. 2. c. 18. confirmed by 4 Geo. I. c. 12. in order to
assist the distressed, and prevent the scandalous illegal
practices on some of our sea-coasts (too similar to those
on the Baltic), it is enacted, that all head-officers and
others of towns near the sea, shall, upon application
made to them, summon as many hands as are necessarv,
and send them to the relief of any ship in distress, on
forfeiture of tool.; and in case of assistance given, sal¬
vage shall be paid by the owners, to be assessed by three
neighbouring justices. All persons that secrete any
goods shall forfeit their treble value; and if they wil¬
fully do any act whereby the ship is lost or destroyed,
by making holes in her, stealing her pumps, or other¬
wise, they are guilty of felony without benefit of clergy.
Lastly, by the statute of 26 Geo. II. c. 19. plundering
any vessel, either in distress or wrecked, and whether
any living creature be on board or not (for whether
wreck or otherwise, it is clearly not the property of the
populace), such plundering or preventing the escape 6f
any person that endeavours to save his life, or wounding
him with intent to destroy him, or putting out false
lights in order to bring any vessel into danger, are all
declared to be capital felonies; in like manner as the
destroying of trees, steeples, or other stated sea-marks,
is
(a) In like manner Constantine the Great, finding that by the imperial law the revenue of wrecks was given
to the prince’s treasury or fiscus, restrained it by an edict (Cod. 11. 5. 1.) and ordered them to remain to the
owners ; adding this humane expostulation : “ Quod enim jus habet fiscus in aliena calamitate, ut de re tarn luc-
tuosa compendium sectetur.”
VOL. XX. Part II. f 5 0
W R E [ 762
is punished by the statute 8 Eliz. c. 13. with a forfei¬
ture of 100I. or outlawry. Moreover, by the statute of
Geo. II. pilfering any goods cast ashore is declared to
be petty larceny 5 and many other salutary regulations
are made, for the more effectually preserving ships of
any nation in distress.
By the civil law, to destroy persons shipwrecked, or
prevent their saving the ship, is capital. And to steal
even a plank from a vessel in distress or wrecked, makes
the party liable to answer for the whole ship and cargo.
The laws also of the Wisigoths, and the most early Nea¬
politan constitutions, punished with the utmost severity
all those wtio neglected to assist any ship in distress, or
plundered any goods cast on shore.
WREN, See Motacilla, Ornithology Index.
Wren, Sir Christopher, a great philosopher, and one
of the most learned and most eminent architects of his
age, was the son of Christopher Wren dean of Windsor,
and was born in 1632. He studied at Wadham college
in Oxford j where he took the degree of master of arts
in 1653, and was chosen fellow of All-Souls college.
When very young he discovered a surprising genius for
the mathematics j in which science he made great ad¬
vances before he was sixteen years old. In 1657, he
was made professor of astronomy at Gresham college,
London ; which he resigned in 1660, on his being
chosen to the Savilian professorship of astronomy in Ox¬
ford : he was next year created doctor of laws, and in
1663 was elected fellow of the Royal Society. He was
one of the commissioners for the reparation of St Paul’s j
and in 1665 travelled into France, to examine the most
beautiful edifices there, when he made many curious ob¬
servations. At bis return to England, he drew a noble
plan for rebuilding the city of London after the fire,
which he presented to parliament; and upon the decease
of Sir John Denham in 1668, was made surveyor-gene¬
ral of his majesty’s works ; and from that time had the
direction of a great number of public edifices, by which
he acquired the highest reputation. He built the mag¬
nificent theatre at Oxford, St Paul’s cathedral, the
churches of St Stephen Walbrook, and St Mary-le-Bow,
the Monument, the modern part of thp palace of Hamp¬
ton Court, Chelsea college, one of the wings of Green¬
wich hospital, and many other beautiful edifices. He
was president of the Royal Society, one of the com¬
missioners of Chelsea college, and tw'ice member of par¬
liament; first for Plymouth in Devonshire, and then
for Melcomb Regis in the same county; but in 1718
was removed from his place of surveyor-general. He
died in 1723, and was interred in the vault under
St Paul’s.
This great man also distinguished himself by many
curious inventions and discoveries in natural philosophy;
and, among many others, contrived an instrument for
measuring the quantity of rain that falls on any space
of land for a year ; he invented many ways of making
astronomical observations more accurate and easy; and
was the first author of the anatomical experiment of
injecting liquors into the veins of animals, &c. Fie
translated into Latin Mr Oughtred’s Horo/ogiogra-
phia Geometrica ; and wrote a Survey of the cathedral
church of Salisbury, and other pieces. After his death
his posthumous works and draughts w'ere published by
his son.
WRESTLING, a kind of combat ot engagement
] W R I
between two persons unarmed, body to body, to prove Wrestling'
their strength and dexterity, and try which can throw ||
his opponent to the ground. Writ.
Wrestling is an exercise of very great antiquity and "V—*
fame. It was in use in the heroic age ; witness Her¬
cules, who wrestled with Antaeus.
It continued a long time in the highest repute, and
had considerable rewards and honours assigned to it at
the Olympic games. It was the custom for the atblet-sa
to anoint their bodies with oil, to give the less hold to
their antagonists.
Lycurgus ordered the Spartan maids to wrestle in
public quite naked, in order, as it is observed, to break
them of their too much delicacy and niceness, to make
them appear more robust, and to familiarize the people,
&c. to such nudities.
WRIST, in Anatomy. See there, N° 53.
WRIT, in Law, signifies, in general, the king’s pre¬
cept in writing under seal, issuing out of some court, di¬
rected to the sheriff or other officer, and commanding
something to be done in relation to a suit or action, or
giving commission to have the same done. And, accord¬
ing to Fitzberbert, a writ is said to be a formal letter of
the king in parchment, sealed with his seal, and directed
to some judge, officer, or minister, &c. at the suit of a
subject, for the cause briefly expressed, which is to be
determined in the proper court according to law.
Writs, in civil actions, are either original or judi¬
cial : original, are such as are issued out of the court of
chancery for the summoning of a defendant to appear,
and are granted before the suit is commenced, in order
to begin the same ; and judicial writs issue out of the
court where the original is returned, after the suit is be¬
gun. See Process.
The original writ is the foundation of the suit. See
Suit.
When a person hath received an injury, and thinks it
wortli his while to demand a satisfaction for it, he is to
consider with himself, or take advice, what redress the
law has given for that injury ; and thereupon is to make
application or suit'to the crown, the fountain of all jus¬
tice, for that particular specific remedy which he is de¬
termined or advised to pursue. As for money due on
bond, an action of debt; for goods detained without
force, an action of detenue or trover ; or, if taken with
force, an action of trespass vi et armis; or, to try the
title of lands, a writ of entry or action of trespass in
ejectment; or for any consequential injury received, a
special action on the case. To this end he is to sue out,
or purchase by paying the stated fees, an original or ori¬
ginal writ from the court of chancery, which is the 0^?-
cina justitiee, the shop or mint of justice, wherein all the
king’s writs are framed. It is a mandatory letter from
the king in parchment, sealed with his great seal, and
directed to the sheriff of the county wherein the injury
is committed, or supposed so to be, requiring him to
command the wrong-doer, or party accused, either to do
justice to the complainant, or else to appear in court,
and answer the accusation against him. Whatever the
sheriff does in pursuance of this writ, be must return or
certify to the court of common pleas, together with the
writ itself: which is the foundation of the jurisdiction of
that court, being the king’s warrant for the judges to
proceed to the determination of the cause. For it was
a maxim introduced by the Normans, that there should
be
W Pt I [ 763 ] W R I
Wilts, be no proceedings in common-pleas before the king’s
“'“■v—-"''justices without his original writ j because they held it
unfit that those justices, being only the substitutes of the
crown, should take cognizance of any thing but what
wras thus expressly referred to their judgment. How¬
ever, in small actions, below the value of forty shillings,
which are brought in the court-baron or county-court,
no royal writ is necessary ; but the foundation of such
suits continue to be (as in the times of the Saxons), not
by original writ, but by plaint j that is, by a private
memorial tendered in open court to the judge, wherein
the party injured sets forth his cause of action : and the
judge is bound of common right to administer justice
therein, without any special mandate from the king.
Now indeed even the royal writs are held to be demand-
able of common right, on paying the usual fees : for any
delay in the granting them, or setting an unusual or ex¬
orbitant price upon them, would be a breach of magna
charta, c. 29. “ nulli vendemus, nulli negabimus, aut
differemus justitiam vel rectum.”
Original writs are either optional or peremptory ; or,
in the language of our law, they are either -a. prcecipe or
a si te fecerit securmn. The prcecipe is in the alterna¬
tive, commanding the defendant to do the thing re¬
quired, or show the reason wherefore he hath not done
it. The use of this writ is where something certain is
demanded by the plaintiff, which is in the power of the
defendant himself to perform j as, to restore the possession
of land, to pay a certain liquidated debt, to perform a
specific covenant, to render an account, and the like j
in all which cases the writ is drawn up in the form of a
prcecipe or command, to do thus, or show cause to the
contrary ; giving the defendant his choice to redress the
injury or stand the suit. The other species of original
writs is called a sifeccrit te securvm, from the words of
the writ j which directs the sheriff to cause the defend¬
ant to appear in court, without any option given him,
provided the plaintiff gives the sheriff security effectually
to prosecute his claim. This writ is in use where no¬
thing is specifically demanded, but only a satisfaction in
general j to obtain which, and minister complete redress,
the intervention of some judicature is necessary. Such
are writs of trespass, or on the case, wherein no debt or
other specific thing is sued for in certain, but only
damages to be assessed by a jury. For this end the de¬
fendant is immediately called upon to appear in court,
provided the plaintiff gives good security of prosecuting
his claim. Roth species of writs are tested or witnessed,
in the king’s own name; “ witness ourself at Westmin¬
ster”, or wherever the chancery may be held.
The security here spoken of, to be given by the
plaintiff for prosecuting his claim is common to both
writs, though it gives denomination only to the latter.
The whole of it is at present become a mere matter of
form ; and John Doe and Richard Roe are always re¬
turned as the standing pledges for this purpose.—The
ancient use of them was to answer for the plaintiff, who
in case he brought an action without cause, or failed in
the prosecution of it when brought, was liable to an
amercement from the crown for raising a false accusa¬
tion ; and so the form of the judgment still is. In like
manner, as by the Gothic constitutions no person was
permitted to lav u complaint against another nisi sub
scrip tui'a aut specifications triuni test linn, quod actionem
vellet persequi: and, as by the laws of Sancho 1. king;
of Portugal, damages were given against a plaintiff Wiiting.
who prosecuted a groundless action. —v ‘-
The day on which the defendant is ordered to appear
in court, and on which the sheriff is to bring in the
writ, and report how far he has obeyed it, is called the
return of the writ; it being then returned by him to
the king’s justices at Westminster. And it is a I w: ys
made returnable at the distance of at least 15 days from
the date or test, that the defendant may have time to
come up to Westminster, even from the most remote
parts of the kingdom ; and upon some day in one of the
four terms, in which the court sits for the dispatch of
business.
WRITING, the art or act of signifying and convey¬
ing our ideas to others, by letters or characters visible
to the eye. See Composition, Grammar, and Lan¬
guage.
The most ancient remains of writing, which have
been transmitted to us, are upon hard substances, such
as stones and metals, which were used by the ancients
for edicts and matters of public notoriety; the deca¬
logue was written on two tables of stone ; but this prac¬
tice was not peculiar to the Jews, for it was used by
most of the eastern nations, as well as by the Greeks
and Romans ; and therefore the ridicule which Voltaire
attempts to cast upon that part of the book of Genesis,
where the people are commanded to write the law' on
stones, is absurd ; for what is there said by no means
implies, that other materials might not be used on com¬
mon occasions. The laws penal, civil, and ceremonial,
among the Greeks, were engraven on tables of brass
which were called cyrbes.
We find that wood was also used for writing on in
different countries. In the Sloanian library (N° 4852.)
are six specimens of Kufic waitings, on boards about two
feet in length, and six inches in depth. The Chinese,
before the invention of paper, wrote or engraved with
an iron tool upon thin boards or on bamboo. Pliny
says, that table books of wood were in use before the
time of Homer. These table, books were called by the
Romans pugillares. The wood was cut into thin slices,
and finely plained and polished. The writing was at
first upon the bare wood, with an iron instrument called
a style. In latter times these tables were usually waxed
over, and written upon with that instrument. The mat¬
ter written upon the tables which were thus waxed over
was easily effaced, and by smoothing the wax new mat¬
ter might be substituted in the place of what had been
written before. The Greeks and Romans continued
the use of waxed table-books long after the use of papy¬
rus, leaves, and skins, became common, because thev
were so convenient for correcting extemporary compo¬
sitions.
Table books of ivox-y are still used for memorandums,
but they are commonly written upon with black lead
pencils. The practice of writing on table-books covered
with wax was not entirely laid aside till the commence¬
ment of the 14th century.
The bark of trees was also used for writing by the
ancients, and is so still in several parts of Asia. The
same thing may be said of the leaves of trees. It is
needless to observe the use of parchment and vellum,
papyrus and paper, for writing; it is too well known.
5 D 2 * The
W R I [ 764 ] W U R
Wntiiv The method of fabricating these substances has been al¬
ii ready described as they occurred in the order of the al-
Wurtetn- p|iabet.
I)er8’ . It is obvious, that when men wrote, or rather en¬
graved, on hard substances, instruments of metal were
necessary, such as the chisel and the stylus j but the lat¬
ter was chiefly used for writing upon boards, waxed
tablets, or on bark.
When the ancients wrote on softer materials than
wood or metal, other instruments were used for writing
with, of which reeds and canes seem to have been the
first. Heeds and canes are still used as instruments for
writing with by the Tartars, the Indians, the Persians,
the Turks, and the Greeks. Pencils made of hair are
used by the Chinese for their writing: they first liquefy
their ink, and dip their pencils into it. Hair-pencils
have likewise been used for writing in Europe. Large
capital letters were made with them from the time of
the Roman emperors till the 16th century. After the
invention of printing they were drawn by the illumi¬
nators. Quills of geese, swans, peacocks, crows, and
other birds, have been used in these western parts for
writing with, but how long is not easy to ascertain. St
Isidore of Seville, who lived about the middle of the 7th
century, describes a pen made of a quill as used in his
time.
Method of restoring decayed Writings. In the 77th
volume of the Phil. Trans, there is a paper on this sub¬
ject by Sir Charles Blagden. One of the best methods
he found upon experiment to be, covering the letters
with phlogisticated or prussic alkali, with the addition of
a diluted mineral acid ; upon the application of which,
the letters changed very speedily to a deep blue colour,
of great beauty and intensity. To prevent the spread¬
ing ot the colour, which, by blotting the parchment,
detracts greatly from the legibility, the alkali should be
put on first, and the diluted acid added upon it. The
method found to answer best has been, to spread the al¬
kali thin with a feather over the traces of the letters,
and then to touch it gently, as nearly upon or over the
letters as can be done with the diluted acid, by means
of a feather or a bit of stick cut to a blunt point.
Though the alkali should occasion no sensible change of
colour, yet the moment the acid comes upon it, every
trace of a letter turns at once to a fine blue, which soon
acquires its full intensity, and is beyond comparison
stronger than the colour of the original trace had been.
If, then, the corner of a bit of blotting paper be care¬
fully and dexterously applied near the letters, so as to
imbibe the superfluous liquor, the staining of the parch¬
ment may be in a great measure avoided ; for it is this
superfluous liquor which, absorbing part of the colour¬
ing matter from the letters, becomes a dve to whatever
it touches. Care must be taken not to bring the blot¬
ting paper in contact with the letters, because the co¬
louring matter is soft whilst wet, and may easily he
rubbed oft. I he acid chiefly employed was the ma¬
rine j but both the vitriolic and nitrous succeed very
well. They should be so far diluted as not to be in dan¬
ger of corroding the parchment, after which the degree
of strength does not seem to be a matter of much nicety.
W KITTEN mountains. See Mountains.
WRY-neck. See Jynx, Ornithology Index.
TV URTEMBERG, or Wirtemrerg, formerly a
duchy, now a kingdom in Germany. It is surrounded
on all sides by the territories of Baden and Bavaria,
except at the point where it touches the lake of Con¬
stance. It consists chiefly of the basin or valley of the
Neckar, but a small part of it extends across the Da¬
nube. Its greatest length from south to north is 145
miles, its breadth from east to west 90, and its area
amounts to 8,200 square English miles. Wurtemberg
is one of the most populous countries in Germany, the
number of inhabitants in 1818 being 1,395,463, or 170
on an average to each square mile.
Great numbers of emigrants leave this state annually
for America or Russia. The country is hilly in the
south, where it embraces part of a low range of moun¬
tains called the Black-forest, and some subordinate
branches of the Alps, but presents generally an undula¬
ting surface in the north. It is, upon the whole, one of
the most fertile districts of Germany. Besides wheat,
oats, barley, mai'z.e, rye, hemp, and potatoes, it produces
tobacco, fruits of many kinds, and vines, which are cul¬
tivated to a great extent, and yield a wine of superior
quality. A considerable number of sheep, and a still
greater proportion of black cattle are fed in the Black
forest, and other hilly districts. These districts also
furnish abundance of wood. There are mines of silver,
copper, cobalt and iron, but not so productive as to sup¬
ply the internal consumption. There are also manufac¬
tures of linens and woollens j a few of cotton, with some
of leather and iron.
The inhabitants are Lutherans, with a small inter¬
mixture of Catholics. They are said to be distinguisb-
. ed from the other Germans by a greater share of viva¬
city, frankness, and good humour, but not by greater
sobriety or industry. Their dialect is taxed with rude¬
ness, but they can boast of having produced many wri¬
ters of acknowledged merit. There is no part of Ger¬
many so well supplied with schools, not only for elemen¬
tary instruction, but also for the learned languages.
The people are in short extremely well informed $ and
the effects of their superior intelligence have been lately
seen in the manly struggle they maintained, since the
year 1815, for the restoration of their ancient privileges,
which were abolished during the ascendancy of Bona¬
parte. Under their ancient constitution, the diet con¬
sisted of a house of prelates (for there were no nobles)
representing certain abbeys, provostships, and Lutheran
convents j and a bouse of deputies chosen by the towns.
This diet met only on extraordinary occasions, but it
appointed a great and a little committee, which held
two or three sessions in the year ; and through these com¬
mittees it not only decided upon all taxes proposed,
but controlled every branch of the administration, and
even nominated one-third of the judges. The king of¬
fered his subjects a new constitution in 1816, but this
was considered less liberal than their old one, and it
experienced so much opposition that he was obliged to
withdraw it. During the present year (1819) the dif¬
ferences between the contending parties have been ad¬
justed by another constitution proposed by the king and
accepted by the people j and which may therefore he pre¬
sumed to be more favourable to popular rights, though we
have not seen the specific articles of which it consists.
Wurtemberg has been greatly enlarged during the
recent changes in Germany. . In 1796 its surface tvas
estimated at 3200 square English miles, and its inhabi¬
tants at 608,697 } which is less than one half of its
present
Wurtem-
■Vurtzburg,
Vyclieilcy.
W Y C [ 76.
present extent and population. It was indebted for the
greater part of its acquisitions to Bonaparte 5 who also
bestowed the title of king upon the duke in 1806.
Stutgard is the chief town.
WURTSBURG, a large bishopric in Germany, si¬
tuated on the Maine, erected into a dukedom in 1806,
and given to Bavaria in 1814 as a compensation for
Salzburg.
WURTZBURG, a large and handsome city of Ger¬
many, containing about 21,000 inhabitants. It is
defended with good fortifications, and has a magni¬
ficent palace. There is a handsome hospital, in which
are generally 400 poor men and women. The castle
is at a small distance from the city, and commands
it, as it stands upon an eminence. It communicates
with the city by a stone bridge, on which are 12 sta¬
tues, representing as many saints. There are manufac¬
tures of woollens, glass, leather, chemical substances,
&c. There is also an university, founded in 1403.
It is seated on the river Maine, in E. Long. 9. 48. N.
Lat. 49. 40.
WYCHERLEY, William, an eminent English
comic poet, was born about 1640- A little before the
restoration of King Charles II. he became a gentleman
commoner of Queen’s college Oxford, where he was re¬
conciled by Dr Barlow to the Protestant religion, which
he had a little before abandoned in bis travels. He af¬
terwards entered himself in the Middle-temple, but soon
quitted the study of the law for pursuits more agreeable
to his own genius, as well as to the taste of the age.
Upon writing his first play, entitled, Love in a Wood,
or St James’s Park, which was acted in 1672, be be¬
came acquainted with several of the celebrated wits both
of the court and town, and likewise with the duchess
of Cleveland. Some time after appeared bis comedies,
called The Gentleman Dancing Master, the Plain
Dealer, and the Country Wife ; all which were acted
with applause. George duke of Buckingham had a
very high esteem for him, and bestowed on him several
advantageous posts. King Charles also showed him
signal marks of favour •, and once gave him a proof of
his esteem, which perhaps never any sovereign prineebe-
fore had given to a private gentleman. Mr Wycherley
being ill ot a fever, at his lodgingslinBow-street, the king
did him the honour of a visit. Finding him extremely
weakened,, he commanded him to take a journey to the
south of France, and assured him, at the same time, that
he would order him 500I. to defray the charges of the
journey. Mr W ycherley accordingly went into I ranee j
and having spent the winter there, returned to England
entirely restored to his former vigour. The king, short¬
ly after his arrival, told him, that he had a son, who he
■was resolved should be educated like the son of a king,
and that he could not choose a more proper man for his
governor than Mr Wycherley; for which service lycol.
per annum should be settled upon him.
immediately after this offer he went to Tunbridge,
where walking one day upon the Well’s walk with his
friend Mr Fairbeard of Gray’s Inn, just as he came up
to the bookseller’s shop, the countess of Drogheda, a
young widow, rich, noble, and beautiful, came there to
inquire for the Plain Dealer; “Madam,” says Mrl air-
beard, “ since you are for the Plain Dealer, there he is
for you pushing Mr Wycherley, towards her. “ Yes,”
says Mr Wycherley, “this lady can bear plain dealing;
for she appears to be so accomplished, that what would
2
]
W Y E
be a compliment to others, would be plain dealing to Wycherley
her.” “ No, truly, Sir,” said the countess “ I am not
without my faults, any more than the rest of my sex;
and yet notwithstanding, I love plain dealing, and am
never more fond of it than when it tells me of them.”
“ Then, madam,” says Mr Fairbeard, “ you and the
Plain Dealer seem designed, by Heaven for each other.”
 In short, Mr Wycherley walked a turn or two with
the countess, waited upon her home, visited her daily
while she staid at Tunbridge, and married hersoon after
without acquainting the king. By this step, which was
looked upon as a contempt of his majesty’s orders, he
forfeited the royal favour. The countess of Drogheda
settled her whole fortune upon him; but his title being
disputed after her death, he was so reduced by the ex-
pencesof the law and other incumbrances, as to be un¬
able to satisfy the impatience of bis creditors, who threw
him into prison; and the bookseller who printed his
Plain Dealer, by which he got almost as much money
as the other gained reputation, was so ungrateful as to
refuse to lend him 2q1. in his extreme necessity. In that
confinement he languished seven years ; but at length
King James going to see the above play, was so charm¬
ed with it, that he gave immediate orders for the pay¬
ment of his debts, and even granted him a pension of
200I. per annum. But the prince’s bountiful intentions
were in a great measure defeated merely through Mr
Wycherley’s modesty ; he being ashamed to tell the
earl of Mulgrave, whom the king had sent to demand
it, a true state of his debts. He laboured under the
weight of these difficulties till his father died, who left
him 600k a-year. But this estate was under limita¬
tions, he being only a tenant for life, and not being al¬
lowed to raise any money for the payment of his debts.
However, he took a method of doing it which few sus¬
pected to be his choice; and this was making a jointure.
He had often declared, that lie was resolved to die mar¬
ried, though he could not hear the thoughts of living in.
that state again : accordingly, just at the eve of his
death, he married a young gentlewoman with 1500I.
fortune, part of which he applied to the uses he wanted
it for. Eleven days after the celebration of these nup¬
tials, in December 1715, he died, and was interred in
the vault of Covent-garden church.
Besides his plays above mentioned, he published a
volume of poems in folio. In 1728 his posthumous
works in prose and verse were published by Mr Theobald.
WYNDHAM, Sir William, descended of an an¬
cient family, was born about the year 1687, and suc¬
ceeded young to the title and estate of his father. On
his return from his travels, he was chosen member for
the county of Somerset ; in which station he served in
the three last parliaments of Queen Anne, and as long
as he lived : after the change of the ministry in 1710,
he was appointed secretary at war; and in 1713 was
raised to he chancellor of the exchequer. Upon the
breach between the earl of Oxford and Lord Boling-
broke, he adhered to the interests of the latter. He
was removed from his employment on the accession of
George I. and falling under suspicion on the breaking-
out of the rebellion in 1715, was apprehended. He
made his escape; a reward was published for apprehend¬
ing him; he surrendered, was committed to the Tower,,
but never brought to a trial. After he regained his li¬
berty, he continued in opposition to the several admini¬
strations under which he lived y and died in 1740.
WYE,.
WYE [ 766 ] W Y E
Wye. WYE, a river of South Wales, which issuing out of
—-v  1 Plinlymmon Hill, very near the source of the Severn,
crosses the north-east corner of Radnorshire, giving name
to the town of Rhyadergovvy (Fall of the Wye), where
it is precipitated in a cataract: then flowing between
this county and Brecknockshire, itcrossesHerefordshire,
and dividing the counties of Gloucester and Monmouth,
falls into the mouth of the Severn, below Chepstow.
The jomantic beauties of the Wye, which flows in a
deep bed, between lofty rocks clothed with hanging
woods, and here and there crowned by ruined castles, have
employed the descriptive powers of the pen and pencil.
Wye is also the name of a river in Derbyshire, W>e,
which rises in the north-west part, above Buxton ; —r—
and, flowing south-east, falls into the Derwent, below
Bakeweil.
Wye, the name of a town in Kent, with a market
on Thursday, seated on the Stour, 10 miles south of
Canterbury, and 59 south-east of London. E. Long,
1.4. N. Lat. 51. 10.
Wye, a town of Switzerland, in a territory of the
abbey of St Gallon, with a palace. It is built on an
eminence, 16 miles south-south-west of Constance. E,
Long. 9. 4. N. Lat. 47. 34.
X
11
Xebec.
’V or x, is the 22d letter of our alphabet, and a dou-
-A-J ble consonant. It was not used by the Hebrews
or ancient Greeks $ for, as it is a compound letter, the
ancients, who used great simplicity in their writings, ex¬
pressed this letter by its component letters c s. Neither
have the Italians this letter, but express it by ss. X be¬
gins no word in our language but such as are of Greek
original ; and is in few others but what are of Latin
derivation 5 asperp/ex, reflexion, defluxion, &c. We of¬
ten express this sound by single letter’s, as cks, in backs,
necks; by ks, in books, breaks; by cc, in access, acci¬
dent; by ct, in action, unction, &c. The English and
French pronounce it like cs or ks; the Spaniards like
c before a, viz. Alexandra, as it were Alecandro. In
numerals it expresseth 10, whence in old Roman manu¬
scripts it is used for denarius ; and as such seems to be
made of two Y ’s placed one over the other. When a
flash is added over it, thus X, it signifies 10,000.
XANTHIUM, a geuus of plants of the class monoc-
cia, and arranged in the natural classification under the
49th order, Compositce. See Botany Index.
XANTHOXYLUM. See Zanthoxylum.
XEBEC, or Zeeec, a small three-masted vessel, na¬
vigated in the Mediterranean sea, and on the coasts of
Spain, Portugal, and Barbary. See Plate. CCCCLXXXII.
fig. 10.
The sails of the xebec are in general similar to those
of the poleacre, but the hull is extremely different from
that and almost every other vessel. It is furnished with
a strong prow: and the extremity of the stern, which
is nothing more than a sort of railed platform or gal¬
ley, projects farther behind the counter and buttock
than that of any European ship.
Being generally equipped as a corsair, the xebec is
constructed with a narrow floor, to be more swift in pur¬
suit of the enemy ; and of a great breadth, to enable
Iier to carry a greater force of sail for this purpose with¬
out danger of overturning. As these vessels are usually
very low built, their decks are formed with a great con¬
vexity, from the middle of their breadth towards the
sides in order to carry off the water which falls aboard
more readily by their scuppers. But as this extreme
convexity would render it very difficult to walk thereon
.at sea, particularly when the vessel rocks by the agita¬
tion ol the waves, there is a platform of grating extend¬
ing along the deck from the sides of the vessel towards
the middle, whereon the crew may walk dry-footed
I
whilst the water is conveyed through the grating to the Xebec,
scuppers. Xeno-
The xebecs, which are generally armed as vessels of. cia^ttfe‘ ,
war by the Algerines, mount from 16 to 24 cannon,
and carry from 300 to 450 men, two-thirds of whom
are generally soldiers.
By the very complicated and inconvenient method of
working these vessels, what one of their captains of Al¬
giers told Mr Falconer will be readily believed, viz.
that every xebec requires at least the labour of three
square-rigged ships, wherein the standing sails are cal¬
culated to answer every situation of the wind.
XENOCRATES, a celebrated ancient Grecian
philosopher, was born at Chalcedon in the 95th Olym¬
piad. At first he attached himself to iEschines, but
afterwards became a disciple of Plato, who took much
pains in cultivating his genius, which was naturally
heavy. His temper was gloomy, his aspect severe, and
his manners little tinctured with urbanity. These ma¬
terial defects his master took great pains to correct}
frequently advising him to sacrifice to the Graces : and
the pupil was patient of instruction, and knew how
to value the kindness of his preceptor. As long as
Plato lived, Xenocrates was one of his most esteemed
disciples; after his death he closely adhered to his doc¬
trine; and in the second year of the noth Olympiad,
he took the chair in the academy, as the successor of
Speusippus.
Xenocrates was celebrated among the Athenians, not
only for his wisdom, but for his virtues. So eminent
was his reputation for integrity, that when he was called
upon to give evidence in a judicial transaction, in which
an oath was usually required, the judges unanimously
agreed, that his simple asseveration should be taken, as a
public testimonv to his merit. Even Philip of Macedon
found it impossible to corrupt him. So abstemious was
he with respect to food, that his provision was frequently
spoiled before it was consumed. He chastity was invin¬
cible. Phryne, a celebrated Athenian courtezan, at¬
tempted without success to seduce him. Of his humani¬
ty the following pathetic incident is a sufficient proof:
A sparrow, which was pursued by a hawk, flew into his
bosom ; he afforded it protection till its enemy was out
of sight, and then let it go, saying, that he would never
betrav a suppliant. He was fond of retirement, and Was Hist, of
seldom seen in the city. He was discreet iu the use o£Philosophy-
his time, and carefully allotted a certain portion of each vu ’1U
day
X E N
[ 767 ]
X I M
Xenocrates ^ay to its proper business. One of these he employed in
j] silent meditation. He was an admirer of the mathema-
Xenophon. tical sciences j and was so fully convinced of their utility,
'"■' ~'tthat when a young man, who was unacquainted with
geometry and astronomy, desired admission into the aca¬
demy, he refused his request, saying, that he was not
yet possessed of the handles of philosophy. In fine, Xe-
nocrates w’as eminent both for the purity of his morals
and for his acquaintance with science, and supported the
credit of the Platonic school, by bis lectures, his writ¬
ings, and his conduct. He lived to the first year of the
116th Olympiad, or the Sad of his age, when he lost his
life by accidentally falling, in the dark, into a reservoir
of water.
XENOPHANES, the founder of the Eleaic sect of
philosophy among the Greeks, was born at Colophon
probably about the 65th Olympiad. From some cause
or other he left his country early, and took refuge in Si¬
cily, where he supported himself by reciting, in the court
of Hiero, elegiac and iambic verses, which he had writ¬
ten in reprehension of the theogonies of Hesiod and Ho¬
mer. From Sicily he passed over into Magna Grsecia,
where he took up the profession of philosophy, and be¬
came a celebrated preceptor in the Pythagorean school.
Indulging, however, a greater freedom of thought than
was usual among the disciples of Pythagoras, he ventured
to introduce new opinions of his own, and in many par¬
ticulars to oppose the doctrines of Epimenides, Thales,
and Pythagoras. Xenophanes possessed the Pythagorean
chair of philosophy about seventy years, and lived to the
extreme age of an hundred years, that is, according to
Eusebius, till the 81st Olympiad. The doctrine of Xe¬
nophanes concerning nature is so imperfectly preserved,
and obscurely expressed, that it is no wonder that it has
been differently represented by different writers. Per¬
haps the truth is, that he held the universe to be one in
nature and substance, but distinguished in his concep¬
tion between the matter of which all things consist, and
that latent divine force which, though not a distinct
substance but an attribute, is necessarily inherent in
the universe, and is the cause of all its perfection.
XENOPHON, an illustrious philosopher, general,
and historian, was born at Athens in the third year ol the
82d Olympiad. When he was a youth, Socrates, struck
with his external appearance, determined to admit him
into the number of his pupils. Meeting him by accident
in a narrow passage, the philosopher put his staff across
the path, and stopping him, asked, where those things
were to be purchased which are necessary to human life?
Xenophon appearing at a loss for a reply to this unex¬
pected salutation, Socrates proceeded to ask him, where
honest and good men were to be found ? Xenophon still
hesitating, Socrates said to him, “ Follow me, and learn.”
From that time Xenophon became a disciple of Socrates,
and made a rapid progress in that moral wisdom for which
his master was so eminent. Xenophon accompanied So¬
crates in the Peloponnesian war, and fought courageously
in defence of his country. He afterwards entered into
the army of Cyrus as a private volunteer in his expedi¬
tion against his brother. This enterprise proving un¬
fortunate, Xenophon, after the death of Cyrus, advised
his fellow soldiers to attempt a retreat into their own
country. They listened to his advice 5 and having had
many proofs of his wisdom as well as courage, they gave
him the command of the army, in the room of Proxenus
Ximenes.
who had fallen in battle. In this command he acquired Xenophon
great glory by the prudence and firmness with which he
conducted them back, through the midst of innumerable
dangers, into their own country. The particulars of this
memorable adventure are related by Xenophon himself
in his Retreat of the Ten Thousand. After his retuvrt
into Greece, he joined Agesilaus, king of Sparta, and
fought with him against the Thebans in the celebrated
battle of Chseronea. The Athenians, displeased at this
alliance, brought a public accusation against him for his
former conduct in engaging in the service of Cyrus, and
condemned him to exile. The Spartans, upon this, took
Xenophon, as an injured man, under their protection,
and provided him a comfortable retreat at Scilluntes in.
Elea. Here, with his wife and two children, he remain¬
ed several years, and passed his time in the society of his
friends, and in writing those historical works which have
rendered his name immortal. A W'ar at length arose be¬
tween the Spartans and Eleans ; and Xenophon was
obliged to retire to Lepreus, where his eldest son had
settled. He afterwards removed, with his whole fami¬
ly, to Corinth, where, in the first year of the hundred
and fifth Olympiad, he finished his days.
Xenophon the Younger, a Greek writer, so called to
distinguish him from the celebrated Xenophon, was bom
at Ephesus, and lived, according to some authors, before
Heliodorus, that is, about the beginning of the 4th cen¬
tury. He is only known by his Ep/iesiaca, a Greek,
romance in five books, which is esteemed, and contains
the amours or adventures of Abracomes and Anthia.
This romance was printed at London, in Greek and
Latin, in 1724, 4to.
XERXES I. the fifth king of Persia, memorable for
the vast army he is said to have carried into the field
against Leonidas king of Sparta j consisting, according
to some historians, of 800,000 men, while others make it
amount to 3,000,000, exclusive of attendants. The fleet
that attended this prodigious land force is likewise made
to consist of 2000 sail j and all the success they met with
was the taking and burning the city of Athens 3 for the
army was shamefully repulsed near the straits of Ther-
mopylas by Leonidas, and the fleet was dispersed and
partly destroyed by Themistocles at the straits of Sala-
mis, who had only 380 sail under his command. Xerxes
was assassinated by Artabanes,chief captain of hisguards,
and his distinguished favourite. See Sparta.
XIMENES, Francis, a justly celebrated cardinal,
bishop of Toledo, and prime minister of Spain, was bom
at Torrelaguna, in Old Castile, in 1437, an<^ studied at
Alcala and Salamanca. He then went to Rome 3 and
being robbed on the road, brought nothing back but a
bull for obtaining the first vacant prebend: but the arch¬
bishop of Toledo refused it him, and threw him into pri¬
son. Being at length restored to liberty, he obtained a
benefice in the diocese of Siguen^a, where Cardinal Gon¬
zales de Mendoza, who was the bishop, made him his
grand vicar. Ximenes some time after entered among
the Franciscans of Toledo 3 but being there troubled
with visits, he retired to a solitude named Castanel, and
applied himself to the study of divinity and the oriental
longues. At his return to Toledo, Queen Isabella of
Castile chose him for her confessor, and afterwards no¬
minated him archbishop of Toledo 3 which, next to the
papacy, is the richest dignity in the church of Rome.
“ This honour (says Dr Robertson) he declined with a
firmness
X I M [ 768 ] X I M
Xinretics. firmness winch nothing but the authoritative injunction
' * of the pope was able to overcome. Nor did this height
of promotion change his manners. Though obliged to
display in public that magnificence which became his
station, he himself retained his monastic severity. Under
his pontifical robes he constantly wore the coarse frock
of St Francis, the rents of which he used to patch with
his own hands. He at no time used linen, but was
commonly clad in hair-cloth. He slept always in his
habit; most frequently on the floor or oh boards, and
rarely in a bed. He did not taste any of the delicacies
which appeared at his table, but satisfied himself with
that simple diet which the rule of his order prescribed.
Notwithstanding these peculiarities, so opposite to the
, manner of the world, he possessed a thorough know¬
ledge of its affairs, and discovered talents for business
which rendered the fame of his wisdom equal to that of
liis sanctity.” His first care was to provide for the ne¬
cessities of the poor ; to visit the churches and hospitals ;
to purge his diocese of usurers and places of debauchery ,
to degrade corrupt judges, and place in their room per¬
sons whom he knew to be distinguished by their probity
and disinterestedness. He erected a famous university
at Alcala ; and in 1499 founded the college of St Ilde-
phonso. Three years after he undertook the Polyglot
' Bible ; and for that purpose sent for many learned men
to come to him at Toledo, purchased seven copies m
Hebrew for 4000 crowns, and gave a great price for
Latin and Greek manuscripts. At this Bible they la¬
boured above 12 years. It contains the Hebrew text of the
Bible j the version of theSeptuagint, with a literal trans¬
lation j that of St Jerom, and the Chaldee paraphrases
of Onkelos ; and Ximenes added to it a dictionary of
the Hebrew and Chaldee words contained in the Bible.
This work is called AfwztWs Polyglot. In 1507 Pope
Julius II. gave him the cardinal’s hat, and King Ferdi¬
nand the Catholic entrusted him with the administration
of affairs. Cardinal Ximenes was from this moment the
soul of every thing that passed in Spain. He distinguish¬
ed himself at theVginning of his ministry by dischar¬
ging the people from the burdensome tax called clcavale,
which had been continued on account of the war against
Granada } and laboured with such zeal and success in
« the conversion of the Mahometans, that he made 3000
converts, among whom was a prince of the blood of the
kings of Grenada. In 1509 Cardinal Ximenes extended
the^dominions of Ferdinand, by taking the city of Oran
in the kingdom of Algiers. He undertook this conquest
at his own expence, and marched in person at the head
of the Spanish army clothed in his pontifical ornaments,
and accompanied by a great number of ecclesiastics and
monks. Some time after, foreseeing an extraordinary
scarcity, he erected public granaries at Toledo, Alcala,
and Torrelaguna, and had them filled with corn at his
own expence 5 which gained the people’s hearts to such
a degree, that to preserve the memory of this noble ac¬
tion they had an eulogium upon it cut on marble, in the
hall of the senate-house at Toledo, and in the market¬
place. King Ferdinand dying in left Cardinal
Ximenes regent of his dominions; and the archduke
Charles, who was afterwards the emperor Charles V.
confirmed that nomination. The cardinal immediately
made a reform of the officers of the supreme council and
of the court, and put a stop to the oppression of the gran¬
dees. He vindicated the rights of the people against the
nobility; and as by the feudal constitution the military 1 v—-
porver was lodged in the hands of the nobles, and men
of inferior condition were called into the field only as
their vassals, a king with scanty revenues depended on
them in all his operations. From this state Ximenes re¬
solved to deliver the crown; and issued a proclamation,
commanding every city in Castile to inrol a certain num¬
ber of its burgesses, and teach them military discipline ;
he himself engaging to provide officers to command them
at the public expence. This was vigorously opposed by
the nobles ; but by bis intrepidity and superior address
he carried bis point. He then endeavoured to diminish
the possessions of the nobility, by reclaiming all the
crown-lands, and putting a stop to the pensions granted
by the late king Ferdinand. This addition made to the
revenues enabled him to discharge all the debts of Fer¬
dinand, and to establish magazines of warlike stores.
The nobles, alarmed at these repeated attacks, uttered
loud complaints; but before they proceeded to extremi¬
ties, appointed some grandees of the first rank to exa-
’■mine the powers in consequence of which he exercised
acts of such high authority. Ximenes received them
with cold civility; produced the testament of Ferdi¬
nand, by which he was appointed regent, together with
the ratification of that deed by Charles. To both these
they objected ; and he endeavoured to establish their va¬
lidity. As the conversation grew warm, lie led them in¬
sensibly to a balcony, from which they had a view of a
large body of troops under arms, and of a formidable
train of artillery. “ Behold (says he, pointing to these,
and raising his voice) the powers which I have received
from his Catholic majesty : With these 1 govern Castile;
and with these I will govern it, till the king, your ma¬
ster and mine, takes possession of his kingdom !” A de¬
claration so. bold and haughty silenced then), and asto¬
nished their associates. They saw that he was prepared
for his defence, and laid aside all thoughts of a general
confederacy against his administration. At length, from
the repeated intreaties of Ximenes, and the impatient
murmurs of the Spanish ministry, Charles V. embarked,
and landed in Spain, accompanied by his favourites.
Ximenes was advancing to the coast to meet him, but
at Bos Equillos was seized with a violent disorder, which
his followers considered as the eflects ol poison. rI his
accident obliging Ximenes to stop, he wrote to the king,
and with his usual boldness advised him to dismiss all the
stramrers in his train, whose number and credit already
gave offence to the Spaniards, and earnestly desired to
h«ve an interview with him, that he might inform jiini
of the state of the nation, and the temper of his subjects.
To prevent this, not only the Flemings, but the Spanish
grandees, employed all their address to keep Charles at
a distance from Aranda, the place to which the cardinal
had removed. His advice was now slighted and despised,
Ximenes, conscious of his own integrity and merit, ex¬
pected a more grateful return from a prince to whom he
delivered a kingdom more flourishing than it had been
in any former age, and a more extensive authority than
the most illustrious of his ancestors had ever possessed ;
and lamented the. fate of his country, about to be ruined
by the rapaciousness and insolence of foreign favourites.
While his mind was agitated by these passions, he re¬
ceived a letter from the king ; in which, after a few
tinionc*
w
ylo aloe*.
X Y L [ 769 ] X Y
cold and formal expressions of regard, he was allowed to is the least scented of the three,
retire to his diocese •, and he expired a few hours after
reading it in 1517, in the 81st year of his age.
This famous cardinal ought not to he confounded with
Roderic XlMENES, archbishop of Toledo, in the 13th
century, who wrote a History of Spain in nine books ;
nor with several other Spanish writers of the name of
Ximenes.
XI PHI AS, the Sword-Fish ; a genus of fishes be¬
longing to the order of apodes. See Ichthyology In¬
dex. This fish is common in the Mediterranean sea,
especially in that part which separates Italy from Sicily,
and which has been long celebrated lor it: the promon¬
tory Pelorus, now Capo di Faro, was a place noted for
the resort of the xiphias, and possibly the station of the
speculatores, or the persons who watched and gave notice
of the approach of the fish.
The ancient method of taking them is particularly-
described by Strabo, and agrees exactly with that prac¬
tised by the moderns. A man ascends one of the cliffs
that overhangs the sea : as soon as he spies the fish, he
gives notice, either by his voice or by signs, of the course
it takes. Another that is stationed in a boat, climbs
up the mast, and on seeing the sword-fish, directs the
rowers towards it. As soon as he thinks they are got
within reach, he descends, and taking a spear in Ins hand,
strikes it into the fish j which, after wearying itself with
its agitation, is seized and drawn into the boat. It is
much esteemed by the Sicilians, who buy it up eagerly,
and at its first coming into season give for it about six¬
pence English per pound. The season lasts from May
till August. The ancients used to cut this fish into
pieces and salt it 5 whence it was called lotnus lhuii~
anus, from Thurii, a town in the bay of larentum,
where it was taken and cured.
The sword-fish is said to be very voracious, and that
it is a yreat enemy to the tunny, which (according to
Belon) are as much terrified at it as sheep are at the
sight of a wolf. It is a great enemy to whales, and fre-
tjuentlv destroys them.
XYLO ALOES, or Aloe Wood, in the Materia
Medico, is the product of a tree growing in China and
some of the Indian islands. See ExCTECARIA.
This drug is distinguished into three sorts; the ca-
lamhac or tambac, the common lignum aloes, and ca-
lambour.
The calambac, or finest aloes wood, called by authors
lignum aloes prestantissimum, and by the Chinese .sz/A>
hiang, is the most resinous of all the woods we are ac¬
quainted with : it is of a light spongy texture, yery po¬
rous, and its pores so filled up with a soft and tiagiant
resin, that the whole may he pressed and dented by the
fingers like wax, or moulded about by chewing in the
mouth in the manner of mastich. I his kind, laid on
the fire, melts in great part like resin, and burns away
in a few moments with a bright flame and perfumed
smell. Its scent, while in the mass, is very fragrant
and agreeable; and its taste acrid and bitterish, but very
aromatic and agreeable. It is so variable in its colour,
that some have divided it into three kinds; the one va¬
riegated with black and purple ; the second, with the
same black, but with yellowish instead of purple ; and
the third,-yellow alone like the yolk of an egg: tins last
VoL. XX. Part II. t
The variation, how¬
ever, is owing to the trunk of the tree being itself of
three different colours ; and the heart of it is the va¬
luable sort first described. The two following are sup¬
posed to be the outer parts of the trunk ; though this
seems doubtful, especially in regard to the last sort, from
the circumstance mentioned of its being found in large
logs entire, and sometimes only the heart, which, as
above noticed, constitutes the calambac.
The lignum aloes vulgare is the second in value. Tins
is of a more dense and compact texture, and consequent¬
ly less resinous than the other ; there is some of it, how¬
ever, that is spongy, and has the holes filled up with the
right resinous matter ; and all of it, when good, has veins
of the same resin in it. We meet with it in small fra-
ments, which have been cut and split from larger: these
are of a tolerably dense texture in the more solid pieces,
and of a dusky brown colour, variegated with resinous
black veins. It is in this state very heavy, and less fra¬
grant than in those pieces which show a multitude of
little holes, filled up with the same blackish matter that
forms the veins in others. The woody part of these last
pieces is somewhat darker than the other, and is not un-
frequently purplish, nr even blackish. 1 he smell of the
common aloe wood is very agreeable, but not so strongly
perfumed as the former.* Its taste is somewhat bitter
and acrid, but very aromatic.
The calambour, called also agallochum sylvestre, and
lignum aloes mexicanum, is light and friable, of a dusky
and often mottled colour, between a dusky green black
and a deep brown. Its smell is fragrant and agree¬
able, but much less sweet than that of either of the
others ; and its taste bitterish, but not so much acrid or
aromatic as either of the two former. Ibis is said to be
met with very frequently, and in large logs ; and these
sometimes entire, sometimes only the heart of the tree.
This is the aloe wood used by the cabinet-makers and
inlayers.
This drug is esteemed a cordial taken inwaruly ; and
is sometimes given in disorders of the stomach and bowels,
and to destroy the worms. A very fragrant oil may
be procured from it by distillation ; which is recom¬
mended in paralytic cases from five to fifteen drops. It
is at present, however, but little used ; and would scarce
be met with anywhere in the shops, but that it is an in¬
gredient in some of the old compositions.
XYNOECIA, in Grecian antiquity, an anniversary
feast observed by the Athenians in honour of Minerva,
upon the sixteenth of Hecatombmon, to commemorate
their leaving, by the persuasion of I heseus, their coun¬
try seats, in which they lay dispersed here and therein
Attica, and uniting together in one body.
XYSTARCHA,in antiquity, the master or director
of the xystus. In the Greek gymnasium the xystarcha
was the second officer, and the gymnasiarcha the first;
the former was his lieutenant, and presided oyer the
two xys'i, and all exercises of the athletae therein.
XYSTUS, among the Greeks, was a long portico,
open or covered at the top, where the athletes practised
wrestling and running: the gladiators, who practised
therein, were called xystici. Among the Romans, the
xystus was only an alley, or double row of trees, meeting
like an arbour", and forming a shade to walk under.
c E Y.
YAK
E 77° ] YAH
* \
Y.
'V7' or y, the 23d letter of onr alphabet: its sound is
9 formed by expressing the breath with a sudden
expansion of the lips from that configuration by which
we express the vowel u. It is one of the ambigenial
letters, being a consonant in the beginning of words,
and placed before all vowels, as in yard, yield, young,
&c. but before no consonant. At the end of words it
is a vowel, and is substituted for the sound of i, as in
try, descry, &c. In the middle of words it is not used
so frequently as i is, unless in words derived from the
Greek, as in chyle, empyreal, &c. though it is admitted
into the middle of some pure English words, as in dying,
flying, &c. The Romans had no capital of this letter,
but used the small one in the middle and last syllables of
words, as in coryambus, onyx, martyr. Y is also a nu¬
meral, signifying 150, or, according to Baronins, 1595
and with a dash a top, as Y, it signified 150,000.
YACHT, or Yatch, a vessel of state, usually em¬
ployed to convey princes, ambassadors, or other great
personages, from one kingdom to another.
As the principal design of a yacht is to accommodate
the passengers, it is usually fitted with a variety of con¬
venient apartments, with suitable furniture, according
to the quality or number of the persons contained there¬
in.
The royal yachts are commonly rigged as ketches,
except the principal one reserved for the sovereign,
which is equipped with three masts like a ship. They
are in general elegantly furnished, and richly ornament¬
ed with sculpture ; and always commanded by captains
in his majesty’s navy.
Besides these, there are many other yachts of a small¬
er kind, employed by the commissioners of the excise,
navy, and customs j or used as pleasure-boats by private
gentlemen.
•Botany Index.
YAMS. See Dioscorea, 1
YAMBOO. See Eugenia, y
YARD ofla Ship, a long piece of timber suspended
upon the masts of a ship, to extend the sails to the wind.
See Mast and Sail.
All yards are either square or lateen j the former of
which are suspended across the masts at right angles,
and the latter obliquely.
The square yards are nearly of a cylindrical surface.
Ihey taper from the middle, which is called the slings,
towards the extremities, which are termed the yard¬
arms; and the distance between the slings and the yard-
arms on each side is by the artificers divided into quar¬
ters, which are distinguished into the first, second, third
quarters, and yard arms. The middle quarters are
formed into eight squares, and each of the end parts is
figured like the frustum of a cone. All the yards of a
ship are square except that of the mizen.
I be proportions for the length of yards, according to
the different classes of ships in the British navy, are as
follows:
1000 : gun-deck : : 1
1000
Guns., ^ar^‘
'560:') main-yard, fig. 1. f 100
559: j PI- cccclxvin. | 90 80
570: I .Note, the figure J 70
576 : [ represents the [ 60
! 575 : I y-ard and sails of j 50
L 561 : J a ship of 74 guns. 144
y 880 : 7  j f ioc 90 80
main-yard :: { 874 i } fore-yard* { *
all the rest.
To apply this rule to practice, suppose the gun-deck
144 feet. The proportion for this length is, as 1000 is
to 575, so is 144 to 83 ; which will be the length of
the main-yard in feet, and so of all the rest.
Guns.
1000 : main-yard
1000 : main-yard
{100 90 So #0 44
7°
1000 : fore yard :
p20:->
< S47 : Vmi
(-840 : J 24
i772o:}maint9pSailyard{alltli^
{
fore topsail-yard
: r«st^
70
24
_all the rest.
icoo : main topsail-yard : : main top gallant yard all the rates.
„ . , C6q6:J fore tup arallant-f -0
rcco fore topsarl yard:: | ^ ; £ yar/ \ al] th7e
,coo: fore-topsail^
Cross jack and sprit-sail yards equal to the fore top¬
sail-yard.
Sprit-topsail-yard equal to the fore top-gallant-yard.
The diameters of yards are in the following propor¬
tions to their length.
The main and fore yards five-sevenths of an inch te
one yard. The topsail, cross-jack, and sprit-sail yards,
nine-fourteenths of an inch to one yard. The top-gal¬
lant, mizen topsail, and sprit-sail topsail yards, eight-
thirteenths of an inch to one yard.
The mizen-yard five ninths of an inch to one yard.
All studding-sail booms and yards half an inch to one
yard in length.
The lifts of the main-yard are exhibited in the above
figure by g g ; the horses and their stirrups by h i; the
reef-tackles and their pendents by k, li and the braces
and brace-pendents by m, n.
The lateen-yards evidently derive their names from
having been peculiar to the ancient Romans. They ar«
usually composed of several pieces fastened together by
wooldings, which also serve as steps whereby the sailors
climb to the peek or upper extremity, in order to furl
or cast loose the sail.
The mizen-yard of a ship, and the main-yard of a
bilander, are hung obliquely on the mast, almost in the
same manner as the lateen-yard of a xebec, settee, or
polacre.
Yard, a measure of length used in Britain and
Spain, consisting of three feet,, chiefly to measure cloth,
stuffs, &c.
Iarb-
YAW [
Yard-Arm is that half of the yard that is on either
aide of the mast, when it lies athwart the ship.
Yards also denotes places belonging to the navy,
where the ships of war, &c. are laid up in harbour.—
There are belonging to his majesty’s navy six great
yards, viz. Chatham, Deptford, Woolwich, Portsmouth,
Sbeerness, and Plymouth ; these yards are fitted with
several docks, wharfs, launches, and graving places, for
the building, repairing, and cleaning of his majesty’s
ships; and therein are lodged great quantities of tim¬
ber, masts, planks, anchors, and other materials : there
are also convenient store-houses in each yard, in which
are laid up vast quantities of cables, rigging, sails, blocks,
and all other sorts of stores needful for the royal
navy.
YARE, among sailors, implies ready or quick : as
he yare at the helm 5 that is, he quick, ready, and ex¬
peditious at the helm. It is sometimes also used for
bright by seamen : as, to keep his arms yare 5 that is,
to keep them clean and bright.
Yare, a river of Norfolk, which runs from west to
east through that county, passing by Norwich, and fall¬
ing into the German sea at Yarmouth.
YARMOUTH, a sea-port town of Norfolk, with a
market on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and a fair on
Friday and Saturday in Easter-week for petty chapmen.
It is seated on the river Yare, where it falls into the
*fa •, and is a place of great strength, both by art and
nature, being almost surrounded with water; and there
is a drawbridge over the river. It is esteemed the key
of this coast, and is a clean handsome place, whose
houses are well built, it being a considerable town lor
trade. It has one large church, and a neat chapel, and
Uie steeple of St Nicholas is so high that it serves for a
»ea-mark. It is governed by a mayor. The harbour is
a very fine one, though it is very dangerous for strangers
in windy weather ; and it has for its security a pretty
strong fort. The inhabitants in 1811 amounted to
17,977. I1 ’s 27 east Norwich, and 11 2 north¬
east of London. E. Long. 1. 55. N. Lat. 52. 45.
Yarmouth, a town of the isle of Wight, in Hamp-
sihire, with a market on Fridays, and one fair on July
45th for toys. It is seated on the western part ot the
island, on the sea shore, and is encompassed with water;
for, not many years ago a channel was cut through the
peninsula, over which there is a drawbridge, and it is
defended by a strong castle on the quay. It is a hand¬
some place, whose houses are chiefly built with stone,
and covered with slate ; and it sends two members to
parliament. The market is now disused. W. Long.
I. 28. N. Lat. 50. 40.
YARN, wool or flax spun into thread, of which they
weave cloth. See Cloth.
YARROW. See Achillea, Botany Index.
YAWNING, an involuntary opening of the mouth,
generally produced by' weariness or an inclination to
sleep. Yawning, according to Boerhaave, is performed
hy expanding at one and the same time all the muscles
capable of spontaneous motion ; by greatly extending
the lungs; by drawing in gradually and slowly a large
quantity of air ; and'gradually and slowly breathing it
out, after it has been retained for some time and rare-
fie4; and then restoring the muscles to their natural
state. Hence the effect of yawning is to move, acce¬
lerate, and equally distribute all the humours through
771 ] YEA
all the vessels of the body, and consequently to qualify Yawning,
the muscles and organs of sensation lor their various Y*«*r.
functions. l" v
Sanctorius observes, that a great deal is insensibly dis¬
charged, when nature endeavours to get rid of the re¬
tained perspirable matter, by yawning and stretching of
the limbs. To these a person is most inclined just alter
sleep, because a greater quantity going off by the pores
of the skin than at other times, whensoever a person
wakes, the increasing contraction that then happen*
closes a great deal of the perspirable matter in the cuta¬
neous passages, which will continually give such irrita¬
tions as excite yawning and stretching ; and such mo¬
tions, by shaking the membranes of the whole body,
and shifting the contact of their fibres, and the inclosed
matter, by degrees throw it off. Hence we see th*
reason why healthful strong people are most inclined to
such motions, because they perspire most in time of
sleep, and therefore have more of the perspirable matter
to lodge in the pores, and greater irritations thereunto.
The advantages of some little exercise just after waking
in a morning are considerable, as it throws oft’ all tha
perspirable matter that is ready for its exit out of t!>«
body. When yawning is troublesome, Hippocrates says
that long deep respiration or drawing in the air at long
intervals cures it.
YEAR, in Astronomy and Chronology. See Astro¬
nomy and Kalendar.
The ancient Roman year was the lunar year, which,
as first settled by Romulus, consisted of only 10 months ;
viz. I. March, containing 31 days. 2. April, 30- 3*
May, 31. 4. June, 30. 5. Quintilis, 31. 6. Sextilis,
30. 7. September, 30. 8. October 31. 9. Novem¬
ber, 30. 10. December, 30.—In all 304 days ; which
came short of the true lunar year by 50 days, and of
the solar by 61 days. Numa Fompilius corrected thi*
irregular constitution of the year, and composed two
new months, January and February, of the days that
were used to he added to the former year.
The ancient Egyptian year, called also the year of
Nabonassar, on account of the epoch of Nabonassar, is
the solar year of 365 days, divided into 12 months, of
30 days each, besides five intercalary days added at tlio
end. The names, &c. of the months are as follows :
I. Thoth. 2. Paophi. 3. Athyr. 4. Chojac. 5. Tybi.
6. Mecheir. 7. Phamenoth. 8. Pharmuthi. 9. Pachon.
10. Pauni. 11. Epiphi. 1 2. Mesori ; beside the hfiigc*
tTrx'ytf&ifxi.
The ancient Greek year was lunar ; consisting of 12
months, which at fiist had 30 days a-piece, then alter¬
nately 30 and 29 days, computed from the first appear¬
ance of the new moon ; with the addition of an etnbolis-
mic month of 30 days, every 3d, 5tb, 8th, 11th,
14th, 16th, and 19th year of a cycle of 19 years ; in
order to keep the new and full moons to the same terms
or seasons of the year. Their year commenced witb
that new moon, the full moon of which comes next al¬
ter the summer solstice. The order, &c. of their months
was thus : I. EKiZTef.tZx.iuy, containing 29 days. 2. Mjj-
Ttvyurtiu*, 30. 3. Berd^efiiMy, 29. 4. MziftXKTyipur,
30. 5. Yloxyi-^tuy, 29. 6. 30. 7. Yxftrfrt-
tty, 29. 8. Aytirvgiuy, 30, 9’ EAotpjjCoXi&iii, 30, I0,
Mxyv%iuy, 30. II. ©tfgyijAiwn, 29. 12.
3°.
The ancient Jewish year ia a lunar year, consisting
5 E 2 commonly
YEA [ 772 ] YEA
Tear. commonly of 11 months, which alternately contain 30
—v - '■■l and 29 clays. It was made to agree with the solar
year, either by the adding of 11, and sometimes 12
days, at the end of the year, or by an embolismic
month. The names and quantities of the months stand
thus : I. Nisan, or Abib, 30 days. 2. Jiar, or Zius,
29. 3. Siban, or Siwan, 30. 4. Thammuz, or Tam-
muz, 29. 5. Ab, 30. 6. Elul, 29. 7. Tisri, or E-
thanim, 30. 8. Marchesvam, or Bui, 29. 9. Cisleu,
30. 10. Tebeth, 29. n. Sabat, or Schebeth, 30.
12. Adar, in the embolismic year, 30. Adar, in the
common year, was but 29. Note, in the defective
year, Cislea was only 29 days; and in the redundant
year, Marchesvam was 30.
The Persian year is a solar year of about 365 days ;
consisting of 12 months of 30 days each, with five in¬
tercalary days added at the end.
The Arabic, Mahometan, and Turkish year, called
also the year of the Hegira, is a lunar year, equal to
354 days eight hours and 48 minutes, and consists of 12
months, which contain alternately 30 and 29 days.
The Hindoo year differs from all these, and ie indeed
different in different provinces of India. The best ac¬
count that we have of it is by Mr Cavendish, in the
Phil. T rans. of the Royal Society of London for the
year 1792. “ Before I speak of the civil year of the
Hindoos (says this eminenUphilosopher), it will be pro¬
per to say a few words of the astronomical year, by
which it is regulated.
“ The astronomical year begins at the instant when
the sun comes to the first point of the Hindoo zodiac.
In the year 1792, it began on April 9th, at 2 2h. 14'
after midnight of their first meridian, which is about
41' of time west of Calcutta ; but, according to Mr
Gentil’s account of the Indian astronomy, it began 3I1.
24' earlier. As this year, however, is longer than ours,
its commencement falls continually later, in respect of
the Julian year, by 50' 26" in four years. This year
is divided into 12 months, each of which corresponds to
the time of the sun’s stay in some sign ; so that they
are of different lengths, and seldom begin at the begin¬
ning of a day.
“ The civil day in all parts of India begins at sunrise,
and is divided into 60 parts called dandas, which are
again divided into 60 palas. In those parts of India in
which the Benares almanac, or as it is there called pa~
tras, is used, the civil year is lunisolar, consisting of 12
lunar months, with an intercalary month inserted be¬
tween them occasionally. It begins at the day after
the new moon next before the beginning of the solar
year. The lunar month is divided into 30 parts called
teethees ; these are not strictly of the same length, but
are equal to the time in which the moon’s true motion
from the sun is 1 20. From the new moon till the moon
arrives at 120 distance from the sun is called the first
teethee ; from thence till it comes to 240, is called the
second teethee; and so on till the full moon, after which
the teethees return in the same order as before.
“ The civil day is constantly called by the number of
that teethee winch expires during the course of the dav ;
and as the teethee is sometimes longer than one day, a
day sometimes occurs in which no teethee ends. When
this is the case, the day is called by the same number
as the following day •, so that two successive days go by
the same name. It oftener happens, however, that two
teethees end on the same day ; in which case the Ye*r
number of the first of them gives name to the day, and Yeast!
there is no day called by the number of the last, so that
a gap is made in the order of the days. In the latter
part of the month the days are counted from the full
moon, in the same manner as in the former part they are
counted from the new moon ; only the last day, or that
on which the new moon happens, is called the 30th, in¬
stead of the 15th. It appears, therefore, that each half
of the month constantly begins on the day alter that
on which the new or full moon falls ; only sometimes
the half month begins with the second day, the first be¬
ing wanting.
“ This manner of counting the days is sufficiently in¬
tricate 5 but that of counting the months is still more
so.
“ The civil year, as was before said, begins at the
day after the new moon •, and, moreover, in the years
which have an intercalary month, this month begins at
the day after the new moon; but notwithstanding this,
the ordinary civil month begins at the day after the full
moon. To make their method more intelligible, we
will call the time from new moon to new moon the na¬
tural month. The civil month Visakha, the first in the
Hindoo kalender, which extends from the 9th of our
April to the 10th of May, begins at the day after that
full moon which is nearest to the instant at which the
sun enters Mesha, the first in order of the Indian signs,
whether before or after; however, it is not always ac¬
curately the nearest.
“ A consequence of this way of counting the months
is, that the first half of Chitra, the last month in the
Indian kalender, extending from March the 10th to
April the 9th, falls in one year, and the latter half in
the following year ; and whenever the sun enters no
sign during a natural month, this month is intercalary.
The number of days in the month varies from 29 to 32.
Indeed the Hindoo months, both solar and lunar, con¬
sist neither of a determinate number of days, nor are
regulated by any cycle, but depend solely on the mo¬
tions of the sun and moon ; so that a Hindoo has no
way of knowing what day of the month it is but by
consulting his almanac ; and what is more, the month
ought sometimes to begin on different days, in different
places, on account of the difference in latitude and lon¬
gitude, not to mention the difference which may arise
from errors in computation. This mode of computing
time must be attended with many inconveniences ; but
in the transactions of civil life the Hindoos do not much
regard it. A disagreement, however, in the computa¬
tion of the teethee, which sometimes also happens, oc¬
casions no small perplexity ; because by the teethees or
lunar days are regulated most of their religious festivals.
Every Brahmin in charge of a temple, or whose duty it
is to announce the times for the observance of religious
ceremonies, is therefore furnished with one of their al¬
manacs ; and if he be an astronomer, he makes such
corrections in it as the difference of latitude and longi¬
tude renders necessary.”
Hew Year's Gift. See Gift.
YEAST, or Yest, a head or scum rising upon beer
or ale while working or fermenting in the vat. See
Brewing.
It is used for a leaven or ferment in the baking of
bread, as serving to swell or puff it up vary considerably
ifi
YEA [ 773 ] YEW
Yeast. 10 a little time, and to make it much lighter, softer, and
—v——' more delicate. See Baking, Barm, and Bread.
Mr Henry has published a method of preparing or/z-
Jicial yeast, by which good bread may be made without
the assistance of any other ferment. The method is
this : Boil flour and water together to the consistence
of treacle, and when the mixture is cold saturate it with
fixed air. Pour the mixture thus saturated into one or
more large bottles or narrow-mouthed jars j cover it
over loosely with paper, and upon that lay a slate or
board with a weight to keep it steady. Place the ves¬
sel in a situation where the thermometer will stand from
70* to 8o°, and stir up the mixture two or three times
in 24 hours. In about two days such a degree of fer¬
mentation will have taken place, as to give the mixture
the appearance of yeast. With the yeast in this state,
and before it has acquired a thoroughly vinous smell,
mix the quantity of flour intended for bread, in the pro¬
portion of six pounds of flour to a quart of veast, and
a sufficient portion of warm water. Knead them well
together in a proper vessel, and covering it with a cloth,
let the dough stand for 12 hours, or till it appears to be
sufficiently fermented in the fore-mentioned degree of
warmth. It is then to be formed into loaves and baked.
Mr Henry adds, that perhaps the yeast would be more
perfect, if a decoction of malt were used instead of simple
water.
It has lately been discovered, that a decoction of malt
alone, without any addition, will produce a yeast pro¬
per enough for the purpose of brewing. This discovery
was made by Joseph Senyor, servant of the reverend Mr
Mason of Aston near Rotheram 5 and he received for it
a reward of 20I. from the Society for promoting Arts,
Manufactures, and Commerce. The process is as fol¬
lows : Procure three earthen or wooden vessels of dif¬
ferent sizes and apertures, one capable of holding two
quarts, the other three or four, and the third five or six:
boil a quarter of a peck of malt for about eight or ten
minutes in three pints of water j and when a quart is
poured off from the grains, let it stand in the first or
smaller vessel in a cool place till not quite cold, but re¬
taining that degree of heat which the brewers usually
find to be proper when they begin to work their liquor.
Then remove the vessel into some warm situation near a
fire, where the thermometer stands between 70 and 80
degrees Fahrenheit, and there let it remain till the fer¬
mentation begins, which will be plainly perceived
within 30 hours: add then two quarts more of a like
decoction of malt, when cool, as the first was j and
mix the whole in the second or larger vessel, and stir
it well in, which must be repeated in the usual way, as
it rises in a common vat: then add a still greater quan¬
tity of the same decoction, to be worked in the largest
vessel, which will produce yeast enough for a brewing
of 40 gallons.
Common ale yeast may be kept fresh and fit for use
several months by the following method : Put a quan¬
tity of it into a close canvas hag, and gently squeeze
out the moisture in a screw-press till the remaining mat¬
ter be as firm and stiff as clay. In this state it may be
close packed up in a tight cask for securing it from the
air; and will keep fresh, sound, and fit for use, for a
long time. This is a secret that might be of great use
to the brewers and distillers, who, though they employ
very large quantities of yeast, seem to know no method
of preserving it, or raising nurseries of it; for want of Yell
which they sustain a very considerable loss j whereas II
the brewers in Flanders make a very great advantage , ^cvv‘
ot supplying the malt distillers of Holland with yeast,
which is rendered lasting and fit for carriage by this
easy expedient.
YELL, one of the islands of Shetland, lying north¬
east from the Mainland, and divided from it by an
arm of the sea, called Yell-Sound. By some it is
thought to have been the Thule of the ancients. In
the old descriptions it is said to be 20 miles long and
8 broad. It is very mountainous and full of moss j but
there are pretty considerable pastures in which they
feed a great many sheep 5 and it also affords plenty of
peat. It has eight large harbours, which would not be
thought despicable in other countries. Anciently it
seems to have been pretty populous, since there are in
it three churches, twenty chapels, and many brughs or
Pictish forts.
YELLOW, one of the original colours of light.
Yellow-CoIout for House-painting. See Colour-
Making.
Naples Yellow, a beautiful colour much used by
painters, formerly thought to be prepared from arsenic,
but now discovered to have lead for its basis.
Yellow-Hammer. See Fringilla, Ornitholo¬
gy Index.
YELLow-Fever. See Medicine, N° 168.
YEMEN, a province of Arabia, stretching along
the Red sea and Indian ocean, and forming a part of
the country once known by the name of Arabia Felix,
YEOMAN, the first or highest degree among the
plebeians of England, next in order to the gentry.
The yeomen are properly freeholders, who having
land of their own, live on good husbandry.
Yeoman is also a title of office in the king’s house¬
hold, of a middle place or rank between an officer and a
groom.
Yeomen of the Guard were anciently 250 men of
the best rank under gentry, and of larger stature than
ordinary, each being required to be six feet high. At
present there are but 100 yeomen in constant duty, and
70 more not in duty $ and as any of the 100 dies, his
place is supplied out of the 70 They go dressed after
the manner of King Henry VIII.’s time. They form¬
erly had diet as well as wages when in waiting j but
this was taken off in the reign of Queen Anne.
YEST, or Yeast. See Yeast.
YEW. See Taxus, Botany Index.
Yew trees are remarkable for their duration. There
are now growing within 300 yards of the old Gothic
ruins of Fountain’s abbey, near Rippon, in Yorkshire,
seven very large yew trees, commonly called the Seven
Sisters, whose exact ages cannot be accurately ascertain¬
ed, though tradition says that they were standing in the
year 1088. Itis said also, that when the great Foun¬
tain’s abbey was building, which is 700 feet long, and
was finished in 1283, the masons used to work their
stones, during the hot summers, under the shade of these
trees. The circumference of the Seven Sisters, when
measured by a curious traveller, were of the following
sizes:—the smallest tree, round its body, 3 yards 1 foot;
fours others are from yi- to 7J yards; the sixth is <yj
yards ; and the seventh is 11 yards 1 foot 7 inches in
circumference, being 2 yards 10 inches larger than the
great
YOU L 774 J Y O E
Tew great yew tree now growing in the churchyard at Gres-
fl ford, in North Wales, which is 9 yards 9 inches.
York. rpfiese trees are the largest and oldest in the British do¬
minions.
YNCA, an appellation anciently given to the kings
of Peru, and the princes of their blood j the word li¬
terally signifying lord, king, emperor, and royal blood.
YOAK, or Yoke, in Agriculture, a frame of wood
fitted over the necks of oxen, whereby they are coupled
together and harnessed to the plough.
Yoak of Land, anciently was the space which a yoke
of oxen, that is, two oxen, may plough in one day.
YOLK, the yellow part in the middle of an egg (see
Egg).
YONNE, a department in the central part of France,
lying along both sides of the river Yonne. The soil is
fertile, and produces grain of all kinds, hemp, legumes,
fruits, and vines. Wine is a principal article of com¬
merce in this department. Wood and pasturage also
abound. The manufactures, which consist of woollens,
cottons, hosiery, leather, paper, glass, ironwork, &c.
are not of great importance. The extent of this de¬
partment is 729,226 hectares, and the population in
1817 amounted to 325,994. Auxerre is the chief town.
YORK, in Latin Eboracu?n, the capital of York¬
shire in England. This city is so ancient that the origin
of it is uncertain. In the time of the Homans a legion
was stationed here, it being then the capital of the Bri-
gantesj and here died the emperor Severus, and Flavius
Valerius Constantins Chlorus, father of Constantine the
Great. There was then also a temple of Bellona here,
and no less than three military ways went from hence.
In the time of the Saxons it was erected into an arch¬
bishopric by Pope Honorius, to which are now subject
the bishoprics of Chester, Durham, Carlisle, and the isle
of Man; though anciently 12 bishoprics in England,
and all Scotland, were. A horn is still kept in the
minster, by which Ulphius, one of the Saxon princes,
bestowed all his lands and revenues upon the church.
This city suffered very much during the ravages of
the Danes; but, after the Conquest, it began to flourish
again. The cathedral, which cost a long time and a
great deal of money in building, is a most stately Go¬
thic pile. Its chapter-house is particularly admired lor
its painted glass, its fine marble stalls, its pillars of ala¬
baster, and curious contrivance. In it is the following
line in gold letters:
Ut Rosa, jlos florum, sic est Domus ista Domorum.
The choir is remarkable for its fine carvings, particular¬
ly the statues of all the English monarchs ; and the
windows are exquisitely painted with the history of the
Bible. The lanthorn steeple is 70 feet square, and 188
high, and the windows are 45. At the south end is a
circular light, called the marigold window from the co¬
lour of its glass ; and at the north end is a very large
one, whose painting represents embroidery.
This city w'as formerly reckoned the second city in
England ; but though it stands upon more ground, it is
inferior in trade, wealth, and population, to Manches¬
ter, Liverpool, and several other cities. The inhabi¬
tants amounted to 18,217 in 1811. It is situated in a
fine plain, on both sides the Ouse, walled and divided
into four wards, containing 28 parishes. It enjoys
large privileges and immunities, conferred upon it by a
, 4
succession of kings from Henry II. and its chief magis- York
trate has the title of lord mayor, which is an honour Yeriwhirf,
peculiar to it and London. Richard II. made it a
county of itself. The conservancy of most of the rivers
of the county, within certain limits, belongs to the lord
mayor and aldermen. The middle arch of the bridge
here over the Ouse is thought to equal the Rialto at
Venice in architecture, height, and breadth, the dia¬
meter being 81 feet, and the height 51. Though this
city is 60 miles distant from the sea, yet ships of 70
tons burden come up the river to it. The town-house
or guild-hall stands upon the bridge, and is superior in
all respects to that of London. In the Popish timea
there were nine abbeys here, and a vast number of
churches; but of the latter there are only 17 now. The
steeple of that of Allhallows is reckoned the finest in
England. The archbishop has a fine palace ; and the
assembly-room, designed by the earl of'Burlington, is
very noble. Here are plays, assemblies, concerts, ai\d
the like entertainments, at some house or other, almost
every night in the week. In the old castle, built origi¬
nally by William the Conqueror, and repaired in 1701,
the assizes are kept. It serves also for the county-gaol,
which is the neatest and pleasantest in England, with
an area larger than that of the king’s-bench, and it has
a handsome chapel in it, with a good allowance for a
preacher. This city has long given the title of duke to
some branch of the royal family,
The plenty and cheapness of provisions induces many
persons of small fortune, or that would live frugally, to
take up their abode here ; and the venerable remains of
Roman antiquities, and those of a later date, as abbeys,
churches, and castles, procure this city a visit from every
curious traveller. Many Roman altars, urns, coins, in¬
scriptions, &c. have been found; and Saxon coins ar®
still extant that have been struck here. The members,
being two in number, for this city, have precedence of
all others, except those of London, in the house of com¬
mons. An infirmary, after the manner of those of Bath,
Bristol, &c. hath been erected in it ; and a cotton ma¬
nufacture established and brought to great perfection.
Besides four weekly markets, it has a great many fairs;
one, in particular, every other Thursday for cattle and
sheep. W. Long. I. I. N. Lat. 53. 59.
YORKSHIRE, the largest county of England,
bounded on the south by Derbyshire, Nottinghamshir®,
and Lincolnshire ; on the north by Durham and West¬
moreland ; on the east by the German ocean ; and on
the west bv Lancashire and a part of Cheshire.—It is
upwards of 80 miles in length from east to west, nearly
as much in breadth, and about 360 in circumference,
containing, in the whole, 26 hundreds or wapentakes,
49 market-towns, 563 parishes, 242 vicarages, with
many chapels of ease, and 2330 villages. Its area is
computed by some at 4684 square miles, and its inha¬
bitants in 1811 amounted to 973,113, of whom 305,150
lived in towns, and 667,963 in the country. It is di¬
vided into three parts or ridings, viz. the West, East, and
North ; so denominated from their situation, in respect
of the city of York. Each of these is as large, if not lar¬
ger, than any ordinary county. There are other divi¬
sions, as Richmondshire, Allertonshire, Howdenshire,
Hallanshire, Craven,Cleveland,Marshland, Holdernes*,
&c.
As the soil and face of the country vary greatly, so
does
YOU [ 775 ] YOU
Yock. do«s the air. In the hilly parts the air is good, but the
— 1 soil very indifferent j of the lower some are marshy,
others drier, and the soil of both rich j but the air of the
former is more foggy and unhealthy than that of the
latter. The manufactures of this county are cutlery
and hard-wares, particularly knives, bits, and spurs j
but the principal are stockings and woollen cloth, with
which it supplies in a great measure Germany and the
North. As to the produce, it abounds in corn, cattle,
horses, lead and iron, coal, wood, lime, liquorice, alum,
jet, &c. It lies wholly in the northern circuit, and
much the greater part of it in the diocese of York 5 that
only which is called liichmondshire belonging to the
diocese of Chester. The members it sends to parliament
are 30 ; of which two are for the shire and 28 for the
towns.
Neiv-YoRK, one of the United States of America, is
bounded towards the south-east by the Atlantic ocean 5
east by Connecticut, Massachusets, and Vermont j north
by the 45th degree of latitude, which divides it from
Canada; north-westwardly by the river Iroquois or St
Lawrence, and the lakes Ontario and Erie; south-west
and south by Pennsylvania and New jersey. The
whose state contains about 44,000 square miles, equal
to 28,160,000 acres.
The state, to speak generally, abounds with lakes,
some of salt and others of fresh water. It is intersected
by ridges of mountains running in a north-east and
south-west direction. Beyond the Allegany mountains,
however, the country is a dead level, oi a fine rich soil,
covered in its natural state, with maple, beech, birch,
cherry, black-walnut, locust, hickory, and some mul¬
berry trees. On the banks of Lake Erie, are a few ches-
nut and oak ridges. Hemlock swamps are interspersed
thinly through the country. All the creeks that empty
into Lake Erie have falls, which afford many excellent
mill seats. East of the Allegany mountains, the coun¬
try is broken into hills with rich intervening valleys.
The hills are clothed thick with timber, and when
cleared a fiord fine pasture; the valleys, when cultivated,
produce wheat, hemp, flax, pease, grass, oats, Indian
corn.
The principal rivers are the Hudson, and the Mo¬
hawk, which is a branch of the former. The Hudson
is navigable for sloops 160 miles from its mouth, and
by the Mohawk boats ascend about 70 miles farther.
A canal is now in progress to extend the inland navi¬
gation from the head waters ol the Mohawk to Lake
Erie, a distance of 200 miles. In the north eastern
ports, Lake Champlain affords a navigable communica¬
tion for 100 miles; and the St Lawrence, with lakes
Ontario and Erie, for many hundred miles more, on the
north-western frontier.
Iron abounds in the state of New York, and lead is
wrought at some places, but the other metals are scarce.
Booling slate, lime-stone, marble, and coal are lound
in some situations. Gypsum and salt (from springs)
are abundant in the western parts. The mineral waters
of Balston and Saratoga are celebrated for their medi¬
cinal virtues.
The wild animals are now' becoming rare in this state.
The wolf, formerly common, is seldom seen. 1 he bears,
which are still found in considerable numbers, often
carry oil the hogs from new settlements. 1 he cou-
gouar seldom appears; the deer, fox, marten, beaver,
and squirrel are found occasionally. Snakes of a large York,
size are met with in the uncultivated parts. * —-y 
The population of this state in 1749 was estimated
at 100,000; in 1800 it amounted to 586,050; and in
1810, to 959,049, including 15,017 slaves. At the
last mentioned period New York was the second state
in the union for population ; but it is probably now the
first.
The legislative power is vested in a senate anti
house of assembly. The latter is elected annually by
ballot, by electors who must be freeholders to the va¬
lue of fifty dollars, or residents renting tenements of
five dollars yearly value. The senate is elected for
four years, one fourth being renewed every year. The
permanent number of senators is 32, of members of the
lower house 150. The executive power resides in a
governor elected for three years by the freeholders,
with a council of four senators, chosen annually by the
legislature. The judges, who are appointed by the go¬
vernor and council, bold their offices during good beha¬
viour till the age of sixty.
There is no state religion, but the clergymen of each
persuasion are supported by the voluntary contributions
of their congregations. The Presbyterians are the most
numerous sect, the Episcopalians next. The Baptists,
Methodists, Quakers, and Roman Catholics are also
pretty numerous. In 1815, there were 2621 primary
schools in the state, at which 140,720 scholars were
educated. It is rare to meet with any person in this state
who cannot read and write. There is also a consider¬
able number of academies, and three colleges,—Colum¬
bia College founded in 1754, Union College founded
in 1794; and Hamilton College in 1812. The num¬
ber of scientific and humane societies is also consider¬
able. Above seventy newspapers are printed in tbs
state.
The manufactures of this state consist of iron, glass,
gunpowder, woollens, linens and cottons, cordage, spi¬
rits, leather, hats, See. Though several large works are
established, about one third of the articles produced are
made in families. The whole value of manufactures
in 1810 was thirty-three millions of dollars; but dur¬
ing the war with England in 1814, the amount was
supposed not to fall short of fifty millions. So rapid
has been the accumulation of capital in this state, that
the value of lands and houses, which rvas found by a
fiscal survey in 1799 to be 100,380,706 dollars, a-
mounted according to a new survey in 1814 to
269,370,900 dollars. The exports of tills state, in
1817, amounted to 18,707,433 dollars; being one
half greater than those of any other state in the union*
Though New York is the first commercial state in
North America, the hulk of the inhabitants live bf
agriculture. They are generally industrious, sober,
and well informed. There are still seme small socie¬
ties of Hutch and Germans, who preserve both the
language and manners of their country. In general the
inhabitants of this state are neither infected with the
hypocritical austerity, pride, and selfishness of the New
Englanders, nor with the lax morality and ostentatious
habits of the people of the southern states. In times
of difficulty they have generally held a moderate
course.
.New-YoRK, a city: of North America, capital of the
state of the same name. Itis situated at the south-west
point
YOU [ 77
point of an island, at tlie confluence of Hudson and East
rivers, and is about four miles in circumference. The
situation is both healthy and pleasant. Surrounded on
ail sides by water, it is refreshed by cool breezes in sum¬
mer, and the air in winter is more temperate than in
other places under the same parallel. York island is
15 miles in length, and hardly one in breadth. It is
joined to the main by a bridge called King’s bridge.
The channels between Long and Staten islands, and be¬
tween Long and York islands, are so narrow as to occa¬
sion an unusual rapidity of the tides, which is increased
by the confluence of the waters of Hudson and East
riveis. This rapidity, in general, prevents the obstruc¬
tion of the channel by ice. There is no bason or bay
for the reception of ships ; but the road where they lie
in East river is defended from the violence of the sea
by the islands which interlock with each other j so thatj
except that of Rhode island, the harbour of New-Yoik,
which admits ships of any burden, is the best of the
United States. The number of the inhabitants in 1817
was estimated at 120,000.
The most magnificent edifice in this city is Federal
Hall, at the head of Broad street \ in a gallery in front
of which General Washington, attended by the senate
and house of representatives, took his oath of office at
the commencement of the operation of the federal con¬
stitution, 30th April, 1789. Near this building is
another, appropriated to the American Museum and
Academy of Fine Arts. There were about fifty
churches and meeting-houses in the city in 1817, many
of which are built and fitted up in a style of great ele¬
gance, and even splendour. The best private houses
are built of brick painted red, and have a very neat
and cleanly appearance. There is a theatie of great
size, though not a fine building. The battery, which
fronts the sea, forms one of the most beautiful walks of
which any city can boast. Several of the principal
streets being garnished with rows of trees, have an un¬
commonly gay and pleasing effect. In New York, as
in many old towns in Britain, the entries to cellars pro¬
ject into the street, and injure both the beauty and the
couveniency of the foot pavement. The street is also
encumbered bv large quantities of goods piled up at
the outside of the shop doors ) and great numbers of
pigs are seen running about. Formerly the-city suf¬
fered much from the want of water, but now it is con¬
veyed in pipes to all the streets in abundance. Rents
are high, even when a comparison is made with Lon¬
don. The natural harbour of New York is one of the
best in America, and its trade is so great, that it
amounts to nearly one-fifth of the whole foreign trade
of the United States. It is probably at piesent the se¬
cond trading city in Europe or America.
King’s college was chiefly founded by the voluntary
contributions of the inhabitants of the province, assisted
by the general assembly, and the corporation of Trinity
Church, and in the year 1 754, obtained a royal charter.
The building consists of an elegant stone edifice, three
stories high, with four stair cases, 12 apartments in each,
a chapel, hall, library, museum, anatomical theatre, and
a school for experimental philosophy. It is situated on
a dry gravelly soil, about 150 yards from the bank of
Hudson’s river, commanding a beautiful and extensive
prospect. Since the x-evolution, the legislature passed
3
; ] you
an act constituting 21 gentlemen (of whom the govern- York,
or and lieutenant-governor for the time being, are mem- Yomig.
bers ex ojjicm) a body corporate and politic by the'-
name of “ The Regents of the University of the State
of New-York.” They are entrusted with the care of
literature in general, and have power to grant charters
for erecting colleges and academies through the state.
It is now denominated Columbia college. It consists of
a faculty of arts, and one of physic, the first having a
president and seven professors, and the second a dean,
and the same number of professors.
The government of this city is at present in the hands
of a mayor, aldermen, and common council ; and the
city is divided into seven rvards, in each of which aa
alderman and assistant are annually rhosen by the
people. A court of session is held for the trial of cri¬
minal causes. There were eight banks in the city ia
1814 •, and there is a great number of literary, scien¬
tific, and benevolent institutions. The shipping be¬
longing to the port in 1815 amounted to 278,868 tons.
New-York is 95 miles N. E. of Philadelphia, 197
N. E. of Baltimore, and 913 from Charleston. W.
Long. 740 9' 45". N. Lat. 40°42/ 8".
YOUNG, Dr Edward, was the son of a clergyman
of the same name, and was born about the year 1679.
When sufficiently qualified, he was matriculated into
All-Souls college, Oxford ; and designing to follow the
civil law, he took a degree in that profession. In this
situation he wrote his poem called Hie Last Day,
published in 1704; which coming from a layman gave
universal satisfaction : this was soon after followed by
another, entitled The Force of Religion, or Vanquished
Love. These productions gained him a respectable
acquaintance, he was intimate with Addison, and thus
became one of the writers of the Spectator : but the
turn of bis mind leading him to the church, he took
orders, was made one ot the king’s chaplains, and ob¬
tained the living oi Welwyn in Hertfordshire, worth
about 500I. per annum, but he never rose to higher
preferment. For some years before the death of the
late prince of Wales, Dr Young attended his court
pretty constantly y but upon his decease all his hopes of
church preferment vanished ; however, upon the death
of Dr Hales, he was taken into the service of the prin¬
cess dowager of Wales, and succeeded him as her privy
chaplain. ^ When pretty far advanced in life, lie married
the lady Elizabeth Lee, daughter of the late earl of
Litchfield. This lady was a widow, and had an ami¬
able son and daughter, who both died young. Y hat
he felt for their loss, as well as for that of his wife, is
finely expressed in his Night Ihoughts, in which the
young lady is characterised under the name of Nar-
cissa ; her brother by that of Philander j and his wife,
though nameless, is frequently mentioned ; and he
thus, in an apostrophe to death, deplores the loss of all
the three.
Insatiate archer, could not once suffice !
Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain,
And thrice ere thrice yon moon renew’d her horn.
He wrote three tragedies, The Revenge, Busiris, and
The Brothers. His satires, called Love of Fame the
universal Passion, are by many esteemed his principal
performance though Swift said the poet should have
been
Yoang
I
YOU [ 777 1 Y U N
Young, been either more angry or more merry : they have been
“■""V-"-' characterised as a string of epigrams written on one sub¬
ject, that tire the reader before he gets through them.
His Complaint, or Night Thoughts, exhibit him as a
moral and melancholy poet, and are esteemed his master¬
piece. They form a species of poetry peculiarly his
own, and in which he has been unrivalled by all those
who attempted to write in this manner. They were
written under the recent pressure of his sorrow for the
loss of his wife, daughter, and son-in-law ; they are ad¬
dressed to Lorenzo, a man of pleasure and the world,
and who, as it is insinuated by some, is his own son,
but thejj labouring under his father’s displeasure. As
a prose-writer, he arraigned the prevailing manners of
his time, in a work called The Centaur not Fabulous j
and when he was above So years of age, published Con¬
jectures on Original Composition. He published some
other pieces •, and the whole of his works are collected
in 4 and 5 vols 121110. Hr Young’s turn of mind was
naturally solemn ; and he usually, when at home in the
country, spent many hours of the day walking in his
own church-yard among the tombs. His conversation,
his writings, had all a reference to the life after this ;
and this turn of disposition mixed itsell even with Ins
improvements in gardening. He had, lor instance, an
alcove with a bench, so painted, near his house, that at
a distance it looked as a real one which the spectator
was then approaching. Upon coming up near it, how¬
ever, the deception was perceived, and this motto ap¬
peared, Invisibilia non decipiunt, “ rIhe things unseen
do not deceive us.” Yet, notwithstanding this gloomi¬
ness of temper, he was fond of innocent sports and
amusement: he instituted an assembly and a bowling-
green in the parish of which he waff rector, and often
promoted the gaiety of the company in person. His
wit w'as generally poignant, aud ever levelled at those
who testified any contempt for decency and religion.
His epigram, spoken extempore on Voltaire, is well
known 5 who happening in his company to ridicule Mil-
ton, and the allegorical personages ot Heath and Sin,
Young thus addressed him :
Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin,
You seem a Milton with his Heath and Sin. II
One Sunday, preaching in office at St James’s, he , ^linT-
found, that though he strove to make his audience at¬
tentive, he could not prevail. Upon which his pity for
their folly got the better of all decorums, and he sat
back in the pulpit and burst into a flood of tears. To¬
wards the latter part of life he knew his own infirmities,
and suffered himself to be in pupilage to his house-keep¬
er •, for he considered that, at a certain time of life, the
second childhood of age demanded its wonted protection.
His son, whose boyish follies were long obnoxious to pa¬
ternal severity, was at last forgiven in his will; and our
poet died regretted by all, having performed all that
man could do to fill his post with dignity. His death
happened in
YOUTH, that state of man in which he approaches
towards his greatest perfection of body.
YPRES, a handsome, large, and populous town of
the kingdom of the Netherlands, with a bishop’s see.
It has a considerable manufactory in cloth and serges,
and every year in Lent there is a considerable fair.
It is one of the barrier towns, but was besieged and
taken by the French in 1744, and also in 1794. It is
seated in a fertile plain on the river Ypre, in E.Long.
2. 48. N. Lat. 50. 51.
YTTRIA, one of the lately discovered earths. For
an account of its properties and combinations, see Che¬
mistry, N° 1457.
YTTRio-Tantalite, a mineral substance containing the
new earth yttria, and the new metal tantalium, which
latter is found by Hr Wollaston to be identical with
columbium.
YUCCA, Adam’s Needle, a genus of plant? of the
class hexandria. The species of this plant are all ex¬
ceedingly curious in their growth, and are therefore
much cultivated in gardens. The Indians make a kind
of bread from the roots of this plant.
YULE, Yool, or !«/. See Iul.
YUNX, a genus of birds of the order piece. See
Ornithology Index.
T. *7 or z, the 24th and last letter, and the 19th conso-
■^9 nant of our alphabet 5 the sound of which is form¬
ed by a motion of the tongue from the palate down¬
wards and upwards to it again, with a shutting and open¬
ing of the teeth at the same time. I his letter has been
reputed a double consonant, having the sound ds ; but
some think with very little reason: and, as it we thought
otherwise, we often double it, as in pu%‘zle,mucz>%lc,&.c..
Among the ancients, Z was a numeraHetter, signifying
2000 j and with a dash added a-top, Z signified 2000
times 2000, or 4,000,000.
In abbreviations this letter formerly stood as a mark
for several sorts of weights 5 sometimes it signified an
ounce and a half j and very frequently it stood tor half
Vol. XX. Part II. f
an ounce > sometimes for the eighth part of an ounce, Z,
or a dram troy weight; and it has in earlier times been Zaara»
used to express the third part of an ounce or eight scru- v
pies. ZZ were used by some of the ancient physicians
to express myrrh, and at present they are often used to
signify zinziber or ginger.
ZAABA, Zapara, Sahara, or the Desert, a vast
country of Africa, bounded on the north by Barbary,
on the east by Fezzan and Cashna, on the south by
Tombuctoo, and on the west by the Atlantic ocean.
Zaara contains a variety of wandering nations, all pro¬
ceeding from Arabs, Moors, and fugitive Portuguese,
who took refuge there when the family of the Sherifs
made themselves masters of the three kingdoms of Bar-
5 F bary«
Z A F [ 773 ] Z A M
bary. All these people bear indiscriminately the names
of Nars, Moors, or Arabs. They are subdivided into
ZaiFre. various nations, of which the most considerable are the
—-J Mongearts, Trasars, and Bracnars. The Mongearts
lead a wandering life, and live chiefly on the milk of
their flocks, with a little barley-meal, and some dates.
The poorer sort go naked, except the females, who
commonly wrap a clout about their middle, and wear a
kind of bonnet on their head j but the wealthier sort
have a kind of loose gown, made of blue calico, with
large sleeves, that is brought them from Negroland.
When they move from one place to another for fresh
pasture, water, or prey, most of them ride on camels,
which have generally a sort of saddle between the bunch
and the.~fieck, with a string or strap run through their
nostrils, which serves for a bridle j and instead of spurs
they use a sharp bodkin. Their tents or huts are cover¬
ed with a coarse stuff, made of camel’s hair, and a kind
of wool or moss that grows on the palm trees. These
Arabs live here under the government of their sheiks or
cheyks-, as in Arabia, Egypt, and other places. The
other two tribes are rather more civilized. They are
all Mahometans.
ZABULON, in Ancient Geography, one of the
twelve tribes ; bounded on the north by the tribes of
Asher and Naphthali j on the east by the sea of Gali¬
lee *, on the south by the tribe of Issachar or the brook
Cison, which ran between both ; on the west by the
Mediterranean j so that it (oacbed two seas, or was bi-
marous.
ZabuloN, in Ancient Geography, a very strong town
in the tribe of that name, on the Mediterranean, sir-
named of men, near Ptolemais : its vicinity to which
makes it probable that it was also Chabulon, unless ei¬
ther name is a faulty reading in Josephus j distant about
60 stadia from Ptolemais.
ZACYNTIIUS, in Ancient Geography, an island to
the south of Cephalenia 60 stadia, but nearer to Pelo¬
ponnesus, in the Ionian sea, formerly subject to Ulysses,
in compass above 160 stadia, woody and fruitful, with
a considerable cognominal town and a port. The island
lies over against Elis, having a colony of Achaeans from
Peloponnesus, over against the Corinthian gulf. Both
island and town are now called Zante,
ZAFFRE, is the oxide of cobalt, employed for
painting pottery ware and porcelain of a blue colour.
The method of preparing it is as follows : The cobalt
taken out of the mine is broken with hammers into
pieces about the size of a hen’s eggj and the stony in-
volucrum, with such other heterogeneous matters as are
distinguishable by the eye, are separated as much as
possible. The chosen mineral is then pounded in stamp¬
ing mills, and sifted through brass wire sieves. The
lighter parts are washed off by water, and it is after¬
wards put into a large flat-bottomed arched furnace, re¬
sembling a baking oven, where the flame of the wood
reverberates upon the ore; which is occasionally stirred
and turned with long handled iron hooks or rakes ; and
the process is continued till it ceases to emit any fumes,
The oven or furnace is terminated by a long horizontal
gallery, which serves for a chimney ; in which the
arsenic, naturally mixed with the ore, sublimes. If the
ore contains a little bismuth,-as this semimetal is very
fusible, it is collected at the bottom of the furnace.
The cobalt remains in the state of a dark gray oxide,
and is called %affre. One hundred pounds of the cobalt 2affre
ore lose 20 and even 30 per cent, during this operation, |i
which is continued 4 or even 9 hours, according to the Zama.
quality of the ore. The roasted ore being taken out " 'rmm
from the furnace, such parts as are concreted into lumps
are pounded and sifted afresh. Zaffre, in commerce, is
never pure, being mixed with two or rather three parts
of powdered flints. A proper quantity of the best sort
of these, after being ignited in a furnace, is thrown in¬
to water to render it friable, and more easily reduced
to powder; which, being sifted, is mixed with the zaf¬
fre, according to the before-mentioned dose ; and the
mixture is put into casks, after being moistened with
water. This oxide, fused with three parts of sand and
one of potash, forms a blue glass ; which, when pound¬
ed, sifted, and afterwards ground in mills, included in
large casks, forms smalt.
The blue of zaffre is the most solid and fixed of all
the colours that can be employed in vitrification. It
suffers no change from the most violent fire. It is suc¬
cessfully employed to give shades of blue to enamels,
and to the crystal glasses made in imitation of some
opaque and transparent precious stones, as the lapis,
lazuli, the turquois, the sapphire, and others of this
kind.
ZALEUCUS, a famous legislator of the Locrians,
and the disciple of Pythagoras, flourished 500 years,
B. C. He made a law, by which he punished adulter¬
ers with the loss of both their eyes; and his son offend¬
ing, was not absolved from this punishment: yet, to
show the father as well as the just lawgiver, he put out
his own right, and his son’s lelt eye. This example of
justice and severity made so strong an impression on the
minds of his subjects, that no instance was found of the
commission of that vice during the reign of that legisla¬
tor. It is added, that Zaleucus forbade any wine being
given to the sick on pain of death, unless it was pre¬
scribed by the physicians ; and that he was so jealous
of his laws, that he ordered, that whoever was desirous
of changing them, should be obliged, when he made the
proposal, to have a cord about his neck, in order that he
might be immediately strangled, it those alterations
were esteemed no better than the laws already establish¬
ed. Diodorus Siculus attributes the same thing to Cba-
rondas legislator of the Sybarites.
ZAMA, in Ancient Geography, a town of Chamane,
a district of Cappadocia, ol unknown situation.—An¬
other Zama, of Mesopotamia, on the Saocoras, to the
south of N4sibis.—A third, of Numidia, distant five
days journey to the west of Carthage : it was the other
royal residence of the kings of Numidia, hence called
Zama Regia. It stood in a plain ; was stronger by art
than nature ; richly supplied with every necessary ; and
abounding in men, and every weapon both of defence
and annoyance.
The last of these is remarkable for the decisive battle
fought betvven the two gx-eatest commanders in the
world, Hannibal the Carthaginian and Scipio Alrica-
nus. Of this engagement, the most important perhaps
that ever was fought, Mr Hooke gives the following ac¬
count. '
“ Scipio drew up his army after the Roman manner,
except that he placed the cohorts of the Principes di¬
rectly behind those of the Hastati, so as to leave suffi¬
cient space for the enemy’s elephants to pass through
from
77
Z A M [
2ama. from front to rear. C. Lcellus was posted on the left
—-v——' wing with the Italian horse, and Masinissa with his
Numidians on the right. The intervals of the first line
Scipio filled up with his Velites, or light-armed troops,
ordering them, upon a signal given, to begin the bat¬
tle ; and, in case they were repulsed, or broke by the
elephants, to run back through the lanes before men¬
tioned, and continue on their flight till they were got
behind the Triarii. Those that were wounded, or in
danger of being overtaken, were to turn off to the right
and left through the spaces between the lines, and that
way escape to the rear.
“ The army thus drawn up, Scipio went from rank
to rank, urging his soldiers to consider the consequences
of a defeat and the rewards of victory: on the one hand,
certain death or slavery (for they had no town in Africa
strong enough to protect them) 5 on the other, not only
a lasting superiority over Carthage, but the empire of
the rest of the world.
“ Hannibal ranged all his elephants, to the number
of above 80, in one front. Behind these he placed his
mercenaries, consisting of 12,000 men, Ligurians, Gauls,
Baleares, and Mauritanians.
“ The new levies of Carthaginians and other Afri¬
cans, together with 4000 Macedonians, under a gene¬
ral named Sopater, composed the second line. And in
the rear of all, at the distance of about a furlong, he
posted his Italian troops, in whom he chiefly confided.
The Carthaginian horse formed his right wing, the
Numidians his left.
“ He ordered their several leaders to exhort their
troops not to be discouraged by their own weakness, but
to place the hope of victory in him and his Italian ar¬
my 5 and particularly directed the captains of the Car¬
thaginians to represent to them what would be the fate
of their wives and children if the event of this battle
should not prove successful. The general himself, walk¬
ing through the ranks of his Italian troops, called upon
them to be mindful of the 17 campaigns in which they
had been fellow-soldiers with himj and of that constant
series of victories by which they had extinguished in the
Romans all hope of ever being conquerors. He urged
them to remember, above all, the battles of 1 rebia,
Thrasymenus, and Cannae j with any of which the ap¬
proaching battle was in no wise to be compaied, either
with respect to the bravery or the number of the enemy.
‘ The Romans were yet unfoiled, and in the height of
their strength, when you first met them in, the field)
nevertheless you vanquished them. The soldiers now
before us are either the children of the vanquished, or
the remains of those whom you have often put to flight
in Italy. Maintain therefore your general’s glory and
your own, ami establish to yourselves the name of invin¬
cible, by which you are become famous throughout the
world.’ .
“ When the Numidians of the two armies had skir¬
mished a while, Hannibal ordered the managers of the
elephants to drive them upon the enemy. Some of the
'beasts, frightened at the norse of the trumpets and other
instruments of war which sounded on all sides, immedi¬
ately ran back amongst the Numidians of the Carthagi¬
nian left wing, and put them into confusion 5 which
Masinissa taking advantage of, entirely routed them.
Great, destruction was made of the Velites by the rest of
rthe elephants, till these also being terrified, some of
9 ]' Z A M
them ran through the void spaces of the Roman army Zania
which Scipio had left for that purpose ; others falling —v—>
in among the cavalry of the enemy’s right wing, gave
Lselius the same opportunity against the Carthaginian
horse as had been given to Masinissa against the Numi-
dian, and of which the Roman did not fail to make the
same use. After this the infantry of the foremost lines
joined battle. Hannibal’s mercenaries had the advan¬
tage in the beginning of the conflict j but the Roman
Hastati, followed and encouraged by the Principes, who
exhorted them to fight manfully, and showed themselves
ready to assist them, bravely sustained the attack, and
at length gained ground upon the enemy. The merce¬
naries not being seasonably supported by their second
line, and therefore thinking themselves betrayed, they
in their retreat fell furiously upon the Africans ; so
that these, the Hastati coming up, were obliged to fight,
for some time both against their own mercenaries and
the enemy. When the two Carthaginian lines bad
ceased their mutual rage, they joined their strength j
and though now but a mere throng of men, broke the
Hastati: but then the Principes advancing to the assist
ance of the latter, restored the battle 5 and most of the
Africans and mercenaries were here cut off. Hannibal
did not advance to their relief, the Roman Triarii not
having yet engaged, and the Principes being still in
good order j and lest the routed Africans and mercena¬
ries should break the ranks of his Italian soldiers, he
commanded these to present their spears at those who
fled to them for protection, which obliged the runaways
to move off to the right and left.
“ The ground over which the Romans must march
before they could attack Hannibal being strewed with
heaps of dead bodies and weapons, and being slippery
with bloed, Scipio feared that the order of his battalions
would be broke, should he pass it hastily. To avoid
this mischief, he commanded the Hastati to give over
the pursuit, and halt where they were, opposite to the
enemy’s centre: after which, having sent all his wound¬
ed to the rear, he advanced leisurely with the Principes
and Triarii, and placed them on the wings of the Ha¬
stati. Then followed a sharp engagement, in which
victory was long and eagerly disputed. It would seem
that the Romans, though superior in number, were once
upon the point of losing the day; for Polybius tells ns,
that Masinissa and Laslius came very seasonably, and as
if sent from heaven, to their assistance. These generals
being returned from the pursuit of the cavalry, fell sud¬
denly upon the rear of Hannibal’s men, most of whom
were cut off in their ranks ; and of those that fled, very
few escaped the horse, the country all round being a
plain.
“ There died of the Carthaginians in the fight above
20,000, and almost the like number were taken prison¬
ers. The loss on the side of the Romans amounted to
about 2000 men. Hannibal escaped with a few horse
to Adrumetum, having performed every thing in the
engagement which could be expected from a great ge¬
neral. His army (says Polybius) could not have been
more skilfully drawn up. For as the order of the Ro¬
man battalions makes it extremely difficult to break
them, the Carthaginian wisely placed bis elephants in
the front, that they might put the enemy in confusion
before the armies should engage. In his first line be
placed the mercenaries ; men bold and active, but not
j F 2 well
ZAP [ 780 ] Z E A
Zama well disciplined, that by their impetuosity he might give
|| a check to the ardour of the Romans. The Africans
Zapata. an{j Carthaginians, whose courage he doubted, he post-
ecl in the middle between the mercenaries and his Ita¬
lian soldiers, that they might be forced to fight, or at
least that the Romans, by slaughtering them, might fa¬
tigue themselves and blunt their weapons. Last of all,
he drew up the troops he had disciplined himself, and
in whom he chiefly confided, at a good distance from
the second line, that they might not be broken by the
route of the Africans and mercenaries, and kept them
in reserve for a vigorous attack upon a tired and weak¬
ened enemy.”
ZANGUEBAR, a country in Africa, lying on the
eastern coast, between three degrees ot north latitude,
and 18 south. It includes several petty kingdoms, in
which the Portuguese have various settlements. The
inhabitants, except those converted by the Portuguese,
are all Mahometans or idolaters j and the latter much
the more numerous. The names ol the principal terri¬
tories are Mombasa, Lamon, Melinda, Quiola, and Mo-
sumbique. The Portuguese have built several forts in
Mombaza and Mosambique, and have settled several
colonies there. They trade with the negroes for slaves,
ivory, gold, ostrich-feathers, wax and drugs. The
productions are much the same as in other parts of
Africa between the tropics.
Z AN ONI A, a genus of plants of the class pentan-
dria. See Botany Index.
ZANTE, an island of the Mediterranean, near the
coast of the Morea, 19 miles south -east of the island of
Cephalonia, belonging- to the Ionian republic. It is
about 24 miles in length and 1 2 in breadth, and very
pleasant and fertile j but its principal riches consist in
currants, with which it greatly abounds. They are cul¬
tivated in a very large plain, under the shelter of moun¬
tains on the shore of this island j for which reason
the sun has greater power to bring them to perfect ma¬
turity. The town called Xante may contain near
20,000 inhabitants ; the whole island contains about
40,000. The houses are low, on account of the fre¬
quent earthquakes, for scarce a year passes without one;
however, they do no great damage. The natives speak
both Greek and Italian. There are very few Roman
Catholics among them ; but they have a bishop as well
as the Greeks. This place has no fortifications, but
there is a fortress upon an eminence planted with cannon.
In one part of this island is a place which shakes when
trod upon like a quagmire; and a spring which throws
out a great deal of bitumen, especially at the time of
an earthquake. It serves instead of pitch to pay the
bottoms of the ships, and about 100 barrels in a year
are used for this purpose. There are about 50 villages
in the island ; but no other large town beside Zante.
It is seated on the eastern side of the island, and has a
good harbour. This and the other Ionian islands are
now under the protection of Britain. E. Long. 21. 3.
N. Lat. 37. 53.
ZANTHOXYLUM, the Toothache-thee, a ge¬
nus of plants of the class of dioecia ; and in the natural
system arranged under the 46th order, Ilederacecv. See
Botany Index.
ZAPATA, a kind of feast or ceremony held in
Italy in the courts of certain princes, on St Nicholas’s
day ; wherein people hide presents in the shoes or slip-
2
pers of those they would do honour to, in such a manner Zapata
as may surprise them on the morrow when they come Zea. ’
to dress ; being done in imitation of the practice of St '—““v—»
Nicholas, who used in the night-time to throw purses of
money in at the windows to marry poor maids withal.
ZEA, Indian Corn ; a genus of plants of the class
monoecia. See Botany Index.—There is only one spe¬
cies, the Mays, maize. The Indians in New England,
and many other parts of America, had no other vege¬
table but maize or Indian corn for making their bread.
They call it weachin; and in the United States of A-
merica there is a great proportion of the bread of the
country made of this grain. In Italy and Germany
also there is a species of maize which is the food of the
poor inhabitants.
The ear of the maize yields a much greater quan¬
tity of grain than any of our corn ears. There are com¬
monly about eight rows of grain in the ear, often more,
if the ground be good. Each of these rows contains at
least 30 grains, and each of these gives much more
flour than a grain of any of our corn. The grains are
usually either white or yellowish ; but sometimes they
are red, bluish, greenish, or olive-coloured, and some¬
times stiiped and variegated. This sort of grain, though
so essentially necessary to the natives of the place, is yet
liable to many accidents. It does not ripen till the end
of September; so that the rains often fall heavy upon
it while on the stalk, and the birds in general peck it
when it is soft and unripe. Nature has, to defend it
from these accidents, covered it with a thick husk,
which keeps off slight rains very well : but the birds
if not frightened away, often eat through it, and devour
a great quantity of the grain.
There are three or four varieties of maize in different
parts of America. That of Virginia is very tall and
robust, growing to seven or eight feet high ; that of
New England is shorter and low'er. And the Indians
farther up in the country have a yet smaller kind in
common use. The stalk of the maize is jointed like the
sugar-cane ; it is very soft and juicy, and the juice is so
sweet and saccharine, that a syrup, as sweet as that of
sugar, has been often made of it; and things sweetened
with it have been found not distinguishable from those
done with sugar. It has not been tried yet whether it
will crystallize into sugar ; but in all probability it will.
The Americans plant this corn any time from the
beginning of March to the beginning of June ; but the
best season is the middle of April. The savage Indians,
who knew nothing of our account of months, used to
guide themselves in the seed-time of this useful plant by
the budding of some particular trees of that country,
and by the coming up of a sort of fish into their rivers
which they call the aloofe. These things were both so
regular, that they were in no danger of mistaking the
time.
The manner of planting maize is in rows, at equal
distances, every way about five or six feet. rlhey open
the earth with a hoe, taking away the surface to three
or four inches deep, and of the breadth of the hoe;
they then throw in a little of the finer earth, so as to
leave the hole four inches deep or thereabouts, and in
each of these holes they place four or five grains at a
little distance from one another. If two or three of
these grow up, it is very well ; some of them are usual¬
ly destroyed either by the birds or other animals.
J 7 When
Z E A [ 781 ] Z E M
When the young plants appear, they hoe up the
weeds from time to time; and when the stalk gathers
some strength, they raise the earth a little about it, and
continue this at every hoeing till it begins to put forth
the ears j then they enlarge the hill of earth, round the
root, to the size of a hop-hill, and after this they leave
it till the time of harvest, without any farther care.
When they gather the ears, they either immediately
strip off the corn, or else hang up the ears, tied in traces
at distances from one another ; for if they are laid near
together, they will heat and rot, or else sprout and
grow} but kept cool and separate, they will remain
good all the winter. The best method is to thrash out
the corn as soon as the harvest is over, to dry it well on
mats in the sun, and then lay it up in, holes of the
ground, well lined with mats, grass, or the like, and
afterwards covered at top with more earth. The most
careful among the Indians use this method, and this sort
of subterranean granary always proves good.
The uses of this plant among the Indians are very
many. The great article is the making their bread of
it; but besides this, the stalks, when cut up before they
are too much dried, are an excellent winter food for
cattle ; but they usually leave them on the ground
for the cattle to feed on. The husks about the ear are
usually separated from the rest, and make a particular
sort of fodder, not inferior to our hay. The Indian
women have a way of slitting them into narrow parts,
and they then weave them artificially into baskets and
many other toys. The original way of eating the grain
among the Indians was this : they boiled it whole in
water till it swelled and became tender, and then they
fed on it either alone, or ate it with their fish and veni¬
son instead of bread. After this, they found the way of
boiling it into a sort of pudding, after bruising it in a
mortar } but the way of reducing it to flour is the best
of all. They do this by parching it carefully in the
fire, without burning, and then beating it in mortars
and sifting it. This flour they lay up in bags as their
constant provision, and take it out with them when they
go to war, eating it either dry or with water. The
English have contrived, by mixing it into a stiff paste,
either by itself or with rye or wheat-meal, fermenting
it with leaven or yeast, and baking it in a hot oven, to
make good bread of it. They have likewise Jpund out
a method of making good beer, either of the bread or
by malting the grain.
ZEAL, passionate ardour for any person or cause.
It is most frequently used to denote a strong and warm
attachment to the distinguishing doctrines or worship of
some particular sect of Christians. Thus we say, a zea¬
lous Calvini.it, Ar mini an, or Papist; though we may
likewise with the greatest propriety say of an upright
and benevolent man, that he is zealous of good works.
ZEALAND, the chief of tiie Danish islands, is si¬
tuated at the entrance of the Baltic sea, bounded by the
Schaggerrac sea on the north } by the Sound, which se¬
parates it from Schonen, on the east } by the Baltic sea
on the south ; and by the strait called the Great Pelt,
which separates it from the island of Funen, on the west }
being of a round figure, near 200 miles in circumfe¬
rence: the chief town is Copenhagen.
Zealand, is also a province of the United Nether¬
lands, consisting of eight islands, which lie in the mouth
of the river Scheldt, bounded by the province of Hol¬
land, from which they are separated by a narrow chan- Zealand
nel, on the north ; by Brabant on the east} by Flanders, 1)
from which they are separated by one of the branches of Zembla,
the Scheldt, on the south} and by the German ocean v
on the west.
New Zealand, a country of Asia, in the South Pa¬
cific ocean, first discovered by Tasman, the Dutch na¬
vigator, in the year 1642, who gave it the name of
Staten Land, though it has been generally distinguished
in our maps and charts by the name of New Zealand,
and w'as supposed to be part of a southern continent:
but it is now known, from the late discoveries of Captain
Cook who sailed round it, to consist of two large islands,
divided from each other by a strait four or five leagues
broad. They are situated between the latitudes of 34
and 48 degrees south, and between the longitudes of
166 and 180 degrees east from Greenwich. One of
these islands is for the most part mountainous, rather
barren, and but thinly inhabited } but the other is much
more fertile, and of a better appearance. In the opi¬
nion of Sir Joseph Banks and Dr Solander, every kind
of European fruits, grain, and plants, would flourish
here in the utmost luxuriance. From the vegetables
found here, it is supposed that the winters are milder
than those in England, and the summers not hotter,
though more equally warm } so that it is imagined, that
if this country were settled by people from Europe, they
would, with moderate industry, be soon supplied, not
only with the necessaries, but the luxuries of life, in
great abundance. Here are forests of vast extent, filled
with very large timber trees } and near 400 plants were
found here that had not been described by the natura¬
lists. The inhabitants of New Zealand are stout and
robust, and equal in stature to the largest Europeans.
Their colour in general is brown, but in few deeper
than that of the Spaniard who has been exposed to the
sun, and in many not so deep } and both sexes have good
features. Their dress is very uncouth, and they mark
their bodies in a manner similar to the inhabitants of
Otaheite, and which is called tattowing. Their prin¬
cipal weapons are lances, darts, and a kind of battle-
axes j and they have generally shown themselves very
hostile to the Europeans who have visited them.
ZEALOTS, an ancient sect of the Jews, so called
from their pretended zeal for God’s law and the honour
of religion.
ZEBRA. See Equus, Mammalia Index.
ZEBU, a name given by M. de Buffon to the bos
indicus of Linnaeus. See Mammalia Index.
ZECHARIAH, a canonical book of the Old Testa¬
ment. See Scripture, N° 80.
ZECHIN, or Zecchino. See Sequin.
ZEDOARY, in the Materia Mcdica. See Kjemp-
FERIA.
ZELL, a city of Germany in the circle of Lower
Saxony, capital of the duchies of Zell and Lunenburg,
situated at the confluence of the rivers Aller and Fuhse,
30 miles north of Hanover, and 40 south of Lunenburg.
E. Long. 9. 58. N. Lat. 52. 40.
ZEMBLA, Nova, a very large island lying in the
Northern ocean, to the north of Russia, from which it
is separated by the strait of Waigate. It has no inha¬
bitants except wild beasts, particularly white foxes and
bears. In 1595 a Dutch vessel was cast away on the
coast, and the ship’s company were obliged to winter
here *, -
Z E M C 782 ] ZEN
Ecmbla, ^ere ; but they did not see the sun from the fourth of
'Zemindar. November to the beginning of February, and had great
‘““‘■v*—--' difficulty to keep themselves from being frozen to
death.
ZEMINDAR, in its original meaning, signifies a
great landholder of Bengal j but it is now more strictly
applicable to those who have their title constituted or
confirmed by a patent or charter from government, by
which they hold their lands or zemindaries upon cer¬
tain conditions. It appears from history, that, in times
prior to the irruption of the Mahomedans, the rajahs
who held their residence at Delhy, and possessed the so¬
vereignty of Hindostan, deputed officers to collect their
revenues. The word ‘zemindar is Persian, and that
language can have had no currency in the countries of
India, until it was introduced by the people of Persia.
When the emperor Shehab-ul-Dien Ghory conquered
the empire of Hindostan at the end of the 12th century,
he left Sultan Cutub ul-Dien to be his viceroy at Delhy,
and administer the government of Hindostan. From
that time the customs and practices of the Mahomedans
began gradually to be established in India : their ar¬
mies were sent into the countries of the reduced rajahs,
under the command of omrahs, in order to preserve the
conquest ; and lands were allotted to them to defray the
expence. From hence arose the system of Jaghiredarry
in Hindostan. But when these Omrah Jaghiredars had
established their own strength, several of them rebelled
against the imperial authority, and aspired at the crown.
Thus circumstanced, the emperors, in order to obviate
these mischiefs, thought it would be more politic to
commit the management of the country to the native
Hindoos, who had most distinguished themselves by the
readiness and constancy of their obedience to the sove¬
reign power.
In pursuance of this plan, districts were allotted to
numbers of them under a reasonable revenue (Jummah
Monasib), which they were required to pay in money
to the governors of the provinces, deputed from the
emperor. And in case any one of the omrahs or pro¬
vincial governors should swerve from his allegiance, the
zemindars of that country were to exert themselves in
such a manner as should check rebellion, and restore
good government. For this purpose, grants of ze-
mindary were severally conferred upon such of the Hin¬
doos as were obedient; describing their apportionment
of the country ; and every person who had received a
grant under the authority of the crown wras thereby
fully invested with the functions of zemindar.
The functions of a zemindar are, 1st, The preserva¬
tion and defence of their respective boundaries from
traitors and insurgents. 2dly, The tranquillity of the
subjects, the abundance of cultivators, and increase of
his revenue. 3dly, The punishment of thieves and rob¬
bers, the prevention of crimes, and the destruction of
highwaymen. The accomplishment of these objects is
considered in the royal grant as the disharge of office
to the sovereign j and on that account the word office
(khidmut) is employed in the Dewanny Sunnud for a
ze mindary.
It w'as a rule in the times of the ancient emperors,
that when any of the zemindars died, their effects and
property were sequestrated by the government. After
which, in consideration of the rights of long service,
'•which is incumbent on sovereigns, and elevates the dig-
I
nity of the employer, sunnuds for the office of zemin- Zemindar
dary were granted to the children of the deceased ze- Zend,
mindar $ and no other person was accepted, because the't—
inhabitants could never feel for any stranger the attach¬
ment and affection which they naturally entertain for
the family of their zemindar, and would have been af¬
flicted if any other had been put over them. For this
reason, the emperors, considering it as a means of con¬
ciliating the minds of the people, graciously fixed and
confirmed the children of the deceased zemindar in the
office of their fathers and grandfathers, by issuing new
sunnuds to transfer the possession to them. By degrees
zemindaries became truly heritable property, which,
however, could be transferred by gift or sale from one
family to another. They could likewise be forfeited to
the sovereign, by the zemindar’s deviating from his
allegiance, neglecting to pay his tribute, or to discharge
the duties of his station.
It is universally known, says Sir Charles Rouse
Boughton, that, when the three provinces of Bengal,
Bahar, and Orissa, were ceded to the British East India
Company, the country was distributed among the ze¬
mindars and talookdars or holders of land, who paid a
stipulated revenue, by twelve instalments, to the sove¬
reign power or its delegates. They assembled at the
capital in the beginning of every Bengal year (com¬
mencing in April), in order to complete their final pay¬
ments, and make up their annual accounts j to settle the
discount to be charged upon their several remittances in
various coins for the purpose of reducing them to one
standard, or adjust their concerns with their bankers j
to petition for remissions on account of storms, drought,
inundation, disturbances, and such like •, to make their
representations of the state and occurrences of their
districts : after all which they entered upon the collec¬
tions of the new year; of which, however, they were
not permitted to begin receiving the rents from their
own farmers, till they had completely closed the ac¬
counts of the preceding year, so that they might not en¬
croach upon the new rents, to make up the deficiency
of the past. Our author proves, we think completely,
the right of the zemindars to transfer their possessions,
either by inheritance to their children, or, with the con¬
sent of the sovereign, to other families ; and he argues
strenuously'and successfully against the bad policy, as
well as injustice of interfering with those rights, as long
as the zemindars discharge the duties of their several
stations.
ZEND, or Zendavesta, a book ascribed to Zoro¬
aster, and containing his pretended revelations j which
the ancient Magians and modern Persees, called also
Gaurs, observe and reverence in the same manner as the
Christians do the Bible, and the Mahometans the Ko¬
ran, making it the sole rule both of their faith and man¬
ners. The word, it is said, originally signifies any in¬
strument for kindling fire, and is applied to this book
to denote its aptitude for kindling the flame of religion
in the hearts of those who read it.
The Zend contains a reformed system of Magianism ',
teaching thatthereis a Supreme Being,eternal, self-exist¬
ent, and independent, who created both light and dark¬
ness, out of which he made all other things; that these
are in a state of conflict, which will continue till the
end of the world ; that then there shall be a general
resurrection and judgment; and that just retribution
Zenil
Zeno.
ZEN [78
shall be rendered unto men according to their works 5
that the angel of darkness with his followers shall be
consigned to a place of everlasting darkness and punish¬
ment, and the angel of light with his disciples introdu¬
ced into a state of everlasting light and happiness; after
which light and darkness shall no more interfere with
each other. The Zend also enjoins the constant main¬
tenance of sacred fires and fire temples for religious
worship ; the distinction of clean and unclean beasts ;
the payment of tithes to priests, which are to be of one
family or tribe ; a multitude of washings and purifica¬
tions, resembling those of the Jewish law; and a variety
of rules and exhortations for the exercise of benevo¬
lence and charity.
In this book there are many passages evidently taken
out of the Scriptures of the Old Testament, particularly
out of the Psalms of David; The author represents
Adam and Eve as the first parents of all mankind, gives
in substance the same account of the creation and de¬
luge with Moses, differing indeed with regard to the for¬
mer, by converting the six days of the Mosaic account
into six times, comprehending in the whole 365 days;
and speaks also of Abraham, Joseph, Moses, and Solo¬
mon. Moreover, Dr Baumgarten asserts, that this work
contains doctrines, opinions, and facts, actually borrowed
from the Jews, Christians, and Mahometans ; whence,
and from other circumstances, he concludes that both
the history and writings of this prophet were probably
invented in the later ages, when the fire-worshippers
under the Mahometan government thought fit to vindi¬
cate their religion from the suspicion of idolatry.
At whatever period the Zend may have been written,
we are assured by Dr Hyde, that it is in the pure old
Persian language, and in the character called Peplavt.
Some parts of it contain the original text, and others
Zoroaster’s second thoughts subjoined, for explaining
more fully his doctrine. These were occasioned by the
opposition of adversaries, and unforeseen circumstances
which occurred during the fabrication of the imposture.
About 300 years ago, when the old Persian language
had become antiquated and little understood, one of the
destours or high priests among the Persees composed the
Sadda, which is a compendium in the vulgar or modern
Persic tongue, of those parts of the Zend that relate to
religion, or a kind of code of canons and precepts,
drawn from the theological writings of Zoroaster, serv¬
ing as an authoritative rule of faith and practice for his
followers. This Sadda is written in a low kind of Per¬
sic verse, and as Dr Hyde informs us, it is bonorum ct
malorum farrago, having many good and pious things,,
and others very superstitious and trifling. See Per¬
sees and Zoroaster.
ZENITH, in Astronomy, the vertical point, or a
point in the heavens directly over our heads.
ZENO Eleates, an eminent Grecian philosopher,
Ettyid's was born at Elea about 504 years before Christ. He
Ilwrn of was a zealous friend of civil liberty, and is celebrated
i'ifiapp/ty.for his courageous and successful opposition to tyrants ;
but the inconsistency of the stories related by diflerent
writers concerning him in a great measure destroys their
credit. He chose to reside in his small native city of
Elea rather than at Athens, because it afforded freer
scope to his independent and generous spirit, which could
not easily submit to the restraints of authority. It is re¬
lated, that he vindicated the warmth with which he re-
3 ]
ZEN
seated reproach, by saying, <£ If I were indifferent to Zeno,
censure, I should also be indifferent to praise.” The y—”
invention of the dialectic art has been improperly ascri¬
bed to Zeno ; but there can be no doubt that this phi¬
losopher, and other metaphysical disputants in the Elea-
tic sect, employed much ingenuity and subtlety in exhi¬
biting examples of most of the logical arts, which were
afterwards reduced to rule by Aristotle and others.
According to Aristotle, he taught, that nothing can
be produced either from that which is similar or dissi¬
milar ; that there is only one being, God ; who is eter¬
nal, homogeneous, and spherical, neither finite nor infi¬
nite, neither quiescent nor moveable; that there are
many worlds ; that there is in nature no vacuum ; that
all bodies are composed of four elements, heat and mois¬
ture, cold and dryness ; and that the body of man is
from the earth, and his soul an equal mixture of these
four elements. He argued with great subtlety against
the possibility of motion. If Seneca’s account of this
philosopher deserves credit, he reached the highest
point of scepticism, and denied the real existence of ex¬
ternal objects. The truth is, that after all that has
been advanced by different writers, it is impossible to
determine whether Zeno understood the term one, me¬
taphysically, logically, or physically ; or whether he
admitted or denied a nature properly divine.
Zeno, the founder of the sect of the Stoics, was horn
about 300 years before Christ at Citium, in the island of
Cyprus. This place having been originally peopled by
a colony of Phoenicians, Zeno issometimes called aPhce-
nician. His father was by profession a merchant, but
discovering in the youth a strong propensity towards
learning, he early devoted him to philosophy. In his
mercantile capacity he had frequent occasion to visit A-
thens, where he purchased for his son several of the wri¬
tings of the most eminent Socratic philosophers. These
he read with great avidity; and when he was about 30
years of age, he determined to take a voyage to a city
which was so celebrated both as a mart of trade and of
science. If it he true, as some writers relate, that he
brought with him a valuable cargo of Phoenician purple,
which was lost by shipwreck upon tire coast of Pineus,
this circumstance will account for the facility with which
he at first attached himself to a sect whose leading prin¬
ciple was the contempt of riches. Upon his first arrival
in Athens, going accidentally into the shop of a book¬
seller, he took up a volume of the Commentaries of Xe¬
nophon ; and after reading a few' passages, was so much
delighted wuth the work, and formed so high an idea of
the author, that he asked the bookseller where he might
meet with such men. Crates the Cynic philosopher hap¬
pening at that instant to be passing by, the bookseller
pointed to him, and said, “ Follow that man.” Zeno
attended upon the instructions of Crates, and was so well
ph ased with his doctrine that he became one of his dis¬
ciples. But though he admired the general princ iples
of the Cynic school, he could not easily reconcile him¬
self to their peculiar manners. Besides, his inquisitive
turn of mind would not allow him to adopt that indiffer¬
ence to every scientific inquiry which was one of the
characteristic distinctions of the sect. He therefore at¬
tended upon other masters,who professed to instruct their
disciplesin the natui-e and causes of things. When Crates,
displeased at his following other philosophers, attempted
to drag him by force out of the school of Stilpo, Zeno
said
ZEN [ 784 ] Z E U
‘Zeno, sa'('1 to him> “ You may seize my body, but Stilpo has
Zenobi’a. laid hold of my mind.” After continuing to attend
1 v—' upon the lectures of Stilpo several years, he passed over
to other schools, particularly to those of Xenocrates and
Diodorus Cronus. Jiy the latter he was instructed in
dialectics. He was so much delighted with this branch
of study, that he presented to his master a large pecu¬
niary gratuity, in return for his free communication of
some of his ingenious subtleties. At last, after attending
almost every other master, he oft'ered himself as a disci¬
ple of Polemo. This philosopher appears to have been
aware, that Zeno’s intention in thus removing from one
school to another, was to collect materials from various
quarters for a new system of his own 5 for, when he came
into Polemo’s school, he said to him, “ I am no stran¬
ger, Zeno, to your Phoenician arts j I perceive that your
design is to creep slyly into my garden, and steal away
my fruit.” Polemo was not mistaken in his opinion.
Having made himself master of the tenets of others,
Zeno determined to become the founder of a new sect.
The place which he made choice of for his school was
a public portico, adorned with the pictures of Poly-
gnotus, and other eminent painters. It was the most
famous portico in Athens, and called, by way of emi¬
nence, Sraes, “ the Porch.” It was from this circum¬
stance that the followers of Zeno were called Stoics.
In his person Zeno was tall and slender j his aspect
was severe, and his brow contracted. His constitution
was feeble, but he preserved his health by great abste¬
miousness. The supplies of his table consisted of figs,
bread, and honey ; notwithstanding which, he was fre¬
quently honoured with the company of great men. In
public company, to avoid every appearance of an assu¬
ming temper, he commonly took the lowest place. In¬
deed so great was his modesty, that he seldom chose to
mingle with a crowd, or wished for the company of
more than two or three friends at once. He paid more
attention to neatness and decorum in external appear¬
ance than the Cynic philosophers. In his dress indeed
he was plain, and in ail his expences frugal j but this
is not to be imputed to avarice, but a contempt of ex¬
ternal magnificence. He showed as much respect to
the poor as to the rich •, and conversed freely with per¬
sons of the meanest occupations. He had only one
servant, or, according to Seneca, none.
Zeno lived to the extreme age of 98 ; and at last, in
consequence of an accident, voluntarily put an end to
his life. As he was walking out of his school he fell
down, and in the fall broke one of his fingers ; upon
which he was so affected with a consciousness of infir¬
mity, that, striking the earth, he said, “ Why am I
thus importuned ? I obey thy summons and imme¬
diately went home and strangled himself. He died in
the first year of the 129th Olympiad. The Athenians,
at the request of Antigonus, erected a monument to
his memory in the Ceramicum.
We ought not to confound the two Zenos already
mentioned with
Zeno, a celebrated Epicurean philosopher, born at
Sidon, who had Cicero and Pomponius Atticus for his
disciples, and who wrote a book against the mathema¬
tics, which, as well as that of Possidonius’s refutation
of it, is lost 5 nor with several other Zenos mentioned
• in history.
ZENOBIA, queen, of Palmyra. See Palmyra.
ZEOLITE, a mineral substance. See MlNERA- Zeo!:te
logy Index. m
ZEPHANIAH, a canonical book of the Old Tes- Zeusi?.
tament. See Scripture, N° 79. ' r—
ZEPHYK, the IFEST-Wind, or that which blows
from the cardinal point of the horizon opposite to the
east.
ZEPHYRUS, one of the Pagan deities, was repre¬
sented as the son of Aurora, and the lover of the nymph
Chloris, according, to the Greeks, or of Flora according
to the Romans j and as presiding over the growth of
fruits and flowers. He is described as giving a refresh¬
ing coolness to the air by his soft and agreeable breath,
and as moderating the heat of summer by fanning the
air with his silken wings. He is depictured under the
form of a youth, with a very tender air, with wings
resembling those of the butterfly, and with his head
Crowned with a variety of flowers. As the poets of
Greece and Rome lived in a warm climate, they are
lavish in their praise of this beneficent deity, and un¬
der his name describe the pleasure and advantage they
received from the western breezes.
ZERDA. See Canis, Mammalia Index.
ZERTA, the Zerte, a fish caught in the rivers of
Italy and some other places, of the figure of the chub,
and called by authors capita anodromus, and the blike.
It seldom grows to more than two pounds weight, and
at times lives in rivers, at times in the sea ; and is
esteemed a very well tasted fish, especially a little be¬
fore the season of its spawning. The zerte is that spe¬
cies of cyprinus descidbed by Gesner and others under
the name of capita anodromus.
ZEST, the woody thick skin quartering the kernel
of a walnut; prescribed by some physicians, when
dried and taken with white wine, as a remedy against
the gravel.
Zest is also used for a chip of orange or lemon peel;
such as is usually squeezed into ale, wine, &c. to give
it a flavour 5 or the. fine oil which spurts out of that
peel on squeezing it.
ZEUGMA, a figure in Grammar, whereby an ad¬
jective or verb which agrees with a nearer word, is
also, by way of supplement, referred to another more
remote.
ZEUS, a genus of fishes of the order of thoi'acici.
See Ichthyology Index.
ZEUXIS, a celebrated painter of antiquity, flourish¬
ed about 400 years before Christ. He was born at He-
raclea ; but as there have been many cities of that name,
it cannot be certainly determined which of them had
the honour of his birth. Some learned men, however,
conjecture, that it was the Heraclea near Crotona in
Italy. He carried painting to a much higher degree ot
perfection than Apollodorus had left it ; discovered the
art of properly disposing of lights and shades, and par¬
ticularly excelled in colouring. He amassed immense
riches j and then resolved to sell no more of his pictures,
but gave them away; saying very frankly, “ I hat he
could not set a price on them equal to their value.”
Before this time he made people pay for seeing them;
and nobody was admitted to see his Helena without rea¬
dy money, which occasioned the wags calling his picture
Helen the Courtesan. It is not known whether this
Helen of Zeuxis was the same with that which was at
Rome in Pliny’s time, or that which he painted for the
inhabitants
Zeuxis
II
Zinent-
water.
Z I M [7
inhabitants of Crotona to be hung up in the temple of
Juno : this last he painted from five beautiful girls of
that city, copying from each her gieatest excellencies.
Pliny observes, that this admirable painter, disputing
for the prize of painting with Parrhasius, painted some
grapes so naturally, that the birds flew down to peck
them. Parrhasius, on the other hand, painted a curtain
so very artfully, that Zeuxis, mistaking it for a real one
that hid his rival’s work, ordered the curtain to he
drawn aside, to show what Parrhasius had done ; but
having found his mistake, he ingenuously confessed him¬
self vanquished, since he had only imposed upon birds,
while Parrhasius had deceived even a master of the art.
Another time he painted a boy loaded with grapes $
when the birds also flew to this picture, at which be was
vexed; and confessed, that his work was not sufficiently
finished, since, had lie painted the boy as perfectly as the
grapes, the birds would have been afraid of him. Ar-
chelaus, king of Macedon, made use of Zeuxis’s pencil
for the embellishment of his palace. One of this pain¬
ter’s finest pieces was a Hercules strangling some ser¬
pents in his cradle, in the presence of his affrighted mo¬
ther: but he himself chiefly esteemed his Athleta, or
Champion, under which he placed a Greek verse that
afterwards became very famous, and in which he says,
“ That it was easier to criticise than to imitate the pic¬
ture.” He made a present ot his Alcmena to the A-
grigentines. Zeuxis did not value himself on speedily
finishing his pictures; but knowing that Agatharchus
gloried in his being able to paint witivease and in a lit¬
tle time, he said, “That for his part he, on the con¬
trary, gloried in his slowness; and, if he was long in
painting, it was because he painted for eternity.” Ver-
rius Flaccus says, that Zeuxis having painted an old
woman, he laughed so very heartily at the sight ot this
picture, that he died : but as no other ot the ancients
Iras mentioned this particular, there is the greatest reason
to believe it fabulous. Carlo Dati has composed in Ita¬
lian the Life of Zeuxis, with those of Parrhasius, Apel¬
les, and Protogenes. This work was printed at b lorence
in 1667.
ZICLAG, or ZiKLAG, in Ancient Geography, a
town of the tribe of Simeon, on the borders of the
Philistines (Joshua xv. and xix.), but in the hands
of the Philistines till David’s time (l Sam. xxvii. and
XXX.).
Z1MENT -water, Copper-water, the name by
which some have called water found in places where
there are copper-mines, which is impregnated with par¬
ticles of that metal.
The most famous spring of this kind is about a mile
distant from Newsohl in Hungary', in the great copper-
mine called bv the Germans Herrngrundt. i tie water
in this mine is found at diflerent depths, and is received
into basons, for the purpose ot separating the copper
from it: in some of these it is much more sated with
this metal than in others, and will make the supposed
change of iron into that metal much sooner. I he most
com 111 on pieces 01 1 ron used in the ex pen men ts «u e horse¬
shoes, nails, and the like; and they are found veiy lit¬
tle altered in shape, after the operation, except that
their surfaces are more raised, j'he water appears
greenish in the bason, where it stands ; but if a glass ot
it be taken up, it looks clear as crystal ; it has no smell,
but a stroivr vitriolic astringent taste, insomuch that
VOL. XX. Part 11.
85.] Z I N
the lips and tongue are blistered and scorched upon Ziment-
tasting it. water
ZIN, in Ajicient Geography, a wilderness encompas- , .11
sing Idumea, at least on the south and west, as far as . ‘ ^ ‘ ,
Palestine or Canaan ; but according to Wells, on the
east of Edom, to the north of Ezion-gaber.
ZINC, a metallic substance, formerly considered as
one of the brittle metals; nr, according to die distinction
of the older chemists, a semi-metal or an imperfect me¬
tal, because it was found to he destitute of some of the
properties of other metals which were considered as per¬
fect. For an account of the properties and combina¬
tions of zinc, as they were then known, see Chemi¬
stry Index ; and for the history of its ores, see MINE¬
RALOGY Index.
But in the progress of chemical discovery it has been
found that zinc is not a less perfect metal than others;
for in the year 1805, it was announced that a patent
was granted to Messrs Hobson and Sylvester of Shef¬
field for a method of manufacturing zinc. From then-
discovery it appears, that zinc raised to a temperature
of between 210° and 300° of Fahrenheit, is not only
very malleable, but may' be passed through rollers, or
drawn into wire. After the metal has been treated in
this manner, it does not return to its former brittleness,
but continues soft, flexible, and extensible, amj may be
applied to many uses for which this metal was before '
thought unfit*. * Phil.
We must, however, notice, that a prior claim to the Mag. xxtii.
discovery of rendering zinc ductile and malleable, has9^'
been made by Mr Lowry, in favour of a Mr Sheffield of
Somerstown. Twenty years before the time of Messrs
Hobson and Sylvester’s patent being announced, Mr
Sheffield, in making an assay of some blende, was impa¬
tient to examine the metal, struck an ingot for the pur¬
pose of breaking it while it was yet, hot, but was much
surprised to find that instead of being brittle, and break¬
ing with the usual fracture of zinc, it was extremely
tough, and when he succeeded in breaking it, after many
bendings backward and forward, it exhibited a steel-
grained fibrous texture. At first lie doubted of the metal
being zinc, but he repeated the experiment on what he
knew to be pure metal, and obtained the same result ;
and from this he concluded that zinc at a certain tem¬
perature is equally malleable and ductile with other
metals. This he found to be the case by drawing it
into wire, and laminating it between rollers, by which
he produced plates not exceeding the T^tb ol an inch,
and possessing the strength and tenacity of silvcrf. f Phil.
Since the time that our article CHEMISTRY was print- xxm*
ed, the decomposition of potash, soda, the alkaline earths,
and some other bodies which were formerly considered
as simple, or were only conjectured from analogy to
be compound, has been effected by Mr Davy ; and as
we were disposed to entertain hopes that something
new might he added to the unexpected and brilliant
discoveries of that celebrated chemist, we have deferred,
till near the close of our work, giving any account ot
them. This is the reason that the fact was merely an¬
nounced under the words Potash and Soda, and a re¬
ference made to Galvanic Trough, under which it was
intended to give a short description of the apparatus
employed in the experiments which led to the discoveries
alluded to. For the same reason we were induced to
make a farther reference to this place, because zinc is
-f 5 G 0U6!
^ I N [7
Zinc. one of the metallic substances usually employed in the
construction of galvanic apparatus. We shall therefore
here employ a few pages, 1st, In a description of the
improvements which have beqn made in the construction
of galvanic apparatus ; and, 2d, We shall lay before our
readers a view of the discoveries in galvanic electrici¬
ty since the treatises on Chemistry and Galvanism
in this work were printed.
Galvanic Apparatus.—A very considerable improve¬
ment has been made on the construction of galvanic
batteries, by which they are rendered, not only more
convenient and manageable, but far more powerful.
Under the article Galvanism, we have described par¬
ticularly the construction of the galvanie trough, and
we have noticed that the soldering of tlie plates of zinc
and copper employed for this purpose v'as attended with
considerable difficulty. In the new method of con¬
struction the plates are not soldered together, hut are
merely connected by means of a metallic arc. In tins
way each pair of plates can be removed from the trough
at pleasure, for the purpose of examining and cleaning
them. The new apparatus is constructed precisely on
the same principle as the couronne c/e Tosses, proposed
by Volta, and described at p. 333 of Galvanism.
The trough employed in this apparatus is prepared in
the same way as when the plates of zinc and copper
soldered together were fixed in it by means of cement;
but in place of the metallic plates, plates of glass, or
some other non-conducting substance, are introduced
and secured by cement, so that there shall be no com¬
munication between the different cells into which the
liquid is introduced. The plates of zinc and copper
connected by means of the metallic arc, at the distance
of about half an inch, are placed in different cells, ha¬
ving a plate of glass between each pair of plates. Each
cell then contains a plate of each of the metals, which
are unconnected, excepting through the medium of the
liquid which is to be the conductor of the electricity.
It is scarcely necessary to mention, that the proper or¬
der of arrangement shall he observed, so that through¬
out the whole trough or battery there shall he a series
of zinc, copper, and liquid.
Beside the conveniency and simplicity of this mode
of constructing galvanic troughs, it possesses this farther
advantage of bring more powerful, because instead of
one surface of the plates, as in the former construction
of this apparatus, both surfaces are exposed to the ac¬
tion of electricity, and therefore the power is greatly
increased. A farther improvement, it is said, has been
made in constructing batteries of this kind, which con¬
sists in employing troughs of WedgewoocPs ware, with
partitions of the same material, instead of wooden
troughs with partitions of glass. This improvement was
first suggested by Dr Babington.
The following is the account of the construction of
galvanic apparatus, with the view of ascertaining in
what way ihe greatest effect might be produced, with
the least waste of power and ex pence. The experi-
* Phil which we are now to mention were made by Mr
Trims. Children *. for this purpose a battery was construct-
1809, p 3 . C(^ on ne w |liethod, with plates of copper and zinc,
connected by leaden straps, soldered on the top of each
pair of plates. Twenty pairs of plates were employed,
and each plate was four feet high by two fret wide.
The whole extent of surface exposed amounted to 92,160
86 ] Z I N
square inches *, the trough was made of wood, with Zmc
wooden partitions, covered with cement, to resist the 1 _
action of the acid employed. The battery was charred
with'a mixture of three parts of fuming nitrous, and
one of sulphuric acid, diluted with thirty of water; the
quantity employed was 120 gallons. With this appa¬
ratus the following experiments were made.
E.vper. 1. Eighteen inches of platina wire, of one-
thirtieth of an inch diameter, were completely fused in
about twenty seconds. E.vper. 2. Three feet of the
same wire were heated to a bright red, visible by strong
day-light. E.vper. 3. Four feet of the same wire were
rendered very hot, but not perceptibly red by day-
lieht. Exper. q. Charcoal burnt with intense brilliancy.
£\y per. 5. Ten inches of iron ware of-^th of an inch
diameter, were barely fused ; three feet of the same
wire were not ignited. E.vper. 6 No effect was pro¬
duced on imperfect conductors. Exper. 7. The gold-
leaves of the electrometer were not affected. Exper. 8.
When the cuticle was dry, no shock was given by tbe
battery, and it was scarcely perceptible when the skin
was wet.
I o contract the effects of this apparatus with another
differing in the size and number of plates, the author
employed 2C0 pairs of plates, each about two inches
square, placed in half pint pots of common queen’s ware.
The same liquid was employed, with the addition of a
fresh portion of sulphuric acid, in the proportion of
about a quarter of a pint to a gallon. The experiments
with this apparatus gave the following results.
E.vper. 1. Potash and barytes were readily decompos¬
ed. Exper. 2. The metallization of ammonia was pro¬
duced with great facility. E.vper. 3. Charcoal was
vividly ignited. Exper. 4. The gold leaves of the
electrometer diverged considerably. Exper. 5. After
the battery was in action three hours, it gave a vivid
spark ; at the end ol 24 hours it metallized ammonia;
at the end of 41 hours it was nearly exhausted. From
the results of these experiments, Mr Children con¬
cludes, that the theory of the mode of action of the
voltaic battery proposed by Mr Davy is confirmed,
namely, that the intensity increases with the number,
and the quantity wuth the extent of the series. This
is proved by the effects produced on the platina and
iron wires, in the 1st and 5th experiments with the
large battery, as well as by the experiments on im¬
perfect conductors in the small apparatus ; for as the
platina wire is a perfect conductor, and not liable to
oxidation, it allows the electricities to be freely trans¬
mitted, and from the immense quantity given out frora
a surface of such extent, they evolve, on their mutual
annihilation, heat sufficient to raise the temperature of
the platina to the point of fusion. But a very small
portion of the electricity passes through the iron wire,
in consequence of its easy oxidation, and the thin coat
of oxide formed on its surface. This arises from the
low state of the intensityof theelectricity,as appears also
from its wrant of power on the gold leaves of the elec¬
trometer. Fi •om the same deficient intensity, the decom¬
position of barytes could not be effected by the large
battery, and the same battery exhibited a very w«ak
action on imperfect conductors ; but the small battery
exerted great power on that class of bodies, and decom¬
posed them readily, although its surface was 30 times
less than the surface of the grqat battery ; but the nrnn-
Z I N
Zinc. ot-i- of plates was nearly ten times greater.
—v~— circumstance, of considerable importance in conducting
experiments by means of the galvanic battery, is here
noticed by the author j that the long continued action
of the small battery was owing to the large capacity of
the cells containing a proportional quantity of liquor.
And beside this advantage he adds, that with very large
combinations, a certain distance between each pair of
plates is absolutely necessary to prevent spontaneous dis¬
charges, which are accompanied with vivid flashes of
electric light. This happened to the author with a bat¬
tery of 1250 four inch plates, constructed according to
the new method. Mr Children lias constructed a bat¬
tery of 20 pairs of six feet high and 2\- broad, and with
this battery he ignited 6 feet of platina wire.
From the experiments and observations, some of
which we have detailed, and for others we refer to the
paper itself, the author concludes with the following
remarks : “ The absolute efl'ect of a voltaic apparatus
seems to be in the compound ratio of the number and
size of the plates. The intensity of the electricity being
as the former, the quantity given out as the latter, con¬
sequently regard must be had, in its construction, to the
purposes for which it is designed. For experiments on
perfect conductors, very large plates are to be prefer¬
red, a small number of which will probably be sufficient;
but where the resistance of imperfect conductors is to be
overcome, the combination must be great, but the size
of the plates may be small: but if quantity and intensi¬
ty be both required, then a large number of large plates
will be necessary. For general purposes, four inches
square will be found to be the most convenient size*.”
D iscoveries in Galvanism.—At the close of the article
Galvanism, we noticed some experiments which were
made about the beginning of the year 1805, which
seemed to lead to the conclusion, that muriatic acid and
soda were formed by means of galvanic electricity. In
experiments on the decomposition of water, which was
supposed to be in a state of the utmost purity, the ap¬
pearance of muriatic acid and soda was adduced in sup¬
port of this opinion. The accuracy of this conclusion,
which seemed to be at variance with known facts, ex¬
cited doubt, and probably led to the investigation which
was undertaken by Mr Davy, and carried on with great
ingenuity and address by the same philosopher, till it
terminated in the brilliant discoveries, an account of
which we are now to detail. Mr Davy’s researches in
galvanism, an account of which he laid before the Royal
Society in a memoir entitled, On some Chemical Agen¬
cies of Electricity, may be considered as the first step
in this train of investigation.
With the view of disproving the accuracy of the ex¬
periments in which the generation of acids and alkalies
was supposed to have been effected by means of galvan¬
ism, Mr Davy employed ag;ite cups, (fig. 1.), of a cy¬
lindrical form, and containing about one-fourth of a
cubic inch each. The cups were boiled for some hours
in distilled water, and a piece of white transparent ami¬
anthus, which had been treated in the same way, was
made to connect them. rl bey were then filled with
distilled water, and exposed by means of two platina
wires, to a current of electricity, from 150 pairs of
plates of copper and zinc, four inches square. 1 he
liquid employed was a solution of alum. f he action
continued 48 hours, and the process was then examined.
JPapci’ tinged with litmus introduced into the tube con-
Plate
-Mxxvm
[ 787 ] Z I N
Another taining the positive wire, was reddened ; paper coloured
by turmeric placed in the other tube, had its colour
deepened ; the acid matter produced a slight turbidity
in a solution of nitiate of silver; the fluid from the
negative tube retained the property of affecting the tur¬
meric after being boiled, and indeed became more vivid
as the quantity was diminished by evaporation. Carbo*
nate of ammonia was added, and the whole being dried,
and exposed to a strong beat, a minute quantity of white
matter remained, which had all the properties of carbo¬
nate of soda.
The same experiment was repeated with glass tubes,
and the result was, that the quantity of alkali obtained
was 20 times greater, but no traces of muriatic acid
could be perceived. Mr Davy suspecting that the agate
might contain a minute portion of saline matter, repeal¬
ed the experiment four times. The quantity of alka¬
line matter diminished in every operation, and in the
last process, although the battery had been kept in
great activity for three days, the fluid possessed in a
slight degree only the power of acting on paper tinged
with turmeric; but its alkaline property was very sen¬
sible to litmus paper slightly reddened. The acid mat¬
ter in the other tube was abundant; it had a sour taste,
and produced no effect on solution of muriate of barytes,
but left a black stain from a drop on a polished plate of
silver. Thus it appeared to be extremely diluted ni¬
trous acid.
For the purpose of making the experiment with
greater accuracy, two hollow cones of pure gold (fig. 2.) f
were employed, each containing about 25 grains of
water. They were filled with distilled water, connect¬
ed by moistened amianthus, as before, and exposed to the
action of a battery of 100 pairs of plates of six inches
square. The liquid used was a solution of alum, and
diluted sulphuric acid. In ten minutes the water in the
negative tube changed litmus paper to a slight blue,
and the water in the positive tube produced a red tint.
The process having continued for 14 hours, the acid
was found to increase in quantity during the whole
time, but the alkaline fluid in the other tube did not
affect the tests more than in the first trial. The acid
seemed to be the pure nitrous, with an excess of nitrous
gas. The experiment was repeated, and the process
carried on for three days, and similar results were ob¬
tained. From these experiments it was concluded, that
the distilled water contained a minute portion of saline
matter, but so minute indeed, that it was insensible to
the most delicate chemical tests. This appeared to be
the case by evaporating a quantity of the distilled water
that was used very slowly, at a heat below 140° Fah¬
renheit, in a silver still. A quantity of solid matter
equal to seven-tenths of a grain, of a saline but metallic
taste, was obtained. It seemed to be a mixture of ni¬
trate of soda and nitrate of lead. Mr Davy then em¬
ployed some of the water collected in the second pro¬
cess of slow distillation, in another experiment with the
gold tubes and connecting amianthus. At the end of
two hours the water in the negative tube had no effect
on turmeric paper; litmus, it could just be perceived,
was changed ; hut by heating the water strongly for
two or three minutes, it was deprived even of this power,
and from this he supposes that it was owing to a small
quantity of ammonia. A similar experiment was made
with a portion of the same water in the agate tubes, anil
precisely the same results were obtained. From these
5 G 2 cxia.i-ir-u • *'*
VAc.r
Z I N [ 788 ] Z I N
experiments Mr Davy fairly contiudes, that the fixed
alkali is net generated during the process, but merely
evolved, either from the solid materials employed, or
some saline matter in the water.
Many experiments were made in vessels composed of
different substances, with the water procured by slow
distillation •, and in almost every instance some fixed
alkali appeared. When tubes of wax were employed,
the alkaline matter was a mixture of soda and potash,
and the acid matter, a mixture of sulphuric, muriatic,
and nitric acids. A tube of resin afforded alkaline
matter, which was principally potash. A cube of Car¬
rara marble of about an inch, having an aperture in its
centre, was placed in a platina crucible, which was
filled as high as the upper surface of the cube, with the
purified water. The aperture was filled with the same
liquid, and the crucible was positively electrified by a
powerful battery, and the negatively electrified wire in¬
troduced into the aperture. I ixed alkali and lime were
obtained in this experiment*, the quantity of alkali di¬
minishing as the experiment was repeated, and after 11
processes, each continued for two or three hours, disap¬
peared altogether. The quantity of lime-water obtain¬
ed was uniform.
When 500 grains of this marble were analyzed, they
afforded about three-fourths of a grain of fixed saline
matter, having soda for its base. Suspecting that
the Carrara marble might have been recently exposed
to sea water, Mr Davy subjected to a similar experi¬
ment, a piece of granular marble from the mountains of
Donnegal, and by means of negative electricity he ob¬
tained fixed alkali. Argillaceous schistus from Corn¬
wall gave the same result, and serpentine and gray
wacken both afforded soda.
In other experiments Mr Davy subjected other bo¬
dies to the action of the same power, with the view of
effecting a decomposition. Thus, two cups of compact
sulphate of lime, each containing about 14 grain
measures of water, were connected by fibrous sulphate
of lime moistened with pure water. The cups were
filled with the same fluid, and they were introduced into
the circuit of a galvanic battery with too pairs of plates
of six inches. In five minutes the water in the positive
cup became acid, while that in the opposite cup tinged
tumeric. An hour after, a saturnine solution of lime
was formed in the negative cup, and the other contain¬
ed a solution of sulphuric acid of moderate strength.
Two cubical pieces of crystallized sulphate of stron-
tites, of about an inch, with a hole drilled in each, ca¬
pable of receiving eight grains of Water, were plunged
in pure water, in a platina crucible, and the level of
the fluid was kept a few lines below the surface of the
cubes. The holes in the earthy mineral were filled
with pure water, and two platina wires were introdu¬
ced into them. At the end of thirty hours the fluid in
the cavity of the negative side precipitated solution of
sulphate of potash, and sulphuric acid appeared In the
other.
Two pieces of fluate of lime, having each a cavity,
and connected by moist ashestus, were subjected to a
similar experiment. The decomposition was slow; but
in two days a solution of lime appeared in tiie one tube,
and an acid in the other, which precipitated acetate of
lead, and left a spot upon the glass, from which it was
evaporated, so that it must have been fluoric acid.
Compact zeolite being prepared in the same way, and Zin
electrified in the same manner as the cube of Cairara  v
marble, afforded soda and lime. Depidolite, by similar
treatment, gave potash j and an alkaline matter, which
seemed to he a mixture of soda, potash and lime, was
extracted from a piece of vitreous lava from Mount
Etna.
The decomposition of saline bodies, which are soluble
in water, was more rapid. A diluted solution of sul¬
phate of potash introduced into the agate cups connect¬
ed by amianthus moistened with pure water, being elec¬
trified by a battery with 50 pairs of plates, produced in
four hours a weak solution pf potash in the negative
cup, and a solution of sulphuric acid in the positive
cup. Similar phenomena were observed when sulphate
of soda, nitrate of potash, nitrate of barytes, sulphate of
ammonia, phosphate of soda, succinate, oxalate, and
benzoate of ammonia and alum, were employed. The
acids in a certain time collected in the tube containing
the positive wire, and the alkalies and earths in the ne¬
gative tube. Solutions of the muriatic salts, subjected*
to decomposition by the same processes, uniformly af¬
forded oxymuriatic acid on the positive side.
Saturated saline solutions were most rapidly decom¬
posed, but the smallest proportion was also acted on.
Thus, if a piece of paper tinged with turmeric be
plunged into pure water, in a proper circuit, in contact
with the negative point, the minute quantity of saline
compound contained in the paper, produces instantly a-
brown tint near its point of contact. Acid appears also
from litmus paper at the positive surface.
Experiments were made with the view of ascertain¬
ing whether in these processes the separation of the con¬
stituent parts was complete, from the last portions of
the compound. The following experiment shows that
this is the case. “ A very weak solution of sulphate of
potash, containing 20 parts of water, and one part of
saturated solution at 64°, was electrified in the two
agate cups, by the power of 50 pairs of plates for three
days ; the connecting amianthus which had been moist¬
ened with pure water, was removed, washed with pure
water, and again applied twice every day. By this-
precaution the presence of any neutral salt that might
adhere to it, and disturb the results, was prevented.
The alkali obtained in this process in the solution had
the properties of pure potash, and when it had been sa¬
turated with nitric acid, it gave no turbidness by mix¬
ture with solution of muriate of barytes ; the acid mat¬
ter exposed to a strong heat, evaporated, without leaving
any residuum.”
Mr Davy then made experiments on the transfer of
certain of the constituent parts of bodies, and also on the
passage of acids, alkalies, and other substances, through
various attracting chemical menstrua, by means of elec¬
tricity, and in these experiments he obtained many curi¬
ous and interesting results 5 but for an account of them,
as well as of his observations on the different phenomena,
and on the mode of decomposition and transition, we
must refer to the memoir itself.
After the investigations in which Mr Davy had been
occupied, and the singular and unexpected results which
he obtained, he ventured to conclude, from the general
principles on which the phenomena might be explained,
that the new methods of proceeding would lead to a
more intimate knowledge concerning the true elements
of
z I N [ 789- I Z I N
of bodies* Accordingly, in November 1807, he laid
before the Royal Society a most interesting detail of an
elaborate series of experiments on the decomposition of
the alkalies.
Decomposition of the Alkalies.
In the first attempts that were made on the decompo¬
sition of potash, Mr Davy employed an aqueous solution,
saturated at a common temperature. It was exposed to
the action of a powerful galvanic battery, composed of
24 plates of copper and zinc of 12 inches square, 100
plates of six inches, and 150 plates of four inches square,
charged with solutions of alum and nitrous acid. The
action was very intense j a great deal of heat and vio¬
lent effervescence were produced, but the water only of
the solution was effected, and its hydrogen and oxygen
were disengaged. Potash in the state of igneous f usion,
in a spoon of platina, was next subjected to the action of
a battery of 100 plates of six inches, highly charged.
The spoon was connected with the positive side. In
this experiment some brilliant phenomena were proder-
cetL The potash appeared to be a good conductor}
and, while the communication was preserved, a most in¬
tense light was emitted from the negative wire, and a
column of flame, seemingly owing to the developement
of combustible matter, arose from the point of contact.
When the order was reversed, and the platina spoon was
connected with the negative side, a vivid and constant
light appeared at the opposite point. There was no in-
iiammation round it; but aeriform globules, which in-
flamed in the atmosphere, rose through the potash. The
platina was considerably acted on.
Although potash, when perfectly dry, be a non-con¬
ductor, it acquires a conducting power by being slight¬
ly moistened. A small piece of pure potash exposed for
a few seconds to the atmosphere, was placed on a disc
of platina connected with the negative side of a battery
of 250 plates of six and four inches, in a state of intense
activity. A platina wire from the opposite side was
brought in contact with the upper surface of the alkali.
A vivid action soon took place. The potash fused at
both points of electrisation ; a violent'effervescence ap¬
peared at the upper surface; but at the lower or nega¬
tive surface no elastic fluid was emited, but small glo¬
bules like quicksilver were produced, some of which
burnt with explosion and bright flame as they were
formed, and others remained and were only tarnished,
and finally covered by a white film formed on their
surfaces. These globules were the basis of potash. The
same results were obtained, when gold and other metals,
plumbago, or charcoal, were employed ; and the effects
were the same when the process was conducted in an
exhausted receiver.
Mr Davy also obtained the same substance from pot¬
ash, fused by means of a lamp, and placed in glass tubes
confined by mercury, and furnished with hermetically
inserted platina wires, to transmit the electricity; but
the glass was rapidly dissolved by the action of the al¬
kali, so that the process could not be long carried on.
In these experiments on potash, the combustible base
was produced from the negative surface, and oxygen
was evolved from the positive surface. I lie same effects
invariably followed, when the experiment was conduct¬
ed above mercury. The same thing was proved synthe¬
tically. The combustible substance obtained from the
potash had its metallic lustre destroyed in the-.atmo¬
sphere, and a white crust formed upon it. This crust
was found, upon examination, to be pure potash ; but
ibis was still farther confirmed by placing globules of
the combustible matter in tubes containing common air,
or oxygen gas, confined by mercury. An absorption of
the oxygen took place, and a crust of alkali was formed
upon the globule. When the combustible matter con¬
fined in given portions of oxygen, was strongly heated,
a rapid combustion, with a brilliant white flame, was
produced, and the metallic globules were converted into
a white and solid mass, which was found to be-pure
potash.
To the combustible matter thus obtained from pot¬
ash, Mr Davy gave the name of potassium. From its
strong affinity for oxygen, it rvas extremely difficult to
preserve it unchanged, for the purpose of examining its
properties. The substance which he found to he least
affected, is newly, distilled naphtha. In this fluid po¬
tassium may be kept for marry days nearly unaltered,
and its physical properties may be examined in the at¬
mosphere, when covered by a thin film of it.
Potassium, at 6o° Fahrenheit, is in the form of small
globules, which have the metallic lustre and general
appearance of mercury ; at 70° it becomes more fluid,
and at ioo°, different globules easily run into one. Ac
50° of Fahrenheit it is soft and malleable, and exhibits
the lustre of polished silver. At 320 it becomes hard
and brittle, and, when, broken, presents a crystallized
texture. To reduce it to vapour, it requires a red heat;
and in proper circumstances, it may he subjected to di¬
stillation, without change. It is a good conductor of
heat, and a perfect conductor of electricity.
In the properties now mentioned, potassium approach¬
es nearly to the metals; hut it is very different in its
specific gravity. In naphtha of the specific gravity of
861 it rose to the surface ; and it did not sink in double
distilled naphtha, the specific gravity of which was
about .770, From these and other experiments, Mr
Davy estimates the specific gravity of potassium at .6*
so that it is the lightest fluid body known. In its solid
form it is somewhat heavier ; hut, even in this state,
when cooled to 40° Fahrenheit, it swims ,in double di¬
stilled naphtha.
With the view of ascertaining the proportions of the
constituent parts of potash, Mr Davy made two experi¬
ments, by subjecting the metallic base to combustion in
oxygen gas. In the first experiment, .12 of a grain of
potassium were employed ; the combustion was made
upon platina, and was rapid and complete, and the basis
appeared to be perfectly saturated. The result of thie
experiment indicates 86.7 of basis, and 13.3 of oxygen,
in the ICO parts of potash. In another experiment, the
result he obtained was 85.5 of basis, and 14.5 of oxy¬
gen. The mean of these two experiments is 86.1 of
basis, and 13.9 of oxygen, in 100 parts of potash.
The results of the decomposition of water by the basis
of the alkalies, which were more readily and perfectly
obtained than those of their combustion, exhibited the
proportion of base to be 84, and that of oxygen 16 ;
but the mean of 86.1 of base, and 13.9 of oxygen, and
84 base and 16 oxygen, is 85 of potassium and 15 of
oxygen, which may be taken as the proportions of the
elements of potash.
Mr Davy’s discoveries have been confirmed by the in¬
genious.
i
Z I N [ 790 ] Z I N
' Time. «eniOU3 experiments of Thenard and Gay-Lussac. These
l——v — ■ > distinguished chemists have decomposed potash by a dif¬
ferent process. They introduced iron filings into a bent
gun barrel, which was placed across a furnace. A tube
with a stopcock, containing a quantity of solid potash, is
connected with one extremity of the gun barrel; to the
other extremity there is attached a tube of safety, con¬
taining mercury, for the purpose of excluding the at¬
mospheric air, and allowing any gaseous matter formed
during the process to escape. The potash in the tube is
to he kept cold by means of a freezing mixture, till
that part of the barrel containing the iron filings has
been raised to a white heat. The potash is then fused by
applying heat, by means of a portable furnace j and it is
allowed to pass through a small opening, to come in
contact with the iron filings, where it is decomposed,
the oxygen of the potash entering into combination with
the iron, and the base passing on to the other extremity
of the tube in a state of sublimation. At that extremity
the metallic base is condensed by the application of ex¬
cessive cold, and in this way the potassium may be ob¬
tained at less expence, and in greater quantity, than by
means of galvanism. During this progress, hydrogen gas
is evolved, which, it is supposed, is owing to the de¬
composition of the water contained in the alkali. The
potassium thus obtained is in the form of brilliant lami¬
nae, which adhere to the sides of the gun barrel. An
alloy of the same metal with iron is also found in that
part of the barrel containing the filings. Mr Davy has
repeated this experiment, and he finds that the base ob¬
tained in this manner is heavier, and its melting point
higher, than what is procured by means of galvanism.
This, it is supposed, may arise from its being combined
with a small proportion of iron. The metallic base of
soda was obtained by a similar process.
But, according to the view which the French che¬
mists have taken of these discoveries, and the results of
their own experiments, they conclude, that the metallic
substances derived from the alkalies are not simple, but
are compounds of the several bases with hydrogen.
Another method of decomposing potash, and obtain¬
ing its base, which is still simpler, has been followed by
Cu raudau. In this process the decomposition is effected
by charcoal. A mixture of carbonate of potash is made
with flour or charcoal and linseed oil. This mixture is
introduced into an iron or earthen tube or retort, and
calcined, by gradually raising the heat, till a bluish
light be seen in the inside of the vessel. Soon after an
abundant evolution of vapour takes place, which is the
base of the alkali, to be collected by introducing a clean
iron rod, on which it condenses. Care must be taken
to withdraw the rod before it is too hot, and to plunge
it in oil of turpentine, under the surface of which the
metallic crust on the rod may be separated. In this
way a quantity of potassium may be procured. The
base of soda is obtained by a similar process.
jt’jg ^ 3. is a representation of the apparatus employed
by the French chemists in decomposing potash. ABCE
is the gun barrel laid across the furnace, with its appa¬
ratus.) D is the furnace, and F is the pipe of the bel¬
lows.
Fig. 4. Fig. 4. is a section of the tube containing the pot¬
ash.
But the chemical relations of potassium are not less
extraordinary than its physical properties. It combines
5
slowly with oxygen, and wuthout flame, at all tempera- Zi*e,
tures below that of its vaporization. At this point com- ""
bastion takes place, with a brilliant white light, and in¬
tense heat. When it is heated slowly in a quantity of
oxygen gas, which is not sufficient for its complete sa¬
turation, and at a temperature below that of inflamma¬
tion, as for instance 400° of Fahrenheit, it changes to
a red brown colour, and the solid form, consisting part¬
ly of potash, and partly of its base, is of a grayish co¬
lour. When exposed to water, or again heated in fresh
quantities of air, the whole is converted into potash.
When dry potash and potassium are fused together un¬
der proper circumstances, the base is deprived of its
metallic splendour, and the two substances unite into a
compound of a red brown colour when fluid, and of a
dark gray when solid. This compound, when exposed
to the air, soon absorbs its full proportion of oxygen,
and is wholly converted into potash. The substance
thus formed seems to be in a lower state of oxidation,
so that it is to be considered as an oxide of potassium
with a smaller proportion of oxygen.
When potassium is introduced into oxymuriatic acid
gas, it burns spontaneously with a bright red light, and
a white salt is formed, which is muriate of potash.
When a globule of potassium is heated in hydrogen gas,
at a degree below its point of vaporization, it seems to
dissolve in it, for the globule is diminished in volume,
and the gas explodes with alkaline fumes, and bright
light, when brought into the air ; but, by cooling, the
potassium is wholly or principally deposited, for the gas
is deprived of its property of spontaneous detonation.
When potassium is thrown into water, it decomposes
it with great violence; an instantaneous explosion, with
brilliant flame, is produced, and a solution of pure pot¬
ash is obtained. In these experiments, a white ring of
smoke, gradually extending as it rises in the air, is pro¬
duced, similar to the phenomenon of the combustion of
phosphorated hydrogen. When a globule of the basis
of potash is placed upon ice, it instantly burns with a
bright flame ; part of the ice is melted, and in the ca¬
vity there is found a solution of potash.
By placing a globule of potassium upon moistened
paper, tinged with turmeric, the moment that it comes
in contact with the water, it burns, and, moving ra¬
pidly upon the paper, leaves behind it a deep reddish
brown trace, thus demonstrating, in a very simple man¬
ner, the production of the alkali by the decomposition
of water.
Potassium readily decomposes the small quantities of
water contained in alcohol and ether, even in their
purest state. As potash is insoluble in ether, when the
base is thrown into it, oxygen is furnished to it, and hy¬
drogen gas evolved, and, as the alkali is formed, the
ether becomes white and turbid. It is observed, that
the energy of action of potassium in ether and alcohol,
is proportional to the quantity of water which they con¬
tain, and hydrogen and potash are always produced.
When potassium is thrown into solutions ot the mine¬
ral acids, it inflames and burns on the surface, and when
plunged, by proper means, beneath the surface enve¬
loped in potash, surrounded by naphtha, it acts upon the
oxygen with great intensity. In sulphuric acid, a white
saline substance, covered with a yellow coating, which
is supposed to be sulphate of potash surrounded with sul¬
phur, and a ga1-', having the smell of sulphureous acid.
KIN [ 791 ]
nnt'i wlilcii is probably a mixture of that substance with assistance ot
hydrogen gas, are formed. When potassium is thrown
into nitrons acid, nitrate of potash is formed, and nitrous
gas is disengaged.
Potassium readily combines with phosphorus and sul¬
phur. W hen pressed upon a piece of phosphorus, they
both become fluid, enter into combustion, and produce
phosphate of potash. W hen the experiment is made
ppon naphtha, no gaseous substance is given out; the
compound has the appearance of a metallic phosphuret,
is of the colour of lead, and has the lustre of polished
lead. Exposed to the air at common temperatures, it
combines slowly with oxygen, and is converted into
phosphate of potash. W hen heated upon a plate of pla-
tina, it gives out fumes, but does not burn till it reach¬
es the temperature of the rapid combustion of potas¬
sium.
W hen potassium is brought into contact with sulphur
in fusion, in tubes filled with the vapour of naphtha,
they combine rapidly, with the evolution of heat and
light. A gray substance is thus formed, which has the
appearance of artificial sulphuret of iron ; if it he kept
in fusion, it rapidly dissolves the glass. When this ex¬
periment is made in a glass tube, hermetically sealed, no
gas is disengaged, if the tube be opened under mercury 5
but when it is made in a tube connected with a mercu¬
rial apparatus, a small quantity of sulphurated hydrogen
is evolved. When the combination is effected in the at¬
mosphere, a great inflammation takes place, and sulphu¬
ret of potash is formed, and by farther exposure to the
air, it is at last converted into sulphate of potash.
When one part of potassium is added to eight or ten
of mercury, in bulk, at 6o° of Fahrenheit, they in¬
stantly unite, and form a substance like mercury in co¬
lour, but less coherent. When a globule is made to
touch a globule of mercury about twice as large, they
combine with considerable heat. The compound is
fluid at the temperature of its formation, but, when
cool, it becomes solid, with the appearance of silver.
With the -j-^-th of potassium to the weight of mercury,
the amalgam is hard and brittle ; but with one part of
potassium, and 70 of mercury, it is soft and malleable.
Exposed to the air, these compounds absorb oxygen,
and deliquescent potash is formed ; and in a few minutes
the mercury is revived. A globule of the amalgam,
thrown into water, decomposes it rapidly with a hissing
noise; potash is formed; pure hydrogen is disengaged,
and the mercury remains free. This amalgam dissolves
all the metals, and even acts on iron and platina.
When potassium is heated with gold, silver, or cop¬
per, in a close vessel of pure glass, a rapid action is pro¬
duced, and the compounds thrown into water effect its
decomposition ; potash is formed, and the metals are
revived. Potassium forms an alloy with fusible metal,
which has a higher point of fusion than the fusible metal
itself.
Potassium has little effect on colourless and recently
distilled naphtha: but, m naptha, exposed to the air,
it is soon oxidated, and an alkali which unites with the
naphtha into a brown soap that collects round the glo¬
bule, is formed. Potassium acts slowly on the concrete
oils, as tallow, spermaceti, and wax, even when heat¬
ed ; coaly matter is deposited, a little gas is evolved,
and a soap is formed. On the fluid fixed oils the ef¬
fects are similar, but take place more slowly. With the
Z I N-
icat, volatile oils are rapidly decomposed
by potassium ; gas is evolved, and charcoal deposited.
The metallic oxides, when heated in contact with po¬
tassium, are readily reduced. When a small quantity
of oxide of iron was heated with it, to u temperature
approaching its point of distillation, a vivid action took
place. Alkali, in gray metallic particles, which effer¬
vesced in muriatic acid, appeared. The oxides of lead
and tin were revived more rapidly, and wkh potassium
in excess, an alloy was formed with the revived me¬
tal.
Potassium readily decomposes flint glass and green
glass, by a gentle heat. The metallic oxides are redu¬
ced, and the alkali formed dissolves the glass. At a
red beat, even the purest glass is acted on by potassium;
the oxygen in the alkali of the glass seems to be divided
between the potassium employed, and the potassium
which is the base of the alkali in the glass, and thus
effects an oxidation in the first degree.
Soda.— When pure soda was subjected in similar cir¬
cumstances to the action of galvanism, similar results
were obtained as from potash; but the decomposition
required a more intense action in the battery, or it was
necessary to have the alkali in thinner and smaller pieces.
Potassium remained fluid at the temperature of the at¬
mosphere, at the time of its production; but the base
obtained from soda, which was fluid in the degree of
heat of the alkali during its formation, became solid on
cooling, and exhibited the lustre of silver. With a bat¬
tery of ICO pairs of plates of six inches, in full activity,
the decomposition of pieces of soda of about 15 to 20
grains in weight only could be effected ; and it was ne¬
cessary also that the distance between the wires should
not exceed one eighth or one-tenth of an inch. But
when 250 pairs of plates were employed, highly char¬
ged for the decomposition of soda, the globules often
burnt at the moment of their formation, and sometimes
exploded and separated into smaller globules, which
darted rapidly through the air, in a state of vivid com¬
bustion, producing a beautiful effect of continued jets of
fire.
When the metallic base which is obtained from soda,
and which Mr Davy has denominated sodium, was ex¬
posed to oxygen, it was converted into soda ; and when
this process was conducted by strongly heating the base
in a given portion of oxygen, a rapid combustion with a
brilliant white flame was produced, and the metallic
globule was converted into a white solid mass, which
was found to be soda. The oxygen gas wTas absorbed
during the operation, and nothing was given out which
affected the purity of the residual air.
The theory of the decomposition of the alkalies is
stated by Mr Davy in the following words. “ As in
all decompositions of compound substances which I had
previously examined, at the same time that combustible
bases were developed at the negative surface in the elec¬
trical ciicuit, oxygen was produced, and evolved or car¬
ried into combination at the positive surface, it was rea¬
sonable to conclude, that this substance was generated
in a similar manner by tbe electrical action of the al¬
kali ; and a number of experiments made above mercu¬
ry, with the apparatus for excluding external air, pro¬
ved that this was the case. When solid potash or soda,
in its conducting state, was included in glass tubes, fur¬
nished with electrified platina wires, the new substances
were ■
Z I N [ 792 ] Z I N
/,111c. were generated at the negative surfaces j the gas given
—v—/ out at the other surface proved, by the most delicate
examination, to be pure oxygen-, and, unless when excess
of water was present, no gas was evolved from the nega¬
tive surface.
For the purpose of determining the proportions of the
elements of soda, Mr Davy made experiments similar to
those by which he ascertained the proportions ot the
base and oxygen of potash. By subjecting sodium to
combustion in oxygen gas, it appeared that too parts of
soda are composed of 80 of metallic base, and 20 of
"oxygen j but the results ol its oxidation by the decom¬
position of water, indicated the proportions to be 23 of
oxygen, and 77 of base. By taking the mean propor¬
tions, obtained from the results of the two sets of expe¬
riments, the elements of soda may be estimated at 78.5
of metallic base, and 21.5 of oxygen.
Sodium, which remains solid at common temperatures,
is white and opaque and examined under a film of
naphtha, has the lustre and appearance of silver. It is
very malleable, and softer than common metallic sub¬
stances. With a slight pressure it spreads into thin
leaves, and a globule of one-tenth or one-twelfth of an
inch in diameter, is easily spread over a surface of one-
fourth of an inch and different globules are easily made
to adhere, and form one mass by strong pressure. This
property of welding which belongs to iron and platina
at a white beat, only, is not diminished when sodium is
cooled to 3 2° Fahrenheit.
Sodium, like potassium, is a conductor of electricity
and heat, and small globules subjected to galvanism in¬
flame and burn with bright explosions. Sodium sinks
in naphtha of specific gravity .861 but by mixing per¬
fectly about I 2 parts of naphtha, and five of oil of sassa¬
fras, the sodium remains at rest in any part of the fluid.
This makes its specific gravity = about .9348, water
being taken as 1. The particles of sodium lose their
cohesion at I 20° Fahrenheit. It becomes quite fluid
at 1800, so that it readily fuses under boiling naphtha.
The temperature at which it is volatilized is not ascer¬
tained, but it remains fixed in a state ol ignition at the
point of fusion of plate glass.
The chemical relations of sodium are analogous to
those of potassium, but with some characteristic differ¬
ences. Exposed to the atmosphere, it is immediately
tarnished, and is gradually covered with a white crust,
which is pure soda. It combines slowly with oxygen,
and without any luminous appearance at common tem¬
peratures. When heated, the combination is more ra¬
pid, but no light is emitted till it acquire a temperature
near that of ignition. The flame in oxygen gas is white,
and it sends forth bright sparks, producing a very beau¬
tiful effect-, in common air, the colour of the light is
like that of the combustion of charcoal, but brighter.
When sodium was heated in hydrogen gas, it seemed to
have no action on it.
Sodium burns vividly in oxymuriatic ac:d gas, giv¬
ing out numerous sparks of a bright red colour *, a saline
matter is produced, which is muriate of soda. When
sodium is thrown into water, it produces a violent ef¬
fervescence with a loud hissing noise ; it combines with
the oxygen of the water to form soda, which is dissolv¬
ed, and its hydrogen is disengaged. During the pro¬
cess there is no luminous appearance j but when sodium
.is thrown into hot water, a more violent decomposition
takes place. A few scintillations are observed at the z;HP.
surface of the water, which is owing to small particles —y—
of the basis which are thrown out of the water, heated
to such a degree as to burn in passing through the at¬
mosphere. But when a globule of sodium is brought
into contact with a small particle of water, or with
moistened paper, the heat produced is usually sufficient
for its combustion, as in this case there is no medium to
carry off the heat rapidly.
Sodium produces similar effects with potassium when
brought into contact with alcohol and ether. It acts
with great energy on the strong acids } with nitrous
acid it produces a vivid inflammation, and with muria¬
tic and sulphuric acids, great heat, but no light, is ge¬
nerated. The effects of sodium and potassium on the
fixed and volatile oils, and naphtha, are quite analo¬
gous ; but the appearances of the saponaceous compounds
are somewhat different, the combinations with sodium
being of a darker colour, and apparently less soluble.
Sodium also exhibits two degrees of combination with
oxygen ; the first is of a deep brown colour, which ia
fluid when produced, and becomes a dark gray solid on
cooling. By attracting oxygen from the air, or by the
decomposition of the water, it is converted into soda.
Sodium forms compounds with sulphur and phospho¬
rus. In close vessels filled with the vapour of naphtha,
it enters into combination with sulphur, giving out dur¬
ing the process a vivid light and heat, and often attend¬
ed with explosion, from the vaporization of a portion of
sulphur, and the disengagement of sulphurated hydro¬
gen gas. The sulphuret of sodium is of a deep gray
colour. In its combination with phosphorus, the com¬
pound obtained has the appearance of lead, and by ex¬
posure to the air, or by being subjected to combustion,
the phosphuret of sodium is converted into phosphate of
soda.
Sodium forms compounds with the metals. In the
proportion of one-fortieth with mercury, a compound
is obtained, which is of the colour of silver, and remains
solid ; the combination is accompanied with consider¬
able heat. Sodium forms an alloy with tin, without
producing any change of colour, and it has some action
upon lead and gold when heated ; but in its state of al¬
loy it is soon converted into soda, by exposure to the
air, or by the action of water, which it decomposes
with disengagement of hydrogen. The amalgam of
mercury and sodium seems to be capable of forming
triple compounds with some other metals ; and it would
appear that iron and platina remain in combination
with the mercury, after they are deprived of the sodium
by exposure to the air. The same amalgam of sodium
and mercury likewise forms combinations with sulphur;
the triple compound thus obtained is of a dark gray co¬
lour.
Ammonia.—The chemical composition of ammonia
has been many years considered as fully established ;
hut in the course of Mr Davy’s experiments on the
decomposition of the fixed alkalies, it occurred to him
that oxygen might also form one of the constituents of
ammonia, and this he also proved by experiment. Char¬
coal carefully burnt, and deprived of moisture was ig¬
nited by a galvanic battery of 250 pairs of plates of six
and four inches square, in a small quantity ef pure am-
moniacal gas, confined over mercury. A great expan¬
sion of the gaseous matter took place, and the white
substance
Galvani sm
Plate DLXXVni
z I N [ 793 ] 2 1 N
Xlnc. snbstance formed in the process collected on the sides of
•""Y--”-'' the glass tube. This matter effervesced in diluted mu¬
riatic acid, so that the product was probably carbonate
of ammonia. A more decisive proof of ammonia con¬
taining oxygen as one of its elements, was obtained
from another process. Very pure ammoniacal gas was
passed over iron wire ignited in aplatina tube, and two
curved glass tubes were so arranged as to be inserted
into a freezing mixture, and through one of these tubes
the gas entered into the platina tube, to be conveyed
through it by the other glass tube into an air-holder.
The temperature of the air was 550, and no sensible
quantity of water was deposited in the cooled glass
tube, which transmitted the unchanged ammonia. But
after being exposed to heat, moisture was very percep¬
tible, and the gas appeared in the air-holder densely
clouded. This circumstance appeared to establish the
formation of the water from the decomposition of am¬
monia during the process. But after the gas had been
passed several times through the ignited tube, from one
air-holder to the other, the iron wire was found superfi¬
cially converted into oxide, and had increased in weight
of a grain. About four-tenths of a grain of water
were collected from the cooled glass tubes by means of
filtrating paper, and 33.8 cubic inches of gas were ex¬
panded into 55.3 cubic inches, and by detonation with
oxygen it was found, that the hydrogen gas in these
was to the nitrogen or azote as 3.2 to 1 in bulk.
Ammonia was farther subjected to experiment by
taking the electric spark in it. In experiments of this
kind it was understood that it is resolved into hydrogen
and azotic gases •, but Mr Davy, found, after observing
several variations in the results, that the weight of the
two gases obtained was less by about one-eleventh than
the weight of the ammonia employed. He ascribes this
loss to the oxygen of the alkali, which had probably
combined with the wires of platina employed in the ex¬
periment, and had thus disappeared. From these ex¬
periments he estimates the proportion of oxygen in am¬
monia at no less than 7 or 8 parts in 100 j and as the
gases evolved may contain more water than the gas de¬
composed, the proportion may even be larger. By thus
considering ammonia as a triple compound of azote, hy¬
drogen, and oxygen, the phenomena of its production
and decomposition admit of an easy explanation. In all
cases in which ammonia is formed, oxygen exists along
with its other elements, in the substances from the de¬
composition of which it is obtained. In the decompo¬
sition of ammonia, on the other hand, the oxygen which
forms one of its elements, may be abstracted by the
substance employed in its decomposition, or it may en¬
ter into combination with portions of its hydrogen ox-
azote.
But in the progress of investigating the natm-e of am¬
monia, to which the attention of chemical philosophers
has been particularly directed, it appears that this al¬
kali is analogous to the fixed alkalies in having a me¬
tallic base. The Swedish chemists Berzelius and Pon-
tin, placed mercury negatively electfilied in the galva-
luc circle, in contact with solution of ammonia. By this
action the mercury increased in volume, and after an
expansion of four or five times its former dimensions,
it became a soft solid. From this amalgam exposed to
the air, mercury and ammonia are reproduced, with the
absorption of oxygen ; and when the amalgam is put
Vol. XX. Part II. t
into water it fox-ms ammonia, with the evol ution of I.y Ziuc,
drogen, and the re-appearance of the mercury in its —y—
metallic state. Mr Davy repeated this experiment, and
he found that to produce an amalgam, from 50 or 60
grains of mercury, in contact with a saturated solution
of ammonia, required a considerable time, and that this
amalgam changed considerably, even in the short pe¬
riod that was necessary for removing it from the solu¬
tion. Conceiving that the de-oxidation and combina¬
tion with mercury might be more easily effected in its
nascent state, he placed 50 grains of mercury in a cavi¬
ty in muriate of ammonia. The muriate slightly moist¬
ened was placed on a plate of platina, and connected
with the positive side of a large galvanic battery. The
mercury was made negative by means of a platina wire j
a strong effervescence, with much heat, immediately
took place j the globule of mercury in a few minutes
enlarged to five times its former dimensions. It had the
appearance of amalgam of zinc. Metallic crystalliza¬
tions shot from it as a centre round the body of salt.
They had an arborescent appearance, often became co¬
loured at their points of contact with the mui-iate, and
when the connection was broken, rapidly disappeared,
while ammoniacal fumes were given out, and the mer¬
cury was reproduced. With a piece of carbonate of
ammonia, similar phenomena were exhibited. The
amalgam was formed very rapidly 5 but when the gal¬
vanic action was powerful in this last case, a black mat¬
ter appeared in the cavity, which was probably car-
bone, from the decomposition of the carbonic acid.
Mr Davy considering the strong attraction of potas¬
sium and sodium for oxygen, was led to examine whe¬
ther they produced any effect in the amalgamation of
ammonia, independent of elactrieity. With this view
he united small portions of potassium and sodium with
mercury, and brought them into contact w'ith moisten¬
ed muriate of ammonia. An amalgam was formed,
which rapidly increased to six or seven times its volume,
and the compound seemed to contain a larger propor¬
tion of ammoniacal base than that obtained by electrici¬
ty. It appears, too, that a portion of the metallic base
employed to effect the de-oxidation always remained iu
combination with the compound, so that it was not a
pure amalgam. The following are the properties of
the amalgam from ammonia, obtained by means of gal¬
vanism.
When this amalgam is formed at the temperature of
70° or 8o°, it is in the state of a soft solid, of the con¬
sistence of butter j at 3 2° it becomes firmer, and as¬
sumes a crystallized form, in which small facets appear,
which seem to be cubical. The amalgam of potassium
crystallizes in cubes, as beautiful, and in some cases as
large, as those of bismuth. The specilic gravity of the
amalgam is less than three, water being one. When
the amalgam is thrown into water, a quantity of hydro¬
gen equal to half its bulk, is evolved, and the water be¬
comes a weak solution of ammonia. The amalgam be¬
ing confined in a given portion of air, the air increases
iu bulk, and the mercury is revived. Ammoniacal
gas equal to x^- or x^-ths of the volume of thq amal¬
gam, is produced, and oxygen equal to one-seventh or
one-eighth of the ammonia, disappears. When the
amalgam is thrown into muriatic acid gas, it becomes
instantly coated with muriate of ammonia, and a small
portion of hydrogen is evolved. In sulphuric acid it
5 H becomes
Z I N [ 794 ] Z I N
Zinc. becomes coated with sulphate of ammonia, anti sul-
plnir.
Mr Davy attempted, by various methotls, to preserve
the amalgam, in the hope of submitting it to distilla¬
tion, for the purpose of obtaining the metallic base of
the ammonia, which was united to the mercury, in a
separate form. But as it is extremely difficult to free
mercury, after being once moistened, entirely from wa¬
ter, ha did not succeed in this attempt. In wiping the
amalgam carefully with bibulous paper, part of the am¬
monia was regenerated, and in passing it through fine
linen, with the view of separating the moisture, a com¬
plete decomposition was effected, and the mercury was
revived.
The quantity of the base of ammonia combined with
6o grains of quicksilver, appears not to exceed °f a
grain, and the quantity of oxygen required for this is not
more than °f a grain of water, which might he sup¬
plied by merely breathing upon the amalgam. Mr Davy
made various other experiments, with the view ef ascer¬
taining the nature and properties of the amalgam of
ammonia ; but for an account of these tve must refer to
the paper itself. And he observes, that the more these
properties are considered, the more extraordinary will
they appear. Mercury, by combination with about
Tf-6co of weight of new matter, becomes solid, and
yet has its specific gravity reduced from 13.510 h-ss than
3, retaining at the same time its metallic characters, its
colour, lustre, opacity, and conducting powers, undimi¬
nished. Can it then be conceived, Mr Davy asks, that
a substance which forms with mercury so perfect an
amalgam, should not be metallic in its own nature ?
This substance he denominates ammonium. On what
then, it is farther asked, do the metallic properties of
ammonium depend ? Are hydrogen and nitrogen both
metals in the gaseous state, at the visual temperature of
the atmosphere j bodies of the same character, as zinc
and mercury in the state of ignition ? Or are these gases
in their common, form oxides which become metallized
by de-oxidation ? Or are they to be considered as simple
bodies, not metallic in their own nature, but capable of
composing a metal when deprived of oxygen, and be¬
coming an alkali with the addition of oxvgen ?
In the farther prosecution of the experiments relative
to the nature of ammonia, Mr Davy employed potas¬
sium. He brought ammonia into contact with about
twice its weight ot potassium at common temperatures j
but excepting a slight diminution in the volume of the
gas, and the metal losing its lustre and becoming white,
no other c fleets were produced. The white crust when
examined, proved to be potash, and a small portion of
hydrogen was found in the ammonia, but not more than
equal in volume to the metal. When the potassium was
heated in the gas, by means of a spirit lamp applied to
Fig. 5. the bottom of the retort, (fig. 5.) the colour of the crust
changed from white to blight azure, and gradually to
bright blue, green, and dark olive. rJ lie crust and the
nn lal then fused together. This process js attended with
eflt.rvt8ccr.ee ; and the crust passing off to the sides, cx-
hibits the shining surface of tire potassium. When heat-*
ed a second time, it swells considerably, becomes por¬
ous, crystallized, and of a beautiful azure tint. A gas
is evolved during this operation, which gives the same
diminution by detonation with oxygen, as hydrogen,
and ammonia disappears.
It lias been observed that the proportion of ammonia
which loses its elastic form, varies according’ as the gas ——v—
employed contains more or less moisture, f inis, in am¬
monia saturated with water at 63° Fahrenheit, potas¬
sium caused the disappearance of twelve and a half cu¬
bical inches of ammonia 5 but in ammonia deprived of
moisture,by exposure for two days to potash that had been
ignited, the same quantity of potassium occasioned the
disappearance of 16 cubical inches j but whatever were
the degrees of moisture of the gas, the quantity of hy¬
drogen generated always appeared equal for equal quan¬
tities of metal ; and according to the French chemists,
the proportions are stated to have been the same as would
have resulted from the action of water upon potassium.
But in Mr Davy’s experiments, the proportions were
rather less. In one, conducted with great care, eight
grains of potassium generated, by their action upon wa¬
ter, eight and a half cubical inches of hydrogen gas ;
and eight grains of potassium from the same mass, bv
their operation upon ammonia, produced 8|- cubical
inches of hydrogen gas. This difference, although in¬
considerable, Mr Davy found always to take place.
In Mr Davy’s experiments on the action of potassium
on ammonia, he employed retorts of plate glass. The
potassium was fastened upon trays of platina or iron,,
which were introduced into the glass retorts furnished
witiv stop-cocks. The retorts were exhausted by an air-
pump, then filled with hydrogen, exhausted a second
time, and afterwards filled with ammonia. (See fig. 5. pgr ail,i
and 6.). 6.
The following are the properties of the substance ob¬
tained from the action of ammonia on potassium. 1. It
is crystallized, and presents irregular lacets, which are
extremely dark, and in colour and lustre not unlike the
green oxide of iron ; it is opaque when examined in large
masses, but is semitransparent in thin films, and appears
of a bright brown colour by transmitted light. 2. It is
fusible at a heat a little above that of boiling water,
and if heated much higher, emits globules of gas. 3.
It appears to be considerably heavier than water, for it
sinks rapidly in oil of sassafras. 4. It is a non-conductor
of electricity. 5. When it is melted in oxygen gas, it
burns with great vividness, emitting bright sparks.
Oxygen is absorbed, nitrogen is emitted, and potash,
which from its great fusibility seems to contain water,
is formed. 6. When brought into contact with water,
it acts upon it with much energy, produces heat, and
often inflammation, and evolves ammonia. When
thrown upon water, it disappears with a hissing noise,
and globules from it often move in a state of ignition
upon the surface of the water. It rapidly effervesces
and deliquesces in air, but can be preserved under
naphtha, in which, however, it softens slowly, and seems
partially to dissolve. Wlun it is plunged under water
filling an inverted jar, by means ot a proper tube, it
instantly disappears with effervescence, and the non-ab-
sorbable elastic fluid liberated is found to be hydrogen
gas.
It is found that the weight of this substance is greater
than that of the potassium from which it is formed ; and
from this it is concluded, that part of (be ammonia, or
of its elements, enters into its composition. When this
substance is decomposed bv heat, nitrogen and hydrogen
gases, with a portion of ammonia, are given out. It
appears, however, that the production of the ammonia
-Z I N [ 795 I Z I N
•’ i” jiroportion to the moisture admitted, and when the
moisture Is considerable, the whole product is ammonia.
Wh en this substance is exposed to heat, a matter re¬
mains, which even by increasing the heatj is no farther
changed. On this residuum water acts violently, and
with effervescence, from the evolution of hydrogen gas.
Ammonia and potash are at the same time reproduced.
Mr Davy’s conclusion from these experiments is, that
the substance formed by the action of ammonia on pot¬
assium is a compound of the latter with a small propor¬
tion of oxygen and nitrogen ; and as it is found that
the quantity of hydrogen given out during its formation
is nearly equal to the hydrogen contained in the am¬
monia, it follows that neither hydrogen nor the am¬
monia itself can be supposed to enter into its composi¬
tion.
In prosecuting this investigation, Mr Davy made va¬
rious experiments, and whether the substance was acted
on by water, esposed to the action of oxygen, or decom¬
posed by heat, it was found, contrary to expectation,
that the quantity of nitrogen cvolred during its decom¬
position was much less than in proportion to the quan¬
tity of ammonia which had disappeared in its formation.
In one experiment, in which the decomposition was ef¬
fected by heat, the gaseous product was examined, and
was found to he partly potash, and partly potassium}
but it afforded no traces of ammonia, when acted on by
water, which is a proof that it retained no nitrogen. In
another experiment, 11 cubic inches of ammonia, or
2.05 grains, were decomposed by potassium. The pro¬
duct was 3.6 cubic inches of nitrogen, equal to 1.06
grain; 16 cubic inches of hydrogen, equal to .382
grain ; and there was added to the potassium a quantity
of oxvgen equal to .6 grain. These products taken to¬
gether amount to 2.04 grains, which is nearly equal to
the quantity of ammonia employed ; but this quantity of
ammonia, if the proportions of its elements be estimated,
from its decomposition by electricity, would have yield¬
ed 5.5 cubic inches of nitrogen, equal to 1.6 grain, and
only 14 cubic inches equal to .33 ; and allowing the se¬
paration of oxygen in this process in water, it cannot be
estimated at more than .11 or .12; and hence, if the
analysis of ammonia by electricity come near to accu¬
racy, there, is in this process a considerable loss of nitro¬
gen, and the production of oxygen and hydrogen.
How, savs Mr Davy, can these extraordinary re¬
sults be explained ? The decomposition and composition
of nitrogen seem proved, and one of its elements appears
to be oxygen ; hut what is the other element ? Is the gas
that appears to possess the properties of hydrogen a new
species of inflammable aeriform substance ? Or has ni¬
trogen a metallic basis, which alloys with the iron or
platina ? Or is water alike the ponderable matter ofni-
troo-en, hydrogen, and oxygen ? Or is nitrogen a com¬
pound of hydrogen, with a larger proportion of oxygen
than exists in water? Of these important questions, Mr
Davy adds, the two first seem the least likely to be an¬
swered in the affirmative, from the correspondence be¬
tween the weight of the ammonia decomposed, and the
products, supposing them to be known substances.
In concluding this subject, we must observe, that it
still remains in a considerable degree of obscurity. It
seems, however, to he ascertained, that the base of am¬
monia is of a metallic nature, which must be derived,
either from the nitrogen or the hydrogen, or from both,
or perhaps these substances are only different forms ot
combination of the elementary base. Or if nitrogen be
supposed to be an oxide of hydrogen, then hydrogen in
its gaseous form is either a metallic substance, or has a
metallic base, which latter enters into combination with
the mercury employed in the decomposition of ammo¬
nia.
Decomposition of the Earths.
From the results of the experiments on potash and
soda, which Mr Davy obtained, he was led to entertain,
the strongest hopes of being able to efiect the decompo¬
sition both ot the alkaline and common earths ; and the
phenomena which took place in the first imperfect trials
made upon these bodies countenanced the ideas, that
had obtained since the earliest periods of chemistry, of
their being metallic in their nature.
The earths, like the fixed alkalies, are non-conduc¬
tors of electricity; but the fixed alkalies become con¬
ductors by fusion : the infusible nature of the earths,
however, rendered it impossible to operate upon them
in this state : the strong aflinity of their bases for ox}--
gen, made it unavailing, to act upon them in solution ia
water ; and the only methods that proved successful,
were those of operating upon them by electricity in some
of their combinations, or of combining them at the mo¬
ment of their decomposition by electricity in metallic
alloys, so as to obtain evidences of their nature and pro¬
perties. To render the experiments upon the earths
satisfactory, a more powerful battery will be required,
than Mr Davy has a prospect of seeing very soon con¬
structed ; he therefore prefers the imputation of having
published unfinished labours, to that of having conceal¬
ed any new facts.
Barytes, strontites, and lime, slightly moistened, were
electrified by iron wires under naphtha, by the same me¬
thods, and with the same powers, as those employed for
the decomposition of the fixed alkalies. In these cases
gas was copiously evolved, which was inflammable ; and
the earths, where in contact with the negative metallic
wires, became dark coloured, and exhibited small points,
having a metallic lustre, which, when exposed to air,
gradually became white: they became white likewise
when plunged under water ; and when examined in this
experiment with a magnifier, a greenish powder seem¬
ed to separate from them, and small globules of gas were
disengaged.
In these experiments there was great reason to believe
that the earths had been decomposed; and that their
bases had combined with the iron, so as to form alloys
decomposable by the oxygen of the air or water; but
the indistinctness of the effect, and the complicated cir¬
cumstances required for producing it, were such as to
compel Mr Davy to form other plans of operation.
Mr Davy bearing in mind the strong attraction of
potassium for oxygen, was induced to try whether this
body might not detach the oxygen from the earths, in
the same manner as charcoal decomposes the common
metallic oxides. He heated potassium in contact with dry
pure iime? barytes, strontites. and magnesia, in tubes of
plate-glass; but as he was obliged to use very small quan¬
tities, and as he could not raise the heat to ignition with¬
out fusing the glass, he obtained no good results in this
S H 2 manner.
Z 1 N [ 796 ] z I N
Zinc. manner. The potassium appeared to act upon the earths
—yand on the glass, and dark brown substances were obtain¬
ed, which evolved gas from water, but no distinct metal¬
lic globules could be procured : from these, and other
like circumstances, it seemed probable, that though pot¬
assium may partially deoxigenate the earths, yet its affi¬
nity for oxygen, at least at the temperature employed,
is not sufficient to effect their decomposition. Mr D avy,
having made mixtures of dry potash in excess and dry
barytes, lime, strontites, and magnesia, brought them
into fusion, and acted upon them in the galvanic circuit
in the same manner as he employed for obtaining the
metals of the alkalies. He expected that the potassium
«uh1 the metals of the earths might be deoxigenated at
the same time, and enter into combination in alloy.
In this way of operating, the results were more di¬
stinct than in the last: metallic substances appeared less
fusible than potassium, which burned the instant after
they had formed, and which by burning produced a
mixture of potash and the earth employed. An attempt
was made to form the metallic substances under naphtha,
but without much success. To produce the result at
all, required a charge by the action of nitric acid, which
the state of the batteries would not often allow ot; and
the metal was generated only in very minute films,
which could not be detached by fusion, and which were
instantly destroyed by exposure to air.
Mr Davy had found in his researches upon potassium,
that when a mixture of potash and the oxide of mercury,
tin, or lead, was electrified in the galvanic circuit, the
decomposition was very rapid, and an amalgam, or an
alloy of potassium, was obtained; the attraction between
the common metals and potassium apparently accelera¬
ting the separation of the oxygen. The idea that a
similar kind of action might assist the decomposition of
the alkaline earths, induced him to electrify mixtures of
these bodies and the oxide of tin, of iron, of lead, of
silver, and of mercury ; and these operations were far
more satisfactory than any of the others.
A mixture of two-thirds of barytes, and one-third of
oxide of silver very slightly moistened, was electrified by
iron wires ; an effervescence took place at both points of
contact, and^a minute quantity of a substance, possessing
the whiteness of silver, formed at the negative point.
When the iron wire to which this substance adhered,
was plunged into water containing a little alum in solu¬
tion, gas was disengaged, which proved to be hydrogen;
and white clouds, which were found to be sulphate of
barytes, descended from the point of the wire.
A mixture of barytes and red oxide of mercury, in
the same proportions was electrified in the same man¬
ner. A small mass of solid amalgam adhered to the ne¬
gative wire, which evidently contained a substance, that
produced barytes by exposure to the air, with the ab¬
sorption of oxygen ; and which occasioned the evolution
of hydrogen from water, leaving pure mercury, and
producing a solution of barytes.
Mixtures of lime, strontites, magnesia, and red oxide
of mercury, treated in the same .manner, gave similar
amalgams, from which the alkaline earths were regeue-
rated by the action of air or water, with like phenome¬
na; hut the quantities of metallic substances obtained
were exceedingly minute ; they appeared as mere super¬
ficial formations surrounding the point of the wire, nor
did they increase after the first few minutes of electriza¬
tion, even when the process was carried on for some zinc,
hours. —y—
These experiments were at first made when the bat¬
teries were in bad order; but were afterwards resumed
with a new and much more powerful apparatus, con¬
structed in the laboratory of the Royal Institution, and
consisting of five hundred pairs of double plates of si?c
inches square.
When Mr Davy attempted to obtain amalgams with
this apparatus, the transmitting wires being of platina,
of about ^ of an inch diameter, the heat generated
was so great as to burn both the mercury and basis of
the amalgam at the moment of its formation; and when,
by extending the surface of the conductors, this power
of ignition was modified, yet still the amalgam was only
procured in thin films, and globules sufficiently large to
submit to distillation could not be procured. When the
transmitting wires were of iron of the same thickness,,
the iron acquired the temperature of ignition, and com¬
bined with the bases of the earths in preference to the
mercury; and metallic alloys of a dark gray colour were
obtained, which acted on water with the evolution of
hydrogen, and were converted into oxide of iron and
alkaline earths.
While Mr Davy was engaged in these experiments,
he received a letter from Professor Berzelius of Stock¬
holm, who stated that in conjunction with Dr Pontin,
he had succeeded in decomposing barytes and lime, by
negatively electrifying mercury in contact with them,
and that in this way he had obtained amalgams of the
metals of tliese earths.
Mr Davy immediately repeated these operations with
perfect success; a globule of mercury, electrified by the
power of the battery of 500, weakly charged, was made
to act upon a surface of slightly moistened barytes, fixed
upon a plate of platina. The mercury gradually became
less fluid, and after a few minutes was found covered
with a white film of barytes, and when the amalgam
was thrown into water, hydrogen was disengaged, the
mercury remained free, and a solution of barytes was
formed.
The result with lime, as these gentlemen had stated,
was precisely analogous. Strontites and magnesia were
decomposed in the same manner.
From strontites the expected result soon took place ;
but from magnesia, in the first trials, no amalgam could
be procured. By continuing the process, however, for
a longer time, and keeping the earth continually moist,
at last a combination of the basis with mercury was ob¬
tained, which slowly produced magnesia by absorbing
oxygen from the air, or by the action ol water.
Mr Davy found that all these amalgams might he
preserved for a considerable period under naphtha. In
length of time, however, they became covered with a
white crust under this fluid. In water, the amalgam of
barytes was most rapidly decomposed; that of strontites
and that of lime next in order : but the amalgam from
magnesia, as might be expected from the weak affinity
of the earth for water, very slowly changed. When a
little sulphuric acid was added to the water, however,
the evolution of hydrogen, and the production and solu¬
tion of magnesia, were exceedingly rapid, and the mer*'
cury soon remained free.
Mr Davy believed, that one reason why magnesia
was less easy to metallize, than the,other alkaline earths,
was
Z I N [ 797 ] Z I N
vrs% owing to its insolubility in water, which would pre¬
vent it from being presented in the nascent state, de¬
tached from its solution at the negative surface.
He then made the experiment, using moistened sul¬
phate of magnesia instead of the pure earth 5 and the
amalgam was much sooner obtained. Here the magne¬
sia was attracted from the sulphuric acid, and probably
deoxigenated and combined with the quicksilver at the
same instant.
Tiie amalgams of the other bases of the alkaline
earths could be obtained in the same manner from their
saline compounds : muriate and sulphate of lime, the
muriate of strontites and barytes, and nitrate of barytes,
were decomposed by the same means as the other earths.
The earths, separated at the deoxigenating surface *,
these seemed instantly to undergo decomposition, and,
seized upon by the mercury, were in some measure de¬
fended from the action of air, and from the contact of
water, and preserved by their strong attraction for this
metal.
In attempting to procure the metals of the alkaline
earths, the latter were slightly moistened, and mixed
with one-third of red oxide of mercury ; the mixture
was placed on a plate of platina ; a cavity was made
in the upper part of it to receive a globule of meixury,
of from 50 to 60 grains in weight j the whole was co¬
vered by a film of naphtha, and the plate was made
positive, and the mercury negative, by a proper com¬
munication with the battery of five hundred.
The amalgams obtained in this way were distilled in
tubes of plate-glass, or in some cases in tubes of com¬
mon glass. These tubes were bent in the middle, and
the extremities were enlarged and rendered globular by
blowing, so as to serve the purposes of a retort and re¬
ceiver. The tube, after the amalgam had been intro¬
duced, was filled with naphtha, which was afterwards
expelled, by boiling, through a small orifice in the end
corresponding to the receiver, which was hermetically
sealed when the tube contained nothing but the vapour
of naphtha, and the amalgam. It was found immedi¬
ately that the mercury rose pure by distillation from the
amalgam, and it was very easy to separate a part of it j
but to produce a complete decomposition was very diffi¬
cult, as nearly a red heat was required for the purpose,
and as at a red heat the bases of the earths instantly
acted upon the glass, and became oxigenated. When
the tube was large in proportion to the quantity of amal¬
gam used, the vapour of the naphtha furnished oxygen
sufficient to destroy part of the bases : and when a small
tube was employed, it was difficult to heat the part used
as a retort sufficient to drive off the whole of the mer¬
cury from the bases, without raising too highly the tem¬
perature of the part serving for the receiver, so as to
burst the tube.
In consequence of these difficulties, in a multitude of
trials, only a very few successful results were obtained j
and in no case could our author be absolutely certain,
that there was not a minute portion of mercury still in
combination with the metals ot the earths.
In the best result obtained from the distillation of the
amalgam of barytes, the residuum appeared as a white
metal, of the colour of silver. It was fixed at all com¬
mon temperatures, but became fluid at a heat below
redness, and did not rise in vapour when heated to
redness, in a tube of plate-glass, but acted violently up¬
on the glass, producing a black mass, which seemed to
contain barytes, and a fixed alkaline basis, in the first -—-v-—
degree of oxigenation. When exposed to air, it rapidly
tarnished, and fell into a white powder, which was
bary tes. When this process was conducted in a small
portion of air, the oxygen was absorbed and the nitro¬
gen remained unaltered j when a portion of it was intro¬
duced into water, it acted upon it with great violence
and sunk to the bottom, producing in it barytes; and.
hydrogen was generated. From the minuteness of the
quantities obtained, neither its physical nor chemical
qualities could be examined correctly. It sunk rapidly
in water, and even in sulphuric acid, though surround-
ed by globules of hydrogen, equal to two or three times
its volume; from which it seems probable, that it can¬
not be less than four or five times as heavy as water.
It flattened by pressure, but required a considerable
force to produce this effect.
The metals from strontites sunk in sulphuric acid,
and exhibited the same characters as that from barytes,
except in producing strontites by oxidation.
The metal from lime, Mr Davy has never been able
to examine, either when exposed to air, or when under
naphtha. In the case in which he was able to distil the
quicksilver from it to the greatest extent, the tube un¬
fortunately broke, while warm, and at the moment that
the air entered, the metal, which had the colour and
lustre of silver, instantly took fire, and burned with an
intense white light into quicklime.
The metal from magnesia seemed to act upon the
glass, even before the whole of the quicksilver was di¬
stilled from it. In an experiment in which the process
was stopped before the mercury was entirely driven off,
it appeared as a solid ; having the same whiteness and
lustre as the metals of the other earths. It sunk ra¬
pidly in water, though surrounded by globules of gas-
producing magnesia, and quickly changed in air, be¬
coming covered with a white crust, and falling into a
fine powder, which proved to be magnesia.
In several cases in which amalgams of the metals
were obtained, containing only a small quantity of mer¬
cury, they were exposed to air on a delicate balance,
and it was always found, that, during the conversion of
metal into earth, there was a considerable increase of
weight.
Mr Davy endeavoured to ascertain the proportions of
oxygen and basis in barytes and strontites, by heating a-
m alga ms of them in tubes filled with oxygen, but with¬
out success. He satisfied himself, however, that when
the metals of the earths were burned in a small quantity
of air, they absorbed oxygen, gained weight in the pro¬
cess, and were in the highly caustic or unslakcd state ;
for they produced strong heat by the contact of water,
and did not effervesce during their solution in acids.
The evidence for the composition of the alkaline
earths is then of the same kind as that for the composi¬
tion of the common metallic oxides; and the principles
of their decomposition are precisely similar, the inflam¬
mable matters in all cases separating at the negative
surface in the galvanic circuit, and the oxygen at the
positive surface.
Mr Davy has denominated the metals obtained from
the alkaline earths, barium, strontium, calcium, and
magniutn.
la attempting the decomposition of the other earths,
Mr
Z I N [ 798 ] Z r N
Mr Davy was less fortunate in obtaining distinct re-
' suits j and he observes that the methods which have
usually proved successful, as well as some others, failed.
When alumina was subjected to the action of electricity,
it was in a state of fusion with potash. In this process
metallic globules were produced, but they consisted chief¬
ly of the base of the alkali. Some appearances, however,
shewed, that the alumina itself was decomposed j for when
soda was employed, the metallic product obtained was
less fusible than sodium itself, and when it was acted on
by water, it produced soda and a white powder. When
potash was fused with the alumina, and subjected to gal¬
vanic action, the metallic product decomposed water
with great rapidity, and the solution obtained deposited
alumina by tbe action of an acid. When potassium in
the state of amalgam, with one-third of mercury, in con¬
tact with alumina, was negatively electrified under naph¬
tha, and alter the process had been continued for some
time, the amalgam was added to water, a decomposition
took place, and a solution was obtained, which produ¬
ced a cloudiness on the addition of an acid; but all these
results are to be considered as very imperfect evidence
of the decomposition of alumina.
Mr Da vy was still less successful in attempting the
decomposition of silica, partly from its insolubility,
-and partly from its being scarcely, if at all, affected with
electricity, when diffused in water, and placed in the
galvanic circuit; but by following the same processes as
in his experiments on alumina, some indications of de¬
composition appeared. When silica was fused with six
parts of potash, and was placed in fusion in the galvanic
circuit, metallic matter was obtained, from which, by
exposure to the air, or by dropping it into water, a mi¬
nute quantity of silica was reproduced. When potassium,
amalgamated with one-third of mercury, and in contact
with silica, was negatively electrified, he obtained a si¬
milar result; but in none of the experiments could the
product obtained be considered as the pure base of the.
earth.
The earths of zircon ia and glucina were also subjected
to the action of galvanism, by processes similar to those
which have now been described, and in both there were
some indications of decomposition ; but the results were
not so perfect as to lead to any certain conclusion respect¬
ing their nature.
Decomposition of Sulphur and Phosphorus.
Sulphur.— Sulphur, which had formerly been consi¬
dered as a simple substance, appears, from the experi¬
ments of some of the French chemists, and particularly
those ol Berthollet junior, to he a compound of sulphur
and hydrogen. The latter chemist, in his experiments
to investigate the nature of this substance, caused sulphur
to pass through a coated glass tube, which was heated to
whiteness ; some indications of sulphurated hydrogen
were obtained. He then formed metallic sulphurets, as
of iron, copper, and mercury, and in these processes,
which were performed in an earthen retort with great
care, sulphurated hydrogen gas was also obtained. Wa-
1er in the state of vapour being passed over sulphur in
fusion, caused the evolution of sulphurated hydrogen ;
the water was not decomposed, for no trace of acid could
he observed. It seemed only to have effected the dis-
-engagement of hydrogen from the sulphur.
Mr Davy, in the course oi his experiments in galvan-
5
ism, subjected sulphur to the action of that power. The jr;llc
sulphur which he employed was sublimed in a retort, y-.
filled with azotic gas, and it was kept hot till the com¬
mencement of the experiment. The reason of this pre¬
liminary process was, to avoid any uncertainty which
might arise from water absorbed by the sulphur. The
sulphur introduced into a curved tube, fig. which was Fig. 7.
furnished with wires of platina A and B, the upper wire
A being hermetically sealed into the end of the tube, was
then placed in the galvanic circuit of a battery of 500
pairs of plates of six inches, in a state of great activity.
A very intense action followed, accompanied by great
heat and a brilliant light. The sulphur soon entered into
ebullition, and gave out a great quantity of elastic fluid,
a good deal of which was permanent. The sulphur it¬
self assumed a deep red brown colour. The gas obtain¬
ed was sulphurated hydrogen. In another experiment
made on 200 grains of sulphur, the amount of sulphur¬
ated hydrogen obtained was equal to more than five
times the volume of the sulphur. A considerable action
was observed to have taken place on tbe wires of plati¬
na ; and the sulphur, at its point of contact with the
wires, reddened moist litmus paper. When sulphur and
potassium are heated together, a very powerful action
takes place. Sulphurated hydrogen is disengaged with
very intense heat and light. From these experiments
the conclusion seems fair and obvious, that hydrogen
exists in sulphur, for a substance, as Mr Davy observes,
which can be produced from it in such abundance, is
not to be considered merely as an accidental ingredient.
But as it is admitted that sulphurated hydrogen con¬
tains oxygen, Mr Davy contends that oxygen is to be
regarded as one of the constituents of sulphur. In this
opinion he is supported by experiment. He heated pot¬
assium in sulphurated hydrogen gas, from which moisture
had been as much as possible abstracted, by muriate of
lime. The potassium took fire, and burnt with a bril¬
liant flame. When four grains of potassium were heated
in 20 cubic inches of gas, the quantity of gas diminished
only about 2^- cubic inches ; but tbe properties of the
gas were totally changed. A small portion only of it
was absorbed by water, and the remainder was hydro¬
gen, bolding in solution a minute portion of sulphur.
Some sulphur was observed on the sides of the retort,
and a solid matter was formed, which on the surface was
of a red colour, like sulphuret of potash, but internally
dark gray, like sulphuret of potassium. By subjecting
this substance to the action of muriatic acid, sulphurated
hydrogen gas was obtained, but the proportion was less
than would have been given out, had the potassium been
in combination with pure combustible matter. From
this Mr Davy concludes, that there is a principle in sul¬
phurated hydrogen which is capable of destroying par¬
tially the inflammability of potassium, and of producing
upon it all the effects of oxygen. As sulphurated hy¬
drogen is obtained by beating sulphur strongly in hydro¬
gen gas, Mr Davy introduced four grains of sulphur in
a glass retort, containing about 20 cubical inches of hy¬
drogen, and by means of a spirit lamp, he raised the heat
nearly to redness. No perceptible change took place in
tbe volume of the gas after the process. Tire sublimed
sulphur was unchanged in its properties, and about three
cubical inches of an elastic fluid, absorbable by water,
reddening litmus, and having all the properties of sul¬
phurated hydrogen gas, were formed. Supposing then
sulphurated
Z I N [ 799 ] Z I N
‘sulphurate:! hydrogen to bo constituted by sulphur dis¬
solved in its unchanged state in hydrogen, and admit
the existence of oxygen in this gas, its existence must
likewise he allowed in sulphur. From these experiments
Mr D avy thinks it not unreasonable to assume, that sul¬
phur in its common state is a compound of small quan¬
tities of oxygen and hydrogen, with a large quantity of
a ha-e, which produces the acids of sulphur in combus¬
tion *, and as this basis, it is added, possesses strong at¬
tractions for other bodies, it will probably be very diffi¬
cult to obtain it in its uncombined state.
Sulphur combines readily with potassium, when
brought into contact in tubes filled with the vapour of
naphtha ; heat and light are rapidly evolved during the
combination, and a gray substance like artificial sulpbu-
ret of iron, is produced. The sulphurated hydrogen in
small quantity is formed at the moment of combination,
the hydrogen, of which, it is supposed, is derived from
the sulphur. The sulphuret of potassium readily in¬
flames, and when exposed to the air, it is gradually oxi¬
dated, and converted into sulphate of potash.
Sulphur also enters into combination with sodium,
accompanied also with the evolution of heat and light.
An explosion sometimes take place, which is owing to
the volatilization of a portion of sulphur, and the dis¬
engagement of sulphurated hydrogen gas. The sul-
phuvet of sodium is of a deep gray colour.
P/mphorus.—Mr Davy subjected phosphorus to simi¬
lar experiments, and he found that the same analogies
are applicable to this combustible. Common electrical
sparks transmitted through phosphorus produces no evo¬
lution of permanent gas ; but when acted upon by the
same galvanic battery, and in the same circumstances as
the sulphur, a considerable evolution of gas was effected,
and the phosphorus became of a deep red brown colour.
The gas was phosphorated hydrogen •, and in an expe¬
riment continued for some hours, the quantity evolved
was four times the volume of the phosphorus. The light
by the galvanic spark was at first a brilliant yellow, and
afterwards orange.
Three grains of potassium were heated in 16 cubical
inches of phosphorated hydrogen. As the fusion was ef¬
fected, the retort was filled with white fumes, and a
reddish substance was deposited upon the upper part and
sides ; the heat was applied for some minutes, but no in¬
flammation took place. When the retort cooled, the
absorption was less than a cubical inch, the potassium
externally was of a deep brown, and internally of a lead
colour. The residual gas seemed to contain in solution
a little phosphorus, but it bad not the property of spon¬
taneous inflammation. While the phosphuret was acted
upon over mercury by a solution of muriatic acid, it gave
out onlv cubical inch of phosphorated hydrogen.
One grain of potassium, and one of phosphorus, were
fused together. In combining, a very vivid light and
intense ignition were produced •, of a cubical inch of
phosphorated hydrogen was evolved, and the phosphuret,
with diluted muriatic acid over mercury, gave out TV of
a cubical inch of phosphorated hydrogen. In another
experiment with one grain of potassium, and tluee of
phosphorus, nearly one-fourth of a cubical inch of phos¬
phorated hydrogen wras obtained 3 hut the compound
yielded by muriatic acid, only fV a cubical inch.
From these experiments it is concluded, that phos¬
phorated hydrogen contains a minute proportion of oxy¬
gen, and consequently that the same element enters into
the composition of phosphorus. The deficiency of phos¬
phorated hydrogen in the last experiment can only he
referred to the supply of oxvgen to the potassium from
the phosphorus; and the quantity of phosphorated hy¬
drogen produced in the experiment with equal parts of
potassium and phosphorus, is much less than cobid be
expected, if the potassium and phosphorus consisted
merely of pure combustible matter.
Mr Davy also instituted a set of interesting experi¬
ments on the states of the carbonaceous principle in
plumbago, charcoal, and the diamond, and the results of
these are detailed in the same memoir 3 but for an ac¬
count of them we must refer to the paper itself.
Decomposition of Boracic, Fluoric, and Muriatic acids.
The properties of boracic, fluoric, and muriatic acids,
many of which are quite analogous to those of other
acids whose elements have been dis«overed, have led
chemists to conclude that oxygen is also the acidifying
principle in the former 3 but the separate existence 01
nature of the base of these three acids was, til! the late
researches of galvanism were instituted, utterly un¬
known. The investigation of the nature of these sub¬
stances has been prosecuted by Mr Davy, and some of
the French chemists 3 and of their experiments we shall
now give a very short account.
Boracic acid.—When boracic acid was moistened
with water, and exposed between two surfaces of pla-
tina, and then subjected to the battery of 500 plates,
an olive brown matter formed on the negative surface,
and, increasing in thickness, appeared at 1st almost
black. This substance was permanent in water, hut it
dissolved and effervesced in warm nitrous acid. Heated
to redness on the platina, it burned slowlv, and gave oft
white fumes, which reddened moistened litmus paper.
A black mass remained, which through a magnifier ap¬
peared vitreous, and seemed to contain a fixed acid.
The inference drawn from this experiment is, that the
acid was decomposed, and again by the latter process
reproduced.
When equal weights of potassium and boracic acid
were heated together in a green glass tube, which had
been exhausted, after being twice filled with hydrogen
gas, an intense ignition, with vivid inflammation, where
the potassium was in contact with the boracic acid, took
place, even before the temperature approached near to a
red heat. W hen the acid had been heated to whiteness,
before being introduced into the tube, and powdered and
used while yet warm, the quantity of gas which was hy¬
drogen, given out in the operation, did not exceed
twice the volume of the acid. In this mode of con¬
ducting the experiment, 12 or 14 grains of each of the
two substances only could be employed, on account of
the intense heat and consequent fusion of the glass tube
with larger proportions. Mr Davy found in several
experiments, in which he employed equal parts of acid
and potassium, that a great proportion of the former
remained urtdecomposetl, ami he ascertained that twenty
grains of potassium had their inflammability destroyed
by eight grains of boracie acid.
To collect the substances formed in the process, me¬
tallic tubes with stop-cocks, and exhausted, after being,
filled with hydrogen, were employed. With tubes of
brass or copper, a dall red beat only, but with iron
tubes,-
Z I N [ 800 ] Z I N
tubes, a white heat was applied ; and in all cases the
acid was decomposed by the same results. The sub¬
stance obtained from the iron tube was in some parts of
a dark olive colour, and in others almost black. It did
not effervesce with warm water, but was rapidly acted
upon by it. The solutions obtained consisted of subbo¬
rate of potash, and potash.
The following are the properties of the substance ob¬
tained in the decomposition of boracic acid by means of
processes conducted in brass tubes, which afforded it in
largest proportion. To this substance Mr Davy has
given the name of boracium, which, as it is produced in
the manner now described, is in the form of a pulveru¬
lent mass of the darkest shades of olive 7 it is opaque,
very friable 3 the powder does not scratch glass, and is
a non-conductor of electricity. Dried at 100° or 120'°,
it gives off moisture, by decreasing the temperature 3
and when heated in the atmosphere, takes fire at a tem¬
perature below the boiling point of olive oil, emitting a
red light, and sparks like charcoal. W hen excluded
from air, and subjected to a white heat in a platina
tube, exhausted after being filled with hydrogen, it re¬
mains unchanged, excepting in becoming a little dark¬
er, and acquiring a greater specific gravity.
Boracium introduced into a retort filled with oxygen
gas, and healed by a spirit lamp, throws oft vivid scin¬
tillations like those of the combustion of the bark of
charcoal, and the mass gives out a brilliant light. A
sublimate appears, which is boracic acid it becomes
coated with a vitreous substance, which is also found to
be the same acid. When this is washed oft’, the black
residuum requires a greater heat, but it is also inflamed,
and converted into boracic acid. When boracium is
brought into contact with oxymuriatic acid gas, at
common temperatures, it immediately takes fire, and
burns with a brilliant white light, coating the inside of
the vesssel with a white substance, which is boracic acid.
Boracium heated to redness with hydrogen or nitrogen,
became of a darker colour, and gave out a little mois¬
ture, but remained otherwise unchanged. Thrown into
concentrated nitric acid, it rendered it bright red 3 ni¬
trous gas was produced and absorbed, but no rapid so¬
lution took place till the acid was heated, when the
boracium disappeared with eftervescence and the evo¬
lution of nitrous gas, and the fluid yielded boracic acid.
The action of boracium on sulphuric and muriatic acids
was not remarkable. It combined with the fixed alka¬
lies, both by fusion and aqueous solution, and formed
pale olive-coloured compounds, which by muriatic acid
were precipitated of a dark colour. When fused with
sulphur, it dissolved slowly, and the sulphur became of
an olive colour. Its action with phosphorus in the same
.circumstances was still feebler, but it communicated a
shade of pale green.
From the experiments now detailed, it appears that
boracium obtained by means of potassium, is different
from any other known species of matter, and seems to
be the same as that obtained from boracic acid by elec¬
tricity. According to the result of experiments made
by Mr Davy, boracic acid is composed of one part of
boracium, and about 1.8 of oxygen ; and supposing the
dark residual substance to be an oxide, it consists of
4.7 of boracium, and 1.55 of oxygen.
1 or an account of the experiments of Gay Lussac and
Tjienard, in investigating the nature of boracic acid,
I
see Jour, de Physique, tom. Ixvii. or Nichol. Jour, xxiii.
260.
Fluoric acid.—According to the experiments of Mr
Davy, potassium, when heated in fluoric acid gas, un¬
dergoes combustion, and a great absorption of the gas
takes place. In other experiments, be found that when
fluoric acid gas, procured in contact with glass, is intro¬
duced into a plate glass retort, exhausted after being
filled with hydrogen gas, white fumes appear from the
action of the potassium, which loses its splendour, and
becomes coloured with a gray crust. The fumes are
more copious when the bottom of the retort is gently
heated. The volume of the gas examined at this time
appears to be a little increased, with the addition of hy¬
drogen 3 and when the temperature is raised nearly to
the point of sublimation of the potassium, the metal rises
through the crust, becomes fiist of a copper colour, and
then inflames and burns with a brilliant red light. Af¬
ter this combustion, the fluoric acid is either wholly or
partially destroyed, according as the quantity of potas¬
sium is great or small 3 and a mass of a chocolate colooi-
is found in the bottom of the retort 3 the sides and the
top are lined with a sublimate, which is partly choco¬
late, and partly of a yellow colour. When the residual
gas is washed with water, mixed with oxygen gas, and
exposed to the action of an electrical spark, it detonates,
and affords a diminution in the same way as hydrogen
gas-
In one experiment with 19 cubical inches of fluoric
acid gas, and ten grains and a half of potassium, 14 cu¬
bical inches of the gas disappeared, and about two and
a quarter of hydrogen gas were produced. The gas
had not been artificially dried ; little sublimate was pro¬
duced, but the whole of the bottom of the retort was
covered with a brown crust, When this mass was exa¬
mined with a magnifier, it seemed to consist of different
kinds of matter. It did not conduct electricity 3 it ef¬
fervesced violently in water, with the evolution of an
inflammable gas, which had somewhat of the odour of
phosphorated hydrogen. Part of the mass heated ia
the air, burnt slorvly, and was converted into a white
saline matter. It also burnt with difficulty in heated
oxygen gas, but it absorbed a portion that required
neaidy a red heat. The light emitted resembled that
from the combustion of liver of sulphur. Chocolate-co¬
loured particles were found floating in the water, acted
on by a portion of the mass, and when the solid matter
was separated by the filter, the fluid was found to con¬
tain fluate of potash and potash. The solid residuum
was heated in a small glass retort filled with oxygen
gas ; it burnt before reaching a red heat, and became
white. Oxygen was absorbed, and acid matter
produced. The remainder had the properties of the
substance formed from fluoric acid gas, holding silice¬
ous earth in solution by the action of water.
“ The decomposition of the fluoric acid, Mr Davy
observes, by potassium, seems analogous to that of the
acids of sulphur and phosphorus. In neither of these
cases are the pure bases, or even the bases in their com¬
mon form, evolved 3 but new compounds result, and ia
one case, sulphurets and sulphites, and in the other plios-
phurets and phosphites of potash, are generated.”
In another experiment Mr Davy attempted the de¬
composition of fluoric acid gas, which was perfectly
dry, and free from siliceous earth, by mixing 100 grs.
of
Z I N [ get ] Z I N
i£ine. of dry boracic acid, and 200 grains of floor spar. The
”v ' mixture was introduced into the bottom of an iron tube,
having a stop cock and tube of safety attached. The
tube was inserted horizontally in a forge, and 20 grains
of potassium in an iron tray were placed in that part of
it where the heat was only of a dull red. The bottom
of the tube was raised to a white heat, and the acid, as
it was generated, was acted upon by the heated potas¬
sium. The result obtained was a substance in some parts
black, and in others of a dark brown colour. It did
not effervesce with water, and when lixiviated, afforded
a dark brown combustible mass which did not conduct
electricity, and, when burnt in oxygen gas, afforded bo¬
racic and fluoric acids. This substance did not inflame
spontaneously in oxymuriatic acid gas j but it effervesced
violently, and dissolved in nitric acid. Mr Davy thinks
that this substance is a compound of the olive-coloured
oxide of boracium, and an oxide of the base of fluoric
acid ; but he had not examined its properties particu¬
larly.
Muriatic acid.—Many conjectures have been offered
with regard to the nature and constitution of muriatic
acid, and many attempts have been made to effect its
' decomposition. Mr Davy has extended his researches
to this substance, and has prosecuted the investigation
with his usual ardour. It is still, however, to be re¬
gretted, that his success has not been commensurate
with his ingenuity and industry. Some have supposed,
that the base of muriatic acid is hydrogen, while others
contend that the base is a compound of hydrogen and
■itrogen.
The result of Mr Davy’s first experiments in this in¬
quiry showed, that the w'ater alone in combination
with the muriatic acid is decomposed, and that this
elastic fluid contains a larger proportion of water than
is usually suspected ; and from various experiments he
concludes, that muriatic acid gas, in its common state,
is combined with at least one-third of its weight of wa¬
ter. In the prosecution of his researches, therefore, his
object was to obtain the muriatic acid free from water.
With this view he heated dry muriate of lime, mixed
both with phosphoric acid, and dry boracic acid, in
tubes of porcelain and of iron, and employed the blast
of an excellent forge j but by none of these methods
was any gas obtained, till a little moisture was added
to the mixture, and then muriatic acid was given out
in such quantity as almost to produce explosions. In
distilling the liquor of Libavius, or the fuming muriate
of tin, which contains dry muriatic acid, with sulphur
and with phosphorus, no separation of the acid took
place j but with the addition of water, muriatic acid gas
was evolved with great heat and violence. By distil¬
ling mixtures of corrosive sublimate and sulphur, and of
calomel and sulphur in their common states, muriatic
acid gas was evolved ; but when these substances were
dried by a gentle heat, the quantity of gas obtained
was greatly diminished. Mr Davy, and also the French
chemists, endeavoured to procure dry muriatic acid by
the distillation of a mixture of calomel and phospho¬
rus. The result obtained is considered as a compound
of muriatic acid, phosphorus, and oxygen. In Mr
Davy’s experiments, the product was more copious when
corrosive sublimate was employed. With the same view
of procuring dry muriatic acid gas, he exposed phospho¬
rus to the, action of oxymuriatic acid gas, in the hope
VOL. XX. Part II. t
that in the oxidation of the phosphorus, the whole of 2ia«
the moisture would be absorbed j but the examination [|
oi the result showed, that no muriatic acid gas had Zinaen-
been evolved during the process, so that the muriatic.
acid which had disappeared, must exist, either in the
white sublimate which had collected in the top of the
X’etort, or in a limpid fluid which had formed in its
neck. When the sublimate was exposed to the air, it
emitted fumes of muriatic acid, and when brought into
contact with water, muriatic acid gas was evolved, and
phosphoric and muriatic acids remained in solution in
the water. Mr Davy regards this white sublimate as a
combination of phosphoric and muriatic acids in their
dry states. The limpid fluid was of a pale greenish
yellow colour ; it rapidly disappeared on exposure to
the air, emitting dense white fumes, which had a strong
smell, differing a little from that of muriatic acid. Mr
Davy thinks that this is a compound of phosphoric and
muriatic acids, both free from water..
Mr Davy made other experiments, for the purpose of
procuring muriatic acid in its uncombined state, but
with no better success. He then tried the effects of po¬
tassium introduced into the fluid generated by the ac¬
tion of phosphorus on corrosive sublimate; but such was
the violent action of the substances operated upon, that
the apparatus was generally destroyed, and he was thus
precluded from examining the results. But for a parti¬
cular detail of the experiments, we must refer to the
memoir itself; and for the extended account of Mr
Davy’s investigations on this curious and interesting
subject, of which we have given as comprehensive a
view as our limits would permit, see Chemistry,
Supplement.
ZINNIA, a genus of plants of the class syngenesia,
and in the natural system arranged under the 49th or¬
der, Cnmpositce. See Botany Index.
ZINZENDORFF, Nicholas Lewis, Count, was
the noted founder of the German religious sect called
Moravians or Hert'nhuters, or, as they pretend, the re¬
storer of that society. From his own narrative, it ap¬
pears, that when he came of age in 1721, his thoughts
were wholly bent on gathering together a little society
of believers, among whom he might live, and who should
entirely employ themselves in exercises of devotion
under him. He accordingly purchased an estate at Ber-
tholsdorffin Upper Lusatia, where, being joined by some
followers, he gave the curacy of the village to a person
of his own complexion; and Bertholsdorff soon became
talked of for a new mode of piety. One Christian Da¬
vid, a carpenter, brought a few proselytes from Mo¬
ravia: they began a new town about half a league from
the village, where Count Zinzendorfffixed his residence
among them, and whither great numbers of Moravians
flocked and established themselves under his protection:
so that in 1732 their number amounted to 600. An
adjacent hill, called the Hulhberg, gave occasion to these
colonists to call their new settlement Huth des Merrily
and afterwards Merrnhuth; which may be interpreted
“ The guard or protection of the Lord :” and from this
the whole sect have taken their name. The count
spared neither pains nor art to propagate his opinions ;
he went himself all over Europe, and at least twice to
America ; and sent missionaries throughout the world.
Count Zinzendorff" died in 1760. Those who wish to
know more of the Moravian tenets may consult Rimius’s
5 I account.
Z O T [ 802 ] 2 0 I)
Zlnzen- account of them, translated in 1753- See United
dorff, Brethren.
11 ZISCA, John, a famous general of the forces of the
y'1011' , Hussites, in the 15th century, was a gentleman educated
at the court of Bohemia, in the reign of Wenceslaus.
He entered very young into the army, and alter distin¬
guishing himself on several occasions, lost an eye in a
battle, whence he was called Xisca or One-eyed. At
length the Reformation, begun by John Huss, spreading
through almost all Bohemia, Zisca placed himself at the
head of the Hussites, and had soon under his command
a body of 40,000 men. With this army he gained se¬
veral victories over those of the Romish religion, who
carried on a kind of crusade against them, and built a
town in an advantageous situation, to which he gave the
name of Tahor; whence the Hussites were afterwards
called Taboritcs. Zisca lost his other eye by an arrow
at the siege of the city of Rubi; but this did not pre¬
vent his continuing the war, his fighting battles, and
gaining several great victories, among which was that of
Ausig on the Elbe, in which 9000 of the enemy were
left dead on the field. The emperor Sigismund, alarm¬
ed at his progress, caused very advantageous proposals to
be offered to him 5 which he readily accepted, and set
out to meet Sigismund, but died on the road. He or¬
dered that his body should be left a prey to the birds
and wild beasts 5 and that a drum should be made of his
skin, being persuaded that the enemy would lly as soon
as they heard the sound. It is added, that the Hussites
executed his will 5 and that the news of this order made
such an impression on the disturbed imaginations of the
German Papists, that in many battles they actually fled
*t the beat of the drum with the utmost precipitation,
leaving their baggage and artillery behind them.
ZINZIBER, or Zingiber. See Amomum, Bo¬
tany and Materia Medica Index.
ZION, or Sion, in Ancient Geogi'aphy, a very fa¬
mous mountain, standing on the north side of the city of
Jerusalem, (Psal. xlviii. 2.)’, containing the upper city,
built by King David ; and where stood the royal palace,
(Josephus. Psal. .xlviii. 2.). Apart of Zion, situat¬
ed at its extremity, was called Millo, of or in the city
of D avid, (2 Chron. xxxii. 5.). Modern travellers,
who have been upon the spot, say, that Zion is the
whole of the mountain, on which Jerusalem stands at
this day, though not to the extent in which it anciently
stood on the same mountain, as appears Psal. ix. 12. 15.
Ixv. 1. ixxxvii. 2. 3. Is. Ixii. 1. It is swelled into se¬
veral eminences or tops ; as Moriah, Acra Bezetha,
and Zion a particular eminence or mount, and Zion
Proper, &c. encompassed on three sides, east, west, and
south, with one continued very deep and steep valley ;
by means of which it was impregnable on these three
sides, and always attacked and taken, according to Jo¬
sephus, by the enemy on the north side, where Mount
Zion became level, and the vales of Gihon and Jehosha-
pbat gradually lose themselves. This deep and steep
valley incontestably constitutes the compass of the old
Jerusalem on those three sides, as plainly appears to
any person who has been upon the spot. Contrary to
the opinion of former travellers, Dr Clarke thinks that
the proper Mount Zion is an eminence entirely without
the city on the south side ; and in the valley between
this and the city he places the holy sepulchre. That
joart of the valley which lay to the east was called Je/10-
" 2
shaphads, having Mount Olivet lying beyond it ; that r/.
to the south Gehinnon; and that to the west Gihon, jj'
from cognominal mountains lying beyond them. At the Zadiac.
west end of Gihon, without the city, stood Golgotha or
Calvary. Dr Clarke thinks that very little credit is
due to the names given to the different places and ob¬
jects by the monks. There is another Zion, the same
with Hermon.
Zion, or Zion College. See London, N° 76.
Z1PH, or SlPH, in Ancient Geography, the name of
a wilderness or desert in the tribe of Judah, where Da¬
vid was fugitive 5 lying to the south-east of Hebron 5 so
called from Ziph or Siph, a twofold town in this tribe;
the one more to the south towards Idumea, on the con¬
fines of Eleutheropolis, (Jerome) ; the other eight miles
to the east of Hebron, towards the Dead sea, inclining
southwards, because near Mount Carmel. Here was a
mountain, mentioned 1 Sam. xxiii. 14. in which David
abode, said by Jerome to be rugged, dismal, and always
overcast. Ziphim, Ziphcei or Ziphenses, the inhabi¬
tants of Ziph, ver. 19.
ZIRCHNITZER-SEE, otherwise called the Lake of
Czircknitz, in Carniola, is about one German or four
English miles in length, and half as much in breadth,
contains three beautiful islands, and is encompassed at
some distance with mountains and forests. But what is
most remarkable is, that it disappears generally once a-
year, about St John’s or St James’s day, running off'
through holes or pits in the bottom ; sometimes it dif-
appears twice or thrice a-year, and sometimes even in
winter if the weather be dry. On the other hand, it
has been known to continue two or three years without
running oft. Of the holes or pits, there are five much
larger than the rest, each of which successively, when
the water runs oft’, stands empty five days; so that the
whole lake becomes dry in 25. As soon as the begin¬
ning of the ebb is observed, tbe fishing in the pits be¬
gins, which belongs to five seignories. The fish, which
are carp, tench, pike, eels, and two other sorts called
schleien and ruten, are caught by laying nets over the
holes. MrKeysler tells us, that upon the ringing of a bell
at Zirknitz, when the waters begin to fall, the peasants,
both men and women, run to the pools quite naked.
ZIRCON, a mineral substance containing a peculiar
earth. See Mineralogy Index.
ZIRCONIA, a peculiar earth. SeeCHEMlSTRY/w/ex.
ZIZANIA, a genus of plants of tbe class monoecia;
and in the natural system arranged under the 4th order,
Grumina. See Botany Index.
ZODIAC, a broad circle, whose middle is the eclip¬
tic, and its extremes two circles parallel thereto, at such
a distance from it as to bound or comprehend the excur¬
sions of the sun and planets, (see Astronomy). It is
a curious enough fact, that the solar division of the In¬
dian zodiac is the same in substance with that of the
Greeks, and yet that it has not been borrowed either
from the Greeks or the Arabians. The identity, or at
least striking similarity, of the division, is universally
known ; and M. Montucla has endeavoured to prove,
that the Bramins received it from the Arabs. His opi¬
nion, we believe, has been very generally admitted ;
but in the second volume of the Asiatic Researches, the
accomplished president Sir William Jones has proved un¬
answerably, that neither of those nations borrowed that
division from the other; that it has been known among
tire
ZOO [ 803 ] zoo
Zodiac the Hindoos from time immemorial ; and that it was
l) probably invented by the first progenitors of that race,
Zoophytes. whom he considers as the most ancient of mankind, be-
' fore their dispersion. The question is not of importance
sufficiently general, straitened as tve are by the limits
prescribed us, for our entering into the dispute ; but we
think it our duty to mention it, that our astronomical
readers, if they think it worth their while, may have
recourse to the original writers for further information.
ZOEGEA, a genus of plants of the class syngenesia.
See Botany Index.
ZONE, in Geography and Astronomy, a division of
the terraqueous globe with respect to the difl'erent de¬
grees of heat found in the dift'erent parts thereof. The
zones are denominated torrid, frigid, and temperate. The
torrid zone is a band, surrounding the terraqueous globe,
and terminated by the two tropics. Its breath is 46°
j8'. The equator, running through the middle of it,
divides it into two equal parts, each containing 230 29'.
The ancients imagined the torrid zone uninhabitable.
The temperate zones are contained between the tropics
and the polar circles. The breadth of each is 430 2\
The frigid zones are segments of the surface of the earth,
terminated, one by the antarctic, and the other by the
arctic circle. The breadth of each is 46° 58k
ZOOLOGY, is that part of natural history which
relates to animals. See Natural History.
ZOOPHYTES. The name Zoophytes, Zoophyta
(i. e. animal plants, from £<y«v, animal •d.wX <pvlov, plant,')
has been long appropriated to a numerous assemblage of
marine or aqueous productions, which have puzzled the
ingenuity of naturalists to ascertain their place in the
chain of nature’s works, and which have been alternately
ranked among vegetable and animal, and sometimes
even among mineral substances. At length, however,
they seem, by general consent, to have been consigned
over to the animal kingdom, and, with the addition of
several tribes from the Linncean orders ot Inteshna, ]\lol-
lusca and Infusoria, have, by Cuvier and his colleagues
of the French school, been elevated to the rank 01 a se¬
parate class. See Helminthology, N° II.
In the Linmean system, the zoophytes of earlier
modern naturalists constitute the 4th order of the class
Vermes, and as such have been enumerated under
Helminthology j but as the circumscribed limits of
that article did not admit of our describing or figuring
many species, we shall now as far as possible supply that
deficiency by selecting a few of the most curious or in¬
teresting species of the Linnaean zoophytes j and. we
shall take this opportunity of making a few observations
on some of the genera to which they belong,
i,. Fig. 1. and 2. represent the Uubipora musica,
Itmca* crimson tubipore, or organ coral; one of the most elegant
Plate of these singular productions. This species is distinguish-
-LXXIX Jts congeners by having the tubes connected into
1‘ 2< fasciculce or bundles, and separated from each other by
transverse membranous partitions. Ihe whole mass
consists of upright parallel tubes, rising over each other
by stages, something like the cells of a honeycomb.
These tubes vary in height from half an inch to an inch j
and are from one-tenth to one-eighth of an inch in dia¬
meter. Examined internally, they appear to contain a
smaller tube divided at certain distances by rad.ated
partitions (see fig. 2.), by means of which the transverse
septa sometimes communicate with each other, lliese
transverse septa are of unequal heights. The colour of Zoophytes.
the mass is a deep purple, or a rich crimson. The size 1 \
of the mass varies considerably ; but specimens have
been obtained of from a foot to three feet in diameter.
It is found abundantly in the Pacific ocean, and on the
shores of some of the islands in the Indian sea.
In its recent state it is covered with a mucous or gela¬
tinous substance, which pervades the whole mass and enters
within each tube. The inhabiting animal is not certain¬
ly ascertained, but seems to be allied to the nereis tribe.
Figs. 3. and 4. exhibit two views of the Madre- Madrepora
PORA fungites, or mushroom madrepore. This body sofun git es.
exactly resembles a mushroom that it has very common- ^ JS' 3* 4*
ly been regarded as that vegetable in a state of petrifac¬
tion ; but recent observations seem to prove that it is
formed by small animals like medusce. The convex side
of this madrepore is conical, sometimes obtusely pointed,
and exhibits on its surface those stellated pores which
form the distinguishing character of the genus, while
the concave surface is divided into numerous radiated
furrows so as to represent the gills of a mushroom.
When first obtained, it is of a delicate white colour,
especially on the concave part, but it soon acquires a
brown or yellowish tinge. It is found of various sizes,
from an inch to six inches in diameter. It is met with
chiefly in the Indian ocean and Bed Sea.
At fig. 5. is represented that elegant coral called by7^ hijm-
Linnaeus Isis hippuris, the black and white jointed coral ris.
of Ellis. The specific character of this coral is that it 6-
is composed of white striated joints united by black junc¬
tures ; but that structure is not visible till after the coral
has been freed from a whitish soft spongy part, with
which the branches are covered in their natural state.
See fig. 6. It is found chiefly in the Indian seas, and
varies in height from a few inches to nearly two feet.
Fig. 7. represents the Antipathes myriophylla, yar- Antipathes
row antipathes, or sea-yarrow, of its natural size 5 while myriophyl-
fig. 8. shews one of the pinnae considerably magnified. ^lpjate
This is one of those zoophytes which in their habit rir.yryyf.
and appearance almost exactly resemble some of the ve- Fig. 7. & S.
getable tribes, and hence have received the names of
sea-heath, sea-cypress, sea-fennel, &c. From their co¬
lour. they are usually denominated black coral. This
species, though one of the smallest, is not the least ele¬
gant of the tribe. It consists of numerous branches,,
composed of very slender pinnae arranged in no certain
order. The whole coral is seldom above a foot in height,
and rough on its outer surface. This also is a native of
the Indian ocean, being found more especially on the
coasts of the Molucca islands, and is sometimes met
with in the Great South sea.
Fig. 9. exhibits a specimen of red coral, the Isis no- Gorsonia
bills of Linne, and Gorgonia nobilis of later natural- nobilis.
ists. This substance, though now nearly exploded from £• Sc
the materia medica, will still retain a place in our cabi-I0*'
nets for its intrinsic beauty and elegant appearance j
but when examined on its native beds, or soon after be¬
ing fished up, it shews a very difl'erent surface from that
under which we usually see it. Fig. 9. represents it as
prepared for sale by being deprived of its fleshy animal
bark or coating, but retaining the striated appearance
which marks its specific character j but fig. 10. exhibits
a piece of it in its natural state, with polypes extruded
from the fleshy coat, and shewing still more distinctly
at the extremities the streaks below.
5 I 2 Ued
ZOO [ 804 ] zoo
Zooj»aytcs.
Qorgonia
ceratophy-
ta.
Fi<r. ir.
Akyoniran
gorgonoi-
des.
Fig-. T2.
ftpongia
tubulosa.
Plate
DLXXXI.
I'iS- 13-
Piustra
arcnosa.
Fig. 14.
Reel coral is found in large beds or reefs in several
parts of the Mediterranean sea, and coral fisheries are
established on the coasts and near the islands. A fishery
of this kind in the straits of Messina is minutely describ¬
ed by Spallanzani in his Travels in the two Sicilies,
vol. iv. To tear the coral from the rocks, they make
use of a machine composed of two beams tied across each
other, and furnished with a leaden weight to sink them,
and a quantity of loose hemp and several strong nets to
entangle the branches of the coral. To tins machine is
attached a strong rope, which is held by the fishers, and
serves both to direct the net and to draw it up when the
coral is entangled. Several boats go in company, each
containing eight men, and the fishery lasts Irom April
to July. The quantity collected every year amounts on
an average to twelve Sicilian quintals, each equal to 250
pounds Troy, and each pound usually sells for about
four shillings and sixpence. They do not fish on the
same bank oftener than once in ten years, as this time
is deemed necessary for the coral to acquire its full size
and vigour.
Another beautiful species of gorgonia, the Gorgo-
NIA ceratophyta, is figured at fig. 11. This is distinguished
by its dichotomous flattish stem, and ascending branches.
The outer flesh is of a purplish colour, and the branches
are furnished with two rows of scattered pores from
which the polypi appear. It is found in the Mediterra¬
nean, and sometimes on the eastern coasts of America.
Nearly allied to the gorgonise is the species of alcy-
onium represented at fig. 1 2. Jins is the AlXYONIUM
gorgonoides of Gmelin. It is of a cinereous colour, of a
sandy fleshy consistence, having radiated warty cellules.
It is found on the northern coast ot South America, es¬
pecially near the island of Cura^oa.
The zoophytes which naturalists distinguish by the
generic name alcyonium, sometimes form independent
bodies of a rounded form, such as those called the sea-
orange, sea-fig, &c.; or cover the surface of shells and
other marine bodies like a kind ol bark. I heir internal
part or base is friable, and, when dried, appears to be
composed of fine fibres, which are either longitudinal, as
in the present case, diverging, or circular. This base is
covered with a soft crust, that in drying assumes a lea¬
thery consistence, and is pierced with numerous little
cells inhabited by polypi. In some species these cells
are dispersed over the whole surface of the coral, while
in others they are confined to particular spots or tu¬
bercles. They are all inhabitants of the ocean, where
they are usually fixed to rocks or other solid bodies.
In the article Helminthology we have sufficiently
treated of the nature and properties of the sponges, and
have there mentioned particularly the common or offici¬
nal sponge. At fig. 13. is represented a more curious
species, the Sp. tubulosa or Jistularis, the tubular or
pipey sponge. This consists of simple upright, attenua¬
ted, rigid tubes, tuberculated on the outer surface,
which is of a black colour. It is found in the seas that
wash the coasts of America.
The flustree. are a tribe of insignificant zoophytes,
which seem scarcely entitled to the rank which they
hold in the animal creation. They are formed of a con¬
geries of superficial cells, placed close together, like those
of a honeycomb, but generally occupying only a single
surface. Sometimes this substance forms a coating to
some other marine body, at others it is unattached and
forms a floating foliaceous mass or mat. The species re- Zoophyte,
presented at fig. 14. is one of the most curious, and is1 v——*
described by Ellis under the name of .English sea-mat,
called in the Linneean Transactions, vol. v. Flustra
arenosa. It is Composed of sandy particles aggluti¬
nated together with slime, and in shape resembles the
fore part of a horse’s hoof. It is very friable, and so
thin as to be easily broken. These f ustree are found
abundantly on the coast of Kent, and about Holy-head
on the Welsh coast.
Fig. 15. represents a specimen of Sertularia scta-Sertvhri*
cea, the small sea-bristle coralline of Ellis, of its natural***'1^-
size j and fig. 16. shew's the same specimen considera-^S- lS-
bly magnified. This species is distinguished by being^' l6‘
simply pinnated, with bent alternate pinnee, furnished
with very remote processes growing only on one side,
and oblong axillary ovaries. It is one of the smallest
and most delicate of the tribe, seldom exceeding an inch
and a half in height. It is very common, and is found
on the British coasts.
None of the zoophytes bear a nearer resemblance to
vegetables than the sertularice. Their creeping roots,
their branched stem, and tufts of seeming flowers (the
polypine processes) give them all the air of plants.
Hence they were long considered as sea-mosses, and de¬
scribed by botanists under that name. See Ray’s Synop¬
sis, p. 38. and 39. W hen attentively examined, however,
their animal nature w'ill scarcely be disputed. Exter¬
nally they are composed of a horny substance, perfectly
transparent, and through this may be distinguished the
animal substance traversing the centre of the stem and
branches like the pith of a plant, and appearing exter¬
nally as little knots or protuberances in the form of
tentaculated polypes. These extraneous polypes are
considered by Cuvier {Tableau Elementaire, p. 768.)
not as distinct animals, but only as parts of the same
animal which constitutes the sole inhabitant of the ser¬
tularia. These zoophytes adhere to rocks, shells, &c.
by creeping roots, and appear to propagate by means of
eggs. They are among the most common of this class
of animated beings.
The Pennatulze, or Sea-pens, constitute a very curi- Pematu’a
ous tribe of zoophytes, which are completely locomo- ptiospttirai.
tive, and swim in the manner of fishes. They consist H?-17-
of an internal bone or rather horny substance, covered^' l3'
with a sensible fleshy coat. Their lower extremity is
simple like the barrel of a quill, while the upper extre¬
mity is expanded into a flattened part, that is general¬
ly composed of pinnae like the barbs of a quill, though
it is sometimes merely a simple expanded mass furnish¬
ed with polypine processes.
Fig. 17. represents one of the most common sea-pens
properly so called, the Pennatula phosphorea, phospho¬
rescent pennatula, of itsnatural size. It has a fleshy stem,
a rough middle part,and imbricated pinnules. The pinnae
are furnishedon one sidewith lesser7;^V27^^//^^,, at theextre-
mities of which appear the polypes. See fig. 18. which
shews one «f the separate pinnae, a little magnified. This
species is of a fine red or light scarlet colour, and when
alive exhibits a strong phosphorescent light, so as to ren¬
der distinctly visible objects that are near it. It is pret¬
ty common on the coasts of Britain, and is sometimes
taken in the fishermen’s nets, or adhering to the baits.
For figures of two other Linneean zoophytes, the
Tubularia magnijica, and Hydra viridis, see Plate
CCLIII.
ZOOPHYTES.
nr. hr-/,,■/:>/,/ *j'r .
Fig. /.
Fig. . / ■
Fig. ii.
ZOOPHYTES.
rLATBJJLJCXX
/‘ig. JO.
/'Vf/Jil.
J'Vc/.S.
////. //.
J'Vg.y.
11'. . 1/ r/i t Ortl f / -vr .
7%. /3 .
ZOOPHYTES.
no.'PLslTEfJLXXXL
Fig. If
rig. /r/
Ftp. / <S‘.
tt’Airln ba t d sc.
Z U G
[ 805 ]
Z U R
CCLIII. Several of Cuvier’s zoophytes are represent¬
ed in Plates XXXIY. CCLI. and CCLIT. and some
of the Infusoria in Plates XXXV. and XXXVI.
ZOOTOMY, the art of dissecting animals or living
creatures, being the same with anatomy. See Anato-
My.
ZOPILLE, a species of weasel which inhabits Peru,
and other parts of South America j and is said to be
remarkable for its fetid odour.
ZOROASTER, or Zerdusht, a celebrated ancient
philosopher, said to have been the reformer or the
founder of the religion of the magi. It is wholly un¬
certain to how many eminent men the name of Zoro¬
aster belonged. Some have maintained that there was
but one Zoroaster*, and that he was a Persian j others
have said that there were six eminent founders of phi¬
losophy of this name. Ham the son of Noah, Moses,
Osiris, Mithras, and others, both gods and men, have
by different writers been asserted to have been the same
with Zoroaster. Many different opinions have also
been advanced concerning the time in which he flourish¬
ed. Aristotle and Pliny fix his date at so remote a
period as 6000 years before the death of Plato. Ac¬
cording to Laertius, he flourished 600 years before the
Trojan war j according to Suidas, 50°* *n ^ie
midst of so much uncertainty, any thing can be advan¬
ced with the appearance of probability, it seems to be
this ; that there was a Zoroaster, a Perso-Median, who
flourished about the time of Darius Ilystaspes ; and that
besides him there was another Zoroaster, who lived in a
much more remote period among the Babylonians, and
taught them astronomy. The Greek and Arabian
writers are agreed concerning the existence of the Per¬
sian Zoroaster *, and the ancients unanimously ascribe
to a philosopher, whom they call Zoroaster, the origin
of the Chaldean astronomy, which is certainly of much
earlier date than the time of Hystaspes: it seems,
therefore, necessary to suppose a Chaldean Zoroaster
distinct from the Persian. Concerning this Zoroaster,
however, nothing more is known, than that he flourish¬
ed towards the beginning of the Babylonish empire,
and was the father of the Chaldean astrology and ma¬
gic. All the writings that have been ascribed to Zo¬
roaster are unquestionably spurious.
ZOSTERA, a genus of plants of the class gynan-
dria, and in the natural system arranged under the se¬
cond order, Pipemtce. See Botany Index.
ZOSIMUS, an ancient historian who lived at the
end of the fourth and beginning of the fifth century.
There are six books of his history extant j in the first
of which he runs over the Roman affairs in a very suc¬
cinct manner from Augustus to Dioclesian ; the other
five are written more diftusely. Zosimus was a 'zeal¬
ous Pagan ; whence we find him frequently inveighing
with great bitterness against the Christian princes, par¬
ticularly against Constantine the Great, and the elder
Theodosius. His history has been published with the
Latin version of Leunclavius at 1 ranxfort, 1590’
the other minor historians of Rome, in loho j and at
Oxford in 8vo, 1679.
ZUG, a canton of Switzerland, bounded on the east
and north by that of Zurich, on the south by Schweitz
and Lncern, and on the west by the canton of Lucern
and the Freye-Amt or Free Provinces. It is not above
12 miles either way j but very populous and truitiul,
yielding wine, wheat, chesnuts, and other fruits, in its
vales, and excellent pasture on its mountains. The in¬
habitants of this canton are staunch Roman Catholics.
It lies in the diocese of Constance, and its government
is democratical. Thcyre are two lakes in it abounding
in fish, particularly large carps, pikes, and a species ol
trouts called rotels; as well as several vvoods full ol
game. Zug, which gives name to it, and is its capi¬
tal, stands on the east side of a lake of the same name,
about seven miles long, and is a strong neat town, con¬
taining a priory and two convents.
ZUILA, a town in the territory of Fezzan, in Afri¬
ca, which stands on a space of about a mile in circuit,
hut was formerly of much greater extent. The envi¬
rons are level, well supplied with water, and fertile,,
planted with groves of date-trees, and the inhabitants
pay much attention to agriculture. N. Lat. 27. 29.
E. Long. 16. 39.
ZUINGLIUS, Ulricus, an able and zealous re¬
former, 'who laid the foundation of a separation from
Rome in Switzerland, at the same time that Luther did
the like in Saxony, was born at Wildehausen in 1487.
While he officiated as preacher at Zurich, a I rancis-
can sent by Leo X. came to publish indulgences there ;
against which Zuinglius, after the example of Luther,
declaimed powerfully. In the course of this opposition
he started a new doctrine, which he called Evangelical
Truth; and from the beginning of 1519 to 1523, he
preached not only against indulgences, but against other
articles of the Romish church. But though Zuinglius
made no less progress than Luther, he conducted him¬
self with more moderation and prudence 5 and wishing
to have the concurrence of the civil powers, procured
two assemblies to be called at Zurich : by the first, he
was authorised to proceed as he had begun ; and by
the second, the outward worship and ceremonies of the
church of Rome were abolished. During these transac¬
tions, Zuingiius published several books in defence of his
doctrines ; but treating of the eucharist, and prescribing
a form of celebrating the Lord’s Supper different from
Luther, he was involved in violent disputes with the rest
of his reforming brethren.' Respecting the divine de¬
crees, the opinion of Zuinglius and his followers dif¬
fered very little from that of the Pelagians : and in¬
stead of declaring with Calvin, that the church is a se¬
parate independent body, vested with the right ol legis¬
lation for itself, Zuinglius ascribed to the civil magistrate
an absolute and unbounded power in religious matters,
allowing at the same time a certain subordination among
the ministers of the church. This was abundantly
agreeable to the magistrates of Zurich *, but the rest of
the Swiss cantons disallowing of their proceedings, other
assemblies were called, and things tending to tumult,
both sides bad recourse to arms ; when Zuinglius, who
began as a preacher, died in arms as a soldier, in I531*
His works are in four volumes folio.
ZURICH, a canton of Switzerland, bounded to tha
north by Swabia and the canton of Schaffhausen ; to
the south by the town and territory of Rapperschweil
and the cantons of Switz and Zug *, to the east by the
Thurgau, Toggenburg, and Utznach *, and to the west
by the free bailiages and county of Baden. It is about
60 miles from north to south, and 48 from east to west.
With respect to its face, air, and soil, it is said to be
an epitome of all Switzerland, as containing in it bills,
valleys,
T
Z U R [ 806 ] Z Y M
'/urieli valleys, plains, corn-lands, vineyards, lakes, and rivers.
'lJ ' 1 Their wines have a tartness at first, but the longer they
are kept the more agreeable they are. The other pro¬
ducts are excellent fruits, corn, pasture, fine clay, chalk,
several coloured earths, pit-coal, turf, and sulphur.
There are also some mineral springs in the canton, and
some lakes; Zurich is the most considerable, it is 24
miles long, and two broad. The reformation was intro¬
duced here by Zuinglius in the year I517' This can¬
ton is the first in rank, and inferior only to that of Bern
in extent, power, and wealth ; in consequence of which,
its representatives preside in the general diets,when held
in any place belonging in common to the cantons 5 and
the affairs relating to the whole confederacy are trans¬
acted in its offices. Its quota, for the defence of the
several members of the confederacy, is 1400 men. Of
one of the two armies raised on these occasions, it no¬
minates one of the commanders in chief, as Lucern does
the other. Its revenue is said to be about 150,000
crowns a-yearj of which, one year with another, two
thirds are expended in the charges of government,
and the rest laid up in the treasury. It can bring
50,000 fighting men into the field at a very short warn¬
ing.
Zurich, the capital of a canton of the same name in
Switzerland, stands in a pleasant country, near where
the river Aa issues from the lake that takes its name
from the town, 23 miles from Schaffhausen, and 114
from Geneva. After having been ruined by Attila the
Hun, it is said to have been restored by Thuricus, son
of Theodoric king of the Goths, from whom it took the
name of Thttricum, corrupted afterwards into that of
Zurich. It is fortified in the modern way, and has
wide ditches, faced with free-stone. There are five
arsenals in it, well stored with arms and artillery 5 an
academy or college, having 15 professors ; a museum,
or chamber of rarities 5 a stately town-house, the pillars
in the front of which are of black marble, streaked Avith
white ; and a town library. The sovereignty and ad¬
ministration of all affairs are lodged in the greater and
lesser council, out of which are chosen the city-officers,
as the councils are out of the 13 companies of burghers.
There are several other councils or colleges, each of
which has its particular department. Here are a great
variety of silk, woollen, linen, cotton, and other manu¬
factures •, this being the place of the greatest trade in all
Switzerland. The town is well supplied with provisions
by and from its lake. The streets are neat, and houses
well built, but not magnificent. In the town-library
are several letters to Bullinger from Lady Jane Gray,
daughter to the duke of Suffolk. In one of the arsenals
is the figure of William Tell, dressed and armed in
the ancient Swiss manner, with the cross-bow whence
ter.
he shot the arrorv that struck the apple off his child’s Zurich
head. ||
Both men and rvomen are so fond of music, that there ^y^odaie-
are few of them that cannot play on some instrument. ,
If a burgher goes out of town, or a peasant enters it,
Avithout a sword, they are liable to be fined. No per¬
sons, Avhatever their rank or office may be, are exempt¬
ed from the sumptuary laAvs. The burgomasters,who are
the same as the advoyers at Bern, hav’e the title of ex¬
cellence. The hospitals here are neat and Avell endowed.
The environs are pleasant and fruitful; for Avhich it is
not a little indebted to the lake. That part of it Avhich
is next Zurich is called the Lower Lake, and the other
end the Upper. The cathedral, or great church here, is
collegiate. The present city is said to owe its origin to
a nunnery, founded by the emperor Lewis I. near Avhere
the ancient Tigurum stood. E. Long. 8. 30. N. Lat.
47. 20.
ZUTPHEN, a strong and considerable town of the
province of Guelderland, in the kingdom of the Nether¬
lands, and capital of a county of the same name. It
has a magnificent church, and is surrounded Avith Avails.
It Avas taken by the French in 1672, avIio in 1674 ^e"
livered it up to the States-General. It is seated at the
confluence of the rivers Berkel and Yessel, nine miles
south-east of Deventer, and 55 east by south of Am¬
sterdam. E. Long. 6. o. N. Lat. 52. 10.
ZUYDER-zee, a great gulf or bay of the German
ocean, Avhich extends from south to north in the United
Provinces, between Friesland, Over-Yessel, Guelder¬
land, and Holland. It is so called from its situation
towards the south. It is said that the Zuyder-zee Avas
formerly a lake, and that the land is swalloAved up
which united North-Holland Avith Friesland.
ZYGOMA, a bone of the head, or rather an union
or assemblage of tAvo processes or eminences of bones..
See Lanes of the Head, under Anatomy.
ZYGOMAT1CUS, a muscle of the head, arising
from the Os Zygoma, whence its name, and termina¬
ting at the angle of the lips.
ZYG0PHA7LLUM, Bean-caper, a genus of plants
of the class of decandria, and in the natural system
arranged under the 14th order, Grutnales. See Bota¬
ny Index.
ZYMOSIMETER (formed from ifup.u<rn, fermen¬
tation, and piT^v, measure), an instrument proposed by
Swammerdam, in his book De Respirationc, with which
to measure the degree of fermentation occasioned by the
mixture of different matters, and the degree of heat
which those matters acquire in fermenting ; the same in¬
strument is employed to ascertain the heat or tempera¬
ment of the blood of animals.
FINIS.
EDINBURGH:
ENCYCLOPAEDIA PRESS, FOUNTAINBRIDGE,
BY A. CONSTABLE AND CO.
DIRECTIONS for placing the PLATES of Vol. XX.
Part I.
Plate DXIII.—DXXIV. to face page
DXXV.—DXXVIT.
DXXVIII.
DXXIX.—DXXXI.
Dxxxir.
DXXXIII. & DXXXIV.
Part II.
DXXXV.
DXXXVI.
DXXXVII. & DXXXYIII.
DXXXIX.
DXL.
DXLI.—DXLIII.
DXLIV.—DLXX.
DLXXT. & DLXXTI.
DLXXIII. & DLXXIV.
DLXXV. & DLXXVI.
DLXXVII.
DLXXVIII.
DLXXIX,—DLXXXf.
112
120
232
272
280
4CO
410
432
488
496
542
632
646
680
686
700
792
804
~f
Pi aK^v^W^-'1
•'v*^"h \/-•'I
k' r\ i
gl. [Wj, ^ f
,3